31 The Game Must Go On
As the meal finished and people began slowly trickling out of the bar everything stilled. Not in some kind of ominous foreshadowing of danger, actually stilled. Ceased movement and thought. Everything except me and a man I did not invite to this feast.
"I thought I'd wasted time checking in on the stones the pissy rebel threw across the omniverse." stated a man with a buzzed rectangular head and a stubbled tapered jaw dressed like any of the Valentinos around him, "Looked like just another bout of his sadism with a clever cover over the 'and at the end I get your soul' bit. Deals made for karma are so… straight forward. You can't monkey's paw them, not like a straight game of souls. No room to finesse the wording against the spirit of the agreement, just have to rely on the nature of power and morality to win it all in the end. A bit too much like gambling for my tastes. I much prefer games of wit to those of chance."
Gaunter O'Dimm finally fixed his unassuming eyes on me from his place across and down the line of tables.
"But not you, didn't have the merit to make the kind of deal he wanted to make." He grinned, "Gotta little out coming up soon though, am I right? But what if the game doesn't end when you think it does? The clouds clear and the summit is just a resting place for the next climb up. Habits are so hard to break after all."
The Man of Glass stood and stalked across the room, his heavy heeled boots thumping across the floor with each step. He came to a stop and quietly focused on the frozen face of Ciri.
"No matter which way it goes for you, I'll always be impressed with how you got a scion of the Elder Blood to deliver cattle for you. Lovely meal by the way... So from one man about his business to another, be seeing you, Mr. Welles." and with a satisfied smirk the entity turned and walked out of the bar, time resuming its march as the door slid shut behind him.
Well… that happened.
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Ciri and V followed me home and picked up on my intense silence. Good old Gaunter didn't have me shook with just his presence. Being scared of him is like being scared of hurricanes or earthquakes, they'll fuck up your life and there isn't much you can do about them. In that way, Gaunter is actually less frightening as he at least is a being of discriminating taste if completely inscrutable in preference.
No, what kept my wheels spinning was his implication that the game wouldn't end where I thought it would. I wasn't going to ride into the sunset at level 50, exchanging my bad karma for a final big boost in my personal power via the Ain't Like That Now perk. Was I supposed to repent and reject all my wicked gains? Habits, after all, are hard to kick.
A big smile spread across my face at the thought of it. Just what would come next? I couldn't wait to find out but for now I put an arm over Ciri and V's shoulders and knew that they'd be happy they had a partner to tag out with tonight.
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Of all the possible entrances I could make for my big day, the oh so important first impression on the hundreds of runners and the scores of news media personnel, I doubt anyone expected me to kick open the door to my factory catwalk from my second story office in nothing but my underwear.
But that's what I did.
My only other carry for the meeting came in the form of a microphone in my hand. They all stared at me as I moved down the catwalk looking down at them. Solos and Techies in abundance mixed in with a few handfuls of private detectives, low level Fixers, and Rockerboys. A unisex term despite most of the showing being chicks in fishnets and pasties. Gang plants and corporate goons infected the lot of them, but I'd find them and make sure they get fragged on mission.
Not like they'd get anything I wasn't already selling. Between Stealth, Science, and Small Crimes my operational security had more layers than an onion and more kick than a mule.
"Look at all of you…" I spoke into the mic as I sat atop the railing dangling my legs over, "Little old ladies and school children cross the street when they see you all coming. The senile and the sickly stand no chance of keeping anything you want." I dropped down to the ground floor and continued, "All I see here is wasted potential."
"You think you can say whatever you want just cause your name's on the building?" shouted a man who lumbered out of the crowd, eight feet tall and borged from head to toes.
"Look at you, incredible." I smirked as I examined the man, "You can walk and talk like the rest of us despite carrying so much of your grandad's chrome."
He honestly was incredible, he was using old soviet Hydraulic Ram limbs, body plating, subdermal armor, a power jaw shaped with jagged fangs replacing his lower face, glowing red optics. Lord knows what he has going on in that twisted torso. The man weighed half a ton and likely existed in the nightmares of a number of cops in this city. I could hear the activation of his old school Sandevistan building up, the early models taking up to twelve seconds to activate for far lesser results than modern equipment. He'd have probably got better synergy out of a Berserk system, but the Sandy would let him move shockingly fast despite his massive bulk.
"Let me fix that wrong assumption!" he growled as he sprung into action as his Sandevistan finished ramping up.
Mine fired up at the same time, needing no prior build up.
I stepped inside his incoming right hand while casually putting my mic down and delivered a chain of punches up his torso and to his chin, dropping the mountain of ancient cyberware to the floor. My eyes lit up as I scanned him.
"Stay down, Mr. Kenworth." I told him as I reached down to retrieve my mic "It'd be a shame to kill you. I have high hopes for your future."
I stepped away from the groaning giant and turned my focus back onto the people assembled, "Any more takers? No? That's fine. We've all heard deals too good to be true, but rarely do they come from the mouths of anyone with a real reputation on the line. That's why you are all here, because someone worth listening to said that this deal is legit, and it is. Welles Arms is looking to show the world that we are the best there is. The best in guns, the best in armor, the best in chrome. Militech has generously provided us a forum in which to prove that."
The Metal Wars began January 2, 2069 with a blitzkrieg assault that saw many of the western Free States surrender to the eastern NUSA, a government separated from Militech only by the thinnest of legal fictions. Night City already declared itself a neutral zone as SoCal launched an invasion against their more prosperous Northern counterpart. The sprawling LA metroplex had consumed everything from Santa Barbara to San Diego.The poisonous environment and nihilistic culture produced millions of young men who were happy to charge across the border with guns in hand.
Honestly, how anyone could vote Night City the worst place to live in America when LA and Detroit are still around is beyond me. Those places look more like the Capital Wasteland than actual inhabitable cities.
"I'm fighting in this war, and anyone who is willing to follow me into it will do so kitted out free of charge and when the war ends one way or the other, you keep it all no strings attached." I extended my offer to everyone, "But let me warn you. If you choose to sign on, and then try to back out… I'll pump you full of stims so that you feel every moment of me personally repossessing every ounce of chrome Welles Arms ever put into you."
I let that sink in then took a big breath and stated, "Walk away now if you're too cowardly to pay the price in blood to get your hands on preem hardware. There's no place for you here, but if you believe you are special, that you have what it takes to rise up and be somebody worth remembering… this is your shot. Immortality. Take it, it's yours."
It really shows exactly what Night City really is that no one walked away. Dreamers and scum the entire lot, but no one afraid to jump on the back of a tiger if it meant a ride to the top.
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