02: Come with me if you want to live​

"Go on, get out there and show 'em what you're made of."

"Will do Ma."

And that's that. I hand Sasquatch her sledgehammer and she's off back towards the gym to get two packs of Animals to play nice and brain anyone who doesn't want to, and I'm off to where Barrett is waiting for me with my a few of my Predators.

They're standing next to a Supron FS3, one that's so banged and patched up, it's impossible to tell what color it originally was. The minivan is honestly more a collection of junk on wheels than it is a proper car, made more out of plastic and wishful thinking than actual steel. Hell, I know a couple cyberpunks that got more metal in 'em than the rundown Mahir minivan. Which is part of the reason we stole it for the gig in the first place.

Its main components are plastics and textiles, and it just so happens that both are quite flammable… When I say 'discard after use', I mean it.

That being said though, as useful as the piece of crap might be, it doesn't diminish the fact that it's a fucking eyesore and, quite frankly, an embarrassment to drive around in. It's covered in graffiti and stickers, seemingly out of an attempt to hide the paintjob underneath, which if we're being honest… well..

"I know it's your car and all… but couldn't we have at least stolen one that wasn't so… ugly?" I call out to a lithe Animal as I approach, my driver glancing back towards me over his shoulder.

"Sure, she ain't a beaut, but she can blend in a crowd just fine and that's what counts." Barrett says defensively.

"Blend in? Look at it!"

"What, you don't like the color or something?"

"It looks like we covered it in vomit!"

"Hey, just for the record, you're the one who ordered us to steal her. 'Sides, you seen NC street fashion lately? We'll be intercepting the target just on the border between Heywood and San Domingo; vomit-colored van will blend right into the crowd there, trust."

"If you're done ripping our ride a new one, Boss? Got confirmation target is on the move, so we gotta haul ass if you wanna get this done quick." A gruff voice speaks up from behind (and above) Barrett.

"Got it, Dominic. Wheels up people, we're on the hunt!" I assure my heavy ordinance gunner, before calling out to the remaining two Animals present that are part of my personal crew, who let out howls as we pile into the Supron.

Vasili is Dominic's brother and about as huge. Contrary to what you'd expect from looking at the lughead, Vasili is actually one of my netrunners, one of the very few in the whole Animals gang and probably the physically strongest netrunner in all of NC. I never pried, but from what they were willing to share it seemed like the two brothers did near everything together. So, after Dominic ended up joining the Animals and began Juicing way back when they were still young teenagers, his brother, even though he had been interested more in netrunning, joined up as well and began hitting the Juice too.

It was a big sacrifice on Vasili's part, as the Animals aren't exactly the kind of gang that gives you many opportunities to develop your netrunning skills, what with the focus of beating each other to death in the ring and all.

Unless you happened to end up working for the Prince of the Animals' personal hit squad of course.

With Vasili's background, I quickly sourced him for my own crew (and automatically got Dominic as a package deal) and the netrunner-wannabe practically leapt at the chance to develop his skills. Said skills hadn't come cheap though: I had to bury more than a few bodies for Rogue in order for her to have her 'runner Nix throw some datashards Vasili's way, train up his skills a bit. It put me on the radar of NC's foremost fixer, a steep price, but considering the shit you could pull in cyberspace, I wasn't willing to take any chances with a solo or subpar 'runner messing with one of my crew. Nix was the only one I trusted not to fuck Vasili up while he was jacked into the chair through some corrupted shard or spiked cyberdeck, if only because he knew Rogue would have his balls put in a vice if it came to light he tarnished her rep by screwing over one of her clients.

We all knew she'd do it too. Rogue is a woman who prefers to lead by example after all.

Still, coerced or not, Nix held up his part of the bargain and in just a few years Vasili's skills improved with leaps and bounds. He wasn't on the level of my corpo V (though thankfully, I don't think anyone outside of an AI really is), but he was more than a match for any streetlevel gonk or gangoon in NC I'd wager. Which was a credit to Nix's skill and trustworthiness (and the grip Rogue had on his nether regions). Netrunners as a whole tend to keep to themselves and guard their skills jealously, which is why the guy's help had come so fucking expensive.

So expensive in fact that, even after the gigs I've done for the Queen of the Afterlife, it's still kinda debatable whether or not we're square now.

She hasn't called in any favors since I've stopped sending Vasili Nix's way, since I found another teacher for him (one both cheaper and loyal to me alone) but whether or not that's because she's wary of pushing my patience, or simply holding onto the favor for a more opportune moment down the line, I can't say.

Something tells me Rogue isn't entirely sure herself either.

"Let's zero this motherfucker! Fuck yeah!" a shout calls out over the entirety of the parking lot, which is impressive considering it came from the smallest member of the Animals by far ever since I (finally!) got too old for diapers. If nothing else, I'm thankful for my insane development rate getting me out of that situation after only half a year or so.

Sasquatch tried, but those huge paws of her aren't exactly suited for handling squishy babies…

That insane development also meant I had always looked older than my age: with the woman who had shouted out with glee about flatlining our target, the opposite was true. She was smaller than I was when I was eight, yet was older than me by a couple of months.

Cream-colored skin with pink accents shine as the tiny woman kicks her feet back and forth against the large crate she's perched on, red-yellow eyes wide with glee and lust for mayehem.

Rebecca is already sitting in the back of the van, with Barrett in the front at the wheel and Vasili besides him. They're not in the stripped down back of the minivan since (as the driver and netrunner respectively) they're the non-combatants of my group. Well, the least-combatants in any case, considering everyone of my Predators knows how to fight to varying degrees. The small woman (who is positively dwarfed when I fold myself into the back of the minivan and sit down heavily besides her) is sitting on a massive ammo crate, it and the rest of the equipment stashed around her the reason why we had to tear out the seating from the back of the minivan.

It had been worryingly easy.

Rebecca's kicking her legs back and forth, her large grin showing off an enlarged incisor poking out from her upper jaw like a cute lil' fang. Just one of the biomods she got ever since she accepted my offer to join my Predators, a few of the others being the pink patterns on her body looking more like stripes now.

What? I did say I'd try and save Maine's crew and considering the Predators are sourced from both within and without the Animals and Maine and his people are mercenaries, the solution was easy.

Just hire the lot of 'em.

Maine was very resistant to the offer at first (and, on some level, still is to this day), considering his ambitions of becoming an NC legend, which meant climbing up the ladder through fixer gigs and corpo heists. He felt like joining a gang meant giving up the merc life and with it, the shot at a merc's legacy: he wanted a drink named after him in the Afterlife, desperately so even.

The fact that you need to die a merc's death in order to get one didn't seem to bother him nearly as much as it should.

That of course meant Dorio backed him up and dug her heels as well, though more for his sake than anything else. She was a practical minded type of woman, who wasn't really obsessed with the whole 'die a legend' bullshit that seems to have taken a hold of the cyberpunks in this fucked up city.

Or if she was, she at least hid it better than her boyfriend.

The surprising factor in why the crew eventually got absorbed into the Predators anyways despite's Maine's misgivings had been Rebecca. That weird off-white/pink loli body, yeah, shocker, but that wasn't exactly natural. 'Becca here was ex-Mox, having run with the crew when she was younger.

Disturbingly younger. She didn't elaborate, I didn't pry and we left it at that.

Honestly man. Fuck this city.

Still, it meant that working for (or with) a gang was something Rebecca was familiar with and she saw very little problem with getting a bunch of huge gangoons with even huger guns as back-up. The fact that my Predators were essentially the Animals' most elite squad, since Sasquatch occasionally lent me out to different packs in return for favors or (stacks and stacks of) eddies, meaning we fought some of the toughest battles you could sink your teeth in here in NC, was just icing on the cake for the maniacal woman.

Getting Rebecca somewhat surprisingly got me Pilar as well, which only reinforced Rebecca's loyalty when he tried to make a move on Sasquatch and she obliterated his crotch with her sledgehammer. Pretty sure that from that moment on, Ma could order Rebecca to go and off the Emperor himself and the tiny woman would happily march up to Saburo Arasaka in person and shoot him right in the face.

Which in turn netted Rebecca my loyalty as well, since her practically glomping Ma's massive leg with tears streaming from her red-yellow eyes, all the while proclaiming her to be "the greatest feminine icon to ever grace this fucking earth!", had weirded out Sasquatch enough it was the only time I've ever seen the woman look baffled at something.

You better believe I scrolled that moment and had Vasili turn it into a BD. It's my go-to relaxation vid.

… Sasquatch must never know I have it.

Pilar ended up fine by the way. Got him a new piece of equipment, which earned me his everlasting loyalty. Like I said, I got contacts with various (less than reputable) vat growers and cloners, finding the perv a replacement had been a piece of cake.

Finding him a replacement that would slowly shrivel up and wither away after a timed delay of a little under a week, now that had been the hard part.

Shouldn't have tried to play my Mom, ya freak.

Pilar's supposed 'everlasting' loyalty shriveled up pretty quick after that (much like his gear), which in turn made me Rebecca's second favorite person on the entire planet.

For some reason, Sasquatch was still her number one.

With Maine and Dorio digging their heels, and with Pilar and Rebecca fitting right in with Ma's Animal pack and my Predators, Maine's old crew was pretty much split down the middle, with the deciding factor coming down to Sasha Yakovleva, the crew's netrunner before Kiwi was brought on to replace her following her death a few years prior to David joining up.

Her loyalty to me was pretty much assured. After all, I was the reason she wasn't dead this time around.

Boot Sequence Initiated… Running BD 'Flashback' … Start

Sasha really only felt two things anymore at this point. The tears flowing down her slightly catlike face, and an all-consuming inferno of sheer HATE blooming in her chest.

The progress bar on the screens in front of her was briefly obscured by a holovid call from a panicked Maine.

'Shit- Sasha! Where are you!'

'sorry'

It was all she could do as she ended the call, occupied with finishing the tape on her impromptu bomb. From the corner of her eye, as she worked, the words 'Upload to N54 Network…' blinked back at her from the screens in the darkness of the office space.

A different set of words kept dancing in front of her memory however.

Side Effects will not be disclosed to the public.

Product will not be pulled from the market.

The side effect? Neurodegeneration. The product? Painkillers. The same killers Sasha's mom had been forced to take. Before she… before… Swallowing and letting that inferno in her chest push her on, Sasha pulled her pink Omaha from her dufflelbag, pulling back the slide on the Militech pistol and letting it snap into place with a comforting 'clack!'. She could already hear Biotechnica forces approach from the hallway beyond the barred doors. Judging by the heaviness of the footfalls, droids most likely.

Shame. She was really in a mood to sink her claws in some Biotechnica corpo rats right now. Maybe leave one or two alive. Get them on Securicine, see how they like it when the painkiller starts doing it work. After all, can't feel pain if you got no nerves, right? Sure, you're in unimaginable agony until they're gone, but after that you won't feel a thing.

Her mom didn't, in the end.

Her ears prick up as she hears some shuffling near the door. She fried its electronics when she broke in, they'll likely blow it open. The cost of this office, hell, this entire building, pales in comparison to what Biotechnica stands to lose once the news channels get their hands on the corp's confidential files after all.

Ducking down behind the broad desk, Sasha tenses her muscles and flexes her hands, causing finger-long and razor-sharp thin claws to spring from her fingertips. As expected, the door disintegrates in a ball of smoke, debris and flame, but Sasha is ready, her entire system running with such levels of adrenaline, she feels like she downed an entire crate of combat stims.

Right here, in this single moment, she feels like she could armwrestle Dorio.

The idle thought randomly shoots through her brain and then all that remains is instinct. She doesn't panic, too high on adrenaline for panic. It's a sort of laser-focus. The entire room, even her own body, it all falls away even as she remains hyper-aware and when she shoots towards the first droids past the threshold, she feels like she's made of liquid lightning.

A grenade thrown as a distraction and she manages to actually land on the nearest droid's shoulders as the group is rocked by the explosion in their midst. She manages to take its head clean off with a single swipe before she's leaping away again.

Her feet dig furrows across the carpeted floor as her eyes size up her opponents, who only now begin to lock onto their target. The initial clash was brief, but informative. More cylons down the hallway, an AV hovering outside the window. It's all she needs to know: she won't walk away from this.

This office is where she'll die.

But then, she knew that already from the moment she decided to press the 'Upload' button, hadn't she? And she'd be ok with that, as long as the Upload was completed. As long as her mother was avenged and the corp that took her from her, that had poisoned her, would finally bleed for it, Sasha was willing to protect the Upload with her very life.

Eyes glow in the darkness off the office, claws gleam in the low light being thrown into the room by the nearby Biotechnica AV's headlights as she prepares to leap into battle again…

Wait, the light from the AV is getting… brighter?

Her head whips to the side and to her shock she sees the AV on a collision course with the large windows of the office. All that saves her is the adrenaline still rampaging through her systems, giving her the reflexes necessary to throw herself flat against the floor as the AV slams into the office, barely missing the top of the monitors and crashing full into the company of droids and carrying them further into the hallway.

The crash is horrendous and the entire floor is left shaking and all that Sasha can do is stare on in mute surprise. Not even the cylons move for a moment, as if their processors need a few seconds to rerun the footage and confirm that, yes, that did indeed just happen.

Then the door to the AV is kicked off its hinges with such speed it completely scraps the nearest cylon and a thick arm wielding a Burya like it's a pea shooter extends from the darkened interior and takes out two more cylons with precise headshots in quick succession.

What next unfolds itself out of the suddenly cramped looking AV can only be described as a behemoth, a giant standing tall in the hallway to the point it nearly blocks it completely with its sheer size, its head brushing the ceiling as it holsters the burly Techtronika revolver.

It picks up the nearest scrapped remains of a cylon with just one hand, holding it up as if it were mere plastic, allowing it to soak up some of the bullets the other robots are sending down the hallway. The man (and as he turns to face the light of the NC nightlife shining through the smashed windows, Sasha can see that it is indeed a man and not some enormous mecha or something) roars in her direction.

"The explosive! Throw it here! NOW!"

'How does he- nevermind, later!' Sasha shakes off the thought, instead vaulting over the desk and heaving her duffelbag towards the giant with all of her might.

An arm almost as thick as her torso shoots out, grabbing hold of the straps before he hurls it down the hallway. The unknown man drops the now perforated cylon, once again draws his Burya from a large holster strapped to his thigh, lines up a shot and the entire hallway goes up in flame as he manages to deadeye the explosive hidden in her bag.

"Who the fuck are you?!" she finally manages to get out as the behemoth thunders towards her, each step sending a small tremor up her legs through the soles of her shoes.

"LATER!" the man roars at her.

Instead of vaulting over the desk like she had, one hand comes down (clawed as well she noticed, but more like a bear's than her own slim sickles) grips the edge of the desk and hurls the thing to the side in a single movement as if it's weightless.

It smashes to pieces against the wall, but all that Sasha really cared about in that moment was that the Upload had been completed before the giant destroyed the computers. She had done it. Her mom had been avenged. Biotechnica would bleed and she-

"-urk!?"

-just got clotheslined by the largest man she had ever seen as he kept on running, one arm around her waist as he kept barreling towards the windows he had crashed the AV through.

Sasha barely even had time to think about what he was trying to do before he leapt through the hole in the side of the Biotechnica building. The fall was strangely… serene, almost. They fell through an ocean of lights, NC's ever-present advertisements rising up and falling away as they hurtled through the air, down towards the highway below.

'Why… why did he save me? Why… is he willing to die with me?' Sasha couldn't help but wonder as the asphalt came ever closer.

The stranger was strong, immensely so, she'd seen enough to figure that out at least. But durable enough to survive a fall from their height? Perhaps there was cyberware out there that could let you do it, but if there was, Sasha couldn't think of it right now and she certainly didn't have anything like that implanted.

She got her claws, her skills, her pink little Militech Omaha pistol and a chip on her shoulder against corpo rats and… and that was it.

It was all she had… all she would leave behind as they…

Wait, that SUV was racing towards them rather fast… and there were some burly man hanging out the side of it with outstretched arms…

It all happened in a split second. The screech of metal on metal as the Chevillon scoured the guardrails, the sound of flesh impacting flesh and three heavy grunts of pain as their momentum was suddenly and painfully halted. Sasha felt whiplashed and it took a few moments for her to dare open her eyes.

It was the wind that convinced her to. No longer the gentle streamers, flowing upwards and playfully tugging at her jacket and hair as if to carry her higher with them. Now it was cold and harsh and coming sideways.

The netrunner girl opened her eyes, shocked to her core to see that both she and her mysterious savior were still alive. Instead of planting face-first into the highway they had fallen just past it, with the giant catching the outstretched hands of the two burly men in the Chevillon at the last second.

Still, the impact was horrendous enough her nose picked up the familiar metallic scent of blood and her savior's weight and momentum had actually been great enough that the entire vehicle was riding on only two wheels, the entire thing listing over to one side as it glided along the guard rail on its side.

Both large men (though it felt somewhat wrong to call them that, considering how they were absolutely dwarfed by her rescuer) were grunting and straining as they held onto the behemoth and with a final roar of effort they heaved backwards, the giant pulling her and himself up as he leapt towards the SUV. The move was enough to tilt the Chevillon the other way and it landed on all four wheels again, swerving slightly before moving away from the guardrail and speeding further into the night.

The behemoth still stood on the side of the large car, one hand clasping the railing running across its roof, the other still holding her up to his side as she dangled in his grip like a kitten. Closer now, she could see that the two burly men were nearly identical and to her surprise they were clearly Animals.

"Dammit Boss, you weigh a fucking ton! Damn near ripped my arm off!"

"Easy Vasili. If it's broke, Sim will pay for the replacement chrome." The man's brother (Sasha assumed) reassured the other man as he winced and rotated his shoulder, a series of pops audible even over the wind screaming past them as they tore across the highway.

The brother who spoke groused as he looked up at her savior however ('Sim? What kind of a name is that?' she couldn't help but think), his expression frustrated.

"Though you were cutting it close there Boss. The fuck were you thinking? We got the Techtronika loot already, why take the AV for a joyride and then fucking CRASH it into a corpo building?!"

"Easy. For this." The giant rumbled back and without further fanfare he planted Sasha on one of the back seats as she let out a surprised 'eep!'.

A beat of silence as the brothers stilled and exchanged glances.

"What?" they said.

"What?" she asked.

"Dominic. Vasili. Meet Sasha. Netrunner and badass. Ma would like her."

At that, Vasili's eyes widened and zeroed in on her like a hawk with a burning intensity and clear interest. Not the 'interested' glances that she often got walking across the streets of NC (her netrunner suit was very form-fitting after all). This guy was interested in her skills. Was he a netrunner himself?

Sasha had never seen one that looked like he could benchpress a MaiMai.

"Sasha, meet Dominic and Vasili. Animals in both senses of the word and good people. Well, not really, but good enough to their pack. You need something shot, talk to Dominic. You want something hacked, talk to Vasili." The giant explained as he folded himself into the Chevillon as well, plopping down on the backseat with a deep grunt.

'So that guy is a netrunner? Whoa…' Sasha blinked in surprise, before glancing towards the giant at her side.

He was spread out, head on the rest of the backseat, legs going across the entirety of the modified SUV so his boots were resting against the back of the driver's seat. He held his hand, the one he had used to catch Vasili and Dominic, loosely (almost gingerly, even) at his side and the coppery scent of blood increased. The other one was thrown over his eyes as he let out a deep sigh.

"And you? Who are you? What do I need to talk to you for?" Sasha eventually spoke up.

The giant lifted his arm a bit, looking towards her from underneath it as a lazy grin stretched across his heavy features showing off pointed teeth.

"My name is Michael Rose, but everyone calls me Simba or Sim for short. I'm the Prince of the Animals."

The lazy grin turned somewhat sharper.

"And you talk to me when you want something wiped off the fucking map."

Sasha blinked a few times at that as the other Animals chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. She thought it was rather similar to the roar of the SUV as it kept trucking along.

"Oh. Good to know." She eventually managed in a slightly stunned voice, but Simba already wasn't paying attention anymore.

"Barrett. Step on it, get us out of here. Take the Heywood backalleys until we hit Rancho Coronado. NCPD don't patrol there, we should be safe once we hit those streets."

"Sure thing Boss!" the driver called out, their SUV tearing across the asphalt under the Night City sky.

For a moment, silence fell over the motley group as the two brothers fussed over each other's injuries and Simba was seemingly on the verge of just nodding off completely. It took Sasha a few moments to find the courage to break the silence, now that her anger and adrenaline had left her to make way for a bone-deep exhaustion.

"Why…" she began, only to trail off when Simba trained an eye on her.

It reminded her of a wolf somehow. No, a lion. Stately, powerful and above all else, something that could turn her into ribbons on nothing more than a whim. Squaring her shoulders, she nonetheless forged on.

"Why did you save me?" she asked, the question plaguing her mind from the moment he had stepped out of the crashed AV.

"Wasn't the plan." He said with a shrug and Sasha couldn't help but wilt a bit at that.

"Oh." She said, before taking a breath and plunging on, trying to keep a smile on her face.

"Then why did you show up so… suddenly?"

"We were doing our own raid on Biotechnica. Different location. Saw that a security alert had been tripped back at Corpo Plaza, so I hijacked an AV that was at the facility we hit and made a beeline to the city center. Figured I'd deal with it before it got my pack in trouble. Instead, I see you fighting for your life, so I messaged the guys for a pick-up and jumped in to save you." Simba explained easily, still with his arm resting over his face.

He was so casual about it too, as if crashing AV's through corporate buildings to explode their security forces was something he did every other Tuesday, just a night out with the boys.

… Well, these were Animals, after all…. High-ranking too by the look of their gear and the size of their muscles. Oh no, he probably did pull shit like this every Tuesday, didn't he?

"Catching you as you throw yourself from the top of a tower is NOT a 'pick-up', Boss." Vasili groused, though Sasha got the impression that was just how the guy talked.

"Ah, but you DID catch me, so it does." Simba replied with a smirk.

Before the argument could continue, Sasha couldn't contain her curiosity.

"What did you take?" she blurted out.

Surprisingly, it was the so far quiet Dominic who answered, sporting a massive grin as he picked up a black dufflebag that had been lying at his feet.

"Guns! Lots and lots of guns!"

Sasha was pretty sure she busted either a circ or an eardrum during the explosion, cause that couldn't have been right.

"You stole… guns?"

"Yeah!"

"… from a genetics company?"

"Yeah!"

"That's… unique?" Sasha tried diplomatically.

"It's genius. Who'd ever steal guns from Biotechnica? Everyone knows you go for Militech, or Arasaka if you and all of your extended family has got a death wish. Nobody would ever think to hit Biotechnica instead, including Biotechnica itself." Dominic said with a grin.

"Their security is no SSI, but then again, neither are their firewalls. Their depots are practically unguarded." Vasili said with contempt.

That made… some sense, Sasha assumed, for someone at least.

"But… why hit Biotechnika for guns?" she couldn't help but ask.

Dominic's grin widened before he threw the bag over towards Simba, who easily caught it one-handed, before zipping it open and pulling two enormous shotguns from it, holding the heavy-looking weapons up with ease and a huge smile.

"They're a birthday present!"

"… what."

"For my Ma!"

"… what."

I had lied to Sasha. Of course I had lied to her, if I told her the truth, she'd think I'd gone cyberpsycho or something and I couldn't even blame her. What was I supposed to say?

"Yeah, I saw you die in a music video that was a companion to an anime that itself was a companion to a game which was based on an old TTRPG back in another universe and I figured I'd try and save you."

Like that shit is gonna fly. So no, I lied… by telling the truth. I did hit Biotechnica with the brothers and Barrett and we did actually get away with a nice haul of decently new Techtronika weapons, including the shotguns I ended up gifting Sasquatch. And I did steal an AV Biotechnica kept at the location we hit and raced down to Corpo Plaza with it, but not because of a trigged security alarm, but because I knew that night, Sasha Yakovleva would die for exposing Biotechnica's sins.

I couldn't let that happen for two reasons: first, saving her would (hopefully) net me the loyalty of another netrunner, meaning I could finally ditch Rogue and Nix and have Vasili be trained by someone from within my own Predators, instead of relying on outside help. And secondly, saving one of his people would (hopefully) mean that Maine would feel indebted to me. He cared about his people, so saving one of 'em had to account to something.

… alright, fine, there was a third reason. She was just too damned cute to let die. There, I said it. You ever repeat that to her, I'll deny it. You every repeat it to Sasquatch and they'll never find your body.

Ahem. Moving on.

When Maine (understandable completely freaking out) finally managed to contact Sasha, they had a long talk as Barrett drove us to one of my safe houses in San Domingo. When Maine had asked Sasha if she was alright and safe, the cat-like girl had given me a surprisingly long and considering look, before assuring Maine that she was fine. The two agreed that she should stay with us for a little while as the crew lied low following the Biotechnica fall-out, and that they'd come to retrieve her when things had cooled down.

So for the next few days, Sasha was our guest as we kept monitoring the news and the net, on the look-out for any retaliatory corpo-soldier hit squads on Biotechnika's payroll that could possibly be on her trail. For now it would seem the company responsible for the nation's fuel and food supply was more occupied with fighting off other corps: given how enormous the demand was for said fuel and food, Biotechnika dealt mostly in patents and licenses, outsourcing a ton of the work itself (and only a margin of the profits) to various other companies.

One such license for CHOOH2 was about to expire and both Petrochem and SovOil had been fighting a minor war before to see who would get the new license contract. Now, the two of them were all too happy to tear down Biotechnika first in order to drive down the prize and maybe divvy up the corps assets between them. It was enough blood in the water that other corps pulled on their floaties, got a synt-shark backfin biomod installed and jumped in as well.

Even the small ones that were punching way above their weightclass, but Biotechnika was too occupied with damage control to crush them as they usually would have.

Sure, Sasha had exposed the harm Biotechnika's medicine had done to the people, but it seemed that the only reason the company was suffering was thanks to the greed of the other corps. The only one that seemingly actually cared about what they had done to the people was Sasha herself and in the grand scheme of things, she was so small that Biotechnika didn't even really care about her.

It had pushed and pulled Sasha into varying stages of depression and awe-inspiring anarchistic rants once she realized that and she got close to making a trail for corpo-soldiers to follow, just so she could sink her claws into them. I had to spend quite a few days with her trying to calm her down from her Silverhand-like rhetoric, which wasn't helped by the fact that my Mom was actually all for it, amused by the lithe woman's anger and intrigued by the prospect of crushing elite soldiers.

Eventually I managed to calm Sasha down somewhat, often by just picking her up whenever she worked herself up into a state (usually followed by her unconsciously unsheathing her claws and roaring and spitting about the evils of a post-capitalist society), tuck her under my arm, plop her in my beloved Quaddra Avenger and taking her for a ride throughout San Domingo.

Mom always gave me this shit-eating grin whenever she saw me do it to and I was seriously considering approaching Viktor to see if there's any chrome that stops you from blushing.

During the time Sasha hid with Sasquatch's pack, I had campaigned hard for her to sign up to my Predators. She could teach Vasili and her combat skills would fit right in with our crew. Hell, she already had a animal theme going, it was like she was already a part of us!

Ma certainly thought so too. The moment she laid eyes on the girl when I led her back to our HQ, I saw Sasquatch start thinking about grandkids and she campaigned almost as hard to have Sasha sign up to the Predators as I did.

Though her arguments were… well, embarrassing.

Even so, I could tell that Sasha was strongly considering it. She owed me her life after all and she honestly was actually a good fit for my crew. The only problem was her loyalty to her old one.

Which meant I had to convince Maine and the others when they came around to pick Sasha up. They didn't immediately agree, but they didn't exactly give me a hard no at the time either. As said, it was easy enough to get Rebecca over to my side and through her Pilar as well. When Maine (and thus Dorio) was still hesitant, it was Sasha that had given him the final push by stating that she would choose the Predators over his crew as well.

That had hurt him, I could tell, though less than Rebecca's 'betrayal' considering he understood where Sasha's switch in allegiance came from.

For a moment, it really looked like Maine would continue on with just him and his girlfriend, until I extended my clawed hand towards him.

"Most of your people already signed on Maine. Since you're their leader, I sincerely hope you will too. I stepped in to save one of yours when I didn't have to. I gave Rebecca every gun, hammer and knife she's asked for, even gave Pilar a new dick after Ma pulped his old one. I've given a lot and asked for little. All I want is to hire you and Dorio as well, keep the crew together. After all I've done that's a fair shake."

Maine locked eyes with me then for a long moment, before he eventually sighed and clasped arms with me, even his thick Projectile Launch arm dwarfed in my clawed grip.

The cyberpunk nodded.

"Sure. It's a fair shake."

And that was that, though I could tell Main still felt trapped. Tough shit. I let him go off on his own and in his drive to reach new heights, he'd go cyberpsycho in no time and commit suicide by MaxTac. He'd drag Dorio down with him too. Within the Animals at least, he could turn to me or Sasquatch as bosses that he could rely on for guidance, instead of trying to shoulder the responsibility of a crew by his lonesome.

Most importantly, within the Animals there were other ways of increasing your power than through more chrome. Sure, Juice isn't exactly winning any health awards soon, but at least injecting yourself won't contribute to cyberpscychosis like getting a Sandy installed eventually would.

Sure, it's not just the chrome that makes people snap. The rest of NC is fucked enough as it is to drive people around the bend simply for the crime of just existing. But the heavy toll the gear takes on your body and mind certainly won't do you any favors.

At least no Animal has ever gone cyberpscyho from the Juice. Regular crazy, sure, but full-on murder-rampage in the middle of town for no apparent reason? … well, maybe a few, but not because they were on Juice!

Really, even if he felt he had hit a ceiling, joining the Animals meant Maine's survival whether he liked it to or not. Can't enjoy being a legend if you're dead dude. Though being an edgerunner, I don't think Maine saw it like that.

Tough shit.

I refuse to have my Predators die on me any time soon as especially to something like cyberpsychosis.

I can't really gauge Dorio, but I think she's figured the same and is quietly grateful for it. She's certainly made a home for herself among Sasquatch's pack with ease and I've heard no complaints from her so far.

For this bit of biz, the two of 'em are sitting it out, staking out a Militech transport convoy out in the badlands for a possible future gig. Really, I just want them monitoring Aldecaldo and Wraith movements in case I have a need for it in the future. I'd prefer Maine to stay as far away as possible from anything even remotely connected to Faraday.

Pilar was a techie and thus put to work servicing several of the vehicles and armories the Animals had. He was good with grenades, but not really a frontline combatant, so while he had played a large role in getting the throw-away cars we'd be using up to an acceptable level and hand-built some goodies that I hadn't entrusted to Faraday to deliver, he wouldn't actually be coming along for the gig itself either.

Sasha wasn't coming along physically as she was back at HQ, though since she was overwatch for this mission and communicating with Vasili and Group B and Group C, she was technically part of this gig.

While she could handle herself in a fight, I'd rather have Vasili as the netrunner in the field than her, though why exactly I didn't want to risk the beautiful cat-like woman was a hot mess of reasons sitting uncomfortably in my chest which I didn't want to really think about. Sasha had tried to challenge me on it, even pouted and glared, but eventually backed down, though she kept sending me these looks when she thought I wasn't looking.

Meaning Rebecca was the only one of Maine's crew physically present for the biz. The reason why she was on the gig, was 'cause it involves shooting at a corpo cunt and honestly it was more trouble than it was worth to convince her not to come along when something like that was in the cards, so here she was.

As I fold myself into the cramped end of the Mahir minivan, I respond to the small woman's earlier battlecry.

"We're not gonna zero the guy, 'Becca. Orders are to take the target in alive. This is a data retrieval gig, not an elimination one." I calmly state, Dominic piling in behind me and then Barrett is off, racing the Supron towards the intercept point.

Rebecca puffs her cheeks as she glares up at me (even with me sitting on the bare floor and her propped up on an ammo crate, she has to crane her head to meet my eye), looking absolutely adorable as she does so.

"Pah, that's boring! Why not eliminate first, then retrieve the data! It's just a 'Saka corpo cunt, what do you care?!"

"I don't. Not that he's 'Saka, anyways. Honestly, if it were up to me, that would just be more reason to flatline him instead. Gives Arasaka less motive to keep hunting us."

"Then what gives?!"

"It ain't up to me. This is Faraday's biz and he wants the target alive. At least long enough we can hand him the data."

"So what, I thought you hated the guy anyways?" Rebecca pouts, crossing her arms as she looks away from me, continuing with kicking her feet against the ammo crate she's sitting on.

"I do. Which is why I'm following orders." I respond easily, seeing Rebecca furrow her brows as she tries to get my meaning.

"Wha…?"

"Think what he just said, girl. A live target means 'Saka will keep looking for their lost rat." Dominic rumbles, going over the grenade launcher in his lap which is almost as large as Rebecca herself.

"Wait, you wanna betray Faraday?! Boss, fucking over a fixer is a bad idea…" Rebecca warns me with a frown, but I merely smile back as I try to make myself a bit more comfortable.

Not that I'm really successful: apparently tiny minivans aren't exactly made with the comfort of supersoldier behemoths in mind.

Shame, that's an untapped market niche right there I'll tell ya.

"Who said anything about betrayal, Becca? I'm givin' Faraday exactly what he asked for, after all." I say with a grin that shows off my fanged teeth.

If Rebecca was worried about me clashing with fixers, then she's seen nothing yet. Faraday would get what he asked for, he'd even get what he deserves. It was just a gig. But there was another fixer, currently involved in biz in Pacifica, that I had my eye on.

In less than a year or so, Dexter DeShawn would screw over Pacifica so bad he'd go off-grid until 2077, destabilizing the region so badly the VB's would be the only major gang to occupy it and needing a new fixer in the form of Mr. Hands. In the game, T-Bug would pull him out of that mess, saving his fat ass so he could make a run for it.

There would be no running for the fuck this time. This time, Dexter DeShawn burns down with the rest of Pacifica. I'd make sure of it. Personally.

"Whoa Sim, got an angry look there. You alright?" Rebecca's cheery voice lifts me from my musings and I shake off the thoughts of murder and revenge.

"I'm fine. Vasili! Update!"

"Target still on predicted route. B-Team already in position at agreed extraction point. C-Team closing in on target." The burly netrunner responds, his eyes glowing as Sasha is remotely feeding him intel.

"Their ETA?" I rumble, cracking my neck and rolling my shoulders.

"3 minutes."

"And ours?"

"5 minutes."

"Barrett!"

"Yes Boss!"

"Make it 3."

"Sure thing Boss!"

As Barrett pushed the Supron FS3 to beyond it was meant to be capable of (he and Pilar deserved a bonus stack of eddies for the upgrades they managed to put in the minivan, if the car actually manages to keep up and not explode before we even reach the target), I began going over the plan again with Rebecca and Dominic.

I did not trust Faraday, but I did trust that he wouldn't risk the same biz going wrong twice for him, so I was willing to assume the intel he gave on the target's defenses was (mostly) accurate.

Still, this particular little corpo piggie had been burnt once before, so who outside of 'Saka really knew what the guy's limo was sporting? All we knew for certain that had changed was that he had physical back-up on board with him, which is why I had Rebecca along. I didn't want to risk breaching Arasaka firewalls for more intel on the corpo rat and his ride, considering that would mean going up against 'Saka Counter-Intel.

That was bad enough on its own. It was twice as bad if this world had my corpo V. Better not to risk it. We had to hit the car either way, so in the end it didn't really matter if it was more armored than usual or not.

We just about wrapped up going over the plan again when Vasili spoke up.

"C-Team and target in sight Boss."

I lean over (almost squashing Rebecca, who begins shouting indignantly and starts flailing away at my arm and chest, though of course it's wholly ineffective), looking through the front window at the vehicles that Vasili highlights for me on my in-built HUD, which still freaks me out the tiniest bit.

It's strange. It took me longer to get used to all the floating information available on my robotic eyeballs, than it took me to get used to all the killing.

I suppose killing is common to human nature across dimensions, cybernetic eyeballs are not.

Said cybernetic eyeballs pinpoint a large old truck, an unadorned Kaukaz Zeya U420, complete with trailer attached. I originally had its big brother, the Bratsk U4020 in mind for this gig, but sadly that one wouldn't fit on the road where we planned our ambush. Behind the wheel of the old, beat-up Zeya is one of my Predators, Shannon.

Much like Barrett, she's rather lithe for an Animal, considering in our gang the women tend to bulk up about as large as the men (incidentally the reason why my birth was so unique, considering female Animals aren't exactly 'Mom' material). Juice doesn't give a fuck about the hormones you were born with, it pumps you full with its own modified ones anyways. Hell, just look at my Mom if you wanted proof.

Still, Shannon is on the slimmer side, only as buff as your average male, because she specializes in speed over strength. Something she carried over from her time with the Nomad's, though nobody is exactly sure which family she rode with and nobody is exactly stupid enough to up and ask the stern woman. Slimming down for agility's sake is not something usually done within the Animals, who as a rule tend to gravitate to "hit it very hard!" as their go-to tactic. This was true for the alpha of her previous pack as well, so much like Vasili, she experienced being one of my Predators as the freedom to be who she truly wanted to be, instead of fitting to the standard Animals-mold.

She was as close to a ninja as I had within my pack of Predators and for some reason I was immensely pleased with that.

Her focus on speed, which had only increased after joining my hit squad through installing chrome like Lynx Paws and the Militech Maneuvering System, meant that she was C-Team by herself. She'd need to torch and then ditch the stolen truck in all of the confusion as the gig went down and then had to exfiltrate herself without relying on B-Team.

B-Team would swoop in to exfiltrate the target while my A-Team would drive away from the scene of the crime as a false lead, but by that point they'd likely be too far to exfiltrate Shannon as well. Her speed meant that she'd be fine though. Even if she wasn't as familiar with the city's lay-out as a non-NC native, Sasha would be guiding her every step of the way. Out of my Predators, she certainly was one that stood out the least (even Barrett was rather… memorable, as he was covered in Animals-tattoos), so between her anonymity and her speed, she was the best suited for C-Team.

Hell, we'd be the one most at risk here, since anyone looking into the hit would see us driving away from the scene of the crime. The idea would be to get all eyes on us, disappear into NC and after we torched our Supron (quite frankly, I can hardly wait) to cover our tracks, make our way back to Sasquatch's turf in another car that was waiting at a different location. B-Team would do the same with their own getaway car as well, once they've put enough space between them and the crime scene, even though nobody should be watching them and instead be focused on my team instead.

Excessive? Fuck no. This was an Arasaka target. Excessive didn't exist if you're dealing with those fucks.

Hell, Johnny Silverhand fucking nuked them and they popped right back up again. Arasakas are worse than cockroaches, I swear, in every sense of the word.

As we sped past Shannon, she made no outward sign of acknowledging our presence, still sitting calmly behind the wheel of the Kaukaz truck. Wouldn't want to give the game away after all.

A few car lengths in front of her, Vasili has highlighted a limo for my eyes. Chevillon Thrax, typical mid-level corpo car. Interesting, since I know for a fact our target usually drives (or is driven, rather) in a

Villefort Alvarado V4F 570 Delegate. Suppose he got spooked enough by Maelstrom's attack he swapped out the showboat for the heavier and more secure Chevillon.

Good choice too, I hate to admit. Stately, easy to fortify to hell and back and (by corpo standards at least) not too expensive and thus disposable if need be. The car of choice for climbing corpo rats and pretentious fixers alike (such as Mr. DeShawn himself). This particular one seemed to be the tuned up 388 'Jefferson' edition, noted for having additional armor in the body and bullet-proof glass. Annoying, but not unexpected.

"Vasili, B-Team?"

"In position and waiting on our signal."

"Alright, Barrett, move to intercept target. Vasili, the moment we throw open those doors, signal B-Team to get a move on."

"Got it Boss."

"Dom, 'Becca, get ready."

"Sure thing."

"Hell yeah!"

Our Supron accelerates as it slowly but steadily overtakes the seemingly unaware Thrax. There's a tightness in my chest as I watch on: I expect the car to bolt and start burning rubber at any second now, something having gone wrong and tipped the target off.

Not that it would really make a difference, not as close as we were: all that armor came with a hefty weight and Thraxes, especially the 'Jefferson' were notorious for having absolute shit acceleration.

Still, it would make our job harder, but thankfully it seems the driver sees nothing amiss, the stately Chevillon cruising away at the same speed, even as we overtake it and begin driving in front of it.

Well then… this is it.

"Masks on people. Code-names only." I mutter lowly, pulling up a bandana to cover my nose as I put on sunglasses to hide my distinctive eyes.

Barrett, Vasili and Dominic do roughly the same, but Rebecca pulls on a balaclava with a lot of muffled swearing. Sorry kiddo, but no amount of sunglasses or bandanas is gonna hide that white-pink skin of yours. Not like I'm in a position to talk, honestly: even in 2075, the amount of people over eight feet tall can be counted on one hand (assuming you haven't installed any extra fingers on that hand. It is 2075 after all…).

I look around to check if everyone's ready, before taking a deep breath.

"NOW!" I roar as I kick open the doors of the Supron, taking care to reign in my strength so I don't launch 'em clean off.

We need them to burn up with the rest of the van after all. No evidence.

The moment the doors swing open, Dominic moves towards the edge of the minivan, grenade launcher held in his meaty fists. A dull 'thump!' comes from its barrel and a grenade gets lobbed to land square on the Thrax' massive hood. It detonates with a flash, but leaves no visible damage.

As intended: the damage of an EMP isn't immediately visible after all.

The visible flash of light is Shannon's queue, as she gives a massive, violent swing on her steering wheel, seemingly throwing her Zeya into a slide out of panic. It goes sideways over the piece of highway right on the edge of Heywood and San Domingo, cutting off three lanes and preventing the traffic from following or seeing us, effectively forming an impromptu roadblock.

I had initially wanted to do something like this in front of the target, but honestly a Thrax Jefferson would probably plow straight through the old Soviet truck.

At least this way, there would be less witnesses and risk of innocent bystanders getting hurt.

"V!" I roar out as the glow of the EMP fades out.

"Signal interrupted, hit them again!"

Dominic immediately follows his brother's orders, lobbing another EMP towards the Thrax. This one explodes closer towards its windscreen, its corona of light barely exceeding the large frame of the limo. Good, wouldn't want to get hit with my own EMP's after all. This time, the Thrax begins to sputter a bit, its headlights flickering.

"Again!" Vasili calls out, and another EMP gets lobbed towards the Thrax.

"Hahaha! You heard 'im D! Keep 'em coming!" Rebecca roars out as she tries to look past Dominic's broad frame.

The reinforced Chevillon tries to speed up, but as said, it's a slow-going venture and it doesn't manage to get past us. Our modified Mahir is shaking from the effort to keep in front of the much more powerful limo though; even with Barrett's and Pilar's reinforcements, I don't have much faith it'll hold out much longer.

Thankfully, it won't have to.

"No more outgoing signals detected! R! Deploy jammer!" Vasili calls out and Rebecca steps up, long rifle held in a secure position as she takes aim, grin visible even through her stuffy balaclava.

When she presses the trigger, it's not a bullet that shoots out, but a thick cylinder. Upon impacting the Jefferson's windshield, it immediately deploys three spindly legs and unfolds an antenna which begins blinking rapidly.

"Jammer deployed, contact with B and C Team lost!" Vasili calls out.

Better hope Shannon is already making a break for it then, though she'll be in contact with Sasha as she guides the other woman to safety. Even without comms, B-Team should be able to spot us coming, so I wasn't too worried about meeting up with them.

Sure, we could've set up the jammer from the start and save ourselves the trouble getting Faraday to offer up a bunch of EMP's, but the jammer was useless if any of the target's security forces knew how to hack it. By using the EMP's, we crippled the car and made sure the jammer wouldn't get disabled. If the corpo cunt had hired someone with the required tech savvie and netrunning skills, they were probably throwing up their past three lunches all over his shoes right about now.

EMPs doesn't play nice with chrome.

With everything going according to plan so far, I grab the largest object in the back of our Supron, giving out a grunt of effort as I heave it up, though that's as much due to its unwieldy size as it's because of its impossible weight.

Fun fact about the vids back in my old universe: whenever a car got flipped, it wasn't because of an explosive. No way to really target all that expanding force to push upwards, you see, and if you just added more force, eventually your bigger explosion was gonna make such a big boom it would shred the car instead of launching it.

Instead what they did, was literally shoot it up with compressed gas. Sometimes they'd put the car on what was essentially an enormous aircannon and fire it into the air. Or, if it had to "explode", a thick metal pole would be placed inside a hollow tube underneath its chassis, which would then ram itself into the road, literally pushing the car up and into the air.

Now, we didn't have the access to Arasaka's vehicle pool to modify the target's car like that, but we could recreate the circumstances somewhat. You know those pillars that rise up out of the ground? Yeah, turns out that in the future, you can get them to be surprisingly compact when they're folded up.

Taking a few steps towards the back of the Supron, causing it to ride lower on its rear-axels as its balance is shifted, sweat drips down my brow as I hoist up the road-block (or "rising stop pillar for regulation and blocking of city traffic" as they're officially called) a little higher.

I eyeball the enormous thing in my arms and the distance to the car behind us (with Vasili eyeballing with me, plotting out a trajectory on my HUD) before with a grunt of effort, I heave the enormous weight and throw it out of the Supron, right in the path of the corpo's limo.

The front of the heavy Thrax slams into it (its Jefferson-type tune up meaning it even managed to keep its bumper, mangled though it is) and with a horrible screeching noise climbs a bit up and over it, its four front-wheels spinning madly in the air just above the tarmac. A rear-wheel drive car, the Thrax still powers on, its speed barely slowed as a shower of sparks erupt from the front of the car. The screeching sound intensifies, before suddenly, there's an odd crashing 'ca-clunk!' sound and the pillar disappears underneath the Chevillon's immense nose.

The moment it disappears, I send a command to the mechanism inside the pillar, and it does what it was meant to do: stop traffic. The hunk of metal expands with explosive force thanks to Pilar having taken the safety's off and the Thrax gets launched upwards. It even gets higher than our little minivan. At the apex of its climb, it slowly begins to roll over to one side as gravity ponderously begins dragging down the behemoth of a car again.

With a tremendous impact, it slams back into the road again, sliding several dozens of meters on its side as it bleeds off momentum, before it begins to slow to a stop. Seeing this, Barrett slams on the breaks, unintentionally launching Rebecca off her feet and into the back of Barrett's seat, where she immediately begins swearing at him in no less than three different languages. I'm fine and Dominic managed to grab the side of the Supron in the nick of time, so we're ready when one of the doors on the upwards side of the Thrax begins shaking.

We leap from our minivan, he far slower than I, as the corpo cunt's security tries to bash open the limo's door now that its electronics have been fried. By the time the door finally swings wide on the shoulder of a burly security guy, I've already reached the downed Thrax. The corpo security tries to clamber out of the car, but I leap towards him, clearing the car with ease, one clawed hand coming down and grabbing the guy by the head. My free hand clips loose a flashbang from my utility belt and drops it into the car in a single smooth motion at the same time.

Allowing my momentum to carry me beyond the car, I physically drag the security guy out of the Thrax with me, pulling him forwards as I fall towards the tarmac and smashing his head against it as I land.

I don't know if he's dead and frankly, I don't much care either: all that mattered is that he wasn't moving and hadn't seen anything.

There's several shouts of pain and confusion from within the car as the flashbang goes off and as I straighten and turn to face it, I see Dominic as well. Considering my gunner isn't nearly as agile as I am and that he thus doesn't have a good shot, I chamber my leg and kick the sideways car with enough force, it tips back onto four wheels again, its now open door lined up straight with the waiting Dominic.

Having already spooled up his Satara on his way over, the Predator doesn't hesitate in letting his Rostovic tech-shotgun rip, blasting two holes in the remaining security guys our target had brought along for the ride.

As he ejects the spent shells and begins loading in two new ones, I leap onto the roof of the Thrax, pulling my Burya from its holster. It was no Comrade's Hammer and, honestly, I was genuinely a bit sad about that. Unfortunately, the last time I checked in on the 6th Street gangoon Darius Miles, he hadn't had it or its crafting spec on him yet, though I had Vasili keep an eye on the smuggler every day.

Still, while my gun was the lesser and frustratingly inferior version of the glorious Comrade's Hammer, it would still ruin even a fully 'borged Maelstrommer's day. Leaning over the top of the door opening, I aim my revolver into the ruined Chevillon, placing the thick barrel of my Techtronika revolver flush against the sweating nape of the cornered corpo rat.

His car is scrapped, his security is gone and his sos-signals won't go through: he's fucked and he knows it.

"Tetsuo Tanaka. You're coming with me."