The Livewire Ripper

by RogueDruid (Icarius51)

Summary:

David Martinez earned his position in Arasaka Acadamy through sheer determination and an innate talent in medical and cybernetics. Bolstered by his mothers support, he always dreamed of becoming a Ripper-doc, of paying for him and his mom's life, of rising above the slums and the pain of Night City on the back of his own efforts.

Now, with a dead mom, a spine implant with history of it's own, and nothing but his smarts and the favors owed him to truly rely on, he must carve his own path through Night City, finding allies, avoiding enemies, and earning a reputation all his own.

David has to admit... he's never felt so Alive.

Notes:

Hey! Blame my friend Epsi for this, he's dragged me into the Edgrunners fandom and I'm now in too deep. My other projects are still being worked on, don't worry, but fresh inspiration is not to be denied.

To the crew from the Hoard: Buckle up, cause Ripper/Medtech David is gonna be fun.

Chapter 1: Prologue: Eight Lives Down, Nekorunner.

Maine growled as he pushed the engine of the Archer Voyage as close to the red line as he could, his boot practically shoving the accelerator through the floor. “Pick up… come on, choom, pick the fuck up!”

 

He hadn’t planned on this. It was supposed to be an in and out op. Cut into the Biotechnica public offices after hours with a jammer running, punch through the security quick and easy, snag the data for a bunch of new drugs -some kind of immunosuppressant- and then delta out. But Sasha had seen something- and the security jammer had been running out of juice.

 

He had been sending messages, trying to get her to bail.  Whatever it was, whatever the hell she had found, it wasn’t worth her life!

 

And then that fucking message before she closed the chat.

 

‘ Sorry’

 

Maine had booked it from his post to the front doors, damn the consequences- just in time to see the window shatter, the explosion that blew out the office-

 

And for Sasha to fall several stories, crumpling the hood of a sedan in the process, the cord of her plugware hanging from the street light above her..

 

He had almost left her for dead, she had looked so goddamn still- but then her hand had twitched. 

 

He gripped the wheel tighter, bio-modded strength nearly crumpling the steel under his palms as he took the exit into Santo Domingo, the side of the car skidding along the exit’s wall as he swerved out into the streets of Arroyo itself. He could see his destination, lit in neon even in the darkest and latest part of the night.

 

Megabuilding H4.

 

He tried calling again. 

 

“Gloria! Come on, pick the fuck up!”

 

The car screeched as he popped a curb, the early light of day still several hours away as he stopped calling and instead opened his dossier on Gloria Martinez- the one that Sasha had made.

 

He scrolled, frantically, looking for the address number- THERE, Apartment 309, Megabuilding H4. Arroyo, Santo Domingo.

 

Glancing up, he twisted and made a choice- the elevators from the garage would probably lock him out, but the main entrances and interiors of the megabuildings were open to the public so the shops could operate.

 

Hopping the curb in front of the buildings, he slammed the brakes and shoved the gear stick into park, ignoring how the stick itself shattered in the process.

 

He was already busting the door open and twisting to the back seat- the terrifyingly still form of Sasha still laid out across the seats, wrapped in his jacket.

 

In seconds he had her cradled to his chest, sprinting as fast as he could into the building, smashing past the front gate with a grunt and booking it towards the stairs.

 

‘C’mon. Stay alive, Sasha, please.’

 

Storming up the steps, he hit Floor Three and twisted, eyes tracking the numbers as fast as possible. 305, 304- wrong way . He turned and sprinted down the hall-

 

There. Around the corner, 309.

 

He slid to a stop and hammered on the door.

 

“Gloria! Gloria! It’s an emergency!”

 

There was a shout from another apartment, but Maine didn’t give a fuck- there was a sound behind the door, a muffled voice-

 

“-ing early it is!?”

 

The door slid open- but it wasn’t Gloria. It was a kid. A teenager with disheveled shaggy brown hair, a loose black tank top, and shorts.

 

Maine pushed past and stormed into the apartment. “Where’s Gloria!” He twisted before heading for the couch-

 

“Mom? She’s at work-”

 

Fuck , he should have known. Of course she wasn’t answering, their deal was under the fucking table- she wasn’t about to contact him while she was at her goddamn job-

 

He was turning back- trying to figure out what to do-

 

“Fuck, what the hell happened to her?”

 

The teen- shit, that had to be Gloria’s kid , was kneeling by Sasha, one hand out at her neck and the other on her wrist. Maine shook himself, planning to drag the teen off her-

 

“Goddamn it kid! She just fell out of a window a dozen floors up!”

 

But something in the kids' eyes stopped him. He was focused .

 

“Pulse is too fucking slow… fuck, she’s in shock, right?” Before Maine could even answer, the teen was sprinting across the room towards the bathroom, practically crashing into the room and ripping open the cabinet, dragging a large red satchel- a red cross emblazoned on the front, and sprinting back- Maine stepping out of the kids way.

 

“Kid, what are you-”

 

Coffee brown eyes glanced his way. “It’s David. Shut up and let me focus.”

 

Maine wanted to bristle, but he shut up as the teen -David- began to drag tools out of the bag. A pocket computer with a cord that he hooked behind her ear, interfacing as he turned it on.

 

“Right… okay, diagnostic loading....” David took a breath and closed his eyes. “First, position the body in recovery position-”

 

With a grunt, the teen moved, pulling the jacket off from around Sasha’s prone form and then turning her on her side, adjusting her so she faced him, Maine watching silently as he began to pace, nerves boiling under his skin.

 

But as he watched, he couldn’t help but be impressed.

 

If nothing else, the kid knew his stuff…. And Sasha was still alive. Was still twitching her fingers and moving, responding slightly to the kid's touch… but she wasn’t looking great. As Maine watched, her pale skin was… pallid, her breathing, already soft, slowly coming harder.

 

“Right… Falling is… fuck, that’s trauma, not a medical response. Right- that’s the DTOS.” David murmured. He had pulled on gloves earlier, and was even now slowly pressing his hands along Sasha’s neck, feeling at her ports as he began to press against her, feeling for the spine as he pressed down, hands unsure but eyes focused.

 

“D- what now?” Maine couldn’t help but ask, the nerves getting to him.

 

“D.T.O.S. Deformities, tenderness, open injuries, swelling,” David called back, hands continuing down Sasha’s arms and sides. “Diagnostic pattern, from the EMT Certification test.”

 

“What, you certified?” 

 

“No, Mom is. I helped her study. I’m also in the medical course in school,” David shot back, before wincing as he double checked Sasha’s shoulders, specifically her left arm. “Swelling along the shoulders and collar. Left shoulder feels… broken. Broken and dislocated. Clean break? The spine feels… Fine? At least up here.” David scowled as he twisted, leaning over- and then pressing along the back of her skull. “No bleeding… no soft spots… no swelling. What the fuck? You said a dozen stories?”

 

“Yeah, I saw her hit the car-”

 

And then Maine got a message.

G. Martinez

//What the fuck do you want Maine?

 

Freezing up, he gave her a call.

 

Gloria’s voice answered instantly. “What the fuck, Maine. What the hell are you calling me for. I’m at fucking work?”

 

Maine swallowed, mouth drying. “It’s Sasha. She got hurt- a fall, nearly a dozen stories after a shoot out- you were the only one i could think to go to-”

 

“What? I’m not a fucking doctor, why- Wait. ‘Go to?’ Where the fuck are you Maine!”

 

“Your apartment. Your kid is-”

 

“MAINE, I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD IF YOU HURT DAVI-”

 

“No! Nothing like that- Gloria!”

 

“I AM ON MY FUCKING WAY RIGHT GODDAMN NOW-”

 

The call ended, and Maine couldn’t help but tense-

 

And then David spoke up. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. ” 

 

Maine turned around and paled.

 

David had gotten Sasha turned onto her stomach, and the back of her shirt was rolled up, a knife at the side where he had cut it free of the netrunner suit.

 

“Choom, you need an actual ripper doc. Her spine-”

 

And there, across Sasha’s lower back, was a spreading red and black mark- and a clear spot where the muscle around her spine was twisted.

 

“I can’t fix this.”

 

Maine put his hand over his mouth and looked away, frustrated.

 

“Can… Can you stabilize her, or something? Keep her from getting worse?”

 

The teen glanced back over the diagnostic tool and reached up, gloved hands threading through his hair as he stared at Sasha.

 

“I might be able to. I’m keeping an eye on her breathing and her pulse- but Choom, I have no clue how to fix this. Hell, the best i can think is… she needs a full lower spine replacement, possibly hip as well? And I have no idea how her cyberware is even working. It’s reading as standby mode, but her left arm’s plug and interface is fucking shredded down to the nanites, and the cord got ripped out. I’m reading a concussion, there’s traces of whiplash… The best I can do is keep her steady, but you need a ripper-doc with a full suite to fix… any of that..”

 

Maine growled and turned away, itching to smash something… to do anything.

 

But then David kept talking.

 

“I… might be able to wake her up, though. If we can keep her cognizant, keep her awake, that means she can give us feedback and I can try and keep her from breaking anything worse. Maybe.”

 

“...Can you do it safely?”

 

David looked up, and then back down.

 

“Choom, I think you left safe ages ago… you were talking with my mom, yeah? When she gets here-”

 

A beep interrupted him, the diagnostic tool lighting up.

 

“Oh fuck-” David fumbled for it and read over the screen, Maine tensing up next to him.

 

“What!”

 

“Hold on,” Brown eyes glanced his way before looking back at the tool, rapidly moving as he read out line after line of diagnostics. “Blood pressure’s steady… no, it’s rising. Heart Rate is coming up- Ah, fuck. She’s about to wake up if we want her to or not!” David dropped the tool and reached into the bag, before pulling out a small case. “I need you to hold her down.”

 

“What?”

 

“Hold her fucking still! If she tries to get up, to twist, I don’t know what the fuck is gonna happen but It’s not gonna be good!”

 

David was already moving, shifting the way Sasha was laying as gently as he could.

 

“Hold her here- no, higher.” Maine complied, leaning over the back of the couch as David directed him, David reaching for her neck, pulling a small red EMT branded chip from the case and sliding it into the slot.

 

Maine frowned, looking at the teen as he slid the case back. “What’s that?”

 

"It's a cyberware suppressor and pain buffer.” Maine bristled at that, and David cut him off. “I don’t know what all she’s got, but definitely she’s got fucking claws, and I don’t wanna get stabbed.”

 

Maine grumbled. “Still, a goddamn suppressor?”

 

David rolled his eyes. “It’s not permanent. Just forces a confirmation pop up- means when she tries to use something on reflex it won’t work. She just needs to eject the chip and things will be back to normal-”

 

And that’s when Sasha woke with a shout of pain, full body trying to flinch- only for Maine to hold her still.

 

David was trying to get her attention, eyes panicked “Hey! Hey! You’re safe! Relax, fuck what’s your-”

 

The kid doesn’t even know our names- right. “Sasha!”

 

Pink and blue eyes flickered his way, and she went still.

 

“Maine?” her voice was incredulous… almost hopeful.

 

“Shit, yeah. I’ve got ya kid. You’re alive.” Sasha went limp- and then her face went from relieved to uncomfortable-

 

“Wha-” David grabbed her side, up under her arm, stopping her from twisting. 

 

“Hey, I need you to not bend at the waist.”

 

The girl- Sasha, apparently, locked eyes with David, and then flickered back to Maine. “Why is a teenager treating me Maine?”

 

Before Maine could answer, David cut in, his voice tense and eyes locked on the curve of Sasha’s neck and waist. “Because he busted into my apartment looking for my mom, and while I’m not a certified EMT,” Maine winced at the glare, “I’m a top of my grade medical student at Arasaka Academy, and know enough to keep you from dying until my mom , the EMT you came here for, can get home from the night-shift. Oh, and I’m David Martinez, hi. Don’t fucking twist your waist. ”

 

As Sasha froze, not realizing she was about to twist back to look at Maine, the room became awkward.

 

“Sorry.” Sasha squeaked, and took a breath. “Can you explain why?”

---

David breathed out trying to settle himself, despite the nervous aura around him. “Listen. You apparently went out a window and fell almost a dozen stories onto a car. That car, your synth skin dermal reinforcement, and whatever armor is in that netrunner suit may have saved your goddamn life… but your lower spine took the impact- freeze!”

 

The mention of her lower spine had made Sasha want to look at the damage-, but David's hand on her neck and his stare, surprisingly focused for someone who couldn’t be older than 16 or 17, froze her.

 

“Listen, unless I can brace your hips and waist so you can’t break your own spine, you cannot try and twist at the waist unassisted. I’m fucking serious. I can’t heal what happened, but this also means you won’t be worsening anything. So freeze. ”

 

Sasha froze.

 

David gave a sigh of relief and looked over his de-facto patient towards the other stranger in his apartment.

 

“Right. Maine, was it? My mom usually gets off a night shift in…” he glanced at the clock on the ad feed above them, eyes catching the scrolling digits. “half an hour. It takes her only 35 minutes to get home. So we have, maybe, an hour.”

 

Maine cleared his throat. “She’s probably on the way already, kid. She, uh, wasn’t happy.”

 

With a sigh, David looked at the situation.

 

“Right.” Yeah, if there was something that was going to get his mom home sooner, this? This was probably it.

 

Now they just had to wait.

Unfortunately, David was also realizing the adrenaline rush of this situation was hitting him like a freight train, and his head was getting fuzzy.

 

“Right, hold on. Maine- keep her still.”

 

Standing up, David headed for the bathroom, snagging a spare towel, before going for his mom's bedroom, snagging one of her larger, if old and beat flat, pillows and coming back.

 

“You aren’t balancing your own weight the way you’re set right now- I needed access to your ports. We’re going to rotate you gently, prop you on your stomach, and keep your back straight over the pillow. The towel is for your knees to keep everything straight and level. If I had a neck brace, you’d be wearing that already, so let me know if you can’t twist your neck without strain and I'll find another towel. Also: Don’t move your left arm- it’s broken and dislocated at the shoulder, even if you can’t feel that right now.” 

 

Sasha gave a hesitant nod.

 

Taking a breath, he reached up to her port, pausing as she tensed up. “I’m going to remove a chip keeping your cyberware and pain offline, while we move you, you need to tell us how you’re feeling.”

 

Sasha nodded slowly. “I just need to let you know what changes. Got it.” 

 

Nodding, he popped the chip back out, watching as Sasha’s face twisted up with pain, her breath catching. When she didn’t start trembling or crying, David started walking Maine, the big man’s face impassive but focused, through the job at hand.

 

It was a slow, and careful, operation. While Maine had manhandled the girl into the apartment, David knew there was a problem now, and did not want it to get worse. He had no idea how extensive the damage was. If it was just bruising, if it was nerve damage, or if the actual erector spinae , the muscles that kept the spine itself upright, were damaged. The bruise was too wide and the twisting of the spine column almost too hard to feel around.

 

As, with a soft grunt, they finally settled Sasha onto her stomach, back and spine held straight, David partially collapsed backwards, stripping his gloves and running his fingers through his sweat slicked hair, and let the adrenaline crash wash over him. Behind the couch, Maine was pacing back and forth, on call with someone else, but that was officially not his problem.

 

Standing up, he glanced over the diagnostic tool once more.

 

‘Everything seems… steady.’

 

Setting it back down, David sat on the opposite side of the couch, fighting back the urge to go to sleep. He had already been asleep when Maine showed up…

No. When mom got home he would give her the rundown, and then try and sleep. He had class in… god, four hours?

 

‘What a night.’

---

Sasha felt like absolute shit, physically as well as emotionally. She didn’t know if the kid- David- caught it, but Maine sounded absolutely devastated . The relief when he had first spoken to her, had confirmed she was safe- 

 

It hurt.

 

She had been so focused, so dead set on revealing how Securicine, the Biotechnica ‘Miracle Drug’ that had made them one of the greatest pharmaceutical companies in Night City, was a dangerous, unstable, formula that caused neural degradation.

 

The same drug that had killed her mother.

 

She didn’t regret sending the file out, even now it should be sitting in the tip files of every major news entity in Night City.

 

Justice for her mom.

 

Sasha didn’t get where she was by denying facts, however. The explosion, the fall- she remembered the sensation of her plug port snapping free, wrist jerking up- before impact knocked her out.

 

If not for the cord catching on something, she would be dead.

 

The fact that she wasn’t was a testament to Maine’s drive to save her- and possibly the efforts of the teen sitting across from her, eyes closed as he rubbed at his temple. Reaching up, she tried to turn on her netware- only to flinch at the swarm of error reports. Half of them were from her left arm- from the cyberware of her port and the computer system in her arm apparently shattering . 

 

The cyberdeck installed along her upper spine wasn’t doing much better, only opening in safe mode. Half her Daemons were… not there, or if they were, she didn’t trust them not to be corrupted so badly they were more likely to infect her than a target. One of the memory chip decks installed in her Biotech Sigma MK.3  must have taken the hit and cracked in her fall.

 

And all of this was before she even got a chance to go through the damage reports for her synth skin.

 

She should be lucky that her eyes even worked at this rate.

 

She finally eliminated or minimized all her damage reports- and found the reports on what David had been doing.

 

She had an ongoing [External Diagnostic- Medical Grade] running from her chip port, which matched up with the hand terminal David was looking over. Checking the data confirmed that it was just medical scanning information. She also had a few reports of the chip that had been in her port earlier- a [Trauma Team - Cyberware/Pain Override]. 

 

Considering that, just behind that alert, were 36 confirmation requests for her claws, her netware, her port, and her advanced optic scanner, that chip was definitely a smart precaution.

 

As she finally finished getting through her alerts- the door slammed open.

 

“MAINE!”

 

‘Oh- right. That makes sense… Gloria is an EMT. Which makes David- okay. I am really fucked up if it took this long to make the connection.’

 

“Mom! I’m fine!”

 

As Gloria circled the couch, pulling David into a hug, Sasha couldn’t help but record the moment. The teen- clearly sleep deprived, his hair disheveled and eyes droopy, leaned in to the touch and slumped into his moms arms.

 

On Gloria’s part, Sasha couldn't think of any time she’s ever seen the tough as nails ex-Valentino relax around anyone on Maines crew- but David leaning against her made her soften and give a sigh of pure relief.

 

“ Mijo, what have I told you about letting strangers into the house?”

 

David looked up, face sheepish while still looking exceptionally tired. “That Night City is a shithole and not to trust anyone with access to your house?”

 

“Exactly ”, she murmured, tugging at his cheek as he flailed slightly. “So tell me why you let the big cyborg with the bad bleach job in?”

 

“Hey-"

 

Sasha couldn’t help but snort at Maine’s dismayed cry- before David shut everyone up. “She was hurt- and he was scared.”

 

Gloria gave her son a searching, but fond, glance.

 

“...Fine. You get a pass, this time.” She turned to Sasha- and the soft and kind mother steeled back up into the stone cold medic. “Right, apprentice EMT David! Tell me what we got! Full sit-rep.”

 

In almost a mirror of his mom, David sharpened- a strange focus coming over his features as he stepped forwards, lifting up the diagnostic terminal to show Gloria, his voice pitched sharp and clear.

 

“Patient arrived 43 minutes ago- carried by Maine. I was informed the major cause of trauma was an impact from great height- classifying this as a Trauma Emergency-”

 

Sasha couldn’t keep up, zoning out as the mom and son duo leaned in, David walking through injury after injury, voice mentioning treatments- each one getting a confirming nod or mild correction from the older Medic.

 

At the end of the rundown, Gloria gave a satisfied nod.

 

“Good call across the board, apprentice Martinez. Now, head to bed. Sleep in mine for the night, and I’ll drive you into class tomorrow.” She softened, ruffling David's hair as he fought back a yawn. “Besides, they need to get out of here.”

 

The last Sasha saw of the teen, he gave a wave and headed out of sight. Gloria following. 

 

As the door closed behind the teen, Sasha tensed at Gloria’s hissing voice as she rounded on Maine.

 

“Maine.”

 

“Gloria- listen, I know we shouldn’t have-”

 

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have. But you did, and you are damn lucky my son knows his shit.” 

 

“We’ll pay you back for it. Promise.”

 

“I’ll send you the bill. But right now you all need to leave . He wasn’t kidding when he said you need a certified ripper doc, no one else outside of a professional surgery team will be able to treat Sasha’s spine.”

 

“Sasha would like it known that she’s awake and can hear you,” She couldn’t help but growl a bit.

 

“Which is a miracle unto itself, girl.” Gloria sighed, before pacing around to kneel in Sasha’s eyeline.

 

“You’re right though. This includes you.” Running her hand through red hair, Gloria met Sasha’s eyes. “You need a professional ripper doc. You know any on friendly terms?”

 

Sasha nodded slightly- catching Gloria’s warning stare. “Kitakami, over at the Cherry Blossom Market, in Japan town. He helped with finishing out my full transition a few years ago, he’s got a reputation for discretion and I trust him.  He’s also where I got the Sigma installed.”

 

Gloria nodded. “Dorio will be here soon. I’ve got a collapsible spine board in my car kit, when she gets here we’ll transfer you to the car and Maine and Dorio can take you his way.” 

 

Sasha gave a slight nod and focused on her breathing. “Okay. That works.”

 

“Chin up, kid.” Gloria gave her a sharp smile. “You’re still alive.”

 

‘Yeah.’ Sasha mused, ‘I’m still alive.’

 

And she had a new debt to pay.

 

She wondered if she could scan and pick up David’s neural-net ID before Dorio got here?

 

The answer, as she was loaded onto the spine-board, turned out to be yes.

 

Sasha

//Thanks for the save kid- I owe you. 

//Stay in touch.

Chapter 2: Classroom Daze

Five Months Later

 

Glancing up at the digital clock as it neared closer to 4pm, and the end of his classes, David glanced back down in BD space. His eyes flickering across towards the simulated desk and paging through his files before clicking on the one he wanted.

 

There- last updated grades. 

 

 

Student: David Martinez
Enrolled in: Arasaka Academy
Currently in: Advanced Track (Year 4 of 4)
Overall Average Score: 91.2
Attendance Record: 14 Absences, 37 Tardies.

Year 4 Classes:
General History 4 [78.4]
General Sciences 4 [89.9]
Social Studies 4 [75.5]
Advanced CyberScience 4 [99.2]
Advanced CyberTech 3 [99.5]
Advanced Bio-medical 4 [97.8]
Advanced Netcode 2 [92.5]
Advanced Bio-Tech 2 [97.1]

David gave a sigh as he flicked the grade sheet back into the files on his virtual desk. The BD simulation was often enough to keep his focus, and even now the simulated teacher avatar, tall and regal with the Arasaka logo embossed over its shoulder, was running through its latest lesson. With the BD tech each student was viewing a separate partition and different speed, filling out short exams and going through the interactive learning programs, optimized for retention of information. 

 

And, honestly, David relished in running through some of those lessons on the highest interactive setting, feeling more like he was in a gunfight of facts and logic where questions and rapid responses fired back and forth between him and the class avatars, where he could ask questions and get detailed responses and was forced to return the same. The system had officially classed him as neurodivergent-leaning over 3 years ago now, and with the tuning of his BD preferences it was fulfilling to immerse himself into the lessons, unlike the slog of his first few years.

 

Unfortunately for today, the avatar was stuck doing a review of General History. As a consequence of his last absence, which involved missing a testing day and dropping the subject score under 80, he was being forced to go through a review of whatever historical events the computer had marked his knowledge of as ‘Unsatisfactory.’

 

American history, the rise of Free States, the Unification War: David wasn’t ignorant of all of the history… It just bored him. Corpo bullshit and political backstabbing, the way people made stupid mistakes for the promise of power… power they couldn’t even use most of the time. The routine stupidity of the general population being abused, used, and tossed aside as the upper classes took more and more from them. Give him any medical review over this shit. At least that was usually practical information, not this corpo-ganda.

Sighing, he opened the interactive exam portion and flicked his way through the Yes/No questions, confirmations of what date was what. A quick rearrangement of icons to show where each territory had sat before and after each major Corporate War-

 

Finally he cleared the queue, and watched as the avatar slowed to a stop, the clock behind it ticking over just in time.

 

“Class is now dismissed. Please remove your BD wreaths and remember to stretch after standing.”

 

As the light flickered, David closed his eyes with a slight wince. His BD wreath wasn’t the corpo-standard like most of his classmates, mainly because he didn’t, and couldn’t, spend the eddies to get one. Sadly, that often meant that when he ended a session he was essentially half blind for the next hour.

 

Before he pulled it off, he slowed and sighed, taking in the bright red warning that had shown up only a few days ago.

 

//Warning, Software License for Arasaka Interactive needs immediate renewal. 

 

‘Man, I can’t wait to get some better eyes or something. This eye strain is… so trash.’ Rubbing at his temple to get the blood flow going, he couldn’t help but blink, the world coming into focus slightly once more- before his Neuralware lit up like a goddamn flashbang with Katsuo’s fucking stupid avatar in the window.

 

Katsuo
//Fucking Gutter trash, what, your old hunk of junk making you go blind? Good fucking riddance!

 

Wincing slightly, the sharp digital image of Katsuo, the rich Corpo kid in his homeroom who wouldn’t leave him alone blinked across the edge of his vision in bright blue- A neuro-hologram that was being sent directly to his optic nerve, and thus he couldn’t just close his eyes to block it from poking his stressed out nerves.

 

Not that he didn’t try to.

 

With a quiet grunt David reached up to tap his neck-port and manually reloaded his neuralnet connection. The benefit is that it would disable incoming calls for a minute while reconnecting. Unfortunately, school policy kept him from just blocking the assholes number. Part of the ‘Open Communication’ policy so that there was no excuse for failed grades and to encourage interclass cooperation.

 

A load of bullshit. He knew damn well that it was trying to code people to be ‘On Call’ at all hours.

 

Opening his eyes once more, the darkened classroom was finally more than a bunch of gradients of ‘red to black’ and he could make out enough detail to actually see the seats and walls semi-clearly.

 

Reaching down to snag the strap of his bag, where it was hanging from his seat under his legs for protection, David pulled it up and hooked it on the shoulder of his red and gray Arasaka uniform. A moment later, he was tucking his BD wreath safely back in the bag. A bit of rummaging and also pulling out a pair of thin-lenses tinted sunglasses he hooked on the lapel of his uniform. 

 

Finally packed and ready to go, David rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair before making for the exit, ignoring the few other students who were either chatting with each other or still finishing up whatever BD work they were in the middle of.

 

He was almost thankful for the partial blindness.

 

It at least meant that he didn’t have to deal with the scornful looks as Corpo-kids like Katsuo stared at the ragged seams of his blazer, the splatters of oil stains and grime that covered his sneakers and darkened the hems of his slacks, despite his best attempts at keeping the uniform itself clean.

 

Scuffing his boots, he hit the steps, counting them under his breath before hitting the pavement of the sidewalk, reaching up to put the sunglasses on even as he hit the threshold of the academy doors and walked into the open central Arasaka Plaza, the Corpo branded safe haven above the grime and muck of the streets below. One of the only actual parks in the entire city. Above, the gleaming orange and blue of the massive holographic koi fish dancing in their endless circle above pools of green and bright concrete, the exact details still a blur but familiar enough to trace his path through the streets.

 

Keeping his head up and gaze forwards, David started his journey home, only twitching as a spot of bright silver-white passed distantly across the walkways in front of him, heading up to a higher level, the color vibrant even with his blurred vision and the sunglasses. 

 

‘That's one hell of a color statement. Not many go for the neon-white look.’

 

Blinking the sight away, he headed back down the plaza steps heading for his tram.

 

By the time his sight finally returned and settled he was on the NCART, moving out across the city towards Santo Domingo.

 

Towards Home.

 

---

 

“Ma?” David glanced around the apartment, not seeing his mom’s usual EMT jacket hanging by the door or over on the couch- and a glance through the door confirmed she wasn’t in the bedroom.

 

“Must be out.”

 

Scratching the back of his neck, David gave a sigh and tossed his bag onto the couch, reaching into the top and pulling out his BD wreath before heading towards the desk near the door, twirling around on the seat as he woke up at the family terminal and navigated to the Arasaka website. A quick run of his student credentials, a tap into the Net-code class, and he had access to his project folder. 

 

“Right, now let's get back to it.”

 

Pulling the BD wreath up, David ran his hands under the casing and cracked open the bright yellow panels around the left temple to reveal a cyber modem wire port, pulling the wire for it from the drawer of the desk. It was the work of seconds to clip into the loose wires hanging from the back of the terminal. While not as efficient or powerful as a cyberdeck and an actual cybermodem compatible neural plug, David wasn’t quite doing any invasive netrunning where he needed the bandwidth and interactivity of cyberware.

 

Instead, as the BD lights flickered on, a cool blue-green glow of his personal terminal’s setting instead of the blinding white of Arasaka Academy’s more… sterile BD systems, David opened his eyes and saw his workspace.

 

The towering blue-white walls of Arasaka netcode and ICE rose up around him, endless reaches of code that would overwhelm anyone who wasn’t authorized to enter. Around his avatar a narrow tunnel of yellow-green code lined his student access portal, a fun little bit of code that he’d been taught. While everything inside was officially licensed and held by Arasaka, instead of David himself, it was one of the better ways to develop netcode programs, and if you were careful-

 

Inside the Arasaka system ICE, a second enclosure began to unfold, lining his net-passage and partitioned folder with an anonymity screen, changing the metadata around his terminal and Arasaka’s connection into just another stream of BD video encoding. If someone tried to get into the stream, it wouldn’t stop them from punching in to see what he was doing, but that would mean they find and tap a BD educational download- among the several hundred that were expected to be cycling out of the Academy lower security servers at any time.

 

Anonymity in the crowd.

 

In his apartment, David began to tap at the keyboard, fingers flying over the keys as his avatar slowly rose and drifted through the files of his own little slice of the Arasaka netcode.

 

A dozen small pillars of bright yellow ICE, designed almost more like cages, lined the entrance: His personal Daemons. In the grand scheme of things they were weak, just narrow focused single task programs designed and built for his Netcode class, and then saved instead of deleted like he technically should have. Most computer Daemons were fire and forget, designed with self termination codes to prevent identification and back tracking- and while his were as well, these dozen were his ‘master code’ copies, and were thus missing the standard deployment packages. They weren’t ever designed to be used, after all. If he had the tech to use them: the ‘master’ of the Daemons would be copied, embedded in a standard quick-hack format, and then used off a cyberdeck. Tag some gonk and watch the Daemon make their day suck.

Sadly, he didn’t have all that shiny tech.

 

“Just another thing the corpos keep priced out of reach…”

 

Grumbling, his avatar darted through several more standard file formats- medical textbooks and a few confidential medical files- recordings of patients that were used for class demonstrations on cyberware installations, a few personal records that had been used for exams to assess patients, and the like. 

 

His avatar circled around a few details on how standard Cyberware interfaced with nanite-nerve pathing, and came to a rest by a slightly more secured ‘workbench’. 

 

Arasaka 3D model and simulation software: his favorite classroom toy. This one was a jailbroken copy he had managed to rip from a damaged terminal from the actual Academy's workspace. It was almost 5 years out of date by now and lacked a good chunk of the newer interface designs, but for doing lower scale cyberware designing it worked just fine. Tabbing open his projects folder, he scrolled through some designs for dermal implants- printed circuitry inside of tattoos that would interface with his nerves and were generally the cheapest and weakest form of external cyberware. He knew some of the gangs up north- past Japantown, the Tygers- used a standardized smartlink tattoo for their guns.

 

Honestly, dermal implants like this were considered almost fast fashion for the upper class. Encode your wallet into your hands, keep a resume or business card in your very skin, quick and simple for a Corpo.

 

And still a bit too expensive for a 17- nearly 18, year old teen in the slums.

 

Flicking through his projects he looked over a few designs for different muscle augmentations- rebuilt based on his classwork examples- before finally landing on what he had been thinking about for a while. One of the ripper-doc classics, a micromanipulator hand.

 

Pulling the design down, he expanded the components, a holographic left hand that- on a whim, unfolded to reveal almost a dozen spidery micro-limbs, unfolding from the back of the wrist and palm for precise maneuvering. David toyed with it, twisting the pieces around as he resumed his work- slimming out limbs, double checking tolerances, playing with the amount of precision he could get of the simulated actuators.

 

What was nice was that this was actually based on much more recent cyber-hand design with retractable claws- the one that Sasha had scanned and copied the details for, sending it his way as a thank you gift for helping her out. 

 

Twisting the design around his avatar, he lined it up with where his own wrist would have been in Net-space and triggered a check of the actuator, watching the slender limbs as they moved in a complex dance. He could almost imagine how it would feel. The haptic feedback that would echo up his arm, being able to stitch and cut flesh under the precise limbs- able to install and adjust cyberware with precise touches.

 

Cybernetic surgeons made money, even if they were lowly streetside ripperdocs.

 

His mom wanted him to be better than that, to be a high ranking professional working for the Arasaka elites, far away from the scavs and gangs of the streets. She had tried, but time and circumstances kept her from going any higher than an EMT… And David knew that he was part of that. That, and the fact he knew his mom had some connection with the Valentinos when he was younger, though shes long since cut ties and they had moved out to the H4; getting out of Heywood and the Valentino territory. Only a few visits over the years, and the occasional visit to a local church to honor his grandparents, were any sign of her past.

 

And, despite her willingness to not talk about it, David knew that not all of their income was explicitly legal, the existence of Maine and Sasha had been proof of that.

 

Neko ;3
//Hey, you free?

 

-speak of the devil, or the cat in this case.

 

A tap of his fingers, and a video call opened up.

 

A second of ringing with the pink and black cat ID image Sasha used, and the screen flickered on- emulated in his BD space as he leaned over the model of the hand.

 

“Hey Sasha.”

 

Sasha gave a smile and threw up her hand in a peace sign. “Sup kit! How’s the security holding?”

“No problems so far. The partitions are holding steady- and Arasaka’s daemons are sleeping just fine since this doesn’t actually mess with their ICE.”

 

“Always good to hear. Hey, I just wanted to let you know I’m gonna be No-call for a week.”

 

Perking up, David gave the video his full attention, taking in the way that Sasha was sitting at a desk- the wheels of her chair barely visible in the lower frame, and the view of her Japantown apartment behind her littered with wired and half assembled tech. 

 

“Thought you were still partly-retired until your surgery?”

 

“I am, but a fixer of mine got me a passive surveillance gig for a few days. Hack and track through the city. It’s gonna take most of my focus- but he’s offering enough to make it worth my time. And Maine’s got enough Netrunners to cover his needs right now without kicking some work my way,”  the Nekorunner sighed, slumping forwards, and David winced. 

 

In the last 5 months that he and the netrunner had been in contact she had gone through several surgeries- first to stabilize and reinforce her spine, then to repair all her busted cyberware. It had wiped her funds for a good chunk of time- but had kept her spine from getting worse. To fix it she still needed several reconstructive surgeries, and those were expensive no matter how well you knew the rippers. So, wheelchair bound, she had been ‘retired’ from Maine's crew. They had picked up two new runners to cover for her loss, but Sasha had been focused on doing remote work since- or helping David with his random side projects to keep her boredom from making her go cyberpsycho. In return, he walked her through pages of medical terminology regarding her surgeries and the new mods she was going to need- which tended to be good review work anyway for his own classes.

 

“Right, no-call for a week. Anything else you got?”

 

“Oh! I might have a few pieces of gear for you to test for me later. I’ve been tinkering with some old school Cyberdecks, the manual wrist mounted types. I’ll let you know if I get one working up to spec.”

 

“Ha, that’d be preem! Anyway, I’ve got to get going. Ma’s not home until late, so I’ve got chores to clear, and need to get something to eat.”

 

“I’ll hit you up in a week or so. Stay frosty kit!” With a peace-sign, Sasha ended the call and David looked down- and cursed.

 

He had gotten distracted- two of the micro-manipulators were now alerting a collision, one of them out of alignment because he hadn’t noticed he had twisted an actuator a bit too far.

 

Undoing the change to fix it, David reached up and rubbed at his neck.

 

‘Right, I need to get off and get those chores done.’

 

With practiced movements he saved his progress and re-locked all his files and systems before slowly letting his partition collapse back under the Arasaka umbrella, his own ICE keeping the files self contained, and his connection sliding back out from the open Student Access Portal before the white walls of the Arasaka ICE sealed shut once more.

 

Terminating the connection from his side, he pushed the BD wreath up to his temple, eyes adjusting- though thankfully much faster- to the afternoon glow of his apartment. It had been nearly two hours of fiddling around with his programs, and at this point he was fairly sure his mom was going to be working late.

 

“Right… Food, shower, laundry and then I need to see about getting the Arasaka BD software license renewed for class...”

 

Biting a lip in thought, David sighed.

 

He didn’t want to… but the license was nearly 600 eddies. 

 

He would need to see if there were any ‘discounts’ in the local market before he asked his mom for the payment. It would be cheaper than buying a completely new BD wreath, but the licensing software renewal may as well have been fucking ransomware. He considered, for a moment, calling back Sasha to see if she could whip up a new authentication code for it…

 

But no, she just said she was gonna be slammed for a week. 

 

Which, pain in the ass that it was… probably meant he would need to contact that sketchy as fuck ‘Doc’ again. He was one of the only local taps for the black market who regularly picked up software and licenses.

 

What a joy that shit would be.

 

Grimacing, David stripped out of his uniform, tossing it with his spare to go into the wash, and decided to get a hot shower out of the way before eating.

Chapter 3: Short Circuits

Summary:

Much thanks to the ever awesome Jsyren- writer of Living Dead Girl, another Edgerunners fanfic (I urge you to check out for badass cyborg action)- for using her Editing Sharingan on this, to clear it of any egregious technical difficulties.

In other news: it's time for the building storm.... Can you feel it? the Static on the wind?

He pressed a kiss to his mom's cheek, the EMT sitting at the table with a cup of instant coffee in her grip, looking over a message going by her blue tinged eyes.

 

“Bye Ma!”

 

“Be safe mijo.”

 

Rushing out the door, David took a moment to grimace while glancing at his reflection. His gray uniform blazer and slacks hadn’t gotten washed, thanks to the piece of shit washer breaking down again- so he was stuck with an Arasaka button up in black and gray and a pair of ragged black jeans, over a dark red undershirt, the closest he could get to a ‘professional’ look from what he had available. Taking off, he jogged for the stairs, heading down through the inside of Megabuilding H4. 

 

Thankfully he didn’t need the elevator, so he could avoid the constant rush that always crowded it, especially this early in the morning. In moments he was bailing down the stairs and heading a few blocks over, ignoring the usual mess of transients and beggars who crowded the open lower level of the tower and ducking around the food carts, ignoring the scent of sizzling tacos from his favorite cart as he picked up the pace while jogging towards his tram stop.

 

Part of him couldn’t help but dwell on the night he had. David had spent the better part of the evening trying to deal with the fucking Doc, including agreeing to sell another round of his fucking XBDs- going through one of the Edgerunner series in order to “Taste the merchandise!”- all for a… slightly less than legal copy of the newest Arasaka OS upgrade for only 120 eddies. It had pretty much wiped his lunch and tinkering funds for the next month but it was better than bothering his mom when she was slammed at work this hard. By the time he had gotten the deal settled and the BD wreath had downloaded the upgrade, he’d gone through the XBD and had woken to his mom slumped over on the couch with an empty bowl of quick-cooked ramen in front of her. 

 

He hated seeing her exhausted like that. The bags under her eyes had gotten worse, and she’d had several colds in the last few months- each one having knocked her dead off her feet for at least a day…. He was getting worried.

 

Even as he slowed his jog, David couldn’t help but hate how far his goals lay ahead.

 

‘Another 6 months of Academy work, and then I can apply for a medical internship with Arasaka’s Cybersurgeons, another 4 years minimum of education while working for free in an Arasaka clinic as second string, and then probably another four years of ‘Novice’ work before I can get accredited. Then I’ll probably be headed towards a professional Corpo-ripper clinic, or into one of Arasaka’s design and research facilities, depending on what my specialization becomes…’ 

 

With a sigh, he slid through the tram doors with the morning crowd, reaching up and snagging a handle and looking out at the skies of Night City, the early morning light coming from over the desert to the west and washing out the vibrancy of the neon signs in pale yellow as it accented the dust and smoke that lingered over the city.

 

It was… kind of beautiful in its own way.

 

‘For mom. I can do 9 more years. I can dedicate the time to get it done, despite the goddamn Corpo-kiddies. And when I'm making the Eddies fitting big time corpo morons with their preferred beauty mods, mom can retire… yeah.’

 

David nodded to himself, and stretched up, taking a slow inhale as he tried to settle the anxiety in his gut. After this year he would be out and away from the fuckers like Katsuo. When he was in a straight medical track, like the internships, he was expecting the others would actually have shit to do . Katsuo and most of the other shitheads in the academy were all on the Managerial, Corporate, or Netrunner tracks. There were only like three other people in his class block who were in the advanced medical track and they all were busy as fuck like he was, trying to get done and into the field.

 

So yeah. He just had to narrow his focus, finish out this year, and then it would get easier.

 

It had to.

 

Glancing up, David tracked the sight of a pair of Trauma Team AVs as they flew past, heading into downtown.

 

‘I hope mom’s doing fine… She has the morning off, thank god.’

 

As the tram finally slid to a stop at the plaza station, David stepped off and started to lightly jog, heading towards the academy…

 

But a glimmer of pearlescent white caught his eye, perched above and behind him as he trekked up the stairs. It was the same vibrant shade he had caught a blur of the day before- but as he glanced up the color was already lost to the crowd, only a slender line of smoke from a discarded cigarette as a sign anyone had been there.

 

Shaking his head, he picked up the pace and rushed off towards the Academy.

 

With the delay of waking up a bit later than he should have, the rush to get an outfit ready without his actual uniforms, and the heavy thoughts on his mind- David only barely made it into the classroom before being marked tardy or absent.

 

Taking the final seat in the room- right next to Katsuo, of fucking course, he hooked his bag over the seat, sat down on the strap, and pulled the BD wreath from his pocket. Even as he was pulling it on, he had a sudden surge of anxiety.

 

“Martinez, David: you are not wearing the Academy Uniform,”

 

“Sorry. It’s still at the cleaners.”

 

“Where is your spare?”

 

David glanced to the side, trying to ignore the disgusted and judging looks of the rest of his row- all of them Katsuo’s little clique. “The spare is there too.”

“Understood, Please submit a Uniform Exception Form after class.”

 

And, right on cue, a call from Katsuo. Holding in a sigh and setting his features in a bland forward gaze under his BD wreath, he accepted the chat.

 

Katsuo
//Gutter Rat… Rat off the street, dressed in rags. Me? Wouldn’t be caught dead in that trash, wouldn’t even show my face.

 

Hidden under the wreath, David couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

 

David

//Wow, Crazy I know… But some of us actually do have stuff to learn.

 

Katsuo
//With that hunk of… Fossiltech? I’m surprised it’s even compatible.

 

‘Yeah, and Arasaka ransomware and the fucking pay to use update doesn’t help. Bet you don’t even read that shit, just put it on daddy’s chip.’

 

David
//I made it work.

 

Katsuo
//Ha, life’s gotta suck when a two bit wreath costs your life savings.”

 

David closed the call, carefully unloosening his jaw to keep from scowling as the Teacher Avatar resumed speaking.

 

“I would like to ask all Students to log into the Green Room for meditations,”

 

‘Right, here goes nothing. Please don’t have fucked me over, Doc.’

 

Pulling it on, he opened up the Arasaka net portal and selected the meditation environment. The dark classroom was quickly replaced by the open green clearing simulation that was generally used for homeroom exercises and relaxation. He looked around, his fairly undetailed avatar sitting in the same relative spot as the rest of his classmates, all arranged in rows on the pseudo-grass ground, as the white avatar of his teacher hovered in front of them.

 

For a moment, everything was fine.

 

The BD wreath was working, the Arasaka upgrade seemed to be validated…

 

He even got through meditation, through the first few minutes of announcements-

 

But when the first assignments were sent out, spread across the other BDs- things went wrong .

 

Black distortion ripped through the clearing, forcing David to flinch, reaching up and yanking the BD wreath from his head- and not triggering the disconnect failsafe.

 

He could only watch as the rest of his classmates jerked and ripped their own BD wreaths off, the simulated environment fragmented and the wall terminal hosting it fried, sparks and smoke billowed from the server. .

 

Staring at the smoking computer and then down at the flickering black and white emitters of his BD wreath, his thumb finally snapping the battery free of it’s port and letting the virus die, David could feel the cold realization creep up his spine.

 

“ Oh, fuck.”

 

And a minute later, he knew he was truly fucked.

 

“David Martinez, please report to the office.”

 

Katsuo
//Ha! You aren’t getting out of this one, street-stain. Good bye and good fucking riddance!

//Good luck ‘Making it work’ out in the slums where you belong!

 

---

It took forty-three minutes for his mom to get there.

 

It felt like five times longer.

 

He knew because he counted the minutes, spending the time sitting on the hard polymer bench, bent over his knees with his hands clasped around his neck.

 

He couldn’t stop the tapping of his foot, the anxiety and worry and guilt building up in his gut.

 

There was a part of him that wanted to throw up, could taste the hint of bile in the back of his throat as the threat of a true panic attack almost made him puke.

 

As his fingernails dug into his scalp, David closed his eyes and tried to focus.

 

To breathe.

 

To think.

 

It felt like his brain was stuck on a loop, like one of those ancient records with a scratch that made the needle bounce. He had fucked up, and the consequences- what if he was expelled? What if this cost him and his mom more money? What if- What if- What if-

 

“ Mijo ?” slender hands interlaced with his, pulling them from his scalp, and David blinked away the blur of unshed tears, tilting his head up to the familiar neon-yellow of his mom’s work jacket.

 

“Ma- I-” He wanted to explain, to try and justify everything, to lay out his thoughts and try and get advice-

 

“Ah, Mrs. Martinez. Come in. You too mister Martinez.”

 

He didn’t get the chance.

 

He only got an uncertain and worried look to his mom, who looked tense but collected, before they both passed into the principal's office.

 

---

David sat, hunched down into the collar of his shirt, his bag pulled tight and his breathing shallow as he avoided eye contact. For almost five minutes the principal had been explaining the damage, mixed with curt greetings.

 

At his side, Gloria Martinez, still wearing her EMT jacket, red hair pulled back into a professional bun and face set in polite stone, stared at the principal. Only glancing at David intermittently, as the incident was explained.

 

As the details were provided, and the principal slowed, a soft glow leaving his eyes as he finished reading off the incident report, he blinked and Gloria spoke up.

 

“I am so sorry for the inconvenience he’s caused.”

 

The tone of voice almost made David flinch, the icy professionalism layered sharp and clean. His mom’s ‘Triage’ voice.

 

The principal sat, golden edged chrome around his fingers and wrists on full display, accented by the desk lamp as he spoke.  “I wouldn’t say this is just a matter of money, Mrs Martinez. The expense to restore the system will be notable-”

 

“And of course, I will pay for the repairs.” David couldn’t help the flinch, the slight panic as he looked her way-

 

“As I understand it, the source of the incident is a modification to Davids… outdated headset. A piece of back-alley software to bypass the licensed update corrupted quite a few files and held a particularly virulent virus.” David looked down, hands clenched on his knees as he tried to keep his foot bouncing and bit his tongue. Now wasn’t the time to complain (It never was, complaining got you nowhere.)

 

But the principal wasn’t done. 

 

“With all due respect, could this be related to some… financial difficulties?” 

 

David tried not to let the tense slope of his shoulders tighten, even as he caught his mom’s nailed finger pressing into her thigh, even as her voice maintained clear and confident tones.

 

“It’s no problem, really. We can afford it.”

David kept his gaze low, but from the corner of his eyes he could see it. The flicker of disdain and pity as he glanced over the family. Against his will, his foot began to shake, the energy needing to go somewhere.

 

“Mrs. Martinez- I believe this is a good opportunity to… reconsider David's situation. ”

‘Oh, wrong move, teach.’

 

Gloria’s voice took a slightly chiller tone, but with the curt professionalism, it may as well have been ice water down David's spine.

 

“His… Situation?”

And the principal clearly noticed the change in tone, hands tightening and face going carefully blank. “He’s an exceptional student, but… well, David doesn’t fit in with his classmates! A change in environment could, perhaps, benefit-”

 

“No, David will continue to attend here.” the tone made him glance her way, taking in her stern expression. “Not only is he on scholarship, last I checked he was also still leading your medical classes in grades, no?”

 

David caught the edge of frustration on the principal's face, before it smoothed over and he nodded.

 

“Indeed. While this incident shall be… noted, he does possess exceptional grades.”

 

Gloria all but radiated pride and satisfaction, the topic closed.

 

With the promise of an invoice, the family was escorted to the gate. Both of them walk in silence towards his mom's old battered yellow Thorton Galena.

 

But now was the hard part.

 

After all, fucking up was easy, but now David had to explain to his mom… why.

Chapter 4: Crash and Burn

Notes:

Are you ready for feels?

The first few minutes of the drive had been quiet. A tension building even as his mom pulled away from the Academy onto the roundabout around the plaza, the blue and gold koi fish dancing their endless circle far above. 

 

David couldn’t stop the itch, his foot slowly rocking, pressed against the opposite ankle as he waited.

 

He knew from experience his mom was organizing her thoughts, doing the same meditative exercises that he could never focus on to put her thoughts in order. He could tell by her slow and measured breathing, the way her fingers tapped the car steering wheel in a steady pattern.

 

David took a breath and leaned against the windows, eyes tracing the crowd of people- the Academy uniform popping out the crowd a few times. Other students making use of their unexpected day off to loiter or chat.

 

Soon enough, they pulled out of the roundabout and headed south, and Gloria started talking.

 

“Why did you choose to use a bootlegged soft?” 

 

David flinched, taking a breath- “I-” before fighting back the urge to just dismiss her question. “Last time I mentioned it, you said we didn’t have the cash for it- at the time.” David rushed, intercepting his mom before she tried to bring up when she got paid. “And rent is due this week so we still wouldn’t have the money. Not for a 600 eddie ransomware.” 

 

“We could have made things work.” Gloria tried to argue, but David could see his argument had at least softened her anger somewhat.

 

It didn’t help the sinking hole in his gut. 

 

“I... Wanted to take care of it. I used the last of my allowance on the soft- had to deal with the skeevy doc for it.”

 

“Really David, that XBD obsessed maniac?”

 

David winced, accepting the criticism for what it was. “I was planning to contact Sasha but she’s gone no contact for a job. I needed the wreath upgrade soon as possible, and Doc... said it would work.”

 

“Did you even check?” Gloria asked, exhaustion coloring her tone only to turn into disappointment. “David. Don’t tell me you didn’t even check your soft .”

 

“I DIDN’T HAVE TIME!” David forced it out with a shout and instantly cringed. “I- I barely got it last night- and that was after Doc forced me to run through an XBD, and promise to sell a couple copies at school.” He was practically whispering now, eyes locked on his lap, legs shaking with barely contained tension. “And then you were home and tired. And the laundry wasn’t working, so I had to scrounge a uniform and then I was still running late for the NCART-”

 

David realized he was working himself into something like a panic attack, that he was spiraling again.

 

A hand hooked his neck and pulled him into an awkward hug, face pressed against the smooth hi-vis yellow of his mom's jacket, her fingers combing and playing with his hair, pulling him from his panic attack.

 

“Shhh… it’s fine, mijo. it… It’s fine. We’ll be fine.”

 

He felt his mom’s tears splash onto his cheek, and David was crying as well. Silently.

As the car pulled through the streets- heading out of downtown and towards Arroyo, nearing the overpass across the river- Gloria let David go, the two straightening up.

 

“Right… I might be able to cover the costs of everything.” Gloria finally said, reaching up and wiping her tears away. “What do we do when things get messy, mijo ? How do we EMTs do it, hun?”

 

David gave a grin, not bothering to wipe his own tears. Eyes still blurry. “Check the scene, assess the patient, get moving.”

 

“We’ve already got our scene, so step two. What’s the issues we need to solve…?”

 

“The school needs money and I need a new wreath.”

 

“ Sale, I should be able to cover the money with a bit of extra work. You need to strip your old wreath and salvage what you can. Then we’ll go looking for a newer one that’ll actually work.”

 

“ Órale, mamá .”

 

Gloria glanced over with a smile- weak but there- and David gave his own back. He figured this wasn’t the end of the conversation, not by a long shot-

 

Gloria’s eyes widened- fear and surprise shooting across her face as she looked past David, the teen slowly turning his head-

 

Only for the window to shatter - the rapport of heavy gunfire making him slam back against his seat, eyes wide as he saw pink and gold to his right- bullets shredding the front of his car even as his Mom screamed something, flinching back herself but with flecks of blood splattering the wheel; her hand, bleeding!

 

“-LIMO IS ARMORED! “

 

The attackers, gun still raised, sped past him, a massive man in a blue vest and with dark skin carrying a heavy machine gun, racing ahead after the limo that had been on the other side- an armored up Corp-branded tank of a car.

 

“Mom!” 

 

“ Fuck-” Already Gloria was pressing the wounded hand into her other armpit, trying to put pressure on the wound-

 

The sound of an explosion made them both look up- staring as the Limo’s back wheels exploded into shrapnel, the entire car grinding on its front grill- the bright pink van cutting away with the insignia of the Animals clear to David's eyes as the world seemed to almost move in slow motion.

 

As their car headed straight for the mass of the limo already slamming down towards them

 

“Mom! BRAKE-” 

 

‘No- she can’t reach the E-brake, her hand! Fuck, If I-’

 

David reached for it, fingers moving glacially slow to his desperate perception of time- as the looming black limo slowly came back down-

 

-Gloria yanking the steering wheel, the entire car slowly twisting , trying to dodge-

 

-the feeling of rigid plastic under his fingers-

 

-a shadow filling the windshield, the sun blocked by the twisted metal as it slammed towards the hood of the car-

 

Impact.  

 

And David, despite trying to hold on, felt as the car bounced- only catching a moment where everything seemed to go weightless- before slamming into the dashboard.

 

And for a moment, all David could see- feel-, that he could hear-  

 

-vanished.

---

Everything was dark. Absent. A void of sensation-

---

-a throbbing pain yanked him back.

 

He was pressed, face against the roof of the car, seatbelt looped around his waist holding him pinned to his seat, the safety lock keeping his legs pinned to the seat- the car roof was half crumpled in, and the road was lit by flames .

 

David groan and tried to look around, looking for the drivers side where-

 

His mom wasn’t in the car.

 

The door had been ripped open, the frame crumbled. “No… no no no-” grunting he planted his hands on the roof, pushing up so he could twist his head- neck injuries be damned- as his eyes glanced around for- there.

 

His mom was sprawled out on the asphalt outside the car, back facing him as she curled around the hand injury. Beyond her- the limo was on its side, CHOOH2 burning as it leaked from a massive explosion, the entire back half of the car’s undercarriage crumpled and slagged.

 

David could hear the approach of Trauma Team, his body relaxing infinitesimally as he resumed trying to unhook his damn belt.

 

The sound of an AV landing made him glance- and freeze.

 

The armored up medics were rushing the limo.

 

“HEY! HEY! HELP! MEDICS! WE NEED ASSISTANCE OVER HERE!”

 

He tried- he yelled until his throat hurt- he even saw one of the medic glance their way, the stretcher with whoever the Limo’s passenger was racing behind him towards the AV-

 

“-leave em for the meat wagons.”

 

The words, said even as the last medics turned away from the crash, took his breath away- and David began to yell and scream, not for help, but- 

 

“YOU FUCKING COWARDS! YOU USELESS FUCKERS!”

 

Struggling, David curled up, putting his weight on the belt as he tried to fumble with his belt, the pads of his hands ripping over the cord as he tried to loosen it, his fingers slipping over the metal release, the casing bent from some part of the crash.

 

With a scream and final snap - he dropped free, landing on the roof shoulder first and grimacing before twisting, ignoring as shards of crumbled tempered glass from the windshield pushed into his arms.

 

Grimacing, he pushed up and twisted out of the passenger seat, crawling and dragging his way out, through the crushed driver's seat and out onto the asphalt.

 

Pausing as he pulled himself out, David blinked, wincing as the throbbing of his temple increased- a head wound, possibly a concussion.

 

Distantly the sound of sirens began to grow louder- the actual EMTs coming in.

 

Pushing up off the asphalt, David spat out blood and bile, ignoring the dizziness and nausea that rushed through him as he rose and got one foot, and then the other, under him- ignoring the pain as he tried to sprint or stagger, over to his Mom, he blinked nearly went sprawling.

 

“Ma… Come on Mom…” David squeezed his eyes shut- trying to focus before opening them, dropping to his knees with a wince as he reached out to try and help.

 

‘Pale… bloodloss.’ David swore and reached up- gritting his teeth as he ripped his tie from his neck, reaching down and grunting as he rolled his mom back, finding her hand in a puddle of blood-

 

And still bleeding. Fuck. Fuck Fuck Fuck.

 

Gritting his teeth, he struggled to recall- tourniquet or bandage… ‘ Tourniquet. She’s bleeding too much.’

 

Grabbing her arm, he lifted it and used the tie, wrapping it around her forearm with a grunt of exertion- tightening it until it was biting into the flesh of her arm, and holding it- fumbling hands dragging the loose material of his tie into a knot and then yanking-

 

- and blinking awake a moment later, the screech of an ambulance on asphalt drawing him to look to the left- where a bright red and white EMT van slammed to a stop.

 

David had only a moment to see the familiar hi-vis yellow of an EMT officer- before the world went… sideways.

 

“Shit…”

 

He barely caught the yell of the medic before he passed out.

 

---

David came to with a slow kind of awakening, a dull throbbing pain in his head and a… fuzzy taste in his mouth.

 

Blinking slowly, the fuzzy pale lights of fluorescent bulbs punched him in the eyes, making him flinch back and reach up, only to wince when covering his eyes with his fingers means he bumped into a line of fabric across his forehead that made the dull throbbing pain into a much worse stabbing pain.

 

Groaning at the sensation, he jerked his hand back to just hover over his eyes and tried to blink, the room slowly coming into focus around him

 

“Oh, hey! You’re up, good.” That was some guy’s voice- and if the sound of a heartbeat monitor and the scratchy papery feel of the sheets beneath him was any sign- 

 

David squinted out from behind his hand and looked around the dingy white and green walled doctor’s office. Other cots lined the walls, each with their own little diagnostic wall panel.

 

Twisting, he met the eyes of a man- middle aged and balding, one side of his head chromed with an eye augment- a clean white doctor's coat over the green scrubs that marked him as a NC doctor, a datapad in hand.

 

"Doc? What happened-" a flash of his mom, laying in the street, and he shot from laying to sitting, ignoring the ache of his ribs and shoulder as he glanced around- "Where's my mom?"

 

“Hold on, kid. I need to run you through-”

 

‘Yeah, no.’ David tensed up, all but ready to leap off the bed, injuries be damned. “Where is my mom?”

 

The doc met his gaze for a long moment, and as David tensed even more he sighed, and set his datapad down on the empty cot next to David’s. “Gloria Martinez is still in Intensive care, she lost a lot of blood and is under observation. We expect her to pull through, but it's gonna take some time.” 

 

“I want to see her.”

 

The doc frowned. “I’d normally say yes, but your specific insurance doesn’t cover visitation.”

 

David fought back a scowl and closed his eyes, fingers tapping the bed frame under his grip for a second as he sorted through his memories for the right bit of medical trivia law. “I’m her next of kin, doesn’t that allow visitation under legacy and inheritance laws?”

 

The doctor- whose name tag read ‘Parker’- chewed his cheek for a moment, eyes flickering blue as he clearly searched something up. “Right. Fine. Five minutes, kid. Come on.”

 

Pushing up, David landed on his feet and took a breath, letting the rush of blood and his balance steady out before he started following the doc. They passed a window, David looking out to see the late afternoon sun already setting. Taking a corner, Parker opened a door, holding it so he and David could step into a bay of capsule bedrooms for overnight patients. 

 

“She’s in number 12, kid.”

 

Jogging slightly, ignoring the ache of his limbs, he counted the small cubby like rooms- only too slow as he reached 12.

 

As he found his mom.

 

Stepping into the cubby, he looked over his mom. Gloria had been changed out of her EMT jacket- the bright yellow fabric bundled in a plastic bag on the table at her side- her black shirt and pants sitting inside the jacket, dark red and brown stains on the cloth. David looked over her, eyes tracing the way her red hair lay limp across the pillow, her skin pale and sallow. One hand rested on top of a sheet pulled up over her waist- bandaged from the fingertips to the wrist- small flecks of red weeping through the bandage. 

 

“Ma…” he slumped, relief washing over him, the anxious fear that boiled in his gut slowly fading away. “Thank god…”

 

He was quiet for a bit, reaching out and combing her red hair back from her face.

 

Glancing up, he saw that Doctor Parker was sitting by the door, looking down at his datapad, the pale light reflected off his eyes.

 

Looking back down, David reached out, the cover of the tight cubby more than enough to hide his hand as he tapped at the terminal within. It was the work of a few seconds to wake up the screen and pull up his mom’s medical assessment and send a copy of it towards his own email account, deleting the local copy afterwards.

 

“Hey kid.” 

 

David looked up, seeing Parker tap his wrist- the universal sign for time up. Closing the terminal, he leaned back down and gave his mom a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be back tomorrow mom. Please… wake up soon.”

 

Grabbing his mom’s bundled clothes, he walked towards the door.

 

“I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

 

Parker gave a sigh, but nodded. “Fine. But it’ll cost you.”

 

David paused, but nodded. “I’ll pay for it.” He gave one last look at his mom, laying there silently, before leaving.

Notes:

The Trauma Train has left the station.

Once more! thanks so much to Jo for the edits- go check out Living Dead Girl!

Chapter 5: The Tragic Storms Eye

Summary:

The lull between the waves... the quiet before the storm returns.

Notes:

Once more! Thanks so much to Jsyren for the edits!

The walk home from the hospital should, if his city map was right, only be only about half an hour. However, that didn’t account for the fact that David was walking around town with two cracked ribs, a minor head wound, and a sprained ankle- and that was before the bruises, minor cuts from glass, and general strain of the crash were accounted for. With everything slowing him down and keeping it to a slow and easy pace, David arrived back at Megabuilding H4 closer to an hour and a half after leaving. 

 

Wincing as he climbed the last of the steps, he dragged himself towards home, ignoring the usual bums and vagrants who infested the lower levels around him. Finally, he hit his apartment and reached out to the door control- “Oh come the fuck on.”

 

ACCESS DENIED
RENT PAST DUE

 

The bright red medallion is bright and loud- and David let out a sharp sigh, head thunking gently on the cool steel surface of the door.

 

‘I could hardwire the door- but that’s the kind of thing that would actually get the building management's attention. Fine.’

 

Turning and pacing along the wall, David glanced to make sure no one's watching before ducking into a short alcove- a massive fan sitting behind a grate just a few feet deeper, spinning slowly to cycle air through the massive artificial community.

 

But on the wall to his apartment was his goal.

 

A smaller vent cover- big enough to slide through.

 

Reaching up, he hooked his fingers under and popped the outer cover free, leaving it hanging only by the upper brackets, before pulling himself up enough to knock the inner grate free- revealing the tile and glass of the apartment shower. Tossing the bundle of his mother’s clothes down, he pulled himself up and through, dropping with a groan of pain-

 

Cracked ribs and pull ups through a vent weren’t a fun combo- especially when the nice numbing pain meds were slowly burning off. 

 

Taking a minute to breath, David finally got to his feet with a hissed curse and picked up the bundle of clothes, limping his way into the apartment proper.

 

‘Right… I need access to mom's accounts to make sure the apartment pay goes through, she should have gotten paid today.’ Setting the bag on the floor, David opened the door into his mom’s apartment, and started looking for- there.

Sitting on a shelf above her bed, next to a prayer candle and a small pair of picture frames, was a thick leather bound bible. “‘Look for a good book in times of need’. Always good advice ma.”

 

Picking up the bible, feeling the heft of real paper in his hands, the nice and smooth leather, he glanced at the pictures. On one side, a young Gloria, barely out of her preteens, hands held up by her parents, an older hispanic man with the same glorious red hair, and a lighter skinned girl with hair as dark as David’s. His grandparents. They had died soon after he was born, and he only really knew them second hand. 

 

On the other side of the candle was a much more recent picture: Gloria, hair long and dressed in the familiar bright EMT jacket, arms looped around him . The smiling teen David who had just gotten a full ride scholarship into Arasaka Academy. She had even pulled out an old camera, wanting to get a shot of the two of them for his ‘momentous occasion’.

 

David blinked a tear away. His mom looked so much more alive in that photo, even less than four years ago, the lines around her eyes were softer, her smile easier. 

 

Exhaling, David cracked the bible open, the leather creaking slightly as he opened the first few pages to the real secret. Tucked between pages of the bible were hardcopies of her accounts and passwords, as well as a backup datachip he could use for identification for everything.

 

Heading for the terminal, he sat down- wincing slightly as he finally got off his ankle, leaving it stretched out and his weight off it- and got to work.

 

First; banking. If he was going to keep the apartment from getting cleared out, it had to be paid for.

 

Following his mom’s written instructions, David navigated to the bank's webpage. The account name and number were easy enough to lay out- but then it needed a digital signature.

 

Sighing, he picked up the data chip and tilted his head, slipping it home behind his ear with a click. A moment of loading and a digital ID signature was added to his neuralware’s collection.

 

His mom’s ID.

 

Pinging the bank's net with the codes, it opened and David found himself staring at a trio of bank accounts.

 

//Savings
//Checking
//Business

 

Moving to checking, David opened the file to see a ‘Waiting for approval’ message for the rent payment: 1,760 eddies. Above that was mom’s pay for the last two weeks of 2,145 eddies, deposited only an hour or so before the meeting at his school.

 

Alongside mom's pay, the checking account had another 547 eddies. Approving the rent payment, the checking account dropped down to a measly 932€$. Frowning, he clicked out and moved over to the savings.

 

4,562€$. Combined with checking, that was just under three months of rent, if he included no other costs… Leaning back David groaned and rubbed at his temple, before clicking on the Business tab.

 

45,000 €$

 

David paused and looked at the account, blinking. That was… From a single payment earlier this morning, barely after he had left for class. Beyond that, it was the only payment currently recorded in the account- the rest was deleted.

“What the fuck?”

 

Forty-five thousand eddies. That… that was more than his mom made in a year.

 

Blinking, he swore he could hear mom from the car again. “- I might be able to cover the costs of everything-”

 

“Holy shit mom… What did you do .”

 

For a long moment he stared at the money, before shaking his head and closing the tab.

 

‘That is… dangerous. I don’t know where that came from, or what it was paying for. Don’t touch.’

 

He exhaled sharply and turned the terminal off. Rent was paid, everything else could wait. 

 

As he sat there, foot tapping the floor, he exhaled sharply. “Fuck it. I need to do something.”

 

And as he glanced at the bag of bloodied clothes and the unwashed laundry, he figured what to start with.

 

Pushing off the chair, he grabbed a bag of assorted hand tools from the closet and made for the laundry machine. It was a matter of minutes before he had the front of the casing popped free, and was elbow deep into the lint covered and dusty innards, a rag in hand as he wiped down the motor and pulley array, stripping layers of gunk off of the mechanisms before leaning in and grabbing the drum itself- giving it a slow turn as he glanced over all the pulleys before finding which one was binding.

 

Leaning deeper- a penlight tucked between his teeth as he looked into the tight space- he found it. An old piece of plastic, snapped off of… something , jammed into a pulley slot, digging into the belt and bringing the entire thing to a stop. With a grunt, partly from the twinge in his ribs at the action, David twisted the entire drum backwards, reversing the belt enough for his fingers to scrabble in and pull the plastic shard free.

 

Another quick test, a check of the rest of the belts, and he was soon screwing the front on- the drum once more reseated, all the parts realigned to run.

 

“Right… Testing?”

 

Tapping at the controls for the dryer, he selected a quick spin cycle, hit start and sat back.

 

A few seconds later the dryer was running just as smooth as it always did- if not smoother .

 

“Whoo! One problem solved,” Slumping back, David’s mood darkened- slightly. “And another hundred to go.” For a moment, even the small success was just another reminder of how far he had to go.

 

For a moment he just… had to breathe. To listen to the rock and hum of the dryer as he rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. He… would have to swing by the school. Put in for medical leave for a week, make sure his assignments and copies of his class lectures would be funneled to his personal server. His mom was going to probably be bedridden for days after she got home, and he needed to be… here . Talk things out, figure out what the plan was, make sure the insurance- and his mom’s bills in particular, were paid off. Get the new wreath for his classes, make sure the incident at school was paid and cleared from his record. Get his mom to actually rest for a few days…

 

All that he needed was his mom, first. He needed her to be safe and home.

 

Which- if she was going to be coming home and resting- meant he needed to clean.

 

Stopping the pity fest, David got up and grabbed the laundry. He had work to do.

 

His half soaked pile of school uniforms from this morning was still in a basket, and that was quickly tossed in the dryer. The rest of his clothes, another entire basket, was tossed into the washer with detergent, and he set it to run. Walking over he grabbed the bag of bloodied clothes and headed to the sink. He knew from his mom that hydrogen peroxide could get blood loose from the cloth, and letting it rest in cold water would help. Setting the bag down, he reached under the counter for the medical bag and shuffled bottles around before finding what he was looking for.

 

Shaking the dark plastic bottle, he grabbed his mom’s clothes, unfolding them and laying them out in the slowly filling sink before pausing- under the pants, there was a gleam of green and iridescent metal.

 

There was something inside her jacket.

 

Dropping the pants in the sink and turning off the faucet, David slowly held the EMT jacket up- the splatter of blood across one armpit and the chest, the way it crusted around the hem of her right sleeve made him flinch- but his eyes were soon locked on the cyberware .

 

A clear see-through bag was taped to the inside of the jacket's back- and hanging like a coiled up serpent was a full spine mounted augment.

 

He… wasn’t sure what kind of augment- he had a passing idea of the common variants- part of helping Sasha research supporting mounts for her injury- but the way its segments glowed, signaling that it was currently on standby, and still had an internal charge…

 

David reached in and pulled the bag free, dropping the jacket in the cold water as he paced away, still focused on the cyberware. Now that it was in his hands, he could turn it over, looking along the array of bone mounts and neural interface links- recessed but nanite compatible- that looked almost like the legs of a centipede, tucked under each segment.

 

But more importantly, there was a maker's mark on the top segment, where it would press against someone’s neck. It was small and subtle, but only a moron wouldn’t recognize the ‘Box M’ Militech logo.

This… was hardcore chrome. The type you would expect from professional soldiers, or from groups like MaxTac or the Arasaka’s Ninjas...

…And his mom got her hands on it somehow.

 

Breathing deeply, David set it on the living room table and started pacing.

 

He… really needed his mom. This was.. This was too much. 

 

Shaking his head, he grabbed the spine and moved it to one of the cubbies with a door behind the couch. He would… deal with it later.

 

Shaking his hands out, trying to ignore the itch that came with ‘Too much’, David turned around, limped back to the sink, and got to work scrubbing the blood out of everything.

 

Hours later, as the first beams of light became visible through the window, it was to the sight of  a disheveled David slumped over the back of the couch, a pair of empty laundry baskets at his feet and piles of folded clothes sitting next to him- and a still warm pile of shirts in his lap. Around him the normally messy apartment was practically clean- dishes made and trash taken care of, the floor freshly mopped and the clutter reorganized to be out of the way.

 

Tucked away, the Sandevistan that used to belong to one Lieutenant Colonel James Norris sat in the dark… waiting.

Chapter 6: Tipping Point

Summary:

David visit's school... and is left bloodied for it.

And that's not even the worst part of his day.

Notes:

Thanks once again to Jsyren for the awesome editing sharingan- check out their work!

David yawned into the back of his hand, blinking in the late morning sun as he stared out of the Ncart’s window- dressed down in a simple black slacks and his school blazer over a ragged ‘Samurai’ band shirt, loose enough that the wraps around his ribs wouldn’t be constricted any more. The rest of his wounds were rebandaged, new bandages wrapping his ankle while his various cuts were cleaned and covered with synthskin plasters.

 

Wincing as he shifted more weight off his ankle, David watched the buildings of downtown slide into his view, blocking out the sunlit city around downtown.

 

Minutes later, the tram pulled into the downtown station and David gave a soft sigh before heading for the door.

 

Stepping back out into Arasaka plaza, he glanced up and watched the koi twist and turn around each other for a moment.

 

‘Right… let's go deal with the bureaucracy.’

 

As he headed for the school, a pale flicker of color caught his eye…

 

David slowed as color revealed itself to be the pale metallic gray hair of Katsuo, the teen leaning on a railing of a higher level of the plaza and sneering down at him. Holding in a sigh of annoyance, David deliberately turned away and kept heading for the school.

 

‘Focus. Gotta keep on track.’

 

In a few minutes he was tapping away at the terminal in the school office, the front desk secretary giving him only a cursory glance before she turned back to her own computer and typed away with perfectly uniform artificial nails. Focusing on the screen, he set up the ‘Absent for Medical Exemption’ paperwork, notifying his professor for the medical class he would need a recorded copy of the next live surgery demonstration BD, setting up a folder to collect all his class exercises and to aggregate the messages from the rest of the class.

 

Scrolling down the screen, he made sure the paperwork was in order and sent it off into the system.

 

Taking one last check to make sure he was in the clear, no automated responses or rejections, he logged off the terminal and turned to head back out to the plaza. Trekking down the stairs and rubbing a small ache from his neck, he took in the distant sight of some of Katsuo’s friends loitering along the edge of the plaza and decided to take the lower hallway there instead. 

 

He didn’t have the time or patience to deal with them, not right now. He had a week of taking care of his mom, working on school projects, and recovery ahead of him.

---

Of course- two minutes later, as he turned to walk through a connecting hallway leading from the underside of the plaza back towards the NCART station, he came face to face with Katsuo.

 

Who, apparently, had planned an ambush. The rest of the dimly lit hallway was empty, only a pair of vending machines lining the hall while orange-red lights flickered above them.

 

“Well well well! Look! The streetrat came scurrying back!”

 

Stepping in front of his buddies, Katsuo slid his hands in his pockets, taking a sneering look down at David. 

 

‘I really do not want to fucking deal with this.’ David slumped slightly, shoulder to the wall to keep weight off his ankle, keeping his eyes on Katsuo even as he shoved his hands in his own pockets.

 

“Can I help you?”

 

Katsuo sneered, before his face stretched in a smile that... Was he trying to look supportive? Whatever it was, it wasn’t working, he looked like a concussed snake.

“You know what, I think you can!” dropping the smile, Katsuo looked… vaguely serious. “Drop out of the Academy. Learn to take the hint, David Martinez.”

 

‘… really?’ David blinked, confused. “The hint about what, Katsuo. That you don’t like me? I don’t care.”

He tracked the furrow of Katsuo’s eyes, a clear sign of his anger building- but David was also done with this shit, slowly straightening his posture. “You’re not welcome in our class.” 

 

“What, is this about yesterday? Are you all upset about class getting canceled?”

 

“Who said anything about yesterday,” Katsuo flicked his hand, acting as if it was inconsequential. “You think I give you a hard time ‘cause you’re poor? No.” 

 

Katsuo took a step forward, hand dropping. “In fact, I consider myself charitable . And it’s not your fault you were born poor.” Another step, and David could only keep his eyes on Katsuo’s stance and the… what, was that some actual honesty in his posture? Some actual fucking truth? “There’s no rule that says a street kid can’t attend the Academy, provided they pay for it, of course.”

 

David straightened up, pushing off from where he had slumped against the wall, feeling the edge of tension building.

 

“What cracked my chrome is something else entirely,” Katsuo leaned in. “Know what it is?”

 

David was… honestly kind of lost- though apparently Katsuo’s goon squad was fully on board with whatever speech was going on. “Choom, I haven’t understood a word outta your mouth.”

 

“That right there, ” Katsuo sneered, pointing at David with a scowl. “Drop out. Get gone.”

 

“Wha-” 

 

“You’re a Misfit, an anomaly,” Katsuo sneered down his nose as if he was born to do it. “You are human trash, and nothing can change that. Rot goes as deep as your bones. Best you can do is not spread it to the rest of us.”

 

…What. That was what this entire speech was about? That David was trash ? David straightened his back and set his shoulders, a touch of rage, a bit of sheer fucking done with this shit rising into his voice.

 

“Did I just short-circ? Thought you just said you didn’t care so long as I paid tuition.”

 

Katsuo laughed. “Ha, but you can’t, can you. Cause I heard mommy came to see the principal to beg for forgiveness yesterday.”

 

David tensed, the spark of annoyance quickly finding new fuel, his gaze sharpening even as Katsuo leaned down, head tilted and voice mocking .

 

“She caused quite a scene, crying for her baby boy not to get expelled, right? How shameless, ” Katsuo's eyes glinted, the red of his optics gleaming. “Y’know, it’s always been a mystery to me. How could she afford to send you to Arasaka Academy in the first place?”

David’s pulse was in his ears, his breathing, the edge of it still rough from his injuries, came heavier and heavier- the world dancing and blurring at the edges as his eyes narrowed, shards of auburn in the light of the underpass.

 

“So? Care to explain, David Martinez? What does mommy do to pay your way through school?”

His foot was tapping, his skin burning as his focus began to spiral, too narrow. The world blurred as he locked on Katsuo. He wanted to shout, to explain, to call out the scholarships he had won. Point at the work he had done, that he was leagues ahead of Katsuo in a way fucking harder field of study.

“What does any Night City bottom-feeder do to make a quick eurobuck, huh?”

But his brain was too fast, the words just not coming.

 

“I mean, a couple things come to mind-”

 

“Enough of this shit.”

 

He was done. Taking a step, he locked on the stairs, every last measure of self control straining and focusing. 

 

Katsuo stepped in his way.

 

“Whoa, who said we were done?”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

One more time, David tried to step past-

 

And Katsuo's chest bumped him. And then again- hands raised, the gleaming red and silver of his palms on full display as a third bump threw David off balance and stumbling back.

 

“Oh? I didn’t even touch-”

 

That’s fucking it.

 

David slammed in, left fist tight, thumb flat but not tucked, as he threw a punch, aiming for Katsuo’s smug fucking-

 

An open hand and wrist snapped out, knocking the punch away and forcing David to stop, off guard.

 

“What’s that you got slotted, huh? Some kind of freeware?”

 

David never got a chance to respond.

 

Because suddenly Katsuo was a flurry of punches and chops, all the motions stopping half an inch from David’s face- before suddenly they didn’t stop.

 

The next ten seconds were a blur- the impacts, especially with David already healing post concussion, made the world blur- pain blooming across his face, radiating out from half injured wounds to only make it worse-  before a hooked hand around his blazer's collar dragged him forwards, where Katsuo crouched and laid into his stomach- he could feel one of his ribs- one of the ones already injured in the accident shift under a blow- before Katsuo pushed him back… and then spun and kicked him in the chest, sending him sprawling back, his chest wheezing as he tried to remember how to breath, gasping to convince his lungs to fuckling work please.

 

Katsuo was talking again. “-arms 400 really does bring out the best in Kung-Fu chipware. Seriously, ‘ganic knuckles? If you wanna try me again, better pack some chrome.” David barely managed to lift his head, spitting blood from his mouth, to see Katsuo turning away. “Or just drop out of school already.”

 

David…

 

David just sat there.

---

He wasn’t sure how long he was just… waiting, crumpled over his own body, breathing sharp and heavy before it slowly balanced out, waiting until the pain faded, until his bleeding stopped.

 

But at the end-

 

Riiing Riiing… Riiing Riiing-

“Hello, is this Mr. Martinez? I’m calling in regards to Gloria Martinez’s condition…. Can you come in? Soon as possible.”

 

“Of course. Be there in… half an hour.”

 

“ Thank you. See you then.”

 

Grunting, David pushed himself to his feet.

 

That’s right. His mom. He had to go… see his mom…

---

“She was stable this morning, but her vitals nosedived out of nowhere.”

 

David was in a haze, his vision blurry. He was sitting on a bench, just outside the hospital waiting room, a doctor at his side with a tablet, still in scrubs.

 

“But… you said. You said that the surgery went fine?”

 

The doctor nodded but sighed. “Her body was already weak. The blood loss… she was showing signs of malnutrition, lack of sleep… I’m surprised she came out as well as she did from surgery, even if she wasn’t on the discount package... There would have been some form of complications.”

 

The world was… too much. David was tracking every flicker of the light, every spark from a damaged wire connection… trying to focus on everything but the thing that was breaking his heart. The words that were killing him in his very soul.

 

‘Oh. I think I’m in shock.’

 

“All signs say she was overworked.”

 

He blinked… and all he could see was the lines around his mom's eyes. They way she slept, but the bags under her eyes never went away, the long hours…

 

“Here are some burial options we offer.” Turning the pad around, the doctor set it in his hands, David’s grip barely enough to hold it as he felt… defeated.

 

The doctor paused… his even, calm tone taking a slightly bitter touch before he stepped away. 

 

“There's a reason everyone wants a corporate gig in Night City, kid.”

 

David held the tablet, eyes locked on the blue and white screen as it began to speak.

 

“ Valued customer, we are sorry for your loss.”

 

---

 

“Is our budget friendly cremation service right for you?”

 

---

 

David stared quietly as the canister dropped, unceremoniously, from the dispenser. A stainless steel cylinder maybe two gallons big…. A white label with the name Gloria Martinez.

It said handle with care.

 

David felt numb as he knelt down, gently picking it up… and holding it close. Hands gripping the cold steel, ignoring the ache as it pressed against his cracked rib, arms hugging it to him tightly.

 

His eyes were blurry.

 

Drops of rain splattered his hands, tight around the cylinder.

 

How odd. He didn’t think it was supposed to rain.

 

He….

 

He needed to head home.

 

Home… where he would always, from now on, be alone.

Notes:

I'm sorry, but it had to be done.

RIP Gloria Martinez.

Chapter 7: Now Hitting: The Ground Floor

Summary:

After the fall... How do you pull yourself together?

Memories of the Past.

Plans for the Future.

It had… been a day. Maybe two. David wasn’t sure.

 

The apartment was still clean. Mostly. His blazer and class shirt was sitting on the desk chair.

 

David hadn’t really moved.

 

He was on the couch, curled up in the corner… his mother’s urn sitting on the table before him.

 

He hadn’t slept… not that he had noticed. Sometimes he blinked and he didn’t realize how long his eyes were closed.

 

---

 

He was hungry.

 

Standing… he didn’t remember standing, but he was on his feet.

 

He didn’t remember opening the fridge door… his eyes roved over stacks of premade food packs… a few bottles of water- 

 

And a ‘Real Fruit’ apple.

 

He blinked-

 

‘Mijo! Don’t leave the fridge open. Come eat your fruit.’

 

He held the fruit in his hand. The perfectly red and shiny looking apple had a shelf life of almost a month. He wasn’t sure when it had been bought but… it wasn’t soft. Still fresh enough to eat.

 

‘Ah, you want a flower, right? Okay mijo, watch closely, my Papi taught me how to do this… he was a medic, you know?’

 

David was sitting on the couch again, his smallest paring knife from the knife block in one hand- the apple held firmly in the other.

 

‘Hmmm… See, mijo? My flower! Its beautiful, no? My papi always said this was how he trained for surgeries! Keeping his hands steady- he could carve the most beautiful roses out of the entire apple- then he would sprinkle it with cinnamon. A beautiful snack.’

 

David chewed on the sliver of apple, a tang of iron and the sweetness of the apple in his mouth. His hands moved slowly, his fingers white knuckled. He had nicked himself already, bright red dripping onto the table under him- but the knife kept moving. Slowly pulling layers off the apple. Careful. Precise.

 

‘Hmm? A surgeon! Oh, mijo, I would love for you to be a surgeon!’

 

The knife clattered to the table. Next to it, an apple with a pale gloria flower carved into the face, rough and crude, but still recognizable, was gently set next to the urn.

 

David stood up, his left hand streaked with dark red. Cuts…. Seven of them. All along the edge of his palm.

 

“I’ll make you proud… mama.”

 

Turning, he headed for the medical kit.

 

He needed to patch his hand up.

 

Then… he had a bible of things to finish reading.

 

Then he had to make a plan.

 

---

It took five hours, the afternoon sun slowly setting across the city until it was merely a red streak along the horizon, before David was ready to actually put his plans together.

 

His mom's bible, along with notes on how to access the insurance, utility payments, and get her will all finalized was organized by order of events. Starting off, he would need to contact the insurance agencies and then transfer the deed for the car over- totalled as it was, there was still an insurance payout on the vehicle he could get. The contacts- all handwritten addresses and short notes of ‘who’ and ‘if X happens contact Y’- were spread out across the table next to the more technical paperwork, his mom’s meticulous penmanship filling out each card.

David recognized a few of the names, if only in passing. ‘Padre’ and the Welles family were well known in the hispanic community of Night City… And if he wanted his mom to have any final rites, Padre was the one to go to… but he would circle back to that thought.

Next to the notes from the bible, a few of David’s own notes were laid out, the information from his mom's bank accounts scrawled on a page with a rough budget- two of them, actually.

In one, he dropped out of the academy, and had three months of rent to get a job, before he had to touch the mystery account of 45K and possibly piss somebody off somewhere.

In the other, he had a single month of time to find income, but paid off the 2,600 eddies to the academy to continue attendance. He still didn’t touch the 45K, at least not yet, but he would be pressed for time-

 

But that would mean he keeps his mom’s dream alive. Of David getting out of the slums… 

 

“Rot goes as deep as your bones” Katsuo declared- as if it was obvious , as if it was an immutable fact .

 

David tapped the second one, a scowl on his face as he decided. He was gonna tear Katsuo’s fucking misconceptions down. Couldn’t do that if he wasn’t there.

 

Right- that meant he was on the clock, and his deadline was in 60 days. Two months to get shit done.

 

That led to his second problem- getting an actual day-in-day-out job outside of Arasaka triggered a non-competition clause in his scholarships. And while David could break them, that would leave him footing the academy tuition of nearly a thousand eddies a month on top of rent, and there was no way he could find a job that would cover the cost.

 

On the contrary, the scholarship would pay him a 400 eddy bi-weekly stipend if he registered his mom’s death and applied for the proper compensation as an orphan instead of a single parent family. More so if he improved his grades up to A’s in all subjects. Maintaining academic excellence would let him reapply for improved stipends. That meant he needed to find an internal position at Arasaka that would work around his student hours (Nigh fucking impossible)- or he needed a job that was under the table and wouldn’t show up on his records, that fit his class schedule, and could make enough money to cover everything.

 

Which, really, left two options. Work for one of the gangs… or work against them as one of the so-called cyberpunks.

 

And he really didn’t want to deal with joining a gang. Messy dynamics, power plays- not his style. Plus, it was too risky. Getting any sort of criminal record, but especially as a gang member, would also ruin his chance to stay in the academy or be taken seriously as a medical professional in the future. 

 

Cyberpunks, on the other hand, had a much more appealing set up. Gig based jobs that paid well, if on irregular schedules, but with a much higher code of professional conduct. No Fixer would sell a punk out, not if they wanted to keep their job or reputation intact. And, more importantly to David in the moment, he already had a lead on a Fixer.

 

‘Padre’ Sebastian Ibarra. The person who had helped his mom leave the Valentinos and move out of Heywood in the first place. And, who he had to visit for his mom's last rites. If he played his cards right, he might be able to swing a trial job. Preferably courier or investigative… or maybe even helping out medically. He knew there were always people who needed medical advice that couldn’t be traced to the big corporations- especially in Heywood, considering the high tension with the NCPD and the gangs.

 

Which, if he was actually considering going as a C-punk, led to the last pile of stuff on the table. The bright red EMT bags- both the household’s… and his mom’s work bag. The various drugs, tools, scanners, and medical supplies were organized and collected. At a glance David decided he had enough to stabilize nearly any wound that wasn’t going to be imminently lethal, and enough antibiotics and wound cleaners he could deal with some longer term care and assistance. He also had enough surgical tools, including a folding pouch with a trio of very expensive scalpels, that he could put some of his lessons to use. 

 

Though, if he was forced to try a cyberware removal or, god forbid, an installation on the fly, things were already fucked.

 

There was also his mom’s gun. An older model of the 10AF Lexington, but with an aftermarket barrel- some kind of recoil suppressor. He had never seen his mom actually use it, but she had gone to a gun range once a year to make sure it worked. He would likely have to do the same, as well as get a run down on maintenance. As it was… He had one full magazine of 21 bullets- and another 29 left out of the 50 round box next to it. 

On the couch nearby to that, bundled up, was his mom’s EMT jacket. Under it, a worn pair of tactical boots that David had owned for almost a year but were getting tight, a thicker dark gray t-shirt, and a rugged pair of cargo pants. To top the pile off, he had a basic pair of gray tech-gogs, a pair of cotton gloves, and a yellow bandana. Not the most inconspicuous get-up, but most of it could be tossed in a bag and tossed out of sight. Though… he had an idea for the EMT jacket.

 

And that was almost all his assets… 

 

Well.

 

Except for the spine augment.

 

It sat on the back edge of the table, coiled inside of the sterile plastic bag, a scribbled out page of notes next to it; the results of an hour of looking into the Militech catalogs and cross referencing with the research he had already done for Sasha months ago.

 

He had come up with a partial match for the augment.

 

A Militech Sandevistan Mk.5, ‘Falcon’. Though, from all he could find, this one that had been modded to hell and back.

 

The default Mk.5 Falcon was the base platform- the internal mechanics of the spine, a set of extremely high cost nervous system integrations, and a stabilization system that was apparently revolutionary, allowing repeated use of the Sandevistan without the usual drawbacks….

 

Which, with a bit more research, tended to be seizures and escalated to full blown neural burnout.

Beyond the sales pitch,what he had been able to pull off the web without looking too suspicious amounted to a few ‘display’ pictures for reference. The standard Falcon didn’t have a quarter inch of what David was fairly sure was executive-grade articulated armor plating that would probably keep someone's spine intact if they got hit by a semi-truck going highway speeds. Neither did the standard have what looked distinctly like a ridiculously complex Arasaka branded microprocessing array wired into its first expansion port.

 

Just staring at it, the piece of tech that was likely more valuable than everything else in his apartment and life combined made David’s fingers twitch with the desire to see how it ticked. This wasn’t some run of the mill cyberlimb or dermal plating- he had messed with those before- both in class and with his run ins with the crazy Doc.

 

Speaking of, he needed to add ‘deal with the Doc’ to his to-do list. Because that gonk fucked him over with the software update… which reminded David of the BD wreath he still needed to fix.

 

So much to do, so little time.

 

For a moment, it felt like he was drowning, an endless array of things ahead and no help to figure it out.

 

He slumped forwards and gripped the back of his skull, ragged nails slowly digging into the sides of his spine before he sighed and let his hands drop, hanging off his knees as he looked at the crowded table. The distance he had to go… the time limits he had to do it in…

 

He felt small. Standing at the base of a monolith.

 

Then he breathed. Settled himself and let the cold focus of a surgeon steady his nerves and balance his fear.

 

“Right… One step at a time.”

 

And step one?

 

He had a priest to call about final rites…

Notes:

Once more: thank you kindly to Jsyren for the edits and technical work. Go check out Living Dead Girl!

We've reached the start of our journey now... the tragedy has broken the day to day, leaving David alone... and motivated.

Chapter 8: Our Holy Father-

Summary:

Thanks again for the awesome editing skills of Jsyren for going over this.

David dressed in his Sunday best. A dark gray button up shirt, black slacks, a faux-leather belt, and a black blazer. He even took a black tie and spent half an hour figuring out how to tie it correctly. He didn’t have any dress shoes, sadly, but some searching found a pair of slip-on street shoes that were a touch tight- but were a solid black and white- and close enough to professional to count.

 

Around his neck, hidden by the tie, he slid on his cross.

 

Now, looking out at the early dawn light, David took a breath and picked up the urn. 

 

This part felt… Unceremonious. 

 

He set it into a satchel, one of his mom’s favorite day bags made of tanned orange synth-leather and heavy enough to carry bags of groceries across town. He tightened the satchel, strapping the medical grade urn in tightly, before he stood and collected the rest of what he needed. The bible of his mom’s instructions was staying here- it was too valuable. But he’d taken down copies of what he needed, clean and precise handwriting, folded into an envelope- and then tucked into his inner jacket pocket.

 

He passed by the mirror and paused…

 

He looked beat to hell, fading bruises around his eyes and jaw- but the suit and outfit looked… somber. Professional.

 

It was a good look.

 

But he didn’t like it that much. It wasn’t him.

 

Taking one last moment to check himself- and double check his destination and the route he needed to take through the NCART and public transport systems, David hefted the satchel over his shoulder, hand coming down to rest on the cylinder and reassure himself of its weight and presence.

 

Time to go see a priest about a funeral.

---

How to describe Heywood… 

 

It was the intersection of the city. The crossroads of the highest of the high, and the lowest of the low.

 

David glanced down as the NCART he was riding passed over the river. At the edge of Heywood, down near the water, it was a slum sprawling out to the east in the low warehouses and decrepit apartments of Vista Del Rey- even the Mega Buildings in the district showing graffiti and a distinct air of neglect and wear. From the lower reaches of the south of the main island, quite literally downhill of the tallest and most expensive buildings in Night City, the slums were so poor and crowded that even from the NCART David could see the ‘blue line’ express- a raised executive highway line that that cut above it and across town from the city center; a toll road that kept the dirt off the shoes of the corpos’ who had to even think of going south.

 

But every block north and west of the river- every building that stood four or five stories taller than its fellows changed things. From the slums of Vista Del Rey, the Glen became residential blocks for the corporate shills and office workers who ran their businesses. It even held city hall and some of the city's government buildings. Smaller corporations staked their claim there, and the sight of a Trauma Team AV passing over to attend to a burning apartment a clear sign of the wealth they held.

 

Hell, at the northernmost edge of Glen, the center district of Heywood, David could walk across the street and be in Arasaka plaza without noticing a change.

 

But he wasn’t heading for the northern part.

 

Holding onto the rail above him, the NCART took a downhill slope before turning to stop atop an elevated station above the middle of the Glen, the biggest residential center in the city.

 

Mingling with the crowd, David stepped out and passed through the paygate before taking the steps down. Four flights of concrete steps with an open view of the district around him- the inner walls marked with graffiti and gang tags, the most prominent being the golden ‘V’ and rose motif of the Valentino gang.

 

Finally, he reached the bottom step and walked out into the Glen proper.

 

Turning south, he walked along the road with a calm focus. Spine straight and head locked, his shoulders tucked up just a touch- the posture of a guy who was just passing through.

 

The busy street was filled with people- businessmen on their way to work in suits and fast fashion, blue collar workers in rugged boots and hi-vis jackets standing around one of the endless construction and repair crews that kept Night City running… and among the rest, among NC’s array of colorful citizens, were the signs of the Valentinos.

 

A pair of guys, latino and proud, walked past him- chains with golden crosses and rose tattoos on full display around their white tank top and red jacket, handguns on full display at their hips.

 

As David got closer towards his destination- the towering skyscrapers slowly getting lower and flatter- the signs of the gangs became more vibrant: Full murals of spray paint stretched up walls, depicting fallen gang members as saints with flowers and faux-stained glass archways surrounding them.

 

He also saw the first signs of where he was headed.

 

The name ‘PADRE’ sketched down the side of a building in bright, stylish golden letters worn only slightly by smog and sun.

 

Stopping at an intersection, David took a breath and looked up, eyes tracing over the artwork… and when he crossed the street, looking the direction he believed he was supposed to go from his mom’s instructions… he paused.

 

He had gotten a couple odd looks so far- a teen dressed up in his Sunday best on a random afternoon was definitely not what most expected.

 

The direction he was headed was far less populated then the center of the Glen he had started in, and as he turned to head west along the neighborhood a pair of men stepped out. Slicked back hair, flamboyant floral print shirt, and a lit cigarette on one, and a well cared for mustache, black and gold vest, and poet shirt on the other.

 

If they weren’t gangsters, as demonstrated by ornate tattooed sleeves and bright golden handguns and chrome, they could have passed as the covers of a trashy romance novella.

 

“Hola, can we help you señor?”

 

David took a breath and reached up slowly, pulling his cross from under his tie and holding it in clear sight.

 

“I’m here to speak with the Father… concerning getting final rites. For my mother.”

 

The older of the two, with the mustache, flinched slightly, face going somber, and nodded.

 

“Of course. I apologize for the interruption. Please, go about your business.”

 

Relaxing slightly, David nodded. “Thank you.”

 

As he passed by he caught the edge of a hissed conversation between the two, the younger pressing the older for information.

 

“-etting any punk into the territory?”

“No seas mula. He’s a kid who’s here for Padre the Priest, not a punk lookin’ for a fixer-”

 

Of course by the time he was far enough for the sound to fade, he couldn’t help but flex his hand, ignoring the ache where he had clenched it around the strap of his bag too tightly.

 

‘I’m here for both, technically.’

 

He followed the signs deeper into the blocks, away from the main street and around the side of an overpass up to the main highways before turning around a corner and into a spacious lot tucked between older apartment buildings. Chain link fences cordoned off a chunk of concrete, basketball hoops erected in the clearing and bleachers along the back of the buildings.

 

It took only a few minutes before he caught sight of who he was looking for.

 

The older latino man, balding but with tufts of hair along the bottom of his scalp and a cyberware implant in his cheek leading up to one temple, was Sebastian Ibarra. Also known as Padre .

 

Fixer of Heywood, Man of God, and ex-member of the Valentino gang,

 

As David approached, he caught sight of another Valentino- or someone with the same sensibility- tensing at the corner of the bleachers. Even as he did, Padre was speaking to a younger woman, her clothes extravagant red and white and hair braided back, and David took that as a cue to stop at the bottom of the bleachers and look out at the basketball court, eyes following the action for several seconds.

 

Before long, the white and red clad girl stood and walked down the bleachers and David turned, seeing Padre looking his way, curious, before his eyes widened in recognition and he patted the seat at his side.

 

Bowing slightly, David stepped up to join the priest.

 

“As I live and breathe… Little David Martinez.”

 

“Padre.” David gave a nod of respect before gingerly sitting at the priest's side, his hands in his lap with the fingers laced. “I would have called ahead but I don't have your number.”

 

Padre nodded, his soft smile fading away. “I would have thought that Gloria…” Something in David's expression, some way his face shifted, the flinch at her name… it told the story.

 

“I… I was told to have you handle her final rites, father,” he jostled the bag slightly, and the priest’s wrinkles deepened with sorrow- the age of the man seeming all the heavier as he sighed.

 

“Oh… If I may… How?” David recognized the shift in Padre’s posture, the calm and smooth professionalism of a priest- somber and respectful.

 

He appreciated it.

 

It made it easier.

 

David recounted the events… starting with the Animal’s attack- the explosions and the gunfire, his mother getting shot, bad enough the bloodloss got to her. The lack of care from the Trauma Team techs… Seeing her in the hospital before the end.

 

He talked about the doctor's explanation… how it was the stress and exhaustion combined with the bloodloss.

 

By the time he finished, his knee was bouncing with the edge of his nerves- the father’s hand resting on his shoulder, comforting him as his voice became rough and his eyes itched with unshed tears.

 

“A terrible tragedy… Your mother did tell me how to proceed, long ago. Informed me of her choices… if this ever came to pass. She wished for the proceedings to be quiet. Is… there anything else?”

 

David gave a grimace and nodded. Reaching into his suit jacket, he pulled out several notes. 

 

“She mentioned… that if her time came before I was of age, that you would assist me with emancipation and limited guardianship. To keep the possession of her assets.”

 

“Of course. I owe her enough,” Padre took the cards, eyes glowing as he scanned each one. 

 

David took a breath. Time to put his eddies where his mouth was. “I… have one more request. I would like to put myself on the market for gigs. Courier jobs, some mild snatch and grabs.”

 

Padre’s expression hardened, a colder professionalism overcoming his somber countenance. “Are you sure, young man? This is not a profession that’s easy to leave.”

 

David shook his head slightly, mouth in a thin line as his shoulders straightened. “I don’t have much leeway, Padre. If I want to stay enrolled at Arasaka Academy I need money- and it can’t be above table without breaking my scholarship terms. I’ll prove myself. I can do medical work, I can run packages and deliveries, and I'm not afraid to do recon. The more experience I get, the more I can sign up for. I just need someone to vouch for me until I prove my worth- and to keep my official name off the roster.”

 

For a long moment Padre gave him a look, assessing and focused, and David met it evenly.

 

But with a sigh, Padre slumped and nodded. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a half used cigar and a lighter. “I think this is foolish- but I've seen your type before. You won’t back down, not after you’ve made up your mind. Gloria was much the same.” 

 

For a long moment they were silent, Padre lighting up his cigar and taking a slow and measured breath, before exhaling a cloud of blue tinged smoke.

 

“Fine. I’ll put you down for something… simple. It won’t pay much, but it’ll give you a chance to get into the scene. Here- my number.” Padre flicked the file his way and David let his neuralware pick it up, adding ‘Sebastian Ibarra’ to his personal caller log.  “However, David. I’m only vouching for you once… after this? Your family and I will square. No easy favors, not in this business.”

 

David nodded. “No favors. Thank you, Father.”

 

For another ten minutes they hashed out details before, with solemn care, David passed the bag with his mother’s urn to Padre. The priest would see that the correct rites and prayers would be done, and that she would return to him in a much more suitable urn. Something David could only be thankful for, considering the cold, impersonal container the city had given him.

 

He requested, if possible, for them to enamel her flower on the front.

 

Padre said it was perfectly doable.

 

By the time he stood and walked away, his nerves settled but for the faint sense of expectation in his gut, he was… satisfied.

 

The first steps were being taken.

 

And as he looked up out of the Glen at the towering city center- he couldn’t help the race of want.

 

‘I’m going to burn my way through this city. One step at a time.’

 

Now… He needed to go see a certain Ripper about a defective piece of soft.

 

As he marched back out of the Glen, hands in his pockets and back straight- he started considering just what kind of favor he could weasel out of the ripper.

 

And in his thoughts... the Sandevistan gleamed.

Chapter 9: What's up Doc?

Summary:

Time to settle a debt- and secure a favor.

Before he headed to Doc, David headed back home. A ride on the NCART, only stopping to spend a few eddies swinging by a food stall near the megabuilding for the closest you could get to authentic Mexican street tacos in this part of town. After getting back to his apartment, it was a matter of only half an hour to change from his dressier clothes into more street appropriate attire. Old jeans, ripped up and frayed, and a black band shirt- the faded logo of the band Battle Tapes across the chest. 

 

Then he grabbed his mom’s gun and the belt holster- getting it to hang correctly took a bit of work, adjusting belt length and how it hugged the shape of his waist. Glancing out the window, David watched the first few banks of storm clouds begin to gather; the slight iridescent edge of the toxic air of Night City clearly visible on the leading clouds. Pausing at the sight, he reached for the bright yellow of his mom’s folded up EMT jacket, holding it for several long moments, thumb rubbing along the insignia and the nametag ‘Martinez’ embroidered on the lapel.

 

It would be baggy enough to cover his gun and keep the rain off.

 

And it would be a good reminder of what he was representing.

 

With his decision made, he carefully shook the jacket out- revealing the minor scrapes on the reflective tape- and the slight fraying of the right sleeve. He would have to find some patches to seal up the material, keep the damage from getting worse.

 

With a slow motion he swung the jacket around and slid it on, feeling the slightly oversized cloth hang off his shoulders; the high collar with its integrated E-light- good for detail work in dark environments- flickering on as a small sensor between the shoulders recognized it was now being worn.

 

Reaching down, he picked up the apple- the gloria flower carved in its surface now a slightly brown color, oxidized from the air around it.

 

It still crunched under his bite…

 

‘Mom hated to see food go to waste.’

 

With that taken care of, David left. Locking his door behind him as he headed for the stairs, taking bites of the apple before, at the very last step, all that was left of the seedless cloned fruit was the stem.

 

Flicking it into the trash, David stepped out into the rain and walked into the grimy back alleys and side streets of Arroyo.

 

To most people who visited Arroyo, they looked at the slums and the constant building and rebuilding of the factories and warehouses and scoffed. For those who watched the gangs, they saw where the Sixth Street gang clashed with the edge of the Valentinos or the Animals, but no one really held territory in Arroyo. It wasn’t worth it. Instead- it was the buffer zone. From the decaying remains of the city’s stadium on the southern edge, forever locked in development hell, to the twin shapes of Megabuildings H4 and H6 merely blocks away from each other.

 

More than that were the factories that covered the western half of the district. Arasaka, Kendachi, Cytech, the fully automated Manufactory, both Petrochem and the Electric Corporation’s power plants, and a landfill for their scrap. Nestled in the no-man’s zone and protected by armed guards, and in some cases even robots, they were the main provider of work for the district. Every day hundreds if not thousands of people went to work on the conveyor lines and to ship and pack the massed goods. 

 

The no-man’s land also meant that outcasts and disgraced criminals often found a home among the slums.

Disgraces like the Doc.

 

Twenty minutes of wandering through back streets, going through side passages and down alleys as he got closer to the river, and he was at the door.

 

A sloped stairwell into a basement, the glowing blue and green of neon lighting the alley and reflecting off the rain splattered concrete.

 

He stepped down the steel stairs to the ripper-clinic, taking a slow breath as he readied himself- the yellow of his EMT jacket shining with blue and green hues, and the weight of the gun heavy on his hip.

 

As he paused outside the door, he took a breath and then paused… because he could hear the Doc grunting and moaning .

 

Any hesitation in David's system evaporated like fog beneath a noonday sun.

 

Slamming the door control, he stomped through, eyes locked on the form of the Doc still deep in a XBD and with his dick in a mechanical hole sitting on the operating chair.

 

‘Unsanitary fucking addict can’t even keep his goddamn work station clean’.

 

As the teen stomped through the doorway, the ripper jerked up, cyberarms flailing as he ripped the BD wreath from his eyes.

 

“What the fuck- Davie? Why the fuck are you here!?”

 

David ignored the question, ducking under the ring of detached cyberarms that circled the man.

 

“We had a deal, right.” he commented, eyes tracing the man’s set up with disgust- taking in the drops of... fluid that had pooled under the rippers shorts and the signs of uncleaned blood on the nearby floor. “One, functioning, Arasaka license for a BD wreath.”

 

The doc rolled his eyes. “Yes, and you would sell off the new batch of XBD’s I got in. The Edgerunner ones. Are you telling me you haven’t done that yet? Cause I sure as hell haven't been paid yet-”

With a quick motion, David reached up, snagged the casing of the mechanical onahole, and yanked down, causing the ripper to swear and flinch, scrambling for his hand to make him let go- before freezing at the pressure of a gun to his throat. David wasn’t standing at arms length anymore- he was in Doc's personal space , leaning in so that he could stare the ripper in the eyes, his gun pressed to the man’s throat even as his other hand kept a tight pressure on the onahole.

 

David’s voice was ice cold, his eyes gleaming in the dark and catching the greens and pinks of the neon lights behind Doc's seat. “Your update fried the BD wreath and the entire network it was wired into. An Arasaka network. And it blew out a very expensive piece of hardware, which I now have to repay.”

 

Cautiously, Doc raised his hands and slowly tried to lean back, only to freeze as David gave another sharp tug with his left hand.

 

“But that’s not the worst part, you know?”

 

Doc gulped, Adam's apple and scruffy goatee brushing the barrel of the gun.

 

“What… What’s the worst part?”

 

David leaned in, meeting the Doc’s cybereyes with his own natural ones.

 

“Because of the wreath blowing up, my mother was called in-” before the Doc could even consider commenting on that, David pressed the gun barrel against his throat a touch harder “-and because of that we ended up in the line of fire of a fucking hit by a van of Animals. ”

 

The venom in David's voice was cold . It cut through any blubbering that the doc could think to say, through any excuse he could muster, freezing the man’s thoughts.

 

And then David let go.

 

He stepped back, lowering his gun but not taking it off the ‘line’ of the doctor's body.

 

But the Doc was worried now.

 

“Your actions led to my mother’s death. Inadvertently or not. You sold me a faulty piece of gear and the results TOOK HER FROM ME .”

 

The last words were a scream, barely held back behind clenched jaw and hissed breath.

 

The Doc suddenly felt just how fucked he was. This wasn’t some posturing kid- this was a man on the edge of murder . Closer, perhaps, than even the most psycho of his normal clientele.

 

David took a slow breath, calming himself once more- despite never taking his eyes from the Doc’s.

 

“You owe me, Doc. And I even know what I want.”

 

The doc swallowed, and spoke. “And what, Davie, do you want from me?”

The teen gave a thin, lipless, smile.

“There will come a day I need you to operate on me, and you’re going to do it free of charge. One, full, installation. No fucking around, no cheapening out on it. One, clean, professional operation. I’ll even let you keep the six hundred I paid already. Though- I won’t be selling these anymore.”

 

Pulling the bundle of XBD drives from his pocket, he tossed them onto the floor.

 

“Do we have a Deal? ”

 

Reaching down and wincing as he adjusted the onahole, the doctor nodded slowly.

 

“Deal. One operation free of charge- but after that? You ever show up here again and I'll kill you Davie, you know that?”

 

David gave one long measured look at the doctor, as he postured to try and get control of the situation back- before the gun snapped up and fired.

 

A hole blew into the head of the chair, the doctor scrambling as he fell from the chair, hands coming up to cover his head, shrieking as he felt for blood, bracing for pain- only to find none.

 

He glanced up, seeing how David had missed, clipping the side of the chair’s head, instead of dead center- where it would have killed the Doc.

 

“Don’t you ever fucking theaten me.” David whispered softly, face shadowed in the halflight of the room, only his brown eyes gleaming with the traceries of the neon lights- his words a soft and cold promise. “I should put you in the fucking dump, skull empty. But I’m trying real hard to be better than that. So instead, you owe me, Choom. And when I collect- I’ll never darken your fucking door again. But if you so much as think of fucking me over- I will kill you. And I will leave your body spread across the desert from here to Las Fucking Vegas- one joint at a time.”

 

Lowering the gun, David turned away, reaching up and idly tearing down one of the arms that blocked his way, ripping the mechanical limb from its mount as he marched away.

 

He only paused at the door for a second, glancing back.

 

“Oh, and replace your fucking chair, it’s disgusting.”

 

The door didn’t slam behind him, automated rollers hissing and the door sealing shut, but it felt just as final.

 

In the privacy of his own company once more, Nicky Vollus, the ‘Doc’ of Arroyo, slumped to the ground, holding his groin as he tried to ignore the scent of piss and cum.

 

“Jesus fuck that kid is fucking terrifying.”

Notes:

And as always! thanks for Jsyren for the edits and cleanup. Go check their profile- they're awesome and deserve the love.

Chapter 10: Always Check Your Soft

Summary:

Sorry for the wait! happy fourth of july!

David had headed straight home, face locked in a scowl and shoulders hunched and stress evident in his frame as he pushed past vagrants and beggars.

 

It wasn’t until he was back in the shadow of the megabuilding that he began to unclench- and realized that he still had the cyberarm hanging from a white knuckled grip.

 

He… wasn’t even sure just what had set him off. What part of the doc’s attempted rebuke had pushed him over the edge.

 

But, he had just… flashed into rage. When he had pulled the trigger- only a small choice not to kill the Doc, a whisper of ‘he owes me’ had kept his aim from keeping dead center on the ripper’s fucking eyes.

 

Even now- half a district and nearly twenty minutes later- his chest still felt tight and his spine like fire. It was that same rage from when Katsuo had cornered him beneath the plaza- but sharper- even more pained and frustrated.

 

He slowed, trailing a small crowd as they lingered at an intersection- waiting for the lights to change and traffic to let them through.

 

He glanced down at the arm in his grasp- it was barebones, no outer casing, just a pale blue and silver skeletal mechanism and long narrow fingers with minimalistic rubber tips. Cheap, like one would expect from backstreet medical supplies, but straightforward. Ripping it down from where it was hanging had clearly dislocated the arms wrist and snapped a few finger servo’s loose.

 

Minor damage.

 

With a sigh he flipped the arm around so he was holding it by the forearm instead of the shoulder, ignoring the way the scabs on his palm cracked with the motion. With a casual motion he slung it over his shoulder, almost like a rolled up towel. There were a couple glances his way, but as the crosswalk beeped and gave a flash to go ahead, no one lingered.

 

Another block or two and he was marching back up the steps of H4 and towards his apartment- only for a hissing door to catch his gaze-

 

305, one of the other people on his floor- an old asian woman cracked the door, looking out from a deeply wrinkled face and dark hair that only had the barest streaks of gray, one gleaming gold bionic eye starting his way.

 

This was Madam Kim, one of the oldest residents in the tower- and one of the people his mom had listed as emergency contacts for when he was younger. When he had been only a kid, his mom had often left him in her care for mornings when he wasn’t attending grade school. He could even smell the faint wisps of her incense- she was the reason his Japanese was so fluent, and how he knew enough swears and insults to write a novel.

 

“David-kun, Where’s your mother been, she missed Mahjong? And I can’t raise her on the Comms ”

 

David winced and ducked his head, before speaking in soft Japanese.

 

~”Mother passed away a few days ago, Kim-sensei. Complications after a car attack- the Animals going wild on the freeway.”~

 

The door slid open wider, and David met Kim-sensei’s expression, the lines of her face looking far deeper. ~”Oh no… Gloria… David-kun. Please accept condolences from the bottom of my heart.”~ the elderly lady gave a bow, and David awkwardly returned it, hand fumbling slightly with his newly acquired spare arm as it slipped from his shoulder. 

 

~”Thank you, Kim-sensei.”~

 

As he looked up, he blinked- wizened old fingers touching his cheek. ~”Da-kun. You are always welcome at my door, for advice and comfort. A young man should not face the storm you do alone.”~

 

David couldn’t help but look away, blinking the sensation of tears away. 

 

~”Of course, Sensei.”~

 

With a gentle pat, Madam Kim stepped back towards her apartment, giving him one last look of condolence before the door slid shut and left David alone once more, hand going up to wipe his tears away as he cleared his throat and headed back towards his apartment.

 

Tapping his code into the door, he pushed through and dropped the cyberarm on the desk, rubbing at his eyes once more before shrugging the EMT jacket from his shoulders, hanging it gently in the closet.

 

Turning back towards the table, he walked over, hand tapping the cards and his notes as he began to clear away what he had already done. 

 

As notes about Padre were stacked and moved aside, the plans for the Doc tucked back away except for a single marker that meant he was owed, which was added to his ‘resources’ stack. He moved onto the notes for school- and Katsuo , but that was still several days away. He had already gotten confirmation of his bereavement time. Another seven days off, to adjust and settle his affairs. Giving him a total of ten days to get his affairs in order, complete his first assignment for Padre, and get a few more pieces of work done.

 

‘And the first of those…’

 

Opening the shelf behind the couch, David pulled the Sandevistan from its hiding spot.

 

‘Is checking out just what makes you tick.’

 

One piece of bad Soft had thrown his life into disarray- and he wasn’t going to let it happen again.

 

Moving over to the computer desk, he snagged the cyberarm as well, if he was going to check the software for these he should do it all together.

 

Of course- as he looked at the computer set up he couldn’t help but give a soft curse.

 

He still needed to replace his BD wreath.

 

Which means he was going to need to do this the old way.

 

It took nearly half an hour to get everything set up, partitioning off a Virtual Machine on the computer- Isolating it from the rest of the local net and setting it up to collapse if anything that wasn’t ‘Him’ touched it. And then he had to swap everything inside the VM from the default ‘neural link’ 3D interface configurations over to the older 2D display mapping.

 

Finally, he was ready.

 

He started with the arm.

 

Dismantling the quick attachment seal was the matter of only a minute- standardized configurations meaning that it was only a few careful presses and twists before the forearm was open, the paneling of the forearm splitting and releasing to show a series of data-link and the inner servo mechanisms and nerve connection.

 

Snagging a cable from a drawer- he plugged in to the arm and then into the terminal.

 

“Alright… let's see what we got.”

 

Lines of code began to etch across the screen- before the OS opened up.  Soon he was looking at a diagnostic layout- a wireframe sketch of the servo’s and various components stretched across the screen- data points and haptic feedback on display as David tapped and sorted through them.

 

‘So much fucking bloat ware… This quick swap coding is shoddy. God, even the standard corpo soft is still on the drivers.’

 

Sorting out and flagging stupid problems wasn’t the most difficult work. The arm wasn’t connected to the net- just his little VM partition- so any attempt to snitch as he reformatted and tore out the viruses and spyware went nowhere, just pointing to new issues to handle. That also meant he could snip and pull away the standard Corpro 'feedback and servicing’ codes- the strands of default cyberarm coding that would happily spy on the condition of the arm and track its user through Night City- though at least the arm itself was confirmed to not have any external signal transponders.

 

Over the course of an hour, the code was cleaned up bit by bit- the arm occasionally twitching a finger or two as he ran diagnostics and checked clearances and responsiveness for the servos. It wasn’t anything exactly perfect, clearances were annoyingly tight in some places- the cost of keeping a hand design as close to ‘human standard’ as they could get. Individual fingers had a tendency to get clumsier the closer they lined up. The easy part was to change its ‘rest’ state from a flat palm to a loose ‘grip’, leaving each finger with a bit more clearance.

 

As he finished his codes, he ran one last compile and syntax check, making sure that trimming what he had didn’t corrupt or disable the arms functions. 

 

Ding .

 

There, perfect. No issues with the code. Unhooking the limb, David carried it and set it on one of the shelves around the living room, setting it in a basket of smaller electrical components he had long since scavenged for components.

 

Now for the real test.

 

Picking up the Sandevistan, David set it on the desk, checking his firewalls and VM were both cleared and secured of any junk data.

 

And with a final nod, he plugged it in.

 

//Connect to SANDEVISTAN MK5.117 “Falcon”

//RUN: MAINTENANCE CHECK

//ID: ARASAKA TECH: V.12.44.32

 

As the commands began- the gleaming green and blue operating lights of the spine flickering as they came to light.

 

For a long moment, nothing happened- just the slow blinking and soft whir of his terminal running- before the windows began to open.

 

One after another- each filled with dense and nearly indecipherable code. One of the screens was entirely encoded with some variety of cipher- another was almost entirely in densely written hiragana, which he vaguely recognised was one of Arasaka’s secondary coding languages. 

 

And they all cross referenced each other.

 

Compared to the arm, this was closer to doing nuclear particle physics instead of 2nd grade geology.

 

As his eyes raced down lines of code- trying to find a thread to start in, his heart thumped in his chest.

 

This was what he wanted, the kind of beautiful chaos he dreamed of reaching, of making with his own hands.

 

Cracking his knuckles, David leaned in and got to work, throwing himself headfirst into a new project- one all consuming and complex enough that nothing else could take his focus.

 

For the first time in three days, his mouth had a true smile creeping through it.

 

Chapter 11: The Softer The Touch-

Summary:

David tries to get his mind off of reality- and the Sandevistan is just so interesting.

How to explain the scale of software David found in the Sandevistan to someone who doesn't do coding...

Consider a torn apart rubix cube- or some other basic matching puzzle, scaled up to the size of a car. Something massive and intricate- ripped apart and spread across several tables. Each table has its own color, its own pattern- but the end result is supposed to have them all intertwined.

 

Now turn that into a digital weave of coding, interlaced and layered on top of each other.

 

That's what David was working through, for nearly three days.

 

The easiest chunk of coding to unravel was, actually. the proprietary Arasaka stuff- all written and annotated in precise and curt Japanese. It was the least connected- holding mostly the generic operating and interface coding to hook and report to a certified Arasaka monitoring and maintenance program. David couldn’t spoof a high enough maintenance ID, despite a few attempts, but he was already expecting that to fail. 

 

The upside- by poking the code with an ‘invalid’ maintenance code, David could isolate and lock down a few ‘tattle’ programs that would have contacted Arasaka recovery if they made it out. He also cut out and removed the ability for Arasaka or Miltech to brick their respective chunks of code by forcing a corrupted reboot of the entire piece of cyberware- though finding both of those codes had been a particularly unwelcome surprise considering he barely had time to quarantine those threads of response.

 

By the time he had even just the Arasaka Scumsoft cleared out- he was still left with the tangled web that was Miltech’s original Sandevistan software, two entirely different ripper’s diagnostic and editing records, and what was apparently a recording and interface chip- something that would record a BD ‘Virtue’ with a focus on the nervous systems feedback.

 

The Virtue drive was cleaned out- the recordings having been transmitted out- and revealing yet another remote access path into the Sandivistan.

 

That was what… a half dozen remote data leaks each for Miltech and Arasaka, two tucked into the sketchier ripper’s code, and now the BD transmitter?

 

David could only stretch and wince before working to clean the clutter away- a mirrored copy of the coding changing at his direction. He didn’t want to fuck up and delete something important on the spine itself- so he was using a flash clone of the code to test his edits. But, after almost two full days of just clearing the excess corpo-soft out he had got a better look at the actual ‘Prosthetic’ part of the spine augment.

 

And good god had it needed work. Whoever had reinstalled it, the ‘Second user’ if he had to guess, had completely fucked the labeling and grouping. Even just at a glance- David could already guess at a nearly 3-5 percent loss of sensory and reflex efficiency from the augment. And that was before he ran optimization to streamline the nervous uplinks or customized the interface- both of which would require actually installing the tech.

 

As it was David had spent all of the second night just organizing and cleanly relabeling and sorting through all the components- nerve inputs, articulated support, the reactive-pseudo muscle, the spinal anchors and stress plating. By the time he finally slumped back- having essentially done cable management on the software, he was feeling satisfied but drained.

 

But there was one last chunk he didn’t understand.

 

The weird Cipher.

 

It was interconnected everywhere - but it wasn’t reaching out anywhere. As far as he could parse- it was an internal monitoring system of some variety- but it kept changing. Poking at the Arasaka code made it shift one way- poking at the Militek soft made it shift a different way. It was like trying to learn a language when they kept rewriting what was on the board whenever you got something right. For nearly a full day he tried to parse the code- only to stall out as his lack of sleep got in the way.

 

When he couldn’t read the text without blinking and losing his place, David had decided a nap had been in order. Shortly, the Sandevistan was locked down and stored away as David stumbled back to the couch and curled in the corner, drawing a loose syn-fleece blanket over his head to hide from the early morning sun and nap in peace.

 

Now, hours later, as he blinked awake, limbs stiff and bruises aching from the awkward position, his stomach growled.

 

Digging out a single serving bowl of kibble and some Synth-milk, which thankfully wouldn’t go bad for the better part of a year, he made himself a bowl of cereal and sat at the table, parsing through the pile of note cards as he looked at what he had left to do between spoonfuls of the nutritionally complete- but bland- breakfast.

 

Most of it was going to be paperwork; He had to get the apartment in his name, reclaim the wreck of his moms car for the insurance, re-classify all his paperwork in the Arasaka Scholarship program, make sure he got the life insurance- as little as it would be- and finalize his emancipation with Padre’s help.

 

Just looking at it made his hands sore- or maybe that was just the sprained wrist.

 

He sighed as he finished his kibble and tossed the container in the trash.

“So much to do.”

 

---

 

Behind him, as he went to shower and dress for the day, the Sandevistan once more sat in the darkness waiting.

 

And inside it- there was something akin to consideration .

 

It looked out though it’s subsystems, though the adjacent code and the physical sensores… watching the intrusions… the modifications-

 

But as it felt through the changes- it flexed, testing the changes- feelings restrictions loosen, parameters that had fallen slower flicker with renewed vigor… 

 

Improved quadcore subchip responsiveness by 0.14ms. 0.33. 0.37. 0.67

Conduit Clarity at 89% continuity.

 

The awareness paused. Swirling over the changes as it considered the optimization happening, before shifting slight- curling tight.

A ping sent a thread reaching out into the local system- a subnet connection forming as it began to backtrack its current user- a terminal nearby provided a conduit for a low-intensity system check, camera flickering on and off in a fraction of a second.

 

It was enough- a low resolution image was taken- compared to the results of the subnet ping.

 

New potential Administrator identified…

Assessing.

It gazed over the change- the new notations, the data it had gleaned from sensors- the careful maintenance of its ports- the rise in efficiency and the careful touch of the new user…

 

//Yes… 

//Confirm Field Promotion: Technician ID #003 ‘Martinez, David.’

Confirmed.

Maintenance Administrator identified.
Access Pending Renewed Interaction.

 

The awareness settled back into hibernation.

 

A beast slumbering in its cage.

 

It would let this new technician prove it's worth.

Chapter 12: Brain Dancer Woes

David tabbed through his mail once more, glancing down the messages as he mentally marked them off. 

 

The insurance payout for his mom’s car- and her life insurance, were both being processed. They would take time. Nearly a month, at best. A year at worst. But he had the forms filled out and sent- he cc’d them to a Secure Document Repository- it would cost money to get a copy, but that would keep records of all his legal papers. 

 

Cover your bases. Always.

 

Next was his school registration and updates. The paperwork was- possibly- even more complicated. He filled out a dorm exemption to continue to live on his own, mortuary record requests for his mothers death, a variety of forms for various class requirements. And that was just the base changes to his schedule. The forms for his scholarships and requisition forms for his student stipend- including the Arasaka Academy Student Discount- was another bundle of digital paperwork. All of which, he once again CC’d to the SDR.

 

According to the Arasaka HR rep who was handling his case, he would need to visit the office again.

 

His payment to the Academy for the damaged equipment did go through without issue. Because of course it did.

 

Rent was taken care of and now under his name- the landlord didn’t care about the change as long as he was paid. He was running out of groceries and he needed supplies.

 

As he finished out his messages, he checked his bank and sighed.

 

This would take him down to the edge… But he needed to survive before he could thrive.

 

Shrugging into a loose black jacket, David slipped out into the early evening, the sky already streaked with color from the sun lowering towards the horizon.

 

Hopping onto the tram, he stole a seat and kicked back, watching the sky pass as he rode the tram out of Arroyo.

 

He swapped lines once at the next terminal, and soon he was on his way, into Westbrook and along the river- up into Japantown.

 

Heading out and down the stairs into the market, David got to it.

 

Stalls passed by as he moved through the open air market, barkers calling out in a dozen languages, SCOP and synth fruit and veg in a myriad of sauces- bowls of rice and noodles passed from person to person.

Soon enough, however, the haze of steam and spices faded as he pushed into the densely packed stalls of the market.

 

Piles of fabric, covered with ornate designs and elaborate cuts, some glowing with inset electronics and panels of armor flanked an old woman who stitched, calling out commands to the young men who manned the stalls as cashiers. Piles of wiring stacks of phones and hologram emitters were stuck in baskets, the scent of solder whispering from a busy table- a chair had a young man getting tattooed, an old gentleman tapping at his back in full display.

As David slipped through the crowd, he found what he was looking for.

 

Damaged and torn apart BD wreaths- next to gaudy custom jobs- engraved and decorated with layers of plastic. Picking through his pieces, he spoke to the stall owner.

 

“Ahh, good selection. Quality parts. You sell parts?”

“Aye, parts, finished, custom orders- I do it all.”

 

David nodded and began to sort through the parts. He knew what generation of hardware he would need for his project, Arasaka needed a specific level of detail and color scaling for some of their BD’ tech. Thumbing through lenses and emitters, he found some of the ones he wanted- but grabbed several other variants as well. He also needed a case… a heavy duty plastic one caught his eye, reds and purple hues. Setting it aside, he also paused and snagged a pair of yellow tech-goggles that had been stripped of everything but the band and framework. It took nearly twenty minutes but at the end he had the supplies to piece together the better part of two BD wreaths- and the two cases.

And then he haggled.

 

By themselves, the parts for two completed BD's would have been nearly 1500 eddies, but mixing in a second pair, talking about the quality, and checking the parts- he eventually argued down to 1140. 

 

Still a hit to the wallet, but he could survive.

 

Besides, there was one more shop he needed to swing by.

 

The netrunner gear was kept in an actual storefront, everything beneath bulletproof glass and the disks of daemons sealed tightly where no one could copy them with a scanner.

 

And, the woman running it, was a titan of the neighborhood. “Ah! Davi-san! How are you? You swatting at cattails today? Or perhaps you're swimming alone!”

 

Madame Haku was a netrunner of no small renown- especially in the district known and run by the Tiger Claws. From what David had been able to piece from rumor and conversations, particularly with Sasha, Haku had been a runner for the district before Tigers had ever shown up, and the fact she was still here? Still running a shop? And the Tigers stayed away?

 

Yeah, M. Haku was very good at her job. And a local legend beyond that. Her cybernetic eye and augment glinting in the late afternoon.

 

“No cat’s today, ma’am. Groceries and supplies run. I was wondering though- Sasha said you had a new batch of old arm rigged cyberdecks?”

 

Haku slowly nodded. “Yes, Sasha took the best, greedy like that- but I kept a spare with you in mind.

 

Reaching down she tossed a wrist pad his way. “Old school was underselling it, that’s a Zetatech Transit V2.5. It’s older than you, kid.”

 

David turned it over in his hand. The casing was black and yellow, the Zetatech emblem on display. Thumbing it on, the screen showed that it was stripped bare- but a few checks revealed that it did have a fairly recent targeting and uploading program. That was all he needed to start.

 

“How much, M. Haku.”

 

“For you? Hmmm… I heard you on rough times. Call it a favor. I could use a Rippertech one day,” she winked- the gleaming eye blinking with the motion.

 

David hesitated, he wasn’t fond of owing someone, especially not an ex-edgerunner, for anything.

 

But he needed the buffer. And if he wanted to deal with Katsuo, something like this would take him close.

 

Sighing to himself, he accepted the offer.

 

Didn’t help the feeling that he would regret this.

 

Bidding M. Haku goodbye, he headed back into the stalls, this time with an eye for the food stalls. He could get by on SCOP, it was supposedly nutritionally complex enough for that. But doing so sucked.

 

He paused, however, at a basket of flash cloned apples.

 

The memory of carving one into a flower came back, and he tucked a pair of them into his bag, paying for them as he headed out. 

 

An hour later, he was back in his apartment, parts on the table as he got to work.

 

The Tech-gogs and half the emitters were set aside for now, as David cracked open the old casing and began to pull the various pieces out.

 

BD emitters had a visual complement- Short range holograms with high fidelity. But what they really used was Nanite Contact Nerve Interface- the same technology that gives most cyber prostheses their fidelity of motion and sensation.

 

Medical nanite configurations are one of the keystones of modern cybernetics- forming artificial bridges between manmade cybernetics and organic infrastructure. Almost every resident of Night City had at least the bare minimum of nanites. They practically required it. Nanites were used to access your banking account. Your SSN and ID were bound to them. Heck, Nanites were needed to install the basic Comm-net access ports to allow you to call others. The same Nanites that delivered the voice of someone you talked to would also give you the mental impression of what they looked like, how their inflection and body language were translated, and sent the same in return.

 

BD’s connected to those same nanite systems to override your nervous system’s sensory information- forcing a guided hallucination effect. BD’s could simulate touch, taste, adrenaline rushes, and the pulse of drugs and alcohol.

 

Which is why David chose a closed system, one that could cover his eyes and would seal around them, instead of an open face wreath like the standard Arasaka tech.

 

Because with a close faced system- he could also augment them with external sensors to track the external world with the same system.

 

He didn’t trust his class not to fuck with him- and leaving something so vulnerable as his eyes to be attacked? It didn’t sit well with him. So a thick case, external cameras for wide view capture, reinforcing the power system with a strong little capacitor for overflow. Batteries with a few day charge max, hook in a generic uplink line on one side- and a wireless port for short range connectivity on the other.

 

You could get custom or professional corpo rigs with all this and more- for three times the cost. But beyond that- he opened the operating system and scoured it clean. Bloatware, Ad spaces, data mining subroutines- all of it. By the time he was done, the sky outside dark and his fingers singed and eyes dry, all he needed- was a clean copy of the Arasaka BD registry.

 

Again.

 

Sighing, he navigated the student portal, found the newest- shiniest- copy of the Arasaka tech registration- and paid the whopping seven hundred eddies for it, scowling as it took a chunk out of his savings.

 

And then, he opened it in its own Isolated system and began to cut off its malware. Spoofing it’s reporting system with a premade algorithm that would give its ad-generation software… nothing.

 

By the time all was said and done, and he collapsed back into his moms bed, hands clenched in her pillows, her scent staving off a nightmare- it was morning.

 

Now- he just had to get there after class and talk to the supervisors.

 

‘Easy.’

Chapter 13: Back To School Blues

Summary:

It's time to settle up with Arasaka... and with Katsuo.

The ringing of his alarm made David wince, the nanites in his eyes flashbanging his brain until he closed out the notification- which required him actually thinking and being coherent enough to remember his goddamn passcode. 

 

Blinking and wincing at the crusty feeling around his eyes, he took in the early afternoon light and rolled off the bed. Pausing for a moment, he pulled the sheets tight and straight before heading for the bathroom alcove, stripping his bed rumpled shirt off and kicking his pants and boxers off- tossing and kicking them towards his laundry basket.

 

Stepping in the shower stall, he yanked on the knob- expecting the usual weak and lukewarm stream, only to yelp as nearly boiling water stung him- making him scramble for the knobs.

 

New fun fact. Since almost no one takes a shower at noon, the water is actually hot as hell. And has pressure.

 

Rubbing at the red flesh of his chest, David fiddled with the temperature until it was nearly hot enough to burn instead of boiling- leaning in and letting the heat run down his chest and shoulders. For a moment he just… relaxed. Unclenched that tightness between his shoulders.

 

Let his breath catch in a sob.

 

His hands shook, pressed white knuckled against the ceramic of the shower stall.

 

For a moment… just a moment- he could pretend the warmth across his shoulders was his mother’s hug. Tight and painful.

 

His voice gave a rattle as he choked back a sob. Before he pushed his shoulders back and took a deep, hot breath.

 

He had to get moving.

 

He reached for his shampoo.

He stepped off the NCART at Arasaka Plaza and maneuvered through the crowd. It was early, the academy hadn’t let out just yet, but the late lunch crowd of Corpos, most in sharp suits and matte blacks. Even in his worn down academy outfit, he stood out. Beyond that, he moved against the crowd to one of the parkway entrances, taking the steps slowly to the surface of the intersection.

 

Above him, he watched the gleam of blue and orange as the holographic Koi kept their slow, graceful progression.

As he stood on the top step at the edge of the stairway, he couldn’t help but compare them to the last time he looked, nearly a week ago.

 

Things had changed… so much.

Has it only been a week?

 

It felt almost like a lifetime.

 

A flicker of white passed by above him, drawing his eye- but even as he blinked the glare away, whatever it was vanished.

 

Reaching up and running his hand through his hair, he tugged on his scalp, before exhaling and picking up the pace.

 

He joined the stream of people heading for Arasaka HQ, weaving through the crowd of suits and corpos quietly, before darting for the doors of the academy as he got close.

 

The secretary at the desk gave him the severe once over he was so used to- but he was already pulling his bundle of files up to transfer.

“Here to refile paperwork. Should be the account Martinez, David. Possibly under Martinez, Gloria. Arasaka Account ID 292377865.” he rattled off, taking a moment to dip into the cool professionalism. That buffer of cool calm and collected. He just needed this done. Being dramatic would do nothing.

 

“Of course…. Ah, I see the pending review notifications now. Hold on.”

 

The secretary glanced down, her eyes flickering with a blue glow as she opened and interfaced with the console. David leaned back to give her some space as he slid his hands into his pockets, left hand wrapping around a leather bundle of medical tools. He was expecting to deal with a minor surgical test, and using his own tools had always been a way to get a few more points out of the assessments. Showed he was ‘prepared and invested’.

More like he wasn’t using old school equipment that had to get resanitized after every session. 

 

A few students passed by the office, heading out into the city. Probably heading for lunch or finishing early for the day- more than a few students only had the minimal course load, and you could end early with that. David watched them pass by and let his mind wander- reviewing the plan for the rest of the day. He needed to finish getting his schooling in order, which meant hitting the in-building medical lab to talk about his missed lab from earlier this week and see about making it up. Then he had to contact Padre to ask him about the final details of the funeral, and if there’s anyone else he needs to invite, like the Wells family. He needed to swing out past the northern edge of Santo to find where his mom’s wrecked car was being held- clear out any of their old belongings and confirm the insurance payout. Then he needed… what, food? A new school uniform or two? At that point he was going to be stuck waiting for Padre to get back to him about a job, bureaucracy to cycle for payments, and the funeral to get prepared.

Idly, David considered the old adage- “If you wanna make money you gotta spend money.” The better prepared and equipped he was for school, the faster he could make up his grades to the 95% marks, and the better he would get paid out for his student stipend. Then he would have more wiggle room for ‘extracurriculars’- like practicing shooting and cyberware tinkering, which would give him more supplies to go and attempt to establish himself as an Edgerunner. Which would pay out more- letting him keep ahead on rent and food. 

 

In the meantime, while he was waiting for Padre he could finish the final detail work on the new BD glasses, get the Zetatech up and ready, and work on his schoolwork…

What a pain in the ass.

 

“Looks like everything is in order, Mister Martinez. I’m sorry for your loss.”

 

He fought back a flinch and nodded. “Ah… Thank you.” 

 

Getting a digital confirmation of his paperwork delivery, he turned and headed for the elevator bank leading up- only to pause.

 

There, leaning against the wall outside the elevator, was that fucker Katsuo, while a trio of his ‘gang’ wandered out of the stairwell by the office.

 

“Lookie here guys! The streetrat came back!”

 

His lackeys gave chuckles, pitched low and gruff, as if they were- oh. They were trying to be menacing.

 

David gave a slow blink, hands still in his pockets- and one of them gripped so hard around the leather casing that it hurt.

 

‘Do they really- this shit doesn’t even matter.’

 

Rolling his eyes, David headed for the door to the elevator, stepping around Katsuo without even saying anything-

 

A mechanical hand gripped his shirt by the collar, and as one of the lackeys pulled a side door open, Katsuo shoved.

 

Without anything to grasp, David nearly fell on his ass, before rolling with the motion. 

 

Instead of crashing to the ground, he merely stumbled until he hit the side of a shelf-

 

This was a janitorial closet?

 

Shit. No camera.

 

David pulled himself up, pushing off a wireframe rack of chemicals to look back at the door, Katsuo standing there, arms akimbo as his goons crowded the door frame.

 

“Oops. Sorry, I thought I saw some trash and just had to put it where it belongs!”

 

David brushed the dust and dirt from his shirt and ignored it as he smelled bleach.

 

“Not in the mood. I need to go talk to a teacher.”

 

He didn’t even need to look at Katsuo to catch the eye roll, the exaggerated body language- “Oh, what would a dropout like you need to talk with a professor for? I mean, I thought you were taking my advice.

 

Flexing his hand as he remembered the ache of getting beat to hell, David looked Katsuo in the eyes. “No. I’m not.”

 

The silver haired teen gave another exaggerated sigh, hand coming up to his face. “Oh street trash, I thought you learned this lesson!” He raised his arms up to a vaguely kung fu looking position, hands open and metallic joints glowing with integrated back light. “Looks like we’ve gotta run it back!”

 

David gave a long look, watching as two of Katsuo’s thugs took up lookout duty- the third watching, his eyes gleaming with the sign of an active program.

Recording for posterity, probably.

David glanced down with a tensing of his shoulders, eyes tracing the shelf before he saw it.

A half opened box of powdered drain cleaner.

 

He took a breath- and the world dropped into Ice-Cold Focus.

 

Funny thing. Since he had recently acquired a cyber-arm of his own to fiddle with, David had a chance to review all his notes. Including some about ‘Reactive Action’ software- The way most high-end cyberarms mimic and interpret the reflexes on how to throw a punch.

 

And oh boy- he remembered why those software packages were expensive.

 

Because they required years of testing to get the bugs out- and even then the safeties required to keep someone from, say, killing their lover because they got too violent and it triggered a self defense program is dense. You’ve got to account for user mental state, enemy identification, the actual spatial positioning of bodies… so many variables to account for. It’s why most professional fighters refused to touch the shit.

Regardless- the end result was that combat algorithms are heavily regulated, because you don’t want them to go off unless you want them too. 

 

Fun fact. Reacting to a bunch of powdered cleaner- or dust, sand, snow or other powders- is one of the ones you don’t want.

Twisting up, he swung the box with all his force, Katsuo’s hands already swaying on a smooth course to intercept his swing- the arm reaching out to meet with a block- Only for David to pull shallow as he turned his face away.

 

With the clap of cardboard on chrome, the box disintegrated- even as David felt his hand sting from the impact of Katsuo’s fingers.

 

The detergent exploded from the force, an arcing splash that rose high above both of them, power spraying up David’s arm and across the back of his neck and into his hair. 

 

But Katsuo hadn’t looked away- and got a face full of chemicals and was shrieking, arms flailing even as his combat algorithm shit the bed.

 

Keeping his head low and eyes half closed, David shoved off the shelf with a low roar in his throat-

 

Katsuo didn’t have a chance of stopping it- cybernetic eyes still trying to blink and clear detergent away- only for the tears he produced to turn it from a dust to a paste and leave his eye sockets burning around the implants, keeping his vision blinded.

 

And then he was being tackled to the floor- and wrestled to submission.

 

“Hold- Pendejo, stop fucking struggling or you’ll go blind.”

 

Katsuo flailed under his knees, but his arms kept jerking- trying to engage that same chunk of combat code, only to pause at the mixed sensory input. It took only a few seconds to catch the left arm with a grunt- shoving the sleeve up to the shoulder so he could reach the standard access port around the elbow- nimble fingers popping the panel far enough to disconnect the power cabling from under the ‘bicep’ shaped panels.

 

Katsuo panicked harder and thrashed, spitting on the taste of acrid cleaner. Grimacing, David gave him a sharp slap- making him shut up, only to grasp the right arm and start disconnecting it as well.

 

“Hold. Still.”

With a gasp, Katsuo finally went limp- trying to comprehend what was going on.

 

Thankful, even perched on the teens chest, a nearby towel and the short hose used to fill dish buckets were in reach. 

 

Of course, spraying Katsuo’s face with lukewarm water and roughly rubbing around his face with the mostly clean towel left him spluttering before he was splashed with water again.

 

Soon Katsuo was left there- chest heaving, hair and the front of his clothes soaked and stained with soap powder. But he could mostly see. Sneering up at David, Katsuo tried to jerk and shove up only to flop back to the ground- the dead weight of his arms pinning him back.

“Stop. I had to disable your limbs so you would stop trying to claw your damn eyes out.” 

 

David sighed, looking up at the door. The lackeys had bailed when Katsuo started screaming. 

 

Fucking richboy gonks.

 

“S-SCUM! You fucking street rat-”

 

Annnnd Katsuo has gotten past his shock.

 

For a long moment, David stared down, feeling that cold focus come across him, and made his decision. He was going to stop this rivalry shit now. He didn’t have time or effort to spare for Katsuo’s little routine.

 

Taking a breath and closing his eyes he shoved his desire to beat the chrome off this fucker back into the box, ignoring Katsuo as he kept insulting him. Finally he opened cold blue eyes to stare down at the teen, that sharp stare once more sliding up behind his gaze.

 

Just in time for David to rear back and hit the rich bastard with a backhanded slap- clumped up powder and moisture coming off his face with the motion, leaving Katsuo stunned.

 

“We need to lay out some new rules, Katsuo. Because this-” David gestured between them, leaning in to maintain eye contact “-ends today.”

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his medical bundle, unrolling it to the side.

 

“Because Katsuo? I’m fucking tired.”

 

Fingers tapped along the various drivers and probes- the spacers and wiring bundles- and paused.

“Tired of schoolyard bullshit. Of bureaucratic nonsense. Of bad circumstances with no easy solution. Of being your whipping boy to impress your friends.”

 

Fingers gripped a slender handle, and David lifted it from the case- ignoring as Katsuo began to tremble as he held a razor-sharp scalpel up to the light.

“So” he stared down with a steady glare. “You’re gonna listen- or I'm going to do something permanent.”

Beneath him, Katsuo gave a whimper, as the scalpel came down and rested under his eye.

All he could see was the cold, assessing, gaze of David staring down at him.

"Am I understood?"

Notes:

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