Strong Enough 2.4 Interlude (Patreon)

Interlude: Locked in, Laid back, Lady’s Night

The braindance starts with a cheery tune ripped from an old net television ad. That’s not a guess; it’s part of the virtu’s metadata.

“What’s up, Night City!” a bright and cheerful voice rings out. “Coming from ‘Saka plaza, with love! But yah already knew that!”

The voiceover continues to spout a useless introduction while the braindance flicks through a series of cameras, narrowing down to a young woman sitting on a bench right beneath the koi fountains. Her bright teal hair catches the light in an elaborate upward spiral that looks like nothing so much as a swirl of frosting coifed into one of the latest styles.

Just out of date enough to not be worth mentioning.

“So, without further ado, let’s get this show on the road!” The woman holds up one elegantly-sleeved hand, as if to brush her jaw. The motion freezes, just in time to see a glimmering chip fall out of thin air and land on her palm.

Fingers close over it, throwing in an unnecessary bit of sleight of hand. “That’s right, we’re good enough and crazy enough to klepp a shard right in the middle of the plaza. But you ain’t seen nothing yet, choom!” An unnecessary arrow shows as the woman slips the shard into her purse, pressing it against a key breaker. Simple work, but again the netrunner shows off by allowing the BD to see exactly how long the keyshard takes to crack.

Not long.

The woman leaves the shard on the bench, and a moment before the camera pans away, it vanishes.

Excellent speedware, coupled with a skilled user. The ability to reach that that amount of acceleration without being seen by so many people…uncommon. Though, doubtless the editor assists matters in the dance itself.

“That’s the hard part done,” the narrator coos. “Don’t worry, we’ll make the rest look almost as easy.”

The focus of the BD remains on the teal haired woman, as she stands and minces her way across the plaza. Adroit in heels, this one. Not a useless skill, but hardly remarkable in a patsy.

At the parking garage, the view splits. One view shows the action as it slides into the patsy, other, like an awareness in the back of the mind, shows the cameras.

Or rather, how she does not show up on the cameras inside the garage. Good gig hygiene, better than some current associates, and also a deft bit of editing. Then, the girl in frame looks like a Mox, and braindances are a specialty of theirs. Perhaps the patsy is less useless with those connections.

“This part is hardly worth mentioning, really, but if we didn’t show the whole job, we’d have to deal with a buncha haters.”

The security guard easily disarmed with a smile and a flash of skin. Terminals are hacked, false credentials shown with a giggle. The woman waltzes past rows of cars and other vehicles worth hundreds of thousands to millions of eddies.

Fencing such pieces rarely brings adequate return for the heat.

A spoofed key opens the door to a gaudy red G-Turbo. Horrible, noisy things, with no clearance and less charm. She slides into the seat, taking a moment to giggle and pat the real pleather furnishings. “Swanky.”

“Isn’t it just?” the narrator replies to herself. She drives the car out of the parking garage without appearing on a single camera. The only one who will remember her is a guard who was not recording. Night City contains millions. She will not be found.

The rest really is unremarkable. The car handed off to a woman, the patsy slipping out of her corpo-chic. A clean job.

The only piece of incriminating evidence is the one sitting right here.

Wakako Okada lifts the braindance wreath from her head and sets it on a battered wooden stand. “Some precocious brats you’ve found me, Tetsuo.” With a blink, she transfers the video to her monitor. “Rambunctious.”

Tetsuo is one of hers. In an organization like the Tyger Claws, loyalty weighs more than skill and Tetsuo has both. He is her preferred scout for talented new mercs. Any gonk with fingers can hold a gun; finesse is less common.

Still.

“We do not take video applications,” she says. “I am surprised you brought this to my attention.”

“They’re effective, and it takes guts to run a job in Konpeki plaza” Tetsuo shifts his weight, a bad habit she has yet to break him of. “It’s a mostly female crew.”

She takes off her glasses, polishing them with a worn cloth. “When did I express interest?”

Tetsuo lips pull into a shadow of a smirk. “Just thought your sons might be interested. Plus, girls tend to live longer.”

“Women enjoy longer lifespans by virtue of disdaining this business,” Wakako replies. “All that I am concerned with is ability and intelligence, only one of which I find here... And I don’t micromanage.”

His smirk grows a few inches. “Then there’s only one bit that might interest you.”

Wakako hums.

Tetsuo blunders around the side of her small office. The boy is simply too big for most reasonable spaces, an unfortunate side effect of allowing men to choose their physique.

“Since we need someone for that handoff with the ‘Saka girl.” He jacks in to the monitor, scrubbing quickly through the footage. “I took a longer watch before I sent this over. The Netrunner did a good job scrubbing idents, but.”

Tetsuo pauses on a single frame, right after the key shard was taken from the bench. The viewpoint is caught mid-motion as it cross fades into the Mox girl’s head.

But at the upper right corner of the screen, a grey sleeve can be seen. It’s stretched, blurred across even the high-speed camera as the dumb AI tries to interpolate the footage.

Wakako sees fingers wrapped tight around a gold key shard, and a familiar logo pressed into the cuff.

“My.” She rubs her chin. “Arasaka starts them younger every year.”

“You always tell me to send a runner to catch a runner,” Tetsuo says. “So, I figured we have a runner, and a ‘Saka grunt right here. Perfect.”

“I wasn’t aware I paid you to think, Tetsuo.”

“Naw, Wakako-sama. I do that for free.”

She snorts, and indelicate sound. “Offer them the contract. If they are successful, I may make use of them again.”

“Should I tell them it’s a’ audition?” Tetsuo asks.

“I’ll leave that to you, since you do your thinking on your own time,” Wakako says.

“Bet they’ll love it.” He unhooks his cable. “Bunch of showboaters.”

Wakako hums, but she has already filed the matter away. The ongoing gang war between Maelstrom and the Animals continues to open new opportunities and devour greater measures of her time. This new crew will either return with the program the Arasaka girl is offering, or they will not.

At the very least, they seem more serious than the normal dross that washes through her front door.

“Cannon shell!”

Becca hits the water, sending it rushing over the faux stone.

Dorio rolls her eyes as waves tickle her abs. She ignores Bec’s show of struggling; water’s so shallow the girl’d only drown if she sat. “Oi, better not get us booted before I’m done.” She leans back against the lip of the onsen, enjoying the heated stones.

Rebecca bursts out of the water. “S’why we got a private bath, choom! Now, where’s the sake?”

Dorio pushes the floating tray over with one finger.

“Gimmie!”

“Don’t drown,” Dorio says. “Paid good money for this.”

“I paid good money for this,” Scarlet grumbles.

Sasha giggles. “Only cause you insisted, nyah?”

A gaggle of expressions flicker over Scar’s face—good word, a gaggle, Dorio learned that one from Scarlet too—before she pulls her hair towel lower over her eyes. “…I can’t not pay for the gig.”

“Whatever you sayyy~”

Dorio hides her smirk from the youngest member of their crew who’s still sitting knees-to-chest in the corner of the bath. She pegged Scar as shy; only way she could make it more obvious is if she wrapped up in a second towel.

“I’m just glad we got the deluxe massage.” Dorio grins up at the ceiling. “Man had real nice hands. Knew how to work ‘round metal, too.”

“You gotta, in this town,” Sasha replies.

After picking up the car and driving it to a garage near the badlands, the girls had all joined up for the promised spa day. Dorio picked an upscale looking place she’d always seen ads for ‘cause she finally had a big enough group for the package deals.

God knows Maine won’t ever set foot in a spa, but her output’s a lunk like that.

Massages were the first part of the trip: all calming lights and incense and affirmation meditation sounds. Even projected some spray from the ocean right beneath the massage bed. Scar tried to dip out, but Dorio and the rest of the girls stood firm.

After, girl looked so unwound and blissed out, she slipped right into the private bath without a fuss.

“See, Scar?” Becca elbows Scarlet in the side. “Told you relaxin’ was worth.”

“I have to drive home my advantage before she can get her footing back,” Scarlet replies. “Honestly, even waiting this long—”

Becca sticks out her tongue. “Pbthhhhhhhhp! That’s boring!” she says. “If that redhead bitch messes with you again, we’ll just steal another car.”

Dorio laughs. “And get another spa day.”

Scarlet runs a hand down her face. “I don’t have the eddies for another spa day. Especially if I’m not selling the car.”

“Are you selling the car?” Becca asks

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Oh, cause it is a nice car. All swanky. Real pleather.”

Scarlet’s lips twist downward. “What? Pleather is already fake, there’s no such thing as real—”

“It’s the same color as your eyes, didya notice?” Becca continues. “Which is funny, cause it matched that girl yah hated. Actually…now that yah mention it, didn’t you say you picked your eye color ‘cause—”

Scarlet’s hand flashes out of the water so fast some of it turns to steam. Between one breath and the next she clamps her fingers around Becca’s mouth. “I said that pleather is fake. Real pleather is a marketing gimmick run by ApparalTchik in the sixties because they started making pleather that was so bad people thought it was fake.”

Becca sits, blinking up at Scar with wide eyes.

Dorio ignores the knot of tension in Scarlet’s voice. Instead she stretches up, thrusting her arms in a wide arc over her head. “What’s next on the schedule?” she asks. “We just sitting here for the rest of the night?”

“I mean, they’ve got all you can eat.” Sasha smirks. Dorio knows that her netrunner will always play along.

Scarlet huffs, sitting back in her corner; girl doesn’t even realize what she did. “Endless mealworms are still mealworms.”

Becca leans against her side. “You could spring for the deluxe food fiesta…?”

Aaaand neither did Rebecca.

Scar is on a hair trigger for running such an easy-ass gig. Not Dorio’s favorite thing to see. Dealing with glitchy, chromed-up adrenaline junkies is her job, but she prefers when they weren’t on her crew. As Scar and Becs continue to chatter, Dorio looks over at Sasha.

Sasha’s pink eyes flick back and forth between Scarlet and Rebecca. “So you’re saying you don’t find this relaxing, Scar?”

“Too many people,” Scarlet shrugs once, shoulders bunched tight. “They keep trying to touch me. I swear I almost activated the Sandevistan when that guy tried to pull me away.”

Sasha raises an eyebrow.

Dorio rolls her shoulders, feeling the chromed muscles flex. So, Scar don’t like getting pampered? Probably not a fan of programming or XBDs neither. Meant it’s up to Dorio to help her work her anger out.

Something thing as a rail shouldn’t have so much of it.

“Wanna hit my gym instead, then?” Dorio asks

“Hmm?” Scarlet glances over, red eyes blinking slow. Now that Becca’s mentioned it, they are the exact same shade as that car.

Dorio ignores that and cocks a thumb over her shoulder. “Good boxing gym a few blocks from here. Been a while since I swung by.”

“Uh, thanks for the offer, but…” Scarlet shrugs. “I don’t really see the point.”

“C’mon! Every girl needs to know how to throw a punch,” Becca says. “Or knee a gonk in the balls.”

Scarlet pulls a face. “I’ll take it over the mani-pedi.”

“That’s more like it.” Dorio grins. “Plus, think how scary you’ll be, appearing in front of someone and then taking ‘em out with one punch.”

That finally gets a smile out of Scar. “You know, you’re brining me around.”

“Let’s kill this sake and delta.” Dorio pours herself a saucer. “Not gonna do my nails right before working on the bag.”

“Awww.” Sasha pouts, half flouncing across the bath. “Gonna leave me all alone?”

Becca laughs. “Gonk, you don’t even have nails!”

Sasha wiggles the chromed-up tips of her fingers, flexing out the claws. “I like acrylics.”

Dorio sighs. “S’how it is, huh?”

Sasha smirks wider, eyes crinkling. “I do my McDojo classes every week, thank you.”

And so Dorio has to spend the rest of her night teaching new girl how to throw a punch so she doesn’t accidentally rip Becca’s face off.

Dorio throws back the sake and lets it slide smooth down her throat. “Let’s get to it.”

Wrangling these gonks doesn’t pay enough.