12: Oh Captain, my Captain

Chapter 12: Oh Captain, my Captain

I didn´t stick around for long as Hayes went over the myriad of data that Biotechnica´s resident geneticist and absolute scumbag Dr. Shipman had collected on Gloria. Partly because it was boring as hell just staring at a screen with a bunch of indecipherable data I couldn´t ever hope to understand endlessly flowing past and partly (well, mostly) because Hayes kept shooting me these looks with those creepy octopus-like eyes of his (shapes like that do not belong in a human's face…) whenever he thought I wasn´t watching him. I felt like a chicken that had accidentally strolled into a KFC during rush hour. I know promising the obsessed scientist more samples of, well… me, might come back to bite me in the ass later, but truth be told the man had already taught me more about the weird ways my body works with just a few blood samples than even my own mother had ever been able to during all the years she (tried to) raise me.

Then again, my mom is a roided-out gangleader sitting comfortably in the top five of Night City's most wanted, so her lack of educational skills sadly aren't much of a surprise.

Incidentally, with Faraday's organization pretty much imploding these past couple of days, Mom moved up a spot on said list (not that Faraday himself had been on it, but some of his more questionable (and thus, expensive) Huscle were), which we all decided to celebrate with the whole pack with an impromptu party. Seeing Rebecca's grin when she spotted me walking into the Tripple Xtreme Gym with five crates of Brosephs stacked on either shoulder had been worth the near-constant embarrassment that evening as a buzzed Sasquatch kept trying to insinuate to an increasingly red-faced Sasha that she couldn't wait to help raise some grandkids and if the netrunner needed any help picking out names because what mother wouldn't want a strong boy named 'Gorlock the Destroyer', or a lovely daughter named 'Deathtrix, Killer of Men'?

Honestly, in hindsight I probably got off lightly with my nickname. As for Rebecca, while her enthusiasm for the whole shebang had made it worthwhile at the very least, finding her the next morning duct-taped to the ceiling again after challenging Ma to a drinking contest was fucking priceless.

But yeah, all in all I wasn't exactly surrounded by people well-versed in the genetic make-up of a freak of nature that was yours truly, which brought me back to Hayes. Despite admittedly giving off shady 'mad scientist' vibes (and this world had plenty of those already), I still figured he was the preferable option compared to his previous suggestion of going to the corpos for help. Sure, they had the resources, more than any other faction in Night City, so it wasn't as if the thought had never crossed my mind before.

During my youth, when I first began to truly realize the life Ma had in mind for me, and the sheer power (and value) of the enormous body I was growing into, one of my first plans to ditch the Animals had been to beg for corpo protection. I probably could've contacted Biotechnica while I was still young, offer myself up as a lab rat and be set up for life with all the riches Faraday had hoped to gain from betraying his Edgerunners and then some. Every single night, when I couldn't go to sleep because of the fucked up shit I had been forced to witness during the day, when I was lying awake on whatever cot I had managed to scrounge up or Ma tossed my way, feeling the itch of the scratchy blanket against my skin and the concrete floor against my back through the thin fabric of the mattress, I seriously considered running away from the gang, away from Sasquatch, even if it was straight into a Biotechnica lab. I mean, which kid doesn't want to run away from their parents at some point during their youth, right? Hell, in my previous life, I once packed a briefcase with all the essentials a twelve year old could ever need to make his own way out on the open road, which included mostly underwear, two peanut butter sandwiches and, most importantly, a stack of my favorite comic books.

In hindsight, my hopeless plans about escaping to Biotechnica captivity hadn't been all that much better thought out, if I'm being honest.

Not that I ever actually got the point where I was about to go through with it though. Every single time the despair over my new lot in life got the better of me, when that sleek and shiny corpo life seemed real tantalizing compared to the scrap and rust of my 'home', all it took was a single reminder of what Biotechnica was truly like beneath their PR-façade and behind locked doors for a chill to tingle its way down my spine. As a kid, whenever I would be reminded of something like Project Nightingale, or the fucked up shit Gloria was almost subjected to, or the faulty medicine that made Sasha's mother waste away in front of her, I would curl up besides Ma, finding comfort in the one place in this whole world I knew with absolute certainty was safe (by Animal standards at least).

To Sasquatch's credit, she never once questioned why I couldn't sleep, or sent me away to tough the nightmares out. Instead, without a word she'd just throw one of her arms as thick as a young tree trunk over my shoulders and pull me in close, letting her strong twin heartbeat lull me to sleep.

Eventually, as I got older the nightmares slowly stopped and with it any foolish desire to seek out corpo protection. I don't care how many luxuries and recources they can provide; the price they demand is always higher still. Hayes just wants some my blood in return for his expertise. Biotechnica would want my fucking soul. We Animals are no Nomads, but on that particular point, our philosophies align: fuck any corpo that wants to take away our freedom, our very selves. So once I got some basic intel out of Hayes some years ago, I put the entire thing out of my mind, until now. With things heating up more and more as my Predators were making bigger waves in NC, finding out just what my body was truly capable of was a pretty high priority right now, especially as we were stuck waiting around for the foreseeable future anyways until the heat from the 'hospital' raid died down. Hence relying on Hayes in the meantime as things settled down, leaving me with prep time.

Beggars gotta be looters, as they say. At least in this City.

I had been fine with pushing my body slowly, or at least as slowly as Ma's lifestyle would allow me, as her name and street cred did a lot to keep me out of the spotlight. Now, however, I was beginning to take center stage in our operations, something that Ma seemed disconcertingly pleased with, which meant I had to shape up and be prepared for the shitstorm my actions would inevitably trigger. First order of business was my planned hit on Shipman, for which I promised to take David along with me. Which wouldn't be difficult, considering the lithe teenager had taken to following me around like a lost puppy whenever he wasn't glued to his mother's bedside. After fulfilling my contract with the kid, I fully intended for the two of them to disappear into the grinding daily life of Night City again and thus get them out of my (luscious mane of) hair entirely. Which again meant waiting on Hayes to finish his work, which he assured me would be done within the month, though getting Gloria acclimatized to her new meat could take many months more.

Which meant I had to prepare to get them off my hands. My first thought had been to just toss them back in their hab block in their old Megatower, but that plan died an immediate and ignoble death when David and I went round only to find the apartment already rented to someone else (of course without the building having ever contacted the Martinez' after their rent stopped coming in, because, all together now, fuck Night City).

Boy did that gonk look surprised when he opened his door only to stand face-to-pecs with an absolute giant of an Animal accompanied by a scrawny mutt of a kid who looked about ready to tear his throat out with his teeth.

Ma would've been proud I reckon.

At least we were able to pawn some memorabilia the kid wanted to keep off the new guy (and by 'pawn' I meant 'steal' as in I held the dude three feet off the ground with a single hand while David tore through his stuff). Not that I really felt bad for the gonk, considering how eager he seemed to go for the old Nova tucked in the front of his sweatpants, ready to undo all of Sasha's hard work she'd done on me. I of course couldn't allow that, for a couple of reasons, chief being the fact that he very well could've shot his own nuts off instead with how enthusiastically and drunkenly he was grabbing down the front of his pants (also, not a good look for you, out in public in front of a minor, choom). If anything, he should be thanking me for enforcing the peace through violence. Judging from the muffled (but steadily growing louder) screams coming from behind my palm covering the entirety of his face, I'm sure the gonk saw the light and fully agreed with me.

Well, he saw the light anyways, considering I smashed his head through one to get him to finally shut up.

But yeah, the Martinez' would need some new digs soon, especially as Ma had gotten on my case about it recently.

"Look, cub. I know you like the little fella. I do too. But right now, you've got a ton on your plate and he ain't pullin' his weight. Not to mention his Ma. It'd be different if he applied to join the gang, but since you don't want that-" she said one night as we stood on the roof of the Gym, watching the illuminated skyline of Night City as its glowing adds slowly faded up into the night sky.

The two of us were seated on a large crate (which had creaked ominously once we tried to settle our weights on the poor thing), sitting shoulder to shoulder with a half-empty crate of beers between us. A slow night, a rarity for both of us but which I've strangely come to appreciate over the years, as it was something that (almost) resembled normalcy the most in my new life.

My sigh is one of long repetition as I toss an empty bottle away, grabbing a new one and easily uncapping it with my large teeth. I knew this talk was coming, I just didn't really feel like having it and I hoped to ignore it until Ma began poking me in the side with her elbow just as I was taking a sip.

In the interest of not choking on some cheap beer in the most embarrassing death possible for a gangoon, I set my bottle down with a scowl as I slightly turned to face Sasquatch. Well, at least this won't be half as painful as the time she wanted to have The Talk.

We both still bear the scars of that little convo.

"Ma, they were gonna-" I try, but Sasquatch shows that despite her (many, many) flaws as a mother, she does know her son, as she cuts me off, already having anticipated what I was going to say.

"I know, cub, I know, Sasha showed me the data-shard. Sure, I'm chromed- and jacked-up, but that don't mean I'm heartless. Hell, I got two!" she said with a grin as she thumped her chest for emphasis, the sound oddly deep and resonant, more akin to slapping the hood of a car than anything a human should be able to produce.

"But letting every stray you find and feel sorry for sleep on your couch isn't a solution. Don't help you, don't help them. They need a real place to stay, out there with their own kind, somewhere where they can join their fellow normies." She continued, more seriously now.

"So, what, I just kick them out? You know they won't survive on the street." I say, feeling oddly petulant, my Mom somehow always managing to make even a literal giant like myself feel small like a kid again.

Not that I've ever been a small kid, what with my genetics, but still.

"True enough, for the mother at least, especially injured. The pup? Hmm, maybe. He takes after you a bit, or tries to at least. Heh, some people even thought he was your long-lost secret kid, you know?" she hints with a smirk, which almost does make me die the most embarrassing death possible as I nearly inhale my beer (bottle and all) out of shock.

"What the fuck, Ma?!"

"Hey, look at it from an outside perspective. You bring in some random kid and his pretty mother and go through all this trouble for 'em-"

"We're almost the same age!"

"I know, cub, I know that. But you also know you don't look it. You got my strength, but sadly you got my looks too: kid looks a decade younger than you do and everybody knows you grew up quick. Remember when you were just seven and we had to have The Talk-"

"I've been tryin' very hard not to." I groused, but Sasquatch just huffed in amusement, the sound more akin to a bear than a grown woman.

"Look cub, I know that ain't the case, but the kid looks up to you to the point some of it might as well be true anyways. Hmm, actually… Makes me wonder who his Da is, since apparently his Mom doesn't know either, just like I don't know what ever happened to whoever the gonk was that managed to knock me up with you. If he's such a horn-dog he even managed it with me, well… who knows?"

I shoot her a surprised look at that, considering Sasquatch has never once mentioned even so much as a passing interest in identity of the man who was insane enough to willingly(?) participate in the crime against nature and every OSHA health and safety code in the book that resulted in my spawning, but the immense woman just shrugs carelessly at my glance.

"All I'm sayin', is that if he got the option to Juice up and actually become a proper Animal, there might be a real future here for the little pup…" she trails off leadingly, but I just shrug mulishly.

Ma sighs, before bumping her shoulder against mine, her gravelly voice as comforting as she can make it.

"It's your call, cub. But you gotta decide and soon. You brought them in, that makes them your responsibility. You either raise 'em right, or find a new home for them, but they can't keep staying here like this."

With that, she planted a kiss on the top of my head, grabbed the remaining crate of beer and slung it easily onto her shoulder with just one hand as she leisurely sauntered away, leaving me alone on that rooftop with only a complex tangle of thoughts for company.

With my Ma spurring me on, I had rapidly tried to go through all my options. One hare-brained idea had been to put them in Rebecca's and Pilar's flat, if only temporarily, considering Rebecca at least hung out with us Animals near-constantly, leaving plenty of room in her appartement. That plan too fell flat when I suggested it to the incredulous murder-gremlin.

"What the hell Sim!? I mean, sure, Dimples over there is a cutey, not gonna lie ~Heyyy David!~ but having him squat in my digs without even havin' him buy me dinner first!? Or, you know, a fuckin' Orgiatic packet from the fuckin' vending machine at the very least! I'm not that kinda gal you know! Not to mention his Mom too?! I wouldn't even let my Mom crash at my place, no way I'm letting some rando! 'Sides, do you really think putting a crippled woman in the same place that Pilar lives is a good idea? The fuck is she gonna do against that horn-dog without fuckin' legs, what, roll away from him?" the tiny woman shouted up at me as I was seated across from her, David on the couch besides me (though it seemed as if the red-faced kid was doing his utter best to sink through it instead).

"Hmm, that's a fair point, I guess." I conceded with a sigh, rising up to my full height as I placed my claws in my pockets.

As I moved away, deep in contemplation, I spotted how David made a desperate grab for my pants with a look of sheer panic on his face. Of course he missed and that left my spot on the couch (still sunken and sagging from ruthlessly being subjected to my size) free for a certain murder gremlin to hop onto, jutting her pale face right next to David's.

"You know, David… you're always welcome 'round my digs if you wanna… my bed is huuuge…" the ex-Mox crooned with half-lidded red-yellow eyes as the teen desperately started looking towards the exits.

He shot me a pleading look, but unfortunately for him, he found no sympathy there. I have been dealing with crap like this since I was twelve… from female Animals no less, who were far less subtle about it than Rebecca was being. I mean, sure, even at that age I was already stronger than most of them, but still, it was the type of shit Eric Kripke would find 'hilarious'. Some darker part of me felt a tiny hint of vindictive glee at seeing someone else having to go through that same crap as I had for a change.

'Stay strong little fella. This is where boys become men.' I thought solemnly to myself, closing off my heart and ears to his subdued pleas for rescue.

Still, as Rebecca continued her seduction efforts while I walked away, I couldn't help but try and shake off a feeling of frustration, since the points she had raised were (annoyingly) good ones. So, there went another plan. Time for plan… C? Is it C? Man, I gotta take a page out of Cyclops' book and start numbering my plans instead with the way they keep falling apart.

In Night City, with my lifepath, I don't think just 26 letters will do.

Still, the Martinez' were Santo locals, and that opened a few possibilities at least. After all, any Santo local with a problem and in need of a solution knows where to turn to. Wouldn't be my first choice, but then again I'm biased, having been burned vicariously (twice!) when it came to these types of problem solvers. Then again, out of all the big fixers in town, this guy might be NC's nicest. Or at least the one that cared the most about his people. Despite (repeatedly) telling myself that though, I keep stalling for a day or two, shopping around for any alternatives, before I finally bite the bullet and decide to make the call.

"Well, well, look who's callin'! Knew you wouldn't keep shooting down roots in Coronado and never knock on the door of the greatest fixer in all Santo Domingo! You finally got some biz for me, Príncipe? How long I been tellin' ya? I eat, sleep-"

"-and shit biz. I know, Reyes. Save the sales pitch, I'm already lookin' to buy. You want the gig or not?" I say, the scowl on my face showing off a glint of my enlarged canines as I'm leaning against one of the walls inside the Tripple Xtreme Gym, broad arms crossed over an even broader chest.

My eyes are aglow with the tell-tale orange shine of a holocall, but they're also trained on the scrawny form of David who's working one of the bags with Dorio, the large woman easily holding the hanging weight still with just one hand even as the teenager is wailing away at it with gasping breaths.

Despite his best efforts (as if I'd accept anything less), the bag barely even budges in Dorio's iron grip.

At least his form isn't shit anymore, my expert eye notes immediately (comes with the territory of having been a child (super)soldier since age five, I suppose). Being Animals, we have enough wetware shards on combat lying around you could outfit a small military unit with them, so tossing the kid a couple wasn't a problem. Nothing as fancy as the Takemuras had implanted, but at least it made David go from 'barely a threat' to 'substantially mediocre' when it came to combat. The real problem was David's lack of chrome, meaning the chips could only do so much, being forced to work with the muscles the kid naturally had.

Usually the skills you get through the neural shards gets complimented with specially designed wetware that optimizes its usage (like pre-programmed neural sockets and cybernetic joints that receive the artificially generated reflexes much better than untrained squishy meat) but I wasn't keen on implanting stuff like that in David, even if the kid himself wasn't opposed to the idea. Sorry kiddo, but I'm keeping you on your own meat for as long as I can manage, or at least until you're not my problem anymore.

Which meant only one thing: beefing up those muscles. I wouldn't put him on Juice (god forbid, some part of me is convinced he'd somehow manage to go cyberpsycho just off that alone), or even a training regimen we use for our lower ranked Animals, such as Raptors or Brutalizers, but give him a couple of years to fill out and grow up and David could rival Detective Rivers in the hunk-department if I had any say in it. My sensibilities as an Animal (not that Animals were usually very sensible) meant that I just couldn't allow myself to roll with someone who looked like Diogenes' version of Plato's human.

"Of course, of course, a gig from the Prince of Animals? Go ahead choombatta, lay the detes on me! Need a bridge blown to pieces, or the sweetest ride this side of the Pacific? I'm your man!" the enthusiastic voice of El Capitan pulled me from my thoughts and my gaze shifted to rest on the grinning face of Santo Domingo's chief fixer.

… his haircut really is awful.

"Cool your jets, its nothing major. Just picked up a couple of strays, looking for a good home for 'em." I growl back, my recent conversation with Ma still playing in the back of my mind.

"Strays, huh? Gotta admit, didn't figure you as a charity type of guy. Still though, what are you callin' me for, I ain't running a kennel. Or a realtor agency, for that matter."

"We're not talkin' safehouses Capitan. This is long-term and low-profile. Wanna make sure they won't get ripped off… or tracked down." I rumble and I can see the fixer raise an eyebrow to his (ridiculous) hairline in surprise.

Muamar is quiet for a few long moments, David's huffs of exertion staggering in the background as Dorio keeps encouraging him, having taken a shine to the teen much as she would've in the original timeline. The scene causes an uncomfortable feeling in my chest and I gladly refocus on the fixer as he speaks up again, thoughtful but not sounding too distrustful or overly cautious.

"That sounds a bit more up my alley, yeah. So, what are we talking here? Feral cats with trust issues or dogs that flunked obedience school?"

I take a second to wrap my head around his metaphors, wondering if he somehow had been talking to Sasquatch, before shooting him a look as I answer in kind.

"Neither. More like a mother and her pup, both looking a bit rough around the edges."

"Oh, a family affair. Those are the trickiest to rehome. Everyone wants a purebred, not a couple of scrappy mutts with baggage. Especially low-profile, long-term baggage."

"Don't tell me you can't do it Reyes." I question with a raised brow and the fixer quickly backpedals at my gaze.

"Of course I can do it, look who you're talkin' to choom! Just coverin' all bases and angles, you know how it goes in the biz! Finding a kennel for two won't take two shakes for El Capitan, watch."

"We'll see." I rumble slowly, though it doesn't seem to dissuade the fixer's enthusiasm.

"Of course we will! Now, couple of things. If I'm gonna hide 'em properly, I gotta know who I'm hidin' them from. Or what at least. Corpo or boostergang, kinda big difference. Also, if you want me to buy some new tags for your strays, I gotta slip off their old collar first. Got a net-jockey connection at NCPD, should make sure most of their old records are 'lost', but my netrunner can't do shit without a name."

"So to keep them hidden, I first gotta expose them to you? Starting to dislike how this sounds, Reyes." I growl now, but again the fixer seems hardly bothered by my suspicious gaze, waving it away with a grin.

"Expose them? I ain't askin' for a nudie BD of 'em here, Príncipe. You aren't airing their deepest darkest secrets to me, I ain't in that kind of service, you wanna lighten your soul, you find some fuckin' Bikkhu monk to talk to. People got problems, I don't need to know 'bout them, don't wanna know 'bout them, just wanna know how I can fix it. Where do you think the name comes from choom?"

I chew it over for a moment, trying to determine if this will fuck me over somehow. The feeling I got back at Hayes' place intensifies, this electric tingle starting at the nape of my neck and crawling upwards over my skull. You know how some people have a scar that can tell them when a storm is coming? I figure I got something like that built in that right now is telling me we got a category 5 shitstorm coming our way… I just can't see it yet.

Eventually I realize I'm thinking in circles and I pinch my nose (carefully, considering my claws) as I let out a deep sigh. As I glance at Muamar, I can tell by his grin that El Capitan already knows he got me.

"Fine. They need to lay low from corpo rats sniffing their trail. Might be 'Saka, might be Biotechnica. Hell, might be Militech too if they're serious about tracking down leads." I rumble and the fixer's grin is quickly replaced by an impressed whistle.

"That's some fuckin' grocery list, Príncipe. What did they- … Nope, don't wanna know. Can see why you came to me with a gig like this though."

"Can you do it?"

"Of course I can do it! I'm El Capitan choom! All of Santo Domingo is my kennel if I need it! I'll get your strays settled somewhere corpo eyes won't look, trust. Hiding won't do 'em much good if they're asking to get tracked down though. Considering they got corpo rats sniffin' their trail, we'll definitively need to nuke their data-sets over at NCPD, might need to burn more if needed. Can't 'convince' corpos to lay off like you can with gangers, need to make it so the chase ain't worth their paycheck, only thing that motivates 'em. I'm talkin' scorched earth and everything choombatta. Leave that to my net-jockey. Which names can I sling my 'runner's way?"

Briefly I wonder if I shouldn't let my own netrunners deal with this. But Sasha is still chasing Lucy's digital footprints and Vasili's occupied (carefully) poking at Biotechnica's data fortresses to see if we can't start making a move on Shipman. I could pull either one of them from their current assignments and then use Ward to get them inside NCPD's database, but ultimately I decide against it. Considering Biotechnica's defences, best not to bother Vasili while he's diving and while Sasha can definitely get the job done, I've leaned on Ward pretty hard these last couple of days and I don't want to risk straining our relationship further.

The good Detective deserves a bone thrown his way one of these days for all the help he's been, not a request to help us break in at his workplace.

So I shake my head with another sigh.

"Fine, you take care of it. I'll even let you pick out the new names when you rehome them. But Reyes, I ever hear their old name somewhere, anywhere outside of this convo…"

"You'll track me down and rip out my eyes through my asshole?" Muamar just shoots back with a raised eyebrow and I blink at the… descriptiveness as the fixer simply shrugs up at me.

"You know the streets talk. And when they do, I listen."

I'm… almost entirely sure I've never done something like that… then again, I'm also fairly certain I've done worse.

"Fair enough."

"Don't sweat it Príncipe, discretion is all part of the package deal. Why the hell you think I charge so much: you buy my service and my silence! Two for one deal choombatta! Don't worry, I'll pick out some nice new names for your poor strays. What dog-tags need removing first?"

"Martinez. Gloria and David Martinez." I say, though I'm taken aback by El Capitan's reaction.

For a brief moment, I think my holocall implant glitched, as Reyes suddenly goes absolutely still. All color quickly drains from his face and his breath escapes from him in a pained wheeze, as if he can't quite get enough air into his lungs. His mouth opens and closes a couple of times and his projection visibly stumbled as his hand comes up to rub at his chest, lingering over his heart.

It takes him a couple of tries but eventually he manages to gasp out a question.

"Where are they?"

"What's going on Reyes? You look-"

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY!"

Clearly, there's something significant going on between the fixer and my two 'strays', so after a couple of moments, I decide to bite. Not here though, this is too open and public for this… whatever the fuck 'this' is even supposed to be.

"Appartement 2B, 101st Street in Rancho Coronado. Near the Tripple Xtreme Gym, you know the place. We'll be waiting."

I don't bother telling him to come alone, don't need to. This looks personal, and fixers are notorious for playing things close to the chest and that goes double for private matters. Hell, I might be one of three people currently alive that know Rogue has got a grown son after all and that's probably because the Queen of the Afterlife has been personally crossing off names of that very short list herself. I'll doubt Muamar will bring any Huscle along to witness his personal business and even then, so what if he does? Animals are the best fucking Huscle eddies can buy in Night City, and my Predators are the best Animals full stop.

"R-right. Right, ok. Ok, fuck me, alright. You said… you said they were roughed up? How bad is it? Are they…?" the fixer manages to get out, clearly trying to portray something resembling control again, though very much failing at it and I narrow my eyes at him.

"David's fine. Gloria… not so much. She's alive, but in a rough shape. Reyes. Reyes!"

Only my deep growl snaps the fixer from his shock as his wide eyes flit to my narrow ones.

"The fuck is going on Muamar?"

"No time, I'll tell you when I get-"

"You'll tell me now."

The bestial rumble in my voice brooks no argument and after a tense moment, El Capitan deflates, as if all strength has suddenly left him. His voice is thin as he rakes a shaking hand through his (still awful) hair.

"Gloria… Gloria is my wife. Or, ex-wife now, I suppose."

"…. Well… fuck."

//

AN: Hello there! First off, two apologies. One: sorry it took so long. This whole chapter did not want to be written. It got to the point where I was seriously considering bringing in Adam Smasher as a sort of 'Rocks fall, everyone dies' trope and just finish the fic entirely next chapter. I eventually sat down and powered through it, but honestly it might be still on the table with how much trouble these last few chapters have given me for some reason… The second apology is related to this: sorry this chapter is so short. As time went on, I really wanted to increase the length of the chapter to compensate for the delay, hopefully somewhere to 15k or something, but I just couldn't get past this cut-off point and meshing two chapters together to just inflate the length didn't feel right. So I'm ending the chapter here, and we'll fast-forward a little bit to the actual conversation between all the Martinez' next chapter. Probably gonna wrap up that entire arc in one nice swoop as well and then focus on bigger and better things, like tracking down Dex and the Voodoo Boys. Just need an in-universe legit reason for Simba to start beef with them… and of course figure out a nice moment to drop Adam Smasher on his head.

As for the reveal, what do you guys think of making Muamar 'El Capitan' Reyes the father of David? I don't think there's anything in the game or lore that contradicts it and there are a few hints in the game that could be used to support it, such as El Capitan getting out of the fixer biz to focus on family matters, only a year after David's death. He's also the link between V and the Edgerunner's crew and is very proud of David in his messages to V. So, what do you guys think?

Chapter 13 is already available to read over on my Pa Treon!