Time to get back in the field

I placed Skullz's black metal physical form on the table next to the chair I was sitting in for my last deep dive.

"So this old thing won't work again if I actually have to enter the black wall..." The old hand-me-down netrunning suit I got when Bridgette said I had graduated and could join their ranks.

As ominous as the Voodoo Boys seemed they were good chooms, especially to those who took the art of netrunning seriously. Other than that there was also someone else I had grown closer with. My older sis.

It was... strained at first. The parallel me had been gone for weeks even before I started being a part-time Voodoo Boy. So when I strolled to her (previously ours) megabuilding apartment door with a new cyberdeck custom made by me and one of my new friends techie's, there were some questions to be answered.

I half-truth and half-lied about what happened. Omitting things like my death, the reason why I didn't come straight home, and why I got thrown into a dumpster to rot.

She wasn't that much older than me only about 6 years older. She was 25 now and had really become someone I could depend on. Not in the parental sense but like you two could smoke a nice blunt and just vent.

I had only moved out 2 years ago when I turned 17 the rest of my time I was either learning from Bridgette or one on her level, or over with my sis.

Speaking of which...

My eyes landed on the picture sitting as a holographic next to skullz, a picture of our parents. They were gone, disappeared in the wind one day when parallel me was only 9. They both worked a delivery job, not for anyone big but just mail people were too insecure about drones taking data from it.

I wouldn't be surprised if, like most of Night City citizens, they were kleping some packages and selling em off to make ends meet. Couldn't possibly see how that turned out...

Well, I never was one for getting a lesson out of anything tragic. It's time to go steal from some people who can't fight back. No, not the homeless that would be fucked up.

Just some people who think they can play ball but never had any pull.

I walked out of the dust-filled hideout I had made for myself in Pacifica. Well taken but scavs don't need it anymore if they aren't breathing right?

It used to be an old hotel they took over, but a midnight visit from me, my silenced Overture, and a couple of quick hacks took care of it. If I hadn't made my little helper bots the clean up woulda been months.

Made a solid chunk of change with all the chrome they were packing... And the gruesome shit they plucked out of others. 

I hadn't made them though, just copied a pretty common Militech work drone design, inserted a camo system and the controls were a bit... suspect. So I made my own physical remote that wouldn't lead to my brain being fried if I linked to one of the bots and the bot got hacked.

I had been uncontrollably laughed at when I brought out its physical remote... Which happened to be an old tricked out and insanely incredible,

Translucent green XBOX 360 controller!

Damn, Skullz never let me live it down. But at least I don't have to use the battered down remote since I just let skullz handle the operating system.

I pulled myself from my rambling and focused on today's plans. "Padre wouldn't have anything helpful when it comes to corp access points. Old fashioned way it is then..." I murmured.

I quickly dialed up Bridgette on the holo. It rung thrice before she picked up with a rare slim grin,

" So you're ready to come back? I knew it. Once a VDB always a VDB." She said so confidently I almost felt bad about turning her down. They were good chooms but...

" Nah sorry teach, still planning on staying independent. I need a favor though, need to procure some funds."

She sighed in defeat, but a spark I didn't like like in her eyes. " Fuckin' twerp fine, but this is the last time I help Mr.Indepenent out, those scav cleanups can only count for so many favors." She said the whole thing in Haitian, a language I had gotten familiar with during my time in Pacifica.

" Yeah, yeah no more special treatment, but for now I need a better icepick to cash out, so when can I drop by and get one? A good one that placid doesn't touch. Please?" Yeah even now placid didn't trust me and would probably put a siphon and a tracker in the daemon, the dude was like poison to data. IRL the dude wasn't worth a damn as a netrunner past making sabotage malware and masking it pretty good.

" I get it lil' protege but, you better hold with your end of the deal cuz the data surrounding our subnet is getting... *ahem* supervised a lot more often. You better spin a good web of info cause an independent source like you might not be just enough to cover it." As ominous as fuckin' ever teach. 

She finally said the magic words though after the spook attempt, " Come tomorrow sometime in the afternoon, and don't be fucking stoned, I don't need you traumatizing the ti piti at Batty's, understood fucker...?"  

I scoffed in disbelief at the gall, especially when she was the one who gave me my first-ever black lace container... " I didn't even do anything that bad just a few light insults at the little piss sniffer." Shame was nowhere in my tone, the kid was just a dumb fuck who didn't know who the fuck I was. Or maybe that was just the high talking. 

" You called him, and I fucking quote, ' A waste of intelligent life in the form of an abandoned mutant sperm cell that should have been swallowed.' " She might have solid evidence as the incident was definitely happening right in front of her. Didn't mean I wouldn't defend myself though. I was about to rebuke but she just kept flowing with some disturbingly accurate points. Almost like it was true...

" He only said that your shitty controller looked shit." I deadpanned and with utter confidence and apathy, " Not my fault the little bastard didn't know I was a professional at this flamin' shit. "

" And when he snapped back you fucking short circed 'em, he was only fuckin twelve!" I snorted as I moved toward the sink and mirror of the suite I was in, scavs had good taste in a base, but not too good at the smart networking thing.

" Agreeable reasoning, but he lived, didn't he? No long-term effects or anything. Isn't that better than what Placid would do to him? Probably be rockin' a silver hand or somethin' for the rest of his one-armed life." I snarked back.

" Alright anyway see ya I gotta go get some things set in place, be there at noon." she responded in kind, " Alright brat, I'll see ya tomorrow, you're lucky you were my favorite student. 

" Yeah, yeah 'Little brother I never had' and all that," I hung up the call and took a good look at my face after washing it with some most likely fake water. Fuckin' dumbass J. Dumbass is the only way to describe such a big drunk face tattoo, I think it was supposed to be some type of anatomy piece but I was drunk and moved about in the chair leading to the face tats I have now. But drunk decisions are still a decision I made... And it fuckin looks badass alright!

(Image here)

I gripped my sling bag with a couple of canisters of holo print. Pre-programmed spray paint, is a pretty harmless thing here, well if I wasn't the one who had it.

Netrunning training had been a godsend, combined with my possible ADHD or Black lace withdrawal-afflicted brain bursting with ingenuity made a pretty insane combo. The same stuff that normal punks use to mark territory I use to terrorize and hide my eyes in plain sight. 

Seriously, people hack from cameras, screens, and other people's cyberware, why the fuck had nobody thought to use visible light to hack from. Well, other than the months it took to make a far enough range to my cyberdeck implant. Yeah sandies cool or whatever but I'm not a techie I can't just make something like that unless I kleped some Militech convoys or take the one-off that blond guy from the Edgerunners BD.

I'm not scared of cyberpsychosis or anything like that because a good Sandy and some good gorilla arms or mantis blades would be enough with my netrunning skills to take me to the big leagues even with such a low load. 

But not my style, the whole spine removing part of that and the target on my back, and even then I think Alt has some stronger more discreet, and less invasive tech on the body. So I'm not gonna count my coup until proven wrong.

"Skullz get to work on making that signal tower as discreet as possible. The worker bots are all charged and ready." The metallic skull's eyes glowed green for a second as the assignment registered for him, even though he could still be looking into the BD.

It was a compilation of scrolls so he might just take his time watching it. I finally finished gearing up, so mask in hand I opened the elevator and had it zip me down the hotel made for corpo vacations.

The glass elevator opened up on the ground floor into the lobby where I quick hacked the vending machines for a spicy burrito and bootleg Arizona. I had to drag em here myself cause the food here had run out a while back. I threw the drink into my sling bag and started eating the burrito that tasted like it shared DNA with leather. Seriously it's too expensive for real food all the time... Is what I like to tell myself. I tried cooking with the bits of hotel food the scavs had left and it tasted even worse than this shit.

Or maybe I just can't cook for shit.

Who cares at this point, right?

I finished my barely passable breakfast and stepped in front of the lobby door. I settle the mask magnetically to the implants in my head, covering my face leaving only my dreads showing. Such a shame too... I look too good to be hiding a face like this but Netwatch has been closing in kinda, well close on the district my little abode was rested at. Another thing I'll have to work on later. I don't want my face associated with the VDB right before I make my re-entrance into NC. Even If I encrypted my face from Camara's it would be just like the VDB encryption and associate me even then. 

Target on my back and all that. I wanna draw my own target though, y'know earn that badge by pissing off people myself. Always how I've been.

Couldn't change if I wanted to, not if every other punk is out cutting loose.

I walked over to the parking lot and tapped my hand to the center of one of my few prized possessions. Sleek and clean with a mainly pitch-black frame, purple highlights roaring to life along with my baby. An old school bike with the engine still visible and not covered in plastic or whatever they wanted to rename it. It reminded me of my grandfathers bike from... back home...

*sigh*

I toned down the lights to barely noticeable as I remembered the old man who acted like he was still in his 20s sometimes, partying and at the same time making sure everything thing was good for his people. I miss the old fart and he got annoying sometimes, but the old man sure knew how to squeeze joy out of anything.

I hopped on and revved the engine that I and a couple of chooms from Pacifca had to fix and disassemble about a dozen times. The thunderous bike reared up and streaked onto the road that would lead me back to the teched-out New York copy that was Night City. And as many before me I had a familiar thought streaking through my head.

'You really can't leave this city for good, can you?'