“MMmmmpgghh…”

  “Oh, stop groaning,” Myers criticized as she applied more of that bizarre synthetic collagen shit she got from the crash, “This stuff works. Just another one of the ways Militech is giving back to the community it armed.”

  “Hah, quite the sales pitch– GAH!” I yelped out as she hit a nerve in my nose.

  “Sales pitch, indeed,” she continued, “I do miss the work. Sometimes.”

  “What do you miss about it?”

  Myers briefly paused her work to focus on me. “Hard to say, exactly. I think it’s more of a feeling than a specific point in time or role I carried. Course, I’m not exactly remembered in the same light as Lundee, but any CEO following in his footsteps would inevitably have a hell of a time filling those shoes. You just do what you can with the tools you’re given.” She drew the remainder of the silvery fluid from the vial, being sure to apply it apparently as slowly and painfully as possible to my face. “Now you’ll get a hypertrophic scar from this, but the coloring will try and match your skin tone as much as possible. Shouldn’t be too noticeable.”

  “What’re you, a medic as well?” I asked her as she withdrew the needle from my brow line.

  “Heh, let’s just say I’ve been around enough injuries to know what I’m talking about,” she smiled a bit, placing her hand on my left shoulder, “There, all done. How’s it feel?”

  “Stiff…” I muttered, feeling the new texture on my face, “Feels like it’s struggling to move with the rest of my skin when my facial muscles move…”

  “Eh, you’ll get used to it,” she shrugged, “Now get on your feet.”

  I looked back at the shipping container blocking the entrance… Hopefully we barricaded it stealthily enough that no one would come looking for us. At least not here, not yet. I doubt that anyone would want to investigate the massive fuck-off beams blasting through two-meter thick concrete and steel, which hopefully buys us a little time. “I don’t like this,” I said out-loud as I glared down the subway tunnel, “We’re wounded animals, trailing our scent. We need to break out of here as soon as possible.”

  “Says the woman who spent about five minutes looking for her weapons,” Myers said with a chuckle, “Why do you like those guns, anyway?”

  “The pistol’s just nice, I dunno,” I shrugged, “And the M16 and I have a history. It’s sort of a good-luck charm.”

  “Fair enough,” she replied with a bit of a scoff, stopping inside of an old subway car, “Alright, call Songbird, see if she’s around. Maybe she can lead us outta this mess so we don’t run into any more patrols.”

  “Good idea…” I retrieved my phone from my backpack, holding it up to listen for anything on the other end. She hadn’t used the Relic and I had no idea how to make a ‘call’ on that. This was my only shot. “Nothing on the other line… What’s her number?”

  Myers recited her phone number to me and had me call it. “Anything?” she asked.

  “No, just a dial tone…”

  “Fuck…”

  “Nobody on my end, either,” Johnny suddenly appeared, “Back to just good ol’ me.”

  “Johnny!” I nearly blurted out-loud, “Fucking – what happened? Are you okay?”

  “Fine, ‘preciate your concern. But you really should be askin’ about Songbird,” he quickly retorted.

  “Wonder what happened back there, with So Mi…” Myers unknowingly interjected. Johnny took a seat on the train, relaxing his aching virtual bones, I’m sure.

  “Mm…” I pondered, glaring at the Chimera’s core in my hands. I removed it shortly after we killed it to be certain that it could never reactivate again. “Looks like a heart… Serial number 0005-M. Some sort of AI operating system. I think one of two things happened here… Either Songbird tried to interface with the machine and it spooked the AI, or she tried to communicate with the AI directly and it overwhelmed her, pushed her out with thick walls of black ICE.”

  “You sure about that?” Myers asked with veiled accusation.

  “Well… I’m no netrunner, but I’ve seen a few in that much pain. Usually it’s not the kind that you come back from.”

  Myers crossed her arms and thought to herself for a few moments. “No. Impossible,” she said definitively, “So Mi’s had her bouts lately. Lapses of judgement. But she’s never underperformed at her job.”

  “Her job?” I raised an eyebrow, “Heh, what, does she interface with military-grade AI operating systems regularly or something?”

  “Right now, only thing we can do’s just take the most direct route, wait for her at the safehouse,” Myers said, failing to answer my question entirely, “C’mon.”

  “Sure… Scout up ahead. I’ll try calling two more times,” I told her, prompting a nod from Myers as she skirted past me, weapon at the ready. “So, Johnny…”

  “Lookin’ good, V,” Johnny smirked, relaxing in one of the train seats, “You do somethin’ with your hair?”

  “Hah-hah,” I sneered back, “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “Relatively speaking. As fine as I’m ever, anyway. As for what happened… Dunno. Got snippets. Bits and pieces. Saw the Chimera. Felt your thoughts… your pain.”

  I thought a little, piecing it together in my own head, “So when she said you were ‘muted,’ she meant–”

  “Not just voice. I was out,” he elaborated, “Gone. Back to the deep… Felt like I was underwater. Leagues down. Occasionally I’d hear your voice. Try and get back up, but then this suffocating, sucking sound would pull me right back in… Then, when she lost control of the Chimera… all that water turned into boilin’ fuckin’ tar.”

  “Jesus…” I mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

  “Anything?” Myers shouted back to me.

  “No, could be a reception problem, though,” I replied, “Let’s keep moving.”

  “Lets do,” Johnny said in her place as I slipped my phone in my back pocket and tucked the Chimera’s OS away in my backpack. I had to dispose of this thing somehow, without leaving any trace of its existence. God forbid someone tried to resurrect it… There’d be no stopping it if it fell into the wrong hands.

  “Looks like we’re headed southwest now,” I told Myers, holding out my compass, “Shouldn’t be too long until we’re there. Songbird mentioned the building was nearby the original crash site, which we should be right on top of.”

  “Feels like we’re circling back, so we’re on the right trail, then,” Myers confirmed as we trudged through more dark, damp tunnels, “Any intel on our destinations?”

  “She said it was an abandoned building, no heat sigs. An old hotel of some sort.”

  “Alright,” she nodded, “I pray you’re right, So Mi.”

  “You religious, I’m guessing?” I asked her, making conversation as we went along.

  “I was raised Lutheran. Don’t practice anymore,” she replied as I ascended a ladder to an overhead scaffolding used for assembling the roof of the tunnel. Must be getting close to the end. “What about you?”

  “Shintoist. And a little Catholic from my adopted family’s influence–GUH!” I paused and heaved over… Johnny… God dammit, not now…

  “Corsac, you alright?” Myers asked, holding me up, “Your head? You’re clutching and scratching at it.”

  “Yeah…Just the scar… mmph… Must still be healing underneath,” I lied to her, knowing full-well it was Johnny’s return… Guess the Relic got used to him not being here… had a shock to the system when he returned…

  I shook my head a few times to clear it up. “You good to go?” Myers asked me one more time.

  “Good…” I did not miss these headaches… At least the tunnel has stopped spinning. Even if I do feel like I have to vomit now. Oh well. I’m sure I can save that for when we’re out of the shit.

  “Arasaka don’t normally go out of their way to rescue Militech CEOs, last time I checked,” Myers said as we walked down the railway some more, coming up to a maintenance room, “You look like you’re still well-off, too. What’s your story? The money that good or something?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” I replied bluntly.

  “Ah, avoiding the question? Guessing it’s something close to the heart, then? Fighting for someone? For yourself, what?”

  “Why do you care?” I sneered, “It’s transactional. You’re my charge, I’m getting what I want, it’s as simple as that.”

  “Alright, alright,” she backed off a little, “Sorry, didn’t mean offense. Just makin’ sure. Can’t trust anyone these days.”

  “The feeling’s mutual. But let me put it to you this way. I’ve spent over a third of my life actively undermining Militech. If I’m saving the company’s former CEO, you don’t have to worry about my pay. It’s enough.”

  “Mm, and if someone comes along and offers you a check with a few extra zeroes?”

  “I think the only person who could afford my services in Dogtown right now is walking beside me,” I said, squeezing between some pipes in an old maintenance shaft, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “You still consider yourself military, right?” Myers replied from directly behind me, “Or paramilitary, I should say.”

  “Just military,” I corrected her, “I fought for the interests of a nation, not a corporation. Or, at least that’s how I saw it at the time.”

  “Yeah. Sometimes the line gets muddled, especially the further up you go,” Myers elaborated, “We made thirteen prototype Chimera tanks, you know. Had all these expectations that they would be the future of combat. A drone that could pilot itself… Who would’ve thought. Least that was the sales pitch. Never thought I’d end up on the business end of one.”

  “Yeah, well, that was one time too many,” I replied frankly.

  “Have no idea how Hansen got his hands on one… But let me say this. You were a captain, right?”

  “I was.”

  “Good, then consider yourself a major now,” she looked at me with a prideful smile, “I know you probably won’t accept such a promotion. But I believe in giving credit where it’s due.”

  “Heh…” I turned around and smiled at her, “You don’t need to bribe me. I’m just doing the job I was hired for.”

  “Even so, it deserves recognition. You know how old Hansen is? He’s almost 46, birthday’s on the 22nd. He made colonel ten years ago, among the youngest in the ranks to hold the title. Corsac, I believe in promotion based on merit and skill, not anything arbitrary such as years of service.”

  I guess she was deeply into masturbating me for some reason. I might as well just play along with it, see what her point is. “Fighting’s easy. Fighting’s what I do. But I’m not the best leader and I don’t presume to be.”

  “That why you got your commission, then? Could’ve just been an NCO and been happier than a pig in shit as the army’s backbone.”

  “Heh. No, I got my commission because I was under the illusion that sitting at the big kid’s table meant people would listen to you more. But we both know that’s not how the world works.”

  “Rather pessimistic of you to say. Maybe you’re sitting at the wrong table.”

  “If this is a veiled way of trying to poach me to the NUS Army, I’m afraid you’ll be rolling that rock uphill for a long time, Intrepid.” I trudged through yet another tunnel, noting a security monitoring station within. “Cameras? Down here?”

  “Doesn’t surprise me. Hansen’s a military man. Loves control, and hates blind spots.”

  “Mm… I can relate,” I acknowledged, “Looks like a control room up ahead, speaking of which…”

  “Anything on the computers?” Myers asked as we walked into the room, filled with old detritus and stale food, plus a few computers on the desk.

  “No… propaganda against Elizabeth Kress. What she did during the Time of the Red. That sort of thing.”

  “Heh… Time of the Red. Haven’t heard that expression in a while. People often forget that it was Kress who held the country together after the AHQ bombing.”

  “Which she did by blaming Arasaka for the bombing and nationalizing Militech, becoming a functional dictator in the process,” I quickly shot back, “There’s a first-class seat in Hell for that woman and what she did.”

  “Got no arguments from me,” Myers replied with a smirk as we exited into the station still under construction, “Elizabeth Kress Street… You were right. It’s a bit ironic, now that I think about it. Bullheaded Betty, that’s what we called her. Reelected nine times, can you believe it? Must’ve had her ass welded to that seat…”

  “Sounds like you’re jealous she has a street and not you.”

  “Jealous? Pfft,” she sharply scoffed. Definitely jealous.

  “Mm… And you don’t see any historical parallels between you two?” I glared in return, “Going out of your way to antagonize Arasaka, drive them off-shore. Little regard to who gets caught in the crossfire. Building AI-powered weapons of mass destruction. Running both the country and Militech like a puppetmaster… Ring any bells?”

  “Again, you’re accusing me while at the same time wearing an Arasaka battle uniform. Pick a lane, Corsac,” she fired back, “Now c’mon, exit should be just up ahead.”

  Part of me was still in disbelief that I was actually doing this. I feel like all of the squadmates who didn’t make it are rolling in their graves right now. I said I wanted to make a difference in the world. But cutting off the head of one of the world’s dictators is but a flick of the wrist away. Was I being selfish? Stupid? Or just insane?

  We continued walking down the station in relative silence, the scenery not changing much outside of the occasional bedding. Though I couldn’t help but notice something – despite there being so much in the way of accommodations, where was everybody? It’s not like these places to simply be forgotten, certainly not when there were signs of civilization all around us. Food left to rot, trinkets left in their places, clothes on the racks. Yet nobody was there. It’s as if they all just… disappeared.

  There was that plus some strange off-site control room down here… Controlling what? What the hell was down here to control, anyway? It’s not used for storage or anything, either. Who knows what it’s used for… Do I really want to know? Probably not…

  Oh… No…

  Johnny…!

  “G-AHH!!” I lurched over as we entered the elevator, retching and seizing up.

  “What the– Corsac?! Are you okay?” she quickly dropped her weapon and knelt down beside me.

  “Fine-fine!” I quickly waved her off, “I… think I’m getting used to it…”

  “Is this a recurring problem? Are you injured?”

  “N-no… Not injured…” I said meekly, “I just get seizures every now and then…”

  “Seizures? I got a highly-honed nose for bullshit. What’s actually wrong with you?” Myers picked up and slung her weapon over her shoulder, squatting down beside me again. Johnny just glared at me behind his sunglasses like the stalker he is.

  “It’s nothing that’ll affect the mission… grrmph… But for the sake of openness, I have a terminal brain condition. Part of the deal for this mission is a cure.”

  “Ah… interesting,” she slowly responded, taking her time to absorb it, “Certainly one way to keep someone motivated… I figured you were in this for something personal. Otherwise I doubt I’d be alive right now.”

  “Well… I won’t lie and say that I hadn’t thought about it…” I got up and hit the button for the eighth floor as Songbird instructed.

  “Mm. Appreciate the candor, Corsac,” Myers smiled a bit, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall, “I’d rather have someone at my back who follows a set of principles. Rare trait to find among mercs these days.”

  The elevator started slowing down and the pair of us each removed our weapons from their respective resting places. Izanami fired up in earnest, prepared for the absolute worst yet again. “Cover my six, Intrepid,” I instructed, “Seen too many signs of life. Not enough bodies. I don’t like this.”

  “I concur,” she whispered, “Go.”

  I spun my finger around in a circle-pattern, instructing her to keep close to me as the door opened, revealing nothing more than a dark room filled with all sorts of random litter. Looks more like a drug den than anything… But looks can be deceiving.

  Myers stayed glued on me as we walked in tandem, the President stifling the sound of her heels by walking on the balls of her feet. While normally I’d advise her to go barefoot, that would likely be less optimal with such poor lighting and so many used needles lying around.

  This place looks prime for an ambush. Holes in the walls for prying eyes. Booby traps in every errant pile of garbage. A firing squad waiting for us behind the safehouse door… Who knows.

  I motioned with four fingers towards a door in front of us, ordering her to stack up. We may only have two bodies between us. But considering we just took down a Chimera, I’d say our odds of a BARGHEST incursion are decent.

  Gently pressing my ear to the door revealed not a single whisper. Likely wouldn’t be more than a squad’s worth of guys waiting back there, unless they were prepped since we entered the elevator and started heading up. Either way, we couldn’t risk anyone knowing our position. We’d have to do this fast and quiet.

  Myers stacked opposite of me, giving me the hand signals for breaching fast and hard, that she would have my back, and ordered me to check our left-flank. The both of us nodded in acknowledgement and I palmed Izanami in a reverse grip for better mobility in the tight space, raising up three fingers on my left hand for a countdown.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Three…

  Two…

  One.

  Myers opened the door and I barged in first, Izanami silently sparking off a nearby metal object as I spun around, scanning the room for targets. Myers quickly followed, covering my right-hand side and eyeballing several rooms. This place took up damn near the entire half of the floor… upper-class suite, no doubt.

  We gingerly moved in, my sword acting against my night vision and prompting me to drop it down to keep the light out of my eyes. As if it was reading my mind, the blade suddenly dimmed down slightly, granting me some modicum of depth perception. Neither of us found any signs of mines nor other booby traps – either this was a base of operations, or it was simply desolate. Best chance it now than later…

  “Bathroom, clear,” I muttered as I closed the door on my left. Place had a shower and everything… Likely no running water, though.

  “Got a genny here,” Myers said, “Looks like an old engine… Room clear.”

  I moved over to where she was, getting eyes on the final room in the suite, “Bedroom clear,” I told her, “All clear.”

  “Copy, clear…” Myers acknowledged, relaxing her grip, “No BARGHEST… And more importantly, no So Mi.”

  “Mm…” I muttered, walking back into the main room, “Seems like we got here first, perhaps.”

  “Seems so…” Myers nodded, walking up to the window and glancing out for a split second, “No drone coverage… Think we’re in the clear for now.”

  “Don’t jinx it,” I laughed a bit, putting Izanami away.

  “Heh, true…” Myers eyeballed some clothes laying on a pile on an old coffee table, “Here, these rags’ll do us some good. See if you can find something in your size.”

  “Good plan. Maybe a haircut as well,” I concurred, “Best to change up our entire image. Any syn-hair dyes?”

  “Mm… I see some fabric paint over there, could try that,” Myers motioned towards another pile on the far side of the room, “I’ll cut your hair in the bathroom. First thing’s first, though – get your clothes and go check out that generator. See if we can get this place powered up.”

  “Sounds good…” I rifled through the outfits next to her, smelling each one to figure out which is least likely to give me some sort of disease.

  “You’re a natural at this, you know that?” Myers complimented.

  “What, finding clothes?”

  “Hah! No, you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, well, like I said, fighting’s what I do,” I told her plainly.

  “Sure, but there’s a difference between fighting being easy and jamming a flaming sword down a tank’s gullet without skippin’ a beat,” she fired back, “All I’m sayin’ is, after all’s said and done, there’s a prime spot open on my security detail – don’t worry, I know it’s not your thing, just joking.”

  “Oh? Looks like I already took that job,” I laughed a bit, shuffling through clothes until I came upon a fresh shirt, “Mm… Doesn’t smell like piss. That’s a start…”

  “And you take it in stride more than most. Got someone waitin’ for you at home, may I ask?”

  “I do. Two girlfriends. And you?”

  “Good for you… Nah, not for me. As of right now, my office is my lover,” she said frankly, “Not a very good one, at that.”

  “You ever have anyone special?”

  “Mm…” she thought harder than I anticipated to that question, “Not for a while. Last relationship I had, I broke off after the election. Haven’t looked back since.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” I mumbled, carrying the clothes to the bedroom, “Sounds like an all-encompassing lifestyle you have.”

  “Well… Vis-à-vis,” she said with a little bit of a drone onto the end, “I was never the white picket-fence kind of woman. But I’m honest about that, which is a plus, I think.”

  “Mm, at least you’re not wasting anyone’s time.”

  “A philosophy which equally applies to the workplace,” she quickly added, “You don’t become the NUS President by wasting time.”

  I certainly knew a thing or two about not wasting time… Time was the one thing I hardly had any of.

  “Can I ask you something personal?” Myers followed up after I took off my shirt in the other room, “How does a dying woman get into a relationship? Or were they with you since before you knew?”

  “No… I got with them after,” I answered honestly, “It wasn’t planned. But the heart wants what it wants. One of the few things in life we don’t have control over.”

  “Oh? You’re a romantic… Didn’t see that comin’, to be honest,” Myers said cheekily.

  “Mm. Maybe once this is all over I can start something a little more serious.”

  “Don’t want to burden them with falling for a dying woman?”

  “Basically, yeah,” I answered with a shrug she couldn’t see, “I mean, what’s the point when I’m liable to be dead a month from now. That’s why I’m doing this job. It’ll give me a chance to make their lives better as well.”

  “One does many things for love. Wiping prototype tanks included, apparently.”

  “Heh, yeah…” I frowned, “Let’s see about that power.”

  “You check the generator yet?”

  “I’m about to now…” I walked into the room with Johnny looking over at the old truck engine.

  “Check this out, V. Modern art,” he pointed to it.

  “Mm… Looks like an old Thorton engine,” I muttered, “8 liter, out of an old pickup truck, I bet. A hose running to a CHOOH2 tank… No battery. Willing to bet it’ll start up, provided it’s got good spark and it’s filled with coolant.”

  “Oh? Sounds like you’ve done this sorta thing before,” Myers shouted from the main room as I inspected the rusted old iron block.

  “My mother fixes up classic cars as a hobby. I mostly learned through osmosis… But there’s a first time for everything…” I mumbled as I fiddled around… No electrical power to the engine. Hm.

  “V, got a minute?” Johnny asked, sitting up on the countertop next to me, “Since there’s a lull in the flyin’ lead, wanted to bounce some thoughts.”

  “Sure, what’s on your mind?” I asked him, rewiring starter motor to some batteries on the table… No luck.

  “Gig’s givin’ me a bad feeling. I don’t like this.” His face is painted with concern.

  “I don’t, either. But what choice do we have?”

  “You’re assuming Songbird’s good to her word,” Johnny wiggled his finger, “Don’t be naive.”

  “I’m not, we literally don’t have a choice,” I retaliated sharply, “I don’t like it any more than you do. I would’ve paid dearly for the chance to take down one of the world’s scummiest people. The fact that she’s our only hope just makes me feel filthy inside. And where the hell is Songbird?!”

  “Fuck if we know, she disappeared right after it all hit the fan. For all we know, she’s in on it. Hasn’t given us a shred of tangible benefit yet. Just dumped a big, wet, steaming pile of shit in our laps.”

  “Not to mention got my face fucked up in the process by trying to take over the Chimera’s AI… What kind of netrunner does that?! I mean, is she insane?”

  “Right… So we got ourselves an S-tier netrunner with a reckless attitude workin’ for Myers. Promises a panaceum, a cure-all. Then disappears ‘thout a trace,” he teleported up, holding a cigarette in his right fingers now, “Then we got Myers herself. Shady politico. Got a dagger thrown at her back all the way from Washington. But who threw it, why, what for? Fuck if we know. Then there’s Hansen with his fuckin’ SAM launchers. Just preem…”

  “Well one thing’s for sure, no normal netrunner can get past Songbird’s defenses. You’d need Bartmoss-levels of ability to do that. Either that, or it was Songbird herself,” I said with a dismissive shrug.

  “Or someone else. There were eleven people on-board.”

  “Yeah, but she was the only netrunner as far as we know. And I doubt it was Myers. Because if it wasn’t for me, her head would be on display in the square right now.”

  “Mmh…” Johnny had a smoke and thought to himself, “That still doesn’t explain Hansen. ‘Sides, what would Songbird have to gain outta that deal? She’s just as fucked as Myers if she’s caught.”

  “I’ll be sure to ask her when I see her…” I said grimly, “Wait… I’m a fucking idiot.”

  “What, just figured that out now? And throw on your shirt already, makin’ you look like a tramp.”

  “Shut up, Johnny…” Fine… T-shirt’s on. Okay, what’s next…

  Maybe a jab here would do it… I took out my sword and jabbed it into the socket next to the battery, instantly charging the things and nearly short-circuiting them in the process.

  “Alright, let’s see if this works… NNGH!” Oh, that was toasty… Well, at least the engine started…

  I dusted myself off and headed back outside, finding Myers carrying in a case of beer. “Hey Corsac, look what I found!” she smiled, slamming the thing on the desk in front of her, “Want to join me? Heh, nice fit.”

  “You like it?” I smiled, “I guess it’s appropriate, given our situation.”

  “Given your skillset, more like. Nice work with the lights,” she cheered, having the first sip, “C’mon, sit down.” The radio was blaring some contemporary alternative, decent tracks.

  “Thanks,” I replied happily, “Heh… never thought I’d be sharing a beer with the CEO of Militech.”

  “Gonna cross that one off on your bucket list?” Myers quipped, “I sure as hell had mine filled up today. Stared down the barrel of a Chimera, got a thermal katana put to my throat–”

  “Thermal nodachi,” I swiftly corrected her, “Two different kinds of weapon.”

  “Apologies,” she gently bowed her head, “Finally made it to Dogtown… Hell of a day…”

  “Mmh, and it feels like it,” I brushed my face and sat forward– “Nngh…”

  “Adrenaline’s wearin’ off, huh?”

  “Yeah…” I mumbled, “Sternum. Ribs…”

  “And a collarbone, by the sound of it,” Myers leaned in for a closer glance, “Let me see… Hmph… No stranger to battle, I see…”

  “Mm. I’ve had my share,” I nodded slightly as she slowly touched the scar over my heart, “That one’s from a missile fired from a Minotaur.”

  “Jesus. How’d it not blow your whole arm off?”

  “Oh, it tried,” I winced a little as her fingers prodded my right collarbone, “Y-Yeah… I feel it…”

  “Mm… Looks like a big fracture… Gonna have to wait for that to heal over. See a ripperdoc, maybe. Need a splint?”

  “No, it’s fine,” I waved her off, “I need full movement in case someone comes by to say hello to the people who just put the lights on.”

  “Fair enough…” she muttered as she peered further down, “Looks like you have a couple of ribs floating around, too… Don’t bend over too hard, else they’re liable to puncture your intestines… Where’s this scar from?” I felt her hand poke at my left abdomen.

  “Shrapnel wound, 2069, from Ridgecrest,” I replied with a whimper as I sat up, “I still have some ceramic shards in there.”

  “Damn… couple inches higher and I’d be performing a séance to get you to rescue me,” Myers replied with a raised eyebrow.

  “Well, maybe you ought to think twice before mortaring our garrison next time, huh?” I replied curtly, “You know we had our division stationed there… We lost half of them in a day. Half. 3,078 people. Killed. The rest were wounded. Over 90 percent of us in your airstrikes.”

  “Such is the way of war, it’s what we signed up for,” Myers said coldly, “I know the meaning of loss as well, you know. I’ve lost friends, family, and my own blood as much as everyone else. Just because I haven’t changed out of the suit in the past twelve years doesn’t mean I don’t have my own scars beneath it. Just means I got no choice but to hide ‘em under tailored sleeves.” My heart aches for you… “Hang on, listen…”

  Myers turned the radio dial up to listen to Gillean Jordan’s announcements. “And circling back to Night City, speculative chatter continues around the downed spacecraft. NUS representatives claimed that President Rosalind Myers was aboard when catastrophe struck. City officials have yet to release any official statement, however one all too familiar figure decided to speak out. Kurt Hansen, self-proclaimed leader of Dogtown, called a press conference earlier this evening to offer his take on the situation.”

  Myers simply sat and drank her beer with me as we both listened intently. “I’m being framed, isn’t it obvious?” Hansen’s voice came in, “The NUSA’s been out for my blood for years. Now I’m not without flaws. But one thing I’m not is suicidal. An attempt on the life of the head of the NUSA? What transpired in Dogtown is no laughing matter. I urge you all to consider the true motives behind this… spectacle. The NUSA will take any excuse it can to let its forces into Dogtown. Will they stop there? No. You, good people of Night City, are next in fucking line. Mark my words… another war’s on its way.”

  Myers’ head drooped down low as she shut the radio off. “Shit…” she mumbled before taking another drink.

  “Why ‘shit?’ Operation Midnight Storm not on your agenda for the day or something?” I replied harshly, “It’s a false flag operation. Getting public sentiment against you, people fighting a civil conflict over it all, then he’ll come in and pick up all the pieces for yourself. Unless you want to provoke a new war.”

  “You sure know how to cheer a woman up…” Myers barely even retaliated, “But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong. Whoever’s behind this, well… an attempt on my life’s a damn good casus belli.”

  “That’s not even mentioning who isn’t in the room with us.”

  “Mm. Songbird,” Myers pondered, circling her drink in her hand, “Not to mention Washington… Still don’t know how deep this goes.”

  “Which is why we need to lay low. Petty differences aside, we’re both dead if they find us. But alive, we’re basically Schrodinger’s soldiers. And that’s a dangerous place to be in.”

  “Mm… Agreed,” Myers nodded before her glance shot over to the hallway, “Down…”

  I immediately flew out of my chair and drew my sword, carefully laying it down on the floor in front of me and ducking behind the desk. Sounds like… two goons only. Not a problem…

  Myers placed two fingers on her eyes, then balled them up into a fist and motioned with a hammer before moving it to the left. I see two men. You take out the one on the left.

  I took another glance at the pair of them. “See? Preem view!” the one with the yellow hair chanted, “What’d I tell ya? Got a loft where we can see the whole cit-ay.”

  “Yeah, and all the lights are on…” the other, a burly man in his 30s or 40s grumbled, “I don’t like this.”

  “Man, you ain’t likin’ anything since I metcha, relax!” Seem harmless enough… and the one on the left is observant. We may be able to use them.

  I looked over to Myers and shook my head, placing two fingers up, then palm face-out. We parlay with them.

  Myers rolled her eyes in return, perhaps not believing me. But the last thing we needed was a gunfight that’d attract even more attention. Fine, let’s get this over with… “Weapons!” Myers shouted as she leapt from behind the support pillar, me closely following in-turn with my sword electrified and raised at the ready. “C’mon, let’s see ‘em!”

  “Aw, fuck,” the one on the left protested, “I told you…” Just let Myers do the talking for now… I kept my eye on the shotgunner. No way could I block a double-barrel from this range. Not with a broken collarbone and sternum. I kept my eye on his trigger finger… May need to throw my sword if it came down to it…

  “Yo, yo, yo! Chill! Just lookin’ for a place to hole up for the night!” the yellow-haired black guy shouted, still presenting his weapon to us.

  “I won’t say it again!” Myers threatened, “This one’s taken, clearly!”

  “Jacob, c’mon, ‘s not worth it, man,” the big guy muttered to his friend.

  “Hang on…” Jacob stopped, “I see we walked in on the presidential suite.”

  “Fuck…” Myers grumbled through bared teeth.

  “Word is, there’s a bounty on the head of one Rosalind Myers,” Jacob boasted, “Now what’re we gonna do about that?”

  “Try it and you’ll be dead before you hit the floor,” I fired up Izanami, the electrical sparks shooting off to one of the overhead lights, immediately blowing it out.

  “Jeeesus,” Jacob yelped, “Dayumn… Where can I get me one of those?”

  “Jacob? Easy, man. She don’t look like she’s fuckin’ around.”

  “Let’s talk,” I implored them, “Unless you prefer me giving you the closest haircut of your lives.”

  “Girl, gotta work on your negotiatin’ skills,” Jacob criticized, “That big fuck-off katana say otherwise–”

  “It’s a nodachi… Christ…” I hissed.

  “Well whatever the hell it is, put it away if you wanna talk, damn!” he shouted.

  “These weapons stay silent as long as you do,” Myers interjected.

  “Mm… Now tha’ss an idea,” Jacob grinned, “But our silence ain’t come cheap, yeah?”

  “What? C’mon, Jacob, pump the brakes, man,” the other one tried to stop him.

  “Not now, Tay! I’s negotiatin’!” he snickered, letting his weapon down some more while I kept my sword raised in front of Myers and I.

  “Oh? D’you remember what happened with Hansen? Last time you tried ‘negotiating’ with him?”

  “Not. Now,” Jacob hissed.

  “Negotiated with Hansen? What happened?” I asked, genuinely curious now.

  “Nuttin’. A small misunderstandin’.”

  “They macheted his leg off,” Jacob’s friend interrupted again.

  “You motherfuck…grrr…” he growled with frustration, “Was a… conflict of interest. Colonel Dipshit don’t appreciate motivated entrepreneurs like myself… Now my question is, what can you offer us tha’ss better?”

  “Mm…” I grumbled, slowly raising my sword up and sheathing it, “Well, for starters, I’m protecting the most powerful woman on the continent. And she has a checkbook with your name on it.”

  “V…” Myers groaned pensively at me, “Sure. Pay you double what Hansen would.”

  “Uh-huh… And wha’ss the job?” Jacob continued.

  “There’s enough space for four. We bunk in for the night, stay out of each other’s way. Then go our separate ways later. And if anyone comes knockin’, we’ll rely on you to keep ‘em out by any means necessary.”

  The pair of them stood there, mouths agape at her suggestion. “What’s there to consider?” I shouted, “There won’t be another chance. Just take it.”

  Jacob froze like a deer in headlights for a few seconds before his mind snapped back into the room. “Shit… You got yourself a deal, Madame Prez… And I want a Rayfield!”

  “Jesus Christ!” his friend shouted in protest.

  “Heh, Rayfield, huh…” Myers grinned at him, “Any model in particular?”

  “Shiiiit, my ass fits ‘em all the same!” he smiled back, walking up with his shotgun draped over his shoulder. Myers extended her hand for a shake, responded in-kind with some sort of weird hand slapping gesture followed by a fistbump. Guess that settles that…

  “I’m Taylor,” the other one said, “This is Jacob. He’s missing a couple bolts in the toolbox, gotta forgive him a little.”

  “V,” I nodded at them both, “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Juss’ don’t slit our throats with that sword of yours, huh?” Jacob smiled at me.

  “Well, V?” Myers raised an eyebrow, “You plan on slitting their throats in the night?”

  “That’s entirely up to you both,” I said bluntly.

  “Guess that’s fair,” Taylor said with a light sigh, finally holstering his handgun.

  “Usually I like to have a few shots wit’ some new chooms, but I gots to be sharp,” Jacob said, tucking his shotgun under his armpit and walking off to the bedroom, “Got airdrops come mornin’, gotta be up early.”

  “Same here… C’mon, V, it’s late,” Myers told me, walking to the back of the main room.

  “Be right there,” I said to her before walking over to check up on the pair of them. Taylor stood guard outside while Jacob continued to run his mouth off like an old engine.

  “Taylor, right?” I walked up to the big guy, looking more middle-aged at second glance, “You seen a friend of ours? Korean-American. Small, lean build. Bob haircut, jean jacket.”

  “Mm…” he thought for a second, “Can’t say I have. Least it doesn’t ring a bell. Couldn’t meet her at a bar like a normal choom?”

  “Heh, I wish…” I chuckled, “Working the night shift, I’m guessing?”

  “Eehh… Guess this is just my part of the deal. That and an old habit from the Badlands.”

  “Oh? What family you come from?”

  “None now,” he shrugged with a pessimistic look on his face, “They’re gone. And I took an exit ramp outta the roadie life.”

  “What? How come?”

  “Cause I sold ‘em out to the Raffens… Fourteen family dead. Massacred at an ambush at Tipton Peak…”

  “Fuck… I heard about that,” I mumbled, “North of the Vegasplex? How do you look at yourself in the mirror?!”

  “What mirror…” he frowned, “This is all I got now…”

  I left without saying another word… That’s repulsive… Just repulsive… But it’s all ancient history now, I guess…

  Going into Jacob’s little lair seemed somewhat brighter, despite the dismal surroundings. “Hey, V!” he called me over to the desk he appropriated, “Spill, girl! Wha’ss it like workin’ for the Prez? Feds prolly pay stacks, yeah?”

  “Jacob, do I sound like an NUSA native? Hah,” I laughed.

  “Not with that brand of Japanese. Hell, you sound like a ‘Saka if I ever’s heard one.” Yeah, that’s what they all say… “You from NC?”

  “No, I’m from Japan. Moved here over a decade ago,” I replied honestly.

  “Mm. Dogtown native, myself. No plan to leave like you.”

  “Oh? What about that shiny new Rayfield?”

  “Shit, you actually think she finna honor that deal?” he said with a raised eyebrow. Glad to see he’s got a good head on his shoulders… “Choom, the day I believe anyone with a pay grade like that will be my last.”

  “So why’d you do it?”

  “Uhh… Cause I’s an honorable motherfucker?”

  “Heh… I can relate,” I laughed some more with him, coming closer and whispering in his ear, “Listen, leave here at first light. Don’t think. Just leave.”

  “Way ahead of you, don’tcha worry,” he winked at me, “Same with Tay. That said, you made a wise choice for an overnight. ‘S even got workin’ power!”

  “Yeah, that’s one thing I don’t get,” I said with a furrowed brow, “Why is this place abandoned? Where did everyone go? It’s like they all… disappeared.”

  “Ah, riiiight… Well, tha’ss cause it’s haunted. But don’t worry, baby! You’re safe wit’ me!”

  “Jacob…” I rolled my eyes.

  “No, really! Lotta peeps died here. Mysterious circumstances… Like an aneurysm. Each and every one.”

  “A brain aneurysm?” I squinted, “How?”

  “Fuck knows. One time, ‘bout a dozen or so netrunners they found. All they brains fried like microwaved ‘n shit. Hansen closed the place down. Banned entry.” Weird…

  “Alright, well… I don’t have any soft, so I guess I’ll be alright,” I smirked, “Pick your ass up off the floor if I find you drooling and comatose though, deal?”

  “Heh, deal,” he smiled, giving me a fistbump as well. Right, pleasantries over, time to meet up with Myers again…

  “Finally… a place to sit down and rest…” Myers sighed deeply, taking a seat on an old mattress, “C’mon. Take off your shit and get settled. You look tired.”

  “Can’t fault you there…” I mumbled, removing my backpack, Izanami, and taking my shirt off to reveal my sports bra underneath, letting my skin breathe some fresh air for once. That and, frankly, the shirt really was beginning to smell like dank piss. I gently propped up the sword beside me, blade facing Myers in a subtle nod against her.

  “Looks like the logo wore out,” Myers noted, glancing over at the blade.

  “What? No… it does that,” I shrugged.

  “Oh? Optical camouflage?”

  “Mhm,” I nodded, propping my arm up on my leg and relaxing a bit.

  “Wow… Weapon’s full of tricks, huh…” she said, her gaze clearly admiring it, “No wonder your forearms are so built. Looks bigger and heavier than a standard weapon, too. By quite a bit.”

  “It is – didn’t we discuss this?”

  “Hey, nothin’ wrong with makin’ conversation, is there?” she stopped me again, “Here, my weapon. I named it Hawk. It has a little oiler in the top, every round picks up a drop, adheres to the copper like glue. You get shot, your whole body tenses up and slows down. Temporarily, anyway, but good luck survivin’ long enough for it to wear off, is what I say.”

  “It’s a beautiful gun, that’s for sure,” I looked over at it leaning on the side of the concrete wall next to her, “Where’d you get it?”

  “I had it made for me. One-of-a-kind,” she said before pausing for a solid few moments, “It saved my ass through a lot of battles… But it’s done. Or… more accurately, I’m done…”

  “Oh?”

  “You take it off my hands, when all this’s over?” she asked me, “Call it an olive branch. But I’m never firing a gun again.”

  “Myers–”

  “Please, I insist,” she implored me, “That and your promotion. You earned ‘em both and more for what I put you through, don't make me beg…” Myers glanced back out the window, eyeing the BARGHEST AeroZep overhead, “And no word from Songbird yet, huh…”

  “No.”

  “Hm… ‘S gettin’ late, too… Not like her to be this long.”

  “You’re worried about her, aren’t you?” I asked in a hushed tone.

  “Course I am, V.”

  “No, but like, more than just another soldier… You’re her friend.”

  “Heh… I guess…” she muttered out-loud, “Sometimes it’s hard to tell what that word means… But I trust her. I guess that’s enough…”

  “For some people, yeah…” I replied softly, “It is beautiful out, isn’t it?”

  “Funny… seems almost peaceful from up here…” her eyes scanned the horizon before us, “Wonder where she is…”

  “Me too.”

  “If she doesn’t show up, then we have to go to Plan B,” she said with a sudden sternness in her voice, “I have an idea for that. But that’ll wait ‘til morning.”

  “Same here. I have a contact who could help,” I suggested, “Someone I worked with for a very long time. Someone I trust with my life in a fight, and who knows how to get in and out of places you’re not supposed to go.”

  “Mm, sounds promising… We’ll see what tomorrow brings us, then,” she warmly nodded and glanced back over the balcony, “And to think I could’ve been at home right now… Sippin’ coffee, flippin’ through my itinerary…”

  “You don’t sound like you miss it.”

  “Mmm…” she studied my words carefully, staring at her hand as she played with a bit of the dirt on her fingers.

  “When was the last time you got your hands dirty?”

  She continuously stared, as if puzzled by my question. “Too long.”

  “And yet you’ll lay down your weapon?” I questioned her, “Why?”

  “I… I just feel like it’s time,” she finally said after a long pause, “How many did you lose? In the War.”

  “In my unit? Over 50 percent casualties,” I frowned, “My last mission had eight of us… Four didn’t come home from that, either… Superior private Akira Moto, private second-class Yuki Okada, sergeant Clyde Solares, and corporal Lance Carney – we never found his body, been MIA for seven years.”

  “I see… Well, for what it’s worth – and I know my word isn’t worth much, believe me. But I’m sorry for the soldiers you lost. Sincerely, from one veteran to another.”

  “Yeah…” I sighed deeply, a tear forming in my eye, “Better late than never, I guess…–” Suddenly my phone rang, startling me enough to make me grab my sword. “Fuck…”

  “Gonna answer that?” Myers motioned to my pack.

  “Mm,” I ran over and grabbed my phone out of the back pocket– ah. “Delamain…” I answered.

  “V, good news! Your vehicle’s repairs have been completed. Where would you like to pick it up?”

  “Erm…” I raised an eyebrow, “Do you… service Dogtown, perchance?”

  “Why, certainly.”

  Duh… Delamain! “Could you drop my car off at the front gate of the Rindo Hotel, Elizabeth Kress Street?”

  “Of course,” Delamain spoke courteously.

  “Wait! One another thing…”

  “Yes, Miss V?”

  “Could you… transport a passenger outside of Dogtown?”

  “If the passenger has the correct permits, absolutely.”

  I glanced up at Myers, still patiently sitting by the balcony. “…Ah. Nevermind, then. Just bring my car here.”

  “At once. I will guard your vehicle until you claim it. The surcharge is–”

  “Yeah, yeah, just bring the car here, thanks.” I hung up and scratched the back of my head, returning to Myers. “Delamain says hello.”

  “Heh, false alarms…” she snickered.

  We sat in silence for a few more moments before she finally laid down. “Tell me something,” I asked her, “What was your favorite part of the job?”

  “Grunt-work?” she clarified, “Mm… The days when everyone came home.”

  “Few and far between…” I frowned, laying down opposite of her, “I miss them…”

  “I know… I’m sorry, V…” she whispered, “Good night.”

  “Good night…”