Rain in the Cybercity

The Holo-News had been playing for a little while now. The Reporter was droning on and on about crimes that had been happening throughout the city. As if the reporter wasn't bad enough with his dull, and monotone voice, the heavy-steady rainfall made for grey and gloomy skies. 

The Ghost was sitting in his rocking chair, hardly listening to the news. The soft blues tune of "Smokestack Lightnin'" played as he stood up and returned his bottle of flavored vodka to the freezer. Thunder shook the windows as he close the freezer door. 

Just another day in paradise. 

The Ghost hung up his coveralls and began to tidy up his apartment. As he cleaned, the memories of the simulation began to invade his mind. He did his best to ignore them, but eventually, he popped some Adderall, finally getting fed up with the memories. As he looked out the window, he took notice of a small diner off the beaten path near his home. Grabbing his green plaid jacket, tossed on a pair of sweatpants and went out. 

The rain was cold, just like the remnants of an ice cube dripping down his hood. As he walked, there were people consumed by their own simulations, lost in lives they'd never own as their own. *How miserable must everyone be to lose themselves in such chaos. Although... I can't judge them either...* 

Pushing open the door of the diner, a waitress ushered him to a seat at the counter. 

What can I get you?

I'll start with coffee, black, with plenty of sugar. 

You got it. 

The Ghost stared at the menu, most of the food seemed about to be just as bland if not more than that of the outside world. However, as he skimmed the menu, his eyes found a choice that made him chuckle. It was Corned-Beef Hash.

Just like dad used to make.

Once the waitress returned with his coffee, he ordered the corned-beef hash with cheddar cheese and a slice of toast.

He watched out the window as the rain fell. Those neon lights were surely putting in the work trying to illuminate the dreary city. Once his food arrived, he began to chow down when a figure stand next to him. 

Looks like a decent meal friend.

Now first off, we ain't friends, second off, you might wanna hide your intentions as there is a cop in the booth closest to the door. I suggest you take your hand off your weapon.

The figure looks over their shoulder to see the cop keeping an eye on them. 

Good eyes mister. Tell me, what the hell is some on like you doin' on these streets without any augments?

Augments?

Ya' know! Chrome! Ripperdoc specials! Come on pal, no way you're that stupid. Flesh ain't the way to go when fighting metal. 

I have plenty of chrome, just don't flash it like you. Why the hell were you gonna rob me anyways?

Looked like an easy score. 

Well, if you'd taken longer than a second's glance, you'd have noticed the desert eagle pointed at your side. 

The figure looks down to see the slightest indent of the barrel of a gun pointed at him. 

Well shit. Did think you were packing heat. Fuck me, listen, I'll leave you be.

Nah, cough up what you scored, or I'll paint you pretty little head across the door. 

Fuck, alright, alright. 

The figure gets up and puts two stacks of credits in front of him then leaves the diner. 

Pleasure doing fucking business idiot. 

The Ghost finishes his meal and his coffee. He pays for his meal then leaves the diner. 

As the rain gets heavier, the figure from earlier rests under the bridge. A man slaps her across the face. 

YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO ROB HIM, NOT HAVE HIM ROB YOU!

I-I'm sorry. 

A loud bang rings out from across the street. The girl looked up, to see the man in the green plaid jacket from earlier holding a smoking desert eagle. Welcome to the Fucking City.