The normally rowdy Coyote Cojo was somber, quiet. The smell of the sawdust and drink had been covered up by the warm scent of home cooking and the smokey tinge of the candles covering the ofrenda. In the middle sat a picture frame protecting a rare physical photograph. Gloria Martinez smiled out of it, standing with a younger David in front of Arasaka Academy. Behind the frame was the sturdy steel canister which contained the ashes of his mom.
David sat in the seat closest to the table, looking around. It was quiet, not many people here. It was too risky to alert her coworkers from the hospital, and there weren't many who David could name off the top of his head. His mom had passed without much family left, her parents having flatlined before he was born. On his dad's side, Jackie and Gramma Welles were his only blood relatives, and their family wasn't much bigger. Still, a few people had filtered in to pay their respects.
A handful of locals who knew his mom years back, old friends or coworkers who remembered her time in Heywood. They mostly milled around the back, here only to observe. It was hard to speak of a woman you hadn't spoken to in a decade or more, but the fact that they were here at all was touching. Someone besides him and his new friends and/or coworkers would remember Gloria Martinez.
The rest were those very same friends-or-coworkers. Maine and Dorio had apparently known his mom the best, but Pilar, Kiwi and Rebecca had tagged along to pay their respects to a fallen friend as well. Lucy was there, but he got the feeling she wasn't really there for his mom. Her presence helped, regardless.
His head was fuzzy, and it felt like the smoke was winding through him as well, but as Mama Welles finished placing the last of the gathered items on the ofrenda, Maine stood. Stepping in front of the table, he cleared his throat slightly.
"Gloria was… always pretty private. Turns out I couldn't even recognize her own damn kid when I was lookin' at his face. She was determined, though. I remember the first time I met her. Was sittin' in a bar, and all of a sudden this fireball sits down into the seat next to me, downs her drink, and says "You look like a chrome-jockey. Looking to buy an implant?" right to my face." There was a few muted chuckles, and he nodded with a slight smile. "To Gloria."
With that, he sat back down. Jackie got up, straightening his jacket, and came to stand in front of the small group as well. "I first met Gloria after she and my bro had been datin' for a few months. Within a little while, she was part of the family. I ain't gonna talk about the bad times, she don't deserve that. But she managed to fight her way into a good-paying job, to get her kid into a good school, and to reach for somethin' better. I'll be there to watch David's back, Gloria. Que descanse en paz, mi hermana." Sitting down, he patted David on the shoulder.
Getting up, he looked out around those assembled, and managed a weak and watery smile. "Thanks for coming. I'm sure mom woulda appreciated it. I uh… I guess I don't really know what to say. Mom always seemed like she would see death coming, laugh, and get back to work. She did her best, fought like hell, and she didn't deserve to zero it like that. I hope she's gettin' some rest now, wherever she is. Love ya, mom. Que duermas bien." Reaching down, he rested his hand on her urn for a moment, then straightened up. Walking over to the side table, he carefully poured out nine shots of tequila, and handed them out.
Stepping back, he coughed, then raised it. "To Gloria Martinez!" As the assembled echoed his toast, he tossed the shot into his throat. Forcing his muscles to clamp down, he swallowed the burning liquid, and stepped away. He could feel it in his gut, crouching there like a goblin, and while it was unpleasant, the sensation was somewhat centering.
Settling down at a nearby table, he grabbed a bottle and sipped at it mindlessly. For a while, how long he wasn't sure, he just sort of zoned out. The smokey, warm smell of the room, the gentle heat, and the low hum of noise as people spoke and bottles clinked. Eventually, he saw Lucy appear at his shoulder. "I have to get back to work, but… you going to be okay?"
"... Yeah. This is just opening the wound a bit." She nodded, and patted him on the shoulder, before heading out the door with Kiwi and Pilar. Maine and Dorio were still in a booth, chatting with Jackie and Rebecca. Mama Welles was cooking again, and he just sank back into the haze of half-memories and slow burning grief.
It was another hand on his shoulder that roused him from his stupor again. He assumed it was Jackie, but instead, it was Rebecca. She was sitting next to him, drinking slowly from a glass of tequila. She glanced over, and tilted her head. "Tell me about Gloria."
"Huh?"
She shrugged. "Tell me about her. I invited her to go drinking a few times, but we never got to talk much. She offered me a couch to crash on once when I got hurt. Bro was off on some job, and I was half-ready to strangle the fucker that day anyway." She kicked the air for a moment, looking back at the picture. "I guess I didn't really know her that well. So, tell me about her."
"Well…" Leaning back in his chair, David tried to think. "She was big on following the rules? Which is kinda weird, now that I think about it. Maybe it was more me getting caught. Last argument we had was cause I brought a old hunk of junk BD wreath into class instead of the upgrade I was supposed to buy. Tried to get it hacked together, didn't do shit."
Tapping his chin for a moment, he nodded. "Oh, and she loved pierogies. She'd pick up some when we had spare cash, toss on a buncha spices and some sauce, and just chow down. Never got it, but I did make a point of trying to make her some on her birthdays." Rebecca chuckled a bit, covering her mouth with one hand, but gestured at him to continue.
"She was so scary when she got mad. Felt like she was 10 feet tall, looming over me till she touched the ceiling. No matter how big I got, still felt like a toddler next to her when she was pissed off." He kept talking, occasionally wetting his throat with a drink. When he ran dry, Rebecca passed him a glass of tequila. It went down easier now, the fiery sensation feeling right in a way it hadn't before. He distractedly wondered why, but the thought was washed away in a tide of memory. Finally, he just ran out of things to say. Raising a hand to his face, he realized that at some point he had started crying.
"Feel better, choom?" she asked, a soft smile on her face. "Ain't easy to lose someone. I lost my mom real young, but it still hurts sometimes. Cry it out, my man." Patting him on the back again, she blinked as he wobbled on his stool, and winced. "Oof, okay. Maybe that was a bit too much drink. Forgot you're kind of a noob to the whole drinking thing. Alright, let's go." Hooking one of his arms around her shoulder, she glanced over towards Jackie.
"Oi, big guy, takin' David to his room. Where am I going?" Jackie's response was hard to hear, as David had found standing up was not agreeing with him right now. Stumbling forward haphazardly as Rebecca walked him out the door, he felt bile rise and frantically tapped her shoulder. "Whoop, okay, aim it at the dumpster." A few hearty retches later, and his gut felt a bit better, but the world was still doing spins and jumps and generally being very unhelpful. That didn't even begin to approach the full scale riot in basically every other part of his body either.
He drifted in and out of focus as they moved for what seemed like hours, but must have been only a couple minutes. Eventually, he recognized the cozy brown couches and stairs of the Welles living room, stumbling up said stairs with Rebecca helping him the entire way. When he finally flopped face first down into bed, he was about to pass out. However, a shove on his shoulder stopped this. "Hey, no no. On your side, dumbass. Not having you throw up and drown yourself, aight?" A few more slaps got him to grudgingly roll over, and he blinked blearily at her as she shook her head.
"Here, shove a pillow under your chest, idiot. I'm gonna get you a basin. No way am I cleaning up vomit." As she began to walk away, he shakily snatched her wrist. When she looked down, he forced his dry and cracked lips into a smile.
"Thanks, Becca. You're preem." She smiled back, and winked.
"Don't you forget it." Exiting the room, her disappearance was marked by another rapid onset of darkness on his vision. This time, it stuck, and David drifted off to sleep.
Sitting in their office, V tapped away as they went through report after report, passing on information and redirecting intel to where it needed to go. There was no real sound but the low droning hum of the various tech, nothing to see but the red and blue glows. It was supposed to keep from being distracting, but it was mostly just hard on the eyes. Jenkins had been cold, short, and mostly refused to speak to them since the dressing down a couple days ago. It felt like he was waiting for them to slip up, and V wasn't about to give him an opportunity. Not till the project Lucy was working on was finished. Until then, it was business as usual.
However, they were also having to do some things for Tanaka to keep up appearances. His search for David had been waylaid by the fact that someone had stolen his limo. The driver had gotten the key stolen in some bar on his day off, and the actual vehicle had vanished into the city. He had requested a team assembled to check for intrusions into his residence, increased security, the works. Maxim had been interrogated and fired as well, no surprise there.
From the looks of things, it seemed like the gonk hadn't even gotten a good look at the people who robbed him. He had described 'some punk kid with brown or black hair in an undercut and a colorful jacket, maybe green.' and 'some hot piece with one o' them Mox outfits, or something.' Given that described a veritable plethora of people, it wasn't really getting anyone anywhere. V had been tasked with identifying potential suspects, but it was clear this was more due diligence than something they were expecting to pay off.
They were sorting through the next batch of files, when the rapid sound of footsteps came down the hall. Harry stuck his head into the room, and sighed in relief as he saw V there. "Oh, good. There's a strike squad going out in five, they sent me to come find you."
"What? For something in particular?"
"Nah, nothing big, but they want a field agent and you came up as in the building and hit the scores projected. Come on, I got an elevator locked down for the next 3 minutes so you can change." Nodding, V hooked a foot under the desk and pulled out a long case, their go-bag. Sprinting out of the room, they entered the elevator and began descending. Rapidly pulling off their clothing, it was stuffed into a bag as they pulled on a red heavy turtleneck, a pair of looser black pants, and a heavier leather overcoat. Over their ears went the straps of a white menpo and a visor, and the hood of their coat came up over it. Finally, out of the bottom, an Arasaka standard katana and a small belt of knives.
Cracking their neck as the door opened, they exited with the case in one hand and the blade in another. Jogging forwards towards the waiting AV, they threw the case against one wall and hopped in. Nodding at the troopers as the vehicle took off, they activated their coms and synced up. "What's the situation?"
A heavily armored security trooper saluted. "Executive employee trapped in a club, location currently being robbed by Maelstrom. They've dragged off two corporate employees from other corporations thus far, and may be attempting to steal company secrets."
"Got it. Drop me on the roof, then circle back around." A minute and a half later, they buzzed over the club, and the door cracked open. V dropped, and a moment later hit the roof. The AV continued past, and they began moving across the rooftop towards an access panel.
The panel slid open easily enough, and with a quick hop, V was inside. Music was pumping at a dull level, having clearly been turned down. Dull neon light illuminated a terrified crowd of hostages in the middle of the bottom floor, and a dead DJ against a bloodsoaked podium. A solid dozen Maelstrom goons were moving around the dance floor and upper level, and the target popped up on the HUD amongst the crowd. Slinking towards the closest, V scooped a dropped bottlecap and then tossed it sharply towards an abandoned beer bottle. With a ping, it ricocheted, and the goon turned around, marching over to inspect the noise.
A pair of arms wound around his throat, and then rapidly twisted. As he fell to the ground, LED eyes dimming, V was already moving. Pressing up against the doorframe, they peered around and clocked the next three on this side. Five on the ground floor, one in the staff area as well. Three patrolling up here, and an open office door. A quick scan and ping confirmed there were two more inside.
As one of the patrolling guards came in through the doorway, V's arm swung down, and a knife buried itself in her spine. Shifting her out of the way, they hefted the blade then sprinted forwards at a low run, grabbing another and turning the corner. The knives spun through the air, and the two remaining goons on the upper level dropped as well. Yanking the closest knife out of the eye socket it had ended up in, V pressed against the wall to the office.
Within, a lanky ganger was tapping away at a computer while a bulkier one was sweeping eddies out of a safe. Stepping forwards, V hit the door control, then lunged. The big guy was turning to look when their sword swung into his torso, then upwards, point splitting his jaw in half. The lankier netrunner jumped at the noise and spun around, firing.
The shot went wide, and V's knife didn't, landing in his throat. As he scrambled frantically at the red waterfall, they moved forward to check the cameras the metal rat had been trying to hack into. Nobody else on the top level, only the six on the bottom. Good. "Team, prepare to move. Hit the front door fast on my mark."
Exiting the office, they paused as they examined the ganger's belt. Flashbang, huh? Perfect. Moving over to the railing, they slowly slid along it until they reached the stairs. Creeping downwards, they moved behind a pillar, then flung the Flashbang outwards. Covering their eyes, the moment of yelling and disorientation was enough. "GO! NOW NOW NOW!" The door burst open, and the gangers in the main area were cut down in a hail of fire.
The one in the staff area leveled his weapon and began to move towards the hostages, but a running leap brought V's blade into his knee, dropping him to the ground as he howled. A backhand across his jaw took him out cold, and they grabbed his hair and dragged him out in the open, heading for the front door as the rest of the team secured the target. This was probably just a random cash grab, but that was for the interrogation team to decide.
Stretching, the world came back into painful, painful focus, as David groaned in the wonderful grips of his first ever hangover. Rolling over, he contemplated whether going back to sleep was a possibility, and rapidly decided the answer was 'not a fucking chance.' Reaching for the windowsill, he eventually levered himself up, before falling out of bed and faceplanting.
"Fuck. Fuck this carpet, fuck this taste in my mouth, fuck everything.' he whined, slowly turning his face against the musty flooring. Sitting just next to his bed was a huge glass of water, a couple painkillers, and a note.
"Take these, sunshine. Probably feel like shit right now! - J"
Downing the contents of the little tray as if they had been handed down from God himself, it took a few minutes but he was eventually able to actually stand up and get his eyes in something approaching working order. Footsteps came down the hall, and a moment later, a familiar pale face poked around the doorframe. "Hey, you're up. I owe Maine, I was convinced it wouldn't be till it got dark again."
"Rebecca? What are you doing here?" He said, rubbing his face. A scent tickled his nose, and his stomach roared like an entire fleet of nomad rides had revved in there at once. "Are those empanadas? I would actually kill someone for a few right now, give 'em."
"Crashed on your couch after making sure you didn't die in a puddle of your own vomit. You're welcome." She stepped out fully, and he had to stare in confusion. Her hair was down and damp, and she was holding a heaping plate of empanadas. Also, she was wearing… well, actually wearing clothes. A massive olive-green sweater, and a pair of jeans that had been belted to the very last notch and had the legs rolled up so much the cuffs were probably bulletproof. Noticing his look, she shrugged.
"I think your grandma hates me, or at least thinks I'm a slut. Practically shoved these on me as soon as I got up." She looked down at the empanadas. "On the other hand, she also made me breakfast, barked 'eat, eat' and then muttered something about me being too small and skinny. So maybe she likes me." At this, David cracked up.
Rebecca stared down at him with an affronted look on her face as he rolled on the ground, wheezing from laughter and the resurgent pain of his hangover. "I will eat your breakfast, dickhead. Don't think I won't."
A/N: Edited once more by Golden_
