11: Lying Low

"So, how do you know Gloria Martinez?"

The question hangs heavily in the cramped space between us, its only company the rolling of fat tires over aged asphalt as we make our way deeper into the Badlands. Heat radiates back from the black tar, an almost physical weight to it that my ride has to push through, the sense of dry warmth pressing on my skin and the taste of dust on my palette.

If 'molasses' were a weather forecast, this would be it.

"What? Scav got your tongue?" Maine jokes, though making it clear he won't just let this go.

Now, while saving Gloria's life from Biotechnica's fucked-up breeding/testing grounds had certainly been a spur of the moment thing (to put it mildly) I had been considering what to do with the Edgerunners cast for a long time now. Thinking up a variety of excuses for my decidedly odd behavior had just been part of the prep work.

"I know her, 'cause I know you." I rumbled out after a long pause, quickly going over my story and making sure there were no glaring inconsistencies.

Since Maine and co. only signed on with my crew recently, they didn't really know me all that well yet which worked to my advantage in some ways, as he had little way of knowing what intel I did and did not have access to. However, it also meant they might doubt everything I said, refusing to simply take anything at face value instead of just assuming I had it all covered somehow (like most Animals had gotten into the habit of over the past decade).

"… kinda lost me there Boss. Gloria ain't part of my- … your crew." Maine responded with admirably little resentment in his voice.

"Sure, but you worked with her in the past, haven't you?" I ask leadingly, before shooting a very obvious glance at his implanted biceps that almost managed to rival mine in size.

Maine pulls back somewhat, a defensive look on his face.

"Better her than the fuckin' Scavs." He grumbles and I nod in agreement.

"True. Very true. But then I find out she has a kid in 'Saka Academy and that threw up a bunch of warning sigs in my mind. Local son from Santo, enrolled in the preemest corpo breeding ground this side of the Pacific? Gloria was prolly on the take, or perhaps she had something on one of the execs."

Maine had a thoughtful look on his face, clearly still not entirely on board.

"What biz is it of yours anyways, to go digging into her life like that? Clearly you haven't found anything or you wouldn't have bothered to pull her outta that hell-hole. She was a contact of mine, if anyone got burned 'cause of her, it'd be me, not you."

I fall silent, before slightly turning his way (as best I could considering how cramped my beloved Avenger had become), fixing Maine with a dead serious look.

"Running into Sasha had been a coincidence. But the moment I realized her talent with exposing Securicine like that, I knew I wanted skills like that in my pack."

At this, the previously serious tone is suddenly shattered when the burly cyberpunk lowers his large sunglasses to shoot me a twinkling look, a large grin on his face as he wiggles his eyebrows.

"Just her 'skills', huh?" he teased as he shot me a literal 'wink-wink, nudge-nudge'.

So, naturally, my claw shoots out faster than he can react and in a single movement plucks the large sunglasses straight off his nose and tosses it right out of my window. Ignoring Maine's panicked and affronted yells and flailing, I continue undisturbed, glancing past and underneath his burly form and bulked-up arms to keep my optics on the road.

"My pack is my family Maine: anyone of 'em gets burned, I get burned. Had to make sure she was clean before bringing Sasha on board. Vasili might not be as good as her in cyberspace, but the shards Rogue's 'runner threw his way are plenty enough to crack the ICE of the local city Net and track down a wanted criminal's known associates."

I'm laying it on a bit thick on purpose, but it works as intended as the words resonate with the way Maine views his own people and he finally sits back in his chair instead of trying to clamber over me to leap out the window after his signature glasses.

"So, Sasha led you to me, I led you to Gloria and her corpo-wannabe kid made you suspicious enough of her to keep tabs on her?" the large edgerunner summarizes and I shrug as best I can, jostling him somewhat as our stupidly large shoulders bump against each other.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"And the 'Saka connection wasn't enough for you to just… zero the lady?" he asks in surprise and I shoot him a questioning look.

"What, do I really look like the type of guy to just roll up and zero a woman with a kid, just 'cause said kid goes to a fancy school?" I ask incredulously, but Maine just remains silent, giving me a slow look up and down.

Realizing that I'm sitting in a literal (if small) pool of blood, I let out a tired sigh.

"Aight. Fair enough, I guess."

"So, why didn't you? Or just decide that all of us were bad goods?"

"Mostly 'cause it's Arasaka we're talkin' 'bout. If it were a smaller corp, maybe. Hiring merc squads isn't out the ordinary for 'em. Don't want to get the dirt of the streets staining their suits. But 'Saka? If they wanted me dead, they'd send one of their damn ninja's to flatline my ass, not rely on outside help to play spy games with me. Or, I dunno, start a gang war or some shit that sees all of the Animals wiped of the map, just to take me out in the collateral. With 'Saka, every option is the nuclear option."

To be fair, it seemed like everyone who was against Arasaka tended to reach for the nuclear option themselves as well. Whether they had a black or a silver hand, eh, jury was still out on that one. Some parts of Johnny's recollection of events didn't quite mesh with what I knew the original lore stated about the 2023 bombing. What I didn't know was if he was just full of shit, or if the lore of this world got altered a bit to fit the game narrative better.

Guess we'll all find out in a year or two.

I shoot Maine a glance and shrug again.

"Dunno 'bout you, but Gloria Martinez doesn't exactly look like a nuke to me. The connection needed watchin', but no active resolvin', least not right away."

"Until she ended up in Biotechnica custody." Maine says with an understanding nod.

"Sasha embarrassed Biotechnica in front of all their investors and rival corps, right when Petrochem is pushing for new CHOOH2 contracts and with SovOil making big waves in South America, meaning shit's already pretty tense for 'em. And then I drove an ATV through the top floor of their HQ and pretty much exploded half of their precious corpo exec offices. Doubt they've managed to pin us since then, but we're definitely on their radar. Then I hit a 'Saka target and that very same day I hear that Gloria and her fancy Academy kid are both being treated at a Biotechnica front."

"You knew what they were gonna do to her?"

"I had an… educated guess." I respond grimly and Maine falls silent for a moment.

Good, let him be the one to fill in the blanks, not me. Means I got less facts to try and keep straight and automatically makes the story something he's more willing to believe.

After all, that way he's the one who came up with it for the most part.

"Glad you acted on your guess, Boss. Gloria… she wasn't part of our crew. Barely part of our world. But she's always given us a fair shake. Woman like that… she don't deserve such a fate. Same goes for the kid. Would've destroyed him, losing her to… to that." The cyberpunk says, disgust lining his voice.

For a moment, we're silent, before he speaks up again.

"Still, what happens now? If you weren't on Biotechnica's radar before, you definitely are now. Militech's too, I'm guessing. Don't think the kiddo is ready to go back to 'Saka Academy neither, so you might have those fuckers to keep in mind as well."

His concern is valid I suppose. Being on one corpo's shitlist is bad enough for most people, let alone the three biggest in NC. Not to mention two of those three being Araska and Militech. Might as well try to step in the middle of a boxing match between the NUSA and Japan.

Hell, the whole reason why I even knew who Tiny Mike was, was because in the game the merc had stepped on Militech's toes by raiding one of their 'hidden' R&D facilities out in the desert, to the point he needed a fixer and V's help even getting out of Kabuki in a car instead of a concrete coffin. And I had just turned their security detail and part of their clean-up crew into chunky salsa.

That was just one corp. I had potentially pissed off three.

"First, we wait for the heat to die down a little. Link up with Dorio and David and make for one of the safe houses. Gotta set up two things before anything else; get Big Pete to go over my car, make sure he takes real good care of her and a long shower for myself."

Feeling the familiar itch in my chest as my bullet wounds are slowly, but steadily sealing themselves, I grimace.

"A very long shower."

Maine hums at that, blue eyes roaming over our deserted surroundings.

"Not worried 'bout him drawin' eyes to us? Know you love this ride, Boss, I get it, trust. Still, bringing in a Techie while we're lyin' low? She isn't in that bad a shape."

"Fair 'nuff. But he's just a small player, not on anyone's radar. Outside of my Predators, I doubt many of the Animals are even aware he's part of our pack full-time instead of just being a merc, much less the big bad corpo overlords. The risk of bringin' him in is minimal. Meanwhile, if either of the Militech squads were bright enough to notice the musclecar left smack in the middle of a fuckin' massacre, one of 'em might've had the clever idea to plant some tracking tech on her. Nah, best someone takes a close look at her, just in case. 'Sides, you don't want to give blood a chance to stain, trust."

Tracking tech was weird. Militech could remotely control any of their vehicles, spike creditchips to track transactions through the Net and even some Smart gun's bullets would show up on a suffieciently advanced radar, but they still managed to lose a prototype stealthbot and an entire fucking Basilisk tank in the desert following a Maelstrom and Aldecaldo's raid respectively.

Maybe that's the reason Meredith Stout was so desperate to get the flathead back? Huh, wonder who ended up in the bay with cinderblock shoes for the Basilisk debacle then?

Maine's considering voice pulls me from my thoughts.

"The merc's, what was his name, Tiny Mike? His brother, Big Pete? I can guarantee you that Pilar is just as good a Techie as him." Maine says with pride and a grin, but I just shrug instead.

"I don't doubt it, but Pilar's speciality is more grenades and chrome. Big Pete is a bona fide mechanic, he knows cars in 'n out. 'Sides, he's worked on my baby before, knows what she needs."

"Fine, fine. Where you wanna lay low once we've linked back up with Dorio and the kid?" the cyberpunk says easily, holding up his hands as he concedes the point.

I think on it for a second, before deciding to kill two rats with one bullet.

"Let's stick to the edge of the city. Wanna call up Big Pete anyways, so might as well lie low in Autowerks. He cleared the place out when I got him to work for me, but it shouldn't be too difficult for him to get the place running again to the point he can work on my baby." I said, affectionately patting my Avenger's steering wheel and then wincing when I noticed the bloody prints I left behind.

"Nomad country huh?"

"Worse than that. Raffen country, probably the Wraith clan to boot. Countin' on it, actually. Should keep NCPD's eyes far away from us, if not Militech itself. Buys us enough time to plan our next move."

"Which will be?"

"What else?" I ask as I floor it, my eyes lightning up as I call my mechanic.

"Burnin' Biotechnica to the fuckin' ground."

//

New American Autoworks (though mostly known as Autowerks) is a rundown car repair shop out in Jackson Plains, which itself is a large, deserted area in the already pretty desolate Badlands. Little lives here, neither plant nor animal and the few people that do mostly wish they didn't.

Not to say there's nothing here. In fact, its most notable feature, a Kang Tao-owned Solar Power Station, is pretty key to Night City's day to day running and even features prominently in one of V's questlines in the game.

The power station is located in a desolate plain on the outskirts of Night City. It consists of a central tower at its core, flanked by three large antennas, with additional antennas running alongside a highway leading towards South California. The central tower serves as the primary collection unit, reaching upward to tap into microwave energy transmitted by satellites in Earth's orbit. These three substantial antennas stand as guardians, extending towards the sky, capturing the cosmic energy.

Adjacent to this stark landscape, a highway runs its course, and along its path, more antennas stand like silent sentinels. They march alongside the road, collecting energy from the satellites' transmissions.

This gathered cosmic energy is then converted into a substantial electrical power supply, providing the lifeblood for numerous subdistricts within Night City. In this remote outpost, far from the city's neon glow, the power station silently fuels the metropolis, its machinery humming with the city's heartbeat.

Until V and Panam give it a cardiac arrest that is, trying to induce a cascade failure in order to generate an EMP pulse large enough to down Hellman's AV. Considering that he was under Kang Tao protection at the time, and the microwave power plant is Kang Tao property, V might've guessed that the AV would've been properly shielded, resulting in Hellman only going down once Panam used her (to be fair, quite badass) rocket launcher on his ride.

The same couldn't be said for NC itself though, or her residents. In the grim aftermath of the EMP's shockwave, Night City was cast into a void, a place where neon dreams had been abruptly snuffed out. The damage, a jaw-dropping €$120 million, was a harsh slap in the face, a stark reminder of the city's fragility when the lights went dark.

As the electromagnetic pulse rolled through the streets, it wasn't just the city's glitzy facade that crumbled. Many folks found themselves in a world of hurt. Their cyber gear, once a seamless part of their lives, turned traitor, leaving them broken and disconnected. It was a brutal wake-up call, a reminder that the high-tech life came with high-stakes risks. Small chrome linings: outright casualties were kept to a minimum, mostly cases of people getting into traffic collisions due to suddenly having no working eyes to keep on the road anymore.

Hopefully, in this timeline, this world, that wouldn't happen, but the only guarantee living in NC gave you was that there were no guarantees. For now however, the most interesting feature about the Power Plant was its close proximity to the old highway. Hopefully, that would give peering eyes the idea that I'd skip town (not an unreasonable assumption considering that would've been most people's first instinct after going pseudo-cyberpsycho).

Similarly, there was the old regional airport, though it was so small it barely deserved the name. Hell, the only reason why it could even be considered to have a runway in the first place was because here in the desert there wasn't really anything to crash into once you've hit the ground: sand counts as a landing strip as long as you stick said landing. Any intelligence officer worth his salt would dismiss this place out of hand as an evac point, considering it has been abandoned for years now and air traffic is much easier to track than vehicular escapees.

Any intelligence agent with actual field experience though would realize that the best edgerunners would be aware of this and instead would try and make use of the airfield on the sly, trusting in the corpos' oversight. Renewed activity can be hidden or explained away if not and while air traffic is easier to control, it's also harder to intercept. For the desperate solo, quick and sloppy was preferable to slow and steady and dead.

If you weren't looking for a rough and ready escape, then the only real place of interest to hang low in was the Tango Tors motel, but that shithole has already been overrun by the Raffen Shiv, its only interesting aspect being the presence of wanna-be ripperdoc Rufus McBride and I wouldn't take Gloria there even if every ripper in NC suddenly decided to simultaneously hang up their scalpels and join Reverend Colver in the Church of El Yahu the Last Emancipator.

That or become a bhikkhu, though I suppose I could see Victor at least finding fulfilment in the monk robes.

Point is, not many people would think of Autowerks as a place to lie low. Maybe patch your ride if it's on its last wheels, but my darling Avengers was purring and rumbling as smoothly as the day I klepped her, save for the superficial damage on her bodywork.

She and I got out of that confrontation pretty similarly in that regard, come to think of it.

'Sides, guy my size isn't likely to switch driver seats if I don't have to. I might (absolutely to the point of embarrassingly) adore the tiny little Makigai Tanishi's (cute jeeps small enough they look like I could bench press them for my pre-workout and they even squeaked 'kon'nichiwa!' when you got inside), but the only way I could ever hope to drive one is to sit in the flatbed behind the cabin and try and reach the pedals that way.

Nah, Militech will probably figure I've taken the highroad and skipped town using the old highway and I see no reason to clear up their misconceptions.

Calling up Big Pete and getting him to come out into the Badlands is a work of mere moments (well, he whines for quite a bit longer, but it's not like I'm asking and he knows it) and in the same time Maine has already contacted his girlfriend as well and told her the new meet-up point.

From there, it's a roughly twenty-minute drive before we see the dilapidated form of Autowerks looming on the horizon and I'm relieved the Wraiths haven't taken the place over again. Wiping them out the first time to get Big Pete out of their claws had been a hassle in itself (they had a very frustrating sniper hidden up high somewhere on top of the main shop, right until I tossed a canister of CHOOH up there and doused the entire fucking thing in ethanol fire) and I'm not keen on yet another firefight while I'm still digging out the bullets from my chest from the previous one.

Everything's shut off and locked down tight, but I brute-force the large front door open with relative ease, before rolling my Avenger inside. Maine has just come back from scoping out the place when the signature sound of his own Quaddra reaches my body-sculpted ears and Dorio arrives in a cloud of swirling dust, a sleeping David in the passenger seat, still clutching the plastic bag close to his chest and drooling a little over Norris' Sandevistan.

Looks like the stress of today overwhelmed the little guy. I can relate, I was knocked out cold too in my Ma's arms the first time I was forced to come along to resolve some Animals biz. You know that feeling from your youth, when you're still a kid, age in the single digits and you went to sleep on the couch, only to magically wake up and find yourself in your bed?

Yeah, less cute when you pass out from an adrenaline crash after a shoot-out between your Ma's pack and a rival group of local Sixth Street cyberpunks, the smell of burnt flesh embedded in your nostrils and your body shaking.

Didn't speak to Ma for close to a month after suddenly waking back up in my little cot, covered in cold sweat and gasping for air from the nightmares.

God, it seems like a lifetime ago now…

"Boss? You alright?"

The sound of a door falling shut wakes me from my musings and I look away from the now stirring David to Dorio, the woman crossing her thick arms under her ample bust as she shoots me a questioning glance.

"Looks like you zoned out there for a bit." She said, an oddly speculative look on her face as she glanced from me, to David and back again with a raised eyebrow

"Lot of shit went down. Was just processing, is all." I deflect as I see David finally waking up, looking around himself with bleary eyes as he blinks at the unfamiliar surroundings in confusion.

I can pinpoint the exact moment he snaps back to full wakefulness, the insanity of the past few hours catching up with him as he practically throws himself to where his mom is still lying unconscious on the back seat.

"How is she?" I ask lowly of Dorio, her own eyes on the desperate teenager as well.

"Stable, as far as I can tell. Which isn't much, I'm not a ripper. Never even had Trauma covering, so fucked if I know how she's doin'. Breathin' so shallow, thought she was dead couple times." The merc says in a rough tone, shrugging her large shoulders, though there's a frown on her face.

"You good?" I ask, side-eyeing her stormy expression.

"… kid let on a little of what that place was up to. First the whole mess with Sasha and those fucked up meds. Now Gloria and whatever the fuck they planned to do to her there, those fuckin' pigs." Dorio rumbles, before visibly shuddering, a growl creeping into her tone.

"Fuckers should burn."

"And Bossman said they will. Which will make Sasha happy, sure, so that makes me happy enough too. Problem is, how? They aren't big on hardware like Militech, but Biotechnica ain't exactly what you'd call small fry neither." Maine interjects, having just returned from his sweep and catching the tail end of our conversation, walking up to Dorio and slinging his bulky arm over her broad shoulder with a large grin despite his words.

"I might have some angles. Nothing actionable for right now tho, not with every badge and corpo jarhead in NC on high alert." I rumble, before leaving the two love birds to properly say hello as I approach Maine's 640 TS.

Behind me, I can hear Dorio push Maine away slightly, a tone of disbelief in her voice.

"Wait, what happened to your glasses?"

"Babe, you're not gonna believe this, that gonk over there-!"

As Maine's whining fades away into the background, I lean on his Quaddra, bending down to look inside to where David is gently cupping his mother's face.

"Mom? M-mom, please wake up? Please?"

David's voice is small and on the verge of breaking, his desperation clear enough it tugs at the heart strings.

"Ease off kid. She'll wake up, but it's best she rests for now. Nothin' you can do for her at the moment." I rumble softly, leaning into the car and engulfing the wounded woman in my enormous arms, easily lifting her out of the Quaddra musclecar.

David looks on with hollow eyes, knowing I'm telling him the truth, but not quite able to accept it yet. Wordlessly and mechanically, he follows in my wake as I make my way up to the first floor, finding a ratty couch to lie Gloria down on for now.

Once Big Pete has finished looking over my Avenger and the heat has died down a little, I'll transfer the Martinez' to a proper safe house and put out some feelers with the ripperdocs and cloners that Ma's pack has had contact with in the past, see if I can't get the woman back on her feet again, literally.

I relay the same to David when he asks me as much and all the teen can do is nod with unseeing eyes as he sinks to the floor, back to the couch his mother is resting on.

"You want me to look for a mattress or something for ya to lie down on?" I venture, but David just slowly shakes his head.

"Thanks, but no. Don't think I could fall asleep anyways." He mutters and I nod as I move towards the large plastic bag.

"Simba?"

"Yes?"

"When are you going to track down Shipman?"

'Damn, that's a surprisingly dangerous edge to his tone coming from such a little guy.' I think to myself as I glance down towards him.

"I'll have Sasha look into it. She has just as much reason as you to see Biotechnica burn, so she's already trying to find ways to breach their systems. Once she's managed that, we'll get our hands on their employee list, know all we need to so we can start hunting the bastard." I promise the traumatized teen.

I grab the plastic bag from the ground, preparing to leave the small room, shooting the silent David a look over my broad shoulder.

"I'll see if I can get these washed, get the smoke and blood out. Same goes for me anyways too." I explain, trying to inject some mild humor into my tone, but it doesn't seem like David even registered my voice.

Closing the door behind me, I remain motionless for several long moments, just staring down at the bag clutched in my claws. Slowly, almost cautiously, I reach inside and withdraw Norris' Sandevistan, still wrapped tight inside its bloodied medical bag. I stare at the large piece of chrome with a definite sense of trepidation.

It sent Norris over the edge, or at least was what made him such a threat once he did. Implanting it allowed David to escape his mediocre life to become an NC legend, though it was also what set him on his road to an early grave at just eighteen.

On the other claw… Norris had been absolutely filled to the brim with chrome, not just the Sandy, and was a combat vet of the Unification Wars to boot, so who even knew what pushed him over the edge? And David, for all that he became a cocky little shit, was relatively ok with just the Sandy installed. Only once he began emulating Maine, especially in the man's worse habits, did things start going truly off the rails for him.

And like the big merc himself had already pointed out to me, shit was likely to hit the fan sooner rather than later. I had been brought up with violence as my bread and butter all my life (though considering an Animals diet, I suppose 'my whey and protein shake' was more accurate here), but even intergang disputes with the most insane, 'roid-snorting gonks of Night City wasn't in the same league as stepping into an all-out war with one of the biggest corpos on the continent.

The Sandy would undeniably give me an edge, even if I couldn't spam it multiple times like David or V…

Eventually, I shake my head, sending ripples through my (literal) mane of hair and flicking some specks onto the dilapidated walls, rousing myself from my musings. Questions for later. Even if I were to install this into myself, I would only do so once I had a ripper that I could 100% rely on, considering the procedure would demand the removal of my fuckin' spine, leaving me absolutely helpless on the operating table.

And while I knew that my Ma would be looming tall over the unlucky ripper preforming the procedure, hammer thumping in hand, my main concern was the person holding the scalpel.

I join Maine and Dorio downstairs (making sure to really stomp my feet as I go down the steps in order to announce my arrival and give them a bit of time to straighten out from their… enthusiastic hellos, my sculpted ears being a bit too sensitive for my liking right now), placing the bag with Gloria's stuff on a nearby worktable, Norris' Sandy still in my hand.

"Whoa, what you got there Boss?" Maine says, spotting the chrome almost instantly even as he wipes his puffed lips, Dorio looking very pleased with herself.

"Before you get any ideas in that chromehead of yours, no, I'm not letting you chip this. It ain't for you. Not sure if I'm gonna let anyone chip it, actually." I state forcefully, shooting Maine a sharp glare as the large man sags in on himself.

Man, I'm pretty sure I actually heard his little heart break there. Or at least the mess of pumps and valves that he replaced it with.

"What's the matter with it? Is it busted?" Dorio asks in a curious tone as the two join me, their own large sizes dwarfed by my own looming form as I lean against the workbench.

"Not that. Opposite, actually. It's high-grade. Too high-grade. According to Militech, it's so fuckin' high-grade, it doesn't even exist. Made in one of their Luna labs, so you know it's preem as hell." I explain musingly as Maine picks up from his earlier dejected slump.

"Damn, Luna-manufactured Militech hardware? Damn Boss, where did you pull that from? Doubt it was just lying around in this old shop."

"If it was, it would be covered in dust, not blood. That looks like it was ripped straight outta someone's back." Dorio notices and I give her a considering nod.

"Pretty much, yeah."

For a moment, there's a beat of silence as the two lovers glance at each other.

"So… uhm… you just… started rippin' out people's spines in there and found one you wanted to keep?" Dorio asks a bit hesitantly, though Maine is much more accepting of the situation.

Big bastard probably would see ripping out someone's spine to replace your own with as something completely logical.

"Explains the blood at least." He says, looking from the Sandy to me with a raised eyebrow.

"What? No, guys, come on. I just killed a bunch of people in there, I didn't start ripping out their spines to stash in bags! … ok, so I may have sorta tore out one of the guard's spines because I punched his head clean off… but I didn't keep it!" I defend myself.

"Ok, so if not you, who did cut it out? Doubt they gave it to you after all." Dorio points out and for a moment, I hesitate.

"Gloria did." I eventually reveal.

"Right. Could've guessed as much. She sent me a message that she had gotten her hands on some new chrome, few days back, but Dorio an' me were on that stake-out in the Badlands. Never got the chance to look into it until we got that message from Sasha that you needed some back-up." Maine says with an understand look in his eyes.

"You know that cyberpsycho that MaxTac flatlined over in corpo plaza, little while ago? That psycho was ex-NUSA. Which basically means he was ex-Militech." I explain, tapping the stylized M logo on the neural port connector with one of my curved claws.

"Gloria was part of the team that was sent in as a clean-up once MaxTac left the scene. Guessin' she klepped it then: so many NCPD bodies that dropped, one more or less implant would hardly be noticed in the confusion." I explain, though that does raise the question of why NUSA never went looking for their top-secret military grade missing Sandevistan.

Wonder how Gloria managed to hide her little side biz from her superiors. Though perhaps Norris' body was a state-secret and they just didn't look all too hard into the sitch once the hush-hush orders came through.

Still though… does this mean I have to start worrying about potential FIA spies now on top of the regular Militech forces? Fuck me.

"Yeah, Gloria was always careful. Had a good eye for preem chrome, knew what to pick and not to klep too much. Keep it on the down-low. Clever woman, that Gloria." Maine mused with a nod, though a small voice from behind me shook us from our conversation.

"So, that is how you all know my Mom? She was… what, a ripperdoc on the side? Kleppin' and sellin' implants to cyberpunks?" David asks at the bottom of the stairs, looking from the bag to us and back again, dark bags under tired eyes.

"Uhm… yeah. Sorry 'bout that kid. She prolly didn't want you to find out this way." I say somewhat sheepishly, but David seems surprisingly unbothered by the revelation that his EMT-mom was pulling apart bodies instead of just stitching them back together.

Seeing our looks, the youth shrugs.

"Makes sense. I'm not stupid: no way we can't even pay for a stupid washing machine, but we do have the scratch to send me to the most expensive school in Night City. Honestly… I'm just glad she wasn't sleepin' with one of the directors or something." He says with a hardness in his voice that can only come from those who see a full belly as a luxury instead of a necessity in life.

"Just… wish she would've told me. I would've understood." He says in a soft voice.

"It ain't exactly a profession to be proud of kid. Sure, Gloria was good people. Took only from those too far to save and made sure not to sell it to gangoons. Which, uhh, for the record, I wasn't. At the time, I mean, sure there's been some recent shifts in management- urk!" Maine rambled, before being elbowed in the ribs by an annoyed looking Dorio.

"The point my worse half is trying to make is that, to some people… well, most people, what Gloria was doing made her little better than a Scav."

At that, fire returns to David's eyes as he locks eyes with the large woman.

"No. No, it's nothing like that. Scav's do it 'cause they're sick. 'Cause they wanna get rich. Mom did it to survive. So we could survive. She did it for me. I ain't ever gonna think that that is somehow wrong!"

'Well said, kid.' I muse as Maine and Dorio exchange glances.

Before we can continue our conversation, there's the sound of an engine approaching outside, the tell-tale noise of rubber rolling over asphalt coming ever closer.

Maine's projectile launcher unfolds as Dorio fishes a Nova out of the back of her waistband as all our gazes shoot towards the entrance to the garage. The ancient roll-up door at the entrance is still lifted just enough to allow the cars through, giving us a view of the dilapidated highway. We all relax however when we spot the old Thorton Galena that rolls up the driveway, approaching Autowerks.

It's Shannon's old rattle-can, though I'm surprised when another woman steps out of the car with Big Pete. As the Techie brother of Tiny Mike gives the old Autowerks shop a weary, memory-laden look, the woman instead makes a beeline towards me.

"Hello Sasha." I say with a smile, confused but pleased to see her, even as her neon-pink eyes rove up and down my body in a flash, before lingering in the holes marring the front of my flak jacket.

"Hello yourself, Sim."

"What are you doing out here? I called up Big Pete-"

"And he's here to look over your car, make sure she made it through the bullet storm alright. You know, wash her down, dig out the bullets, just like he promised you."

"And you?"

"I am here to do the same to you, just like I promised your Ma." Sasha reveals, placing a large duffelbag next to the plastic bag on the workbench, giving the stunned looking David a small wave before zipping it open, revealing a fresh set of clothes and medical equipment inside.

"She would've come herself, but she's a pretty big target, in more ways than one. Shannon's Galena was available and is low-key enough to slip out here without drawing any eyes, but your Ma doesn't exactly fit inside properly… so, uhm, I kinda sorta volunteered." the lithe netrunner explains, while behind her Big Pete is already running an experienced hand over the dents and bulletholes smattered along the side of my Avenger.

As the netrunner turns an enthralling shade of pink as she mumbles out the last of her words, she's saved from my intrigued look by the annoyed voice of Big Pete.

"Of course she can't fit inside, it's a shit can of a car. Honestly, you'd expect a Nomad of all people to pick their cars better. I don't care if it's a special-edition GA32t, a fast shit is still just diarrhea!" the Techie grouses loudly as Sasha signals Dorio and the two women leave the garage, clearly on the look-out for something.

With just us men left behind, David, Maine and I all lean back against the wall, coincidentally ordered from tallest to shortest and adopting a similar pose; one foot pulled up against the wall, arms crossed over our chest.

Though in my case that's of course somewhat more uncomfortable on account of the lead still embedded in said chest. In order to take my mind off it, I decide to needle the cantankerous Techie to Maine's (and even slightly David's) amusement.

"That so? Guessin' that sweet talkin' of yours is what convinced her to lend you her ride then?" I tease with a raised eyebrow, my grin growing larger when the Techie coughs and fails in hiding the blush on his cheeks.

"Just… shut up. Won't hear nothing from you Boss, look at what you did to this poor girl. Gonna be a pain to wash all the blood off and take all the bullets out." He says instead and to my surprise he's backed by Sasha who strolls back into the shop, several large, thick rubbery coils draped over Dorio's shoulder.

"Considering I'll have to be doing the same, that goes double for you too mister." The netrunner says primly as the large woman at her side drops the heavy spools to the floor with a relieved grunt.

Sasha picks up one end of it and now I see that the two brought in a hose of all things, the metal spout comically large in Sasha's dainty hands and the end leading out of the garage to the outside.

Aiming the blocky nozzle at me, the cute netrunner has a twinkling look of amusement on her catlike features as she shoots me a challenging grin, one of her hands going to the large grip of the spout.

"Now… strip."

 //

AN: A bit of a cooldown chapter, we get a bit more explanations and the set-up for next chapter, where Simba will be maneuvering his pieces for the opening strike in the Predator's assault on Biotechnica (or at the very least, on Jacob Shipman). There were some (justified) complaints about the previous chapter not being p(l)aced properly and as I reupload this, I realize that there's some truth to that: it probably would've been better had this chapter and that chapter been swapped. I think I'll leave it like this for now, as messing with the order is a hassle and it might not be such a big deal when read back-to-back. If it is, I can always alter it later.

Also, can I just say how fucking awesome the game feels after the Phantom Liberty 2.0 update? I heard that there is a Cyberpunk 2 in the works, but honestly if the CD Projekt Red spends several more years just fleshing out Cyberpunk itself, either through shows like Edgerunners or additional DLC's/updates, then I'd be happy enough already.

As for what I'm gonna be releasing next, that's up to you! Head on over to my Patreon to vote for which fic will be updated next! It also gives you access to unique chapters that you cannot find anywhere else! Hope to see you there! Cheers choom!