Cyberpunk's Singular Peculiarity

"Do you ever feel like shit doesn't matter? Like we're all rats runnin' in a wheel to power the crap we'll never see or get the chance to use? Like-"

*Thud!*

The teenager falls backwards off of his plastic chair and sends a scathing glare at the smirking man beside him, "You gotta problem, Rick?" he grouses.

"Yeah, stop daydreaming and focus on the job, your bellyaching's starting to piss me off, Ori." the man, his uncle, says while checking his rifle for the Nth time today.

"What am I even doing here? You know I'm gonk with a gun..."

Rick shrugs uncaringly, "You'll be another head to aim for at the very least, gives me some room to work."

Ori lets out a sigh and gets up, repositioning his chair and looking around from the 'watch-tower', if you could even call it that. They'd be given the task of keeping watch on the place... The underground shanty town they, or better yet, he, reluctantly calls home.

Badly made shacks made of sheet metal, cloth, and scrap wood filled his vision, the dim makeshift bulbs hanging from the top of the tunnel they were all collectively under provided just enough light to see things. Almost everything was powered by a hastily done wiring job that siphoned electricity from the grid, this caused the lights and other electronics to occasionally flicker and shut off however...

Casinha, a sanctuary of the weary and downtrodden of Night City. Ori's family had actually been the ones to 'find it'. The Quadranos had been a dying Nomad clan that'd been forced to settle in the city, due to their size and relative weakness compared to other standing gangs, they'd been unable to find proper land to buy, or territory to claim.

Thankfully, they'd ended up stumbling across abandoned shipping tunnels that snaked underneath the city in Watson, the entrance situated near the old DTR Factory that was no longer in commission.

It wasn't all that homely at first, but all the discarded junk, machinery, and undelivered shipping containers gave the clan a good point to start off... Unfortunately, their good nature allowed 'parasites' to latch on, at least in Ori's view.

It hadn't taken long for the homeless in the city to learn of their home, many flocking to reap the rewards and find a home in this unforgiving world. Some simply wanted protection, shelter, while others wanted to join something bigger than themselves without bending to the gangs and Corps.

There had been many thieves too, along with those who had links with gangs... Watson was currently controlled by Maelstrom, who soon learned for Casinha and decided to make use of it. They hadn't busted in and taken the whole place over though... Instead, they just elected to sneak in at night and kidnap sorry folks.

Ori focuses on one of the only entrances into the tunnel, that would be the place they'd be attacked from, if it ever happened. He didn't know why anyone would bother, there wasn't anything here to take, not unless you considered people a commodity.

"If you're so worried about it, maybe it's time for you to chrome up? You can't stay 'Ganic like that if you wanna do anything worthwhile." Rick states, tapping on the dull metal plates around his eyes and forehead. Ori hadn't been around for it then, but apparently they'd saved his life on numerous occasions, this was supported by the deep scratches and divots visible. "Your shit-shooting could be fixed with some hand and arm upgrades, then replace your eyes and you'll be sniping ass-holes from miles away."

Ori sniffs dismissively at him, "Like I have the Eddies to spend on stuff like that, I'm not throwing away parts of myself for dirty tech. You and the others might be fine with it, but I'd be on the fence even if you dropped Corpo-Tier shit in front of me."

"What? You're afraid to go under the knife or somethin'? You know Bats does good work, if Eddies are the problem then we can catch you, we're all family here." Rick offers.

He shakes his head, "I'm good." a buzzing pulls his attention and he pulls out a makeshift device from his pocket and opens it up, allowing a holographic image of his sister to appear before him. Her short, Tomboyish black hair and fair face masked by egregious amounts of makeup, pouted at him through the call.

"Bro, you done yet? I'm almost done cooking and you said you'd be home already." she complains.

"Hey little Cat, how are you doing today? Would that invitation extend to me 'swell?" Rick almost coos over Ori's shoulder.

She huffs at him, "No, this is only for Dad and Ori, you go be a food 'Scav somewhere else." she makes a shooing gesture at him.

Ori sends a smug look at him, "Heh, the Queen hath spoken. Sorry Rick."

"You little..."

"You sayin' something to my bro, Uncle!?" Cat exclaims from the call, silencing him.

"Nah, nah, nothin' at all..." he sighs, "Go on Ori, I'll stay here and be hungry all by my lonesome."

"If you're lookin' for sympathy you won't find any here." Ori states before nodding at Cat, "I'm coming down now." he ends the call.

"Go on, as you said, you're a gonk shot anyway." Rick says, kicking his feet up and slouching in his chair.

Ori starts to leave but gets called back almost immediately. "Forgot your gun, idiot." Rick says and Ori awkwardly backtracks to scoop up his Budget Arms Pistol and shuffles away.

------------------------

The trek through the shantytown doesn't take long, he greets the few Quadrano's working in various places. Mostly stalls for almost anything you can think of, electronics or scrap, guns, clothes, food, or even Holovids and music.

He ignores most of the homeless present, most have learned not to beg in Casinha, and so do it on the streets before returning here for shelter. His family try to keep the chem junkies out, but it's a losing battle in the end... Even the alleys between shacks have some addicts hanging around shooting up.

Eventually, he reaches his home, one of the only constructions in the tunnel that wasn't ready to fall apart at the seams. It was two stories and made of mostly wood, except for the windows that'd been made out of recycled train parts.

Cat was already there at the front door ushering him inside, dragging him into the dining room where his dad, Emmanuel was already waiting. He was stocky but not too short, black hair with a bushy relatively well-maintained beard. His eyes audibly hummed as they visibly moved, readjusting and contracting themselves as they focussed on Ori's face.

"Orville, so Catarina managed to get you off early then, huh?" he idly remarks, grinning as he awaits their reaction.

""Don't call me that!"" both brother and sister say simultaneously. Their names had been a running joke in the family, their mother had been a fan of old-world fiction much to their misfortune... Emmanuel hadn't tried to stop her either so they were stuck with them. They might've kept their full names if she was still alive, but now it just felt odd to cling to them...

"Hahahaha, you kids are still as prickly as a dying cactus." their Dad laughs at their apparent displeasure.