[KABUKI – Cortes-Kennedy Residential Block]
TUESDAY | 07 JUN 2077 | 00:20
[WARNING: RENT OVERDUE €1,200]
Will opened his eyes. Fuck. Still alive. His biomonitor was blinking urgently, wanting to be read. He opened it with his brain.
[BIOMONITOR ALERT – CRITICAL]
----------------------------------------
IMPACT DETECTED: Vehicular Collision
? Left clavicle – hairline fracture
? Ribs 6–8 – multiple contusions, possible crack
? Concussion – minor
? Internal bleeding – minimal, monitor
Vitals:
Heart rate: 120 bpm ↑
Blood pressure: 145/90 mmHg ↑
Blood loss: 242 ml
Oxygen saturation: 94% ↓
Status: ALIVE
Trauma Team coverage: NONE
Nearest ripperdoc: 520 m
Estimated time to critical deterioration: 47 min
[DISMISS]?[ROUTE TO MEDICAL]?[SILENCE ALERTS]
Will glanced at the status. Who was that for? If he were dead, he wouldn’t be able to read that he was dead. Gonk design. The emotions rushed him hard. Same problems as before, plus change. Still not dead, but hurting worse than before. Night City luck.
“Excuse me,” came the synthesized voice. “I apologize for striking you. Can I compensate you with a ride to the nearest medical facility or perhaps a month's free subscription to the lower-tier Delamain Resolute package?”
It was the car. Talking to him. How hard had he been hit? It kept going, “You appear to be conscious. Is there somewhere I can take you?”
“What happened?”
“You were standing in the street. Low visibility conditions and certain…distractions led to an impact. I assure you I am very, very sorry. Please, allow me to assist you.”
PING!
[NEW TEXT MESSAGE]
Sender: Delamain
Time: 00:22
[Delamain Corporation]
DELAMAIN RESOLUTE PACKAGE – 1-MONTH COMPLIMENTARY
(Valued at €89.99)
Features:
? In-cab climate control (temperature locked at 21°C)
? No surge pricing during peak hours (limited to 3 rides)
? Voice interaction level: Standard
Note: Resolute is Delamain’s reliable mid-tier service line. For a more refined experience, consider upgrading to Excelsior.
[ACCEPT OFFER]?[DECLINE]?[VIEW FULL TERMS]
Will was in no place to pass up a free ride, so he accepted and crawled painfully into the waiting open door of the cab that had almost killed him. It hurt to move. It hurt to think too. His immediate concerns took precedence over the abstract ones. Suicide dropped down a few spots on his priority list, just below pain and hunger.
“Got anything to eat? Any painkillers?” he asked, hoping for anything to quell the discomfort he was in.
“Mr. Scrap, normally, such comforts would be limited to our Excelsior package members. However, since I did hit you, accidentally, please enjoy this complimentary bottled water and All Foods brand Veggie Delight paste (now with 50% added Delight).”
Will firmly believed in the old adage about how beggars can’t be choosers, so when the small hatch opened up, he took the mostly purified water and the tube of paste. It hurt to swallow, so he went slowly. He drank and ate steadily despite the pain in his chest, then asked, “What about painkillers?”
“Two tablets of acetimoniphine, 500 milligrams coming up.”
The pills went down. It was better than nothing. He had been hoping for some ‘dorph or Securicine, but there was no use complaining to an AI car. A panel pushed itself out to Will, “Enter the address of your desired destination, Mr. Scrap.”
[KABUKI – Motel Hello]
TUESDAY | 07 JUN 2077 | 00:45
[WARNING: RENT OVERDUE €1,200]
“We have arrived,” Delamain said in the perfectly British synthesized voice. “Thank you for choosing Delamain. Your resolute package is now active. You have two rides remaining over the next 30 days. Please, rate your experience when convenient.”
Will looked at the talking car again, still a bit perplexed at the experience. “I’ll leave out the part where you ran me over.”
“That would be very agreeable of you, Mr. Scrap.”
Will turned back into the slum ‘apartment’ that he had left to die, sighed, then went back inside. There was no clerk on duty. There never was, so he slipped back into his hole in the wall without incident. The room was still there, still technically a room. He grabbed his bedding and shook off the cockroaches. The effort hurt his ribs, so he carefully placed it on the floor and fell slowly onto it. Sleep came soon after.
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It was mid-afternoon when he woke. Will sat up carefully, swatted a cockroach off his shoulder, then pulled himself off the cot and to the sink. There before the sink, he undressed and washed himself for the first time in days. The water was cold, shocking the senses, but not cold enough to feel rejuvenating afterwards. The feedback buzz of the budget chrome in his head was still there. He didn’t have money for proper maintenance, and he hadn’t planned on surviving past Sunday, so it was what it was.
Will Scrap looked into the dirty mirror and saw himself. He hated what he took in. In the reflection, he looked pathetic, weak, and emaciated. He had lost muscle since the last time he evaluated himself. As he stared down the man in front of him, his hand went to the back of his head and touched the neuroport absently. The common Rocklin Augmentics model from the 2050s had been installed when he was born. It was due for a check-up, but he had no plan on getting one.
Bored with himself and the life he had fallen into, Will opted to check out the news and tuned his internal Agent to 87.9 Net54. His mind began to drift as the propaganda became background noise, only occasionally catching bits of real news.
“NUSA mourns the death of President Rosalin Myers, who perished in the crash of Space Force One last week. Colonel Kurt Hansen called a press conference this morning, denying allegations-”
“New CEO Yorinobu Arasaka has convened an emergency supervisor board meeting at Night City HQ. Speculation of-”
“NetWatch forces clash with Voodoo Boys after the reported neutralization of known gang leaders Maman Brigette and Placide-”
That was enough news. Will’s life was bad enough without inviting strife from the rest of Night City.
PING.
Will tensed. It was another voice message from Yoneda. Fuck me. Getting hit by a talking car should have been the worst thing that happened to him that day.
[NEW VOICE MESSAGE]
Sender: Shinkichi Yoneda
Time: 14:47
[Kabuki Motel Hello Landlord]
[PLAY ?]???[TRANSCRIBE ▼]
After a moment, he played the message. Yoneda began, “Scrap. I need you to pick up my groceries from market. Pay you forty eddies. Deal?”
A gig is a gig. Will texted back in the affirmative, then geared up like it was a real mission. His hand shook as he holstered the Lexington, but he ignored it. He was as ready as anyone could ever be shopping in Night City.
[KABUKI – South of the Kabuki Roundabout]
TUESDAY | 07 JUN 2077 | 14:55
[WARNING: RENT OVERDUE €1,200]
Will cleared the overpass and headed up Kennedy North, just east of the H11 Megabuilding. The market was just a couple of stalls boxed in by a hotel and several levels of apartments. An older Japanese woman with a stone face recognized him and waved for him to hurry.
“Get this shit to Shinkichi, he’s fucking hungry,” she squawked.
Will just grunted in response. The box of food was heavy. More calories than he’d eaten in the last couple of months. His ribs ached, but he moved fast down the path he came. Alert for danger, the cop in him still searching for trouble, he practically flew down to the Cortes-Kennedy Residential Block. Miraculously, he didn’t witness a single crime along the way. Night City was unusually calm, but also tense, as if waiting for something big to happen before it could go back to business as usual.
Will didn’t knock, he called Yoneda, “I’m here.”
The door slid open quietly, revealing the short Japanese man and his lair. He lived modestly, but everything in his home was orderly and clean. Yoneda took a look at Will and shook his head, “You look like shit, Scrap. You need to eat more.”
Yoneda accepted the box of food and came back with a noodle cup and handed it to him. “Do not die before you pay me back, Scrap.”
The door slid shut, and Will’s internal Agent notified him that the eddies had been transferred. He had wondered if Yoneda would just take it off his rent due, but the old bastard had been merciful.
Gig complete.
Noodles acquired.
He walked and pondered his run of bad luck for a bit. Perhaps, the universe owed him one. Nobody can have bad luck forever, right? He asked himself.
After a quick stop at Kabayan Foods, he was stocked with as much Filipino chow as he could get for forty eddies. He and the cockroaches would eat well this week.
With his immediate needs met, Will contemplated his life. Marginal improvements were better than no improvements, but he owned less than nothing. If he was going to live and do so comfortably, then he was going to need money. What he had was debt and the mental wounds from witnessing atrocities day after day for five 5 years.
It wasn’t just the visions that haunted him or the nightmares that plagued his sleep, though those things would have been more than enough for most people. It was also his complete impotence in the face of it all, his inability to make a difference. He had spent most of the last 6 months replaying events in his head, how he could have done things differently to save this life or prevent that horror. NCPD management was as crooked as the street gangs they went to war with. For a young cop just out of the Academy, the reality of policework in Night City was a shock to the core. He had been idealistic, thinking he could change things through hard work and dedication. He had failed utterly, but was he wrong?
It was almost midnight when Will began the nightly ritual of shaking the bugs from his bedding. He lay his head down to sleep, feeling empty once again. He still didn’t know what to do, but at least his gut wasn’t aching from hunger. I’ll figure it out tomorrow, he thought to himself.
Will Scrap had only been asleep for a few minutes when he got the call.
Ping.
[NEW VOICE MESSAGE]
Sender: Regina Jones
Time: 00:04
[Watson Community Activist]
[PLAY ?]???[TRANSCRIBE ▼]
