1 - A Guy Walks Into A Bar...
"Move, asshole!" A driver shouted to the one in front of him as he and every driver on the highway are stuck in a traffic jam at Watson.
The cause? A MaxTec unit securing a a crime scene of a recent cyberpsychosis incident. A woman with her mantis blades laying exposed, covered in the blood of her victims with her victims barely recognizable. Heads literally rolled and limbs scattered like confetti. No one cared, they only wanted to get the fuck outta there and move on with life.
That's just life in Night City. Side by side are the those part of the rat race that never has a finish line. There's the wannabes. They chase a dream this city sells on, even there slogan days 'The city of dreams' only it's nothing but false advertising. 99 percent of them always end up like those before them; sleeping under some overpass in Watson. And the 1 percent? They usually retreat back whatever hole they appeared from.
You then got the scumbags. Gangers, scavengers, pimps, powerful corpos, the worst of the worst. They don't blink for a second at blasting someone's face clean off they just treat it like it's a other Friday night out painting the avenue red. It's always about the Eddie's they gotta earn or the respect from Night Citys top legendary fixers or there all mighty messiah-like corporate bosses in the company by kissing some ass and taking it from behind once or maybe a few times a week. There's a saying 'Go out in the quiet life or in a blaze of glory' and every scumbag is aiming for the glory. Except that blaze of glory being getting shot in some alleyway, their body dumped in the landfill, their chrome getting looted by scavengers or some junkie needing the cash for a quick high.
Finally the slaves. They're the citys little bitch who they always listen and never rebel. If your corpo boss tells you to flatline someone because they got a better bonus than them, they always listen and obey. They don't chase a delusional dream or the money and respect that they rightfully deserve. They picked the quiet, boring life over a life of glory. If they wanna keep having a roof over their heads or keep their stomachs full they do what they're told to survive in this metropolis verision of Hell. And Antonio is Corpos slave.
He, like very driver on the expressway, is stuck in the cluster of cars honking repeatedly and cursing out each other repeatedly. His job may be in a corporate company but the pay doesn't pay enough. His patience grows thinner the more has to get into this situation for the fourth time this month. He is sweating his balls off as his frustration with the AC growing larger. His car is the usual shitty economy type with the bumper and the doors covered in rust and a busted headlight on the front. Duct tape kept this piece of shit together and running.
His youth had ended a while ago. Aging into his late 30s he swears he's seen white strains in his hair. Antonio's goatee had started to grow into its early stages from the lack of self-care from his constant need of pleasing management. He clothes didn't make him less like someone who went after netrunners but more like a unemployed man who's declared bankruptcy that spent the night at a bar. A messy white dress shirt, rinkeled black pants, a blue tie. His glasss have lenses that are fucked up with tape placed in te middle to keep it not from falling apart. He looked like the average low level corpo
Unlike his co-workers. He doesn't carry any chrome out of style except the one Netwatch required him to get for the job. Implants to help combat netrunners and access the Net. The gory crime scene from the cyberpsycho is a reminder to him about what chrome does to the brain. He can't even imagine what these people are seeing as they destroy, tear and dismantle everything around them. In a way he shares some sympathy, a very rare concept nowadays.
There is this question that kept running through his mind over repeatedly like a BD on a endless loop. 'Why are you here?' He didn't have a clear answer. The harder he tried finding it the farther he got from any answers at all.
He leaned back on his chair. Closing his eyes to take himself away from this place for a bit. The loud cars and trucks honking, the profanity laced shouting from drivers and the loud sirens from afar and close by quickly tuned out from his ears. His mind wondered a bout, if he had a BD in hand he would've spent the whole day watching some lucky bastard getting it on with some joy toy.
Antonio wasn't thinking about sex at the moment. He can save that for tonight.
City life is replaced with birds singing. Big gigantic skyscrapers now a suburban neighborhood with little noise. Antonio sat on a rocking chair with pink lemonade in hand, the backyard with grass the most green as it ever gets. He swears he can hear kids playing around on a sunny day. A sliding door opens to reveal a woman. He tried to see her facial features but the sun blocked his vision. Her mouth opens to speak-
HONK!
He snaps back, taking a small breath in.
Disappointment posied him at returning to the harsh reality around him. Traffic had started to move at a better speed, he takes a left turn that lead towards City Center, heading to get some work done for the day.
The loud city life is now replaced with dead silence. Operating in the Militech offices, Antonio watched his team of Weasels operate plus some for-hire netrunners.
Their netrunners were jacked in to combat other netrunners that threaten to steal sensitive information from the company. He's very glad to be part of the field work, helps him get out the tiny office Netwarch provided for them
Another co-worker, Tim, supervised their unit to protect their clients information. With them is a Militech excutive who scolded him for arriving late.
All Antonio did is keep quiet and took the abuse. Like he usual does.
Her finger tapped the faster it took them longer to getting the issue handled. "What's taking so long?" She exhaled smoke. The nicotine fog hitting his face.
A unit member who operated on the monitor, Barry, spoke for Antonio. "Situation is moderate at the moment." Her eyes grew more impatient.
"Whatever." She rudely and cold turned away from them. "I'm getting some fresh air and this better be done when I get back." The door slammed shut.
"OK, the situation is looking like shit." His unit member tells the truth. They rushed over to check. "Heart rates are off the charts and these cocksuckers aren't giving up this easy."
Antonio approaches their netrunners. His co-workers didn't know what he's gonna do
"What are you doing?" Tim asked.
"We aren't risking any lives today." He tells them. He tried to pull out the jack connected to the back of their skull. One of them intervened, pushing him away.
"Did the smog get to your head? Cause your sounding crazy." Antonio looked at his co-worker eye to eye. Trying to set his foot down. Trying to be strong.
"I'm doing what's the best for them."
"They're just contractors! You want us to get crucified over some pieces of shit we can easily replace!?" His co-worker shouted. Back on the monitor the situation only grows worse, these netrunners had finally gained access to Militech servers and their netrunners. They shouted over each other as Barry goes off on resolving the breach without jacking in.
"I'm not losing my job to some bitch like you!"
"You wanna keep buryin' people? Treat them as disposables?"
"I got a family to feed! You got nothing to lose you fucking-!"
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Three out of the four netrunners are quickly flatlined from being short circuited. Scaring the hell out for them. They stopped their arguing and went to check the three, Antonio goes for the last netrunner to try pulling them out. He falls on his ass but gets up to try again. "Come on! Come on!" His hands felt some warmth from the jack and the runners skull. He can see the jack slowly coming off, the heat on the jack started to get hotter.
To them anything that can be bought from a couple of Eddie's are easily replaceable. Antonio doesn't see it that way, they see it as a way for them to get killed more easily if one of their own lacked a spine.
Smoke started coming off from his hand and the runner themselves. He shouts in pain from his flesh being burned. His co-workers pulled him away, the runners head bursts into flames from overheat. The room goes red, dark red. Netrunners had fully breached Militech. The excutive came in to see what happened. Her cig felt from her hand at the thought; She's a deadwoman walking.
Antonio looked at his hands. Third degree burns. Red and his skin exposed. The pain is numb at first, as the shock in his body still ran within him from his failure at completing the tasks. The sound of the excutive shouting and cursing them out tuned out from his ears. He started to shake. Never losing eye contact with his hands.
They all sat separately away from each other with heat between Tim and Antonio still noticeable.
Barry sat in the middle of the empty room, they were escorted there to wait for someone from upper management to discuss with them about the breach. His eyes going back and forth between Antonio and Tim who traded stares, like he's watching the world's most silent tennis match.
Tim sees Antonio as a guy who doesn't understand how things work even after putting years working for Militech. Tim can be considered the old guard, spending thirty years in the field. And Antonio has only been with them for ten years. Barry has five under his belt yet he is able to understand how Netwatch works.
Both had chrome from their hands to legs to their spine. And Antonio is almost clean as a whistle.
Barry shakes his head at the silent tension. "Can you guys stop this bullshit?" They didn't reply. "I mean- look, shit like this happens alot. Those runners knew the risk and they paid for those risk."
"We could've saved them." Antonio muttered without looking at Barry.
"Who? A bunch of idiots that couldn't do their job right?" Antonio didn't bother to stand up or go face to face with Tim. He turns away from him with eyes looking at his hands. Covered up in bandages and reeking the smell of rubbing alcohol. He clutches them with a small painful feeling.
"Coward." Tim muttered.
The door slides open. A woman in a black dress, blonde hair with three chromed up bodyguards walked towards them. Tim nodded at his co-workers to follow his lead like usual.
He walks towards the Senior Operations Manager with a fake smile and a offer to shake her hand. "Mrs.Stout-"
BOOM! She lands a right hook that connects with Tim's face. Dropping him on the floor. The two guards holds Barry and Antonio at gunpoint. Hands raised.
"It's Ms.Stout you fucking pig!" Shouted. The corpo takes off her black gloves, her third guard forcefully makes Tim stand up and holds him into a headlock.
"You three are most INCOMPETENT BASTARDS I'VE EVER COME ACROSSED!" Her voice becoming venomous. "What the fuck happened?!"
Tim tried to speak as clear as possible. The bodyguard lossens the hold. "Fucking netrunners. By passed security measures that YOUR company had set up."
BOOM! Another punched landed. Blood started to leak from his nose. "Is there reason why shouldn't paint this room red in five seconds." Her two guards clicked off their safety and pressed their cold barrels against Barry and Antonio's foreheads.
Tim is struck by fear. He couldn't find any words to please this cold hearted woman.
"Retaliation!" She and Tim looked at Antonio who spoke loudly.
"What?" She asked.
Tim wanted to tell Antonio to shut up, his colleague continued to speak.
"Nothings all lost. If you give us some time, we can recover the data." Tim grew angry at Antonio, Barry mouthed at him to keep it cool.
Stout thinks about this. Her face spelled doubt than hope. She gets face to face with him. "And how I know your asses aren't gonna run for it?"
"Easy, we're Netwatch." He says. "We know where everyone is and everyone's dirty little secrets."
"Are you blackmailing me?!"
"No! No! I'm saying we can track them down. Give them to you like a silver platter."
She goes quiet. From her pocket a carton of cigs and a lighter. She puffs some smoke with her thoughts deep on thinking any other solution. They watches her pace back and forth, occasionally taking a hit for her cig.
Stout can hire a merc or netrunner to yhe job than the Three Stooges here. However she does have a history being backstabbed and lied to from said mercs and netrunners she's hires in the past. But these guys, they were Netwatch. Pros in their field despite the fuck that happened two hours ago. She did bring them in, it would the best in her interest to work with what she has.
Giving them time would mean Stout would have time as well to not get zeroed by her bosses.
"Is this true?" She turned to Tim.
He's dumbfounded. "Umm...Yeah. We can certainly track them down."
Barry nodded along too.
Stout flicks her cig at Tim, a snap of a finger and her guards let go the three. All relieved that she spared them.
"You got four days. Not five, four." Stout instructed. "You may have eyes but I got bigger ones too." They nodded at her warning. "Get the fuck outta here!"
Finally the day had ended for the poor bastard. Normally he would would drop dead at his apartment with a mind occupied by possibly being killed by Meredith Stout and her death squad. But Antonio decided to get something for himself; a drink. Well maybe more than just one.
He throws down a couple of Eddie's to the bartender.
"Whatever the fuck is the strongest." The bartender nodded.
He only stops by this place for a drink. They were cheaper than BDs he's seen million times; a guy getting it on in some orgy and getting iced by Valatino goons at the end.
His drink is given and quickly started to drink the hardest alcoholic drink they had offer. Downing it like water. He slammed the glass cup on the counter. "Another."
A quick trade with a Eddie for a another shot. Down it goes and another slam. Two hours in, five shots later. His tolerance started to crumble.
His mind is just about at any moment enter to dreamland. At the same time his mind is also still worrying about the shit with Militech. He did save his co-workers from being flatlined or worse, he can still recall what Tim told him after the 'fun' conversation with Stout.
"If you wanna play hero, then go play hero!"
If Antonio spoke up for them and he has to keep his word. Barry did wanna help but he didn't wanna deal with Tim's bullshit, he didn't blame him, he knows handling Tim is another nightmare of its own.
'What the fuck did you get yourself into?' He asked himself. 'Where did you go wrong?' Shame felt upon himself. He sold his soul to the corpo life and this is the price he pays.
Loneliness, abuse and constant death.
If he did actually sold his soul to a bunch of corpos they'll likely find a way to make a quick buck to the highest bidder. Even the devil would make a special place in hell for these types of people. Not a place to damn them for all eternity, it would be a VIP spot instead.
He asks for one last drink. He puts down another Eddie. "Been paid for." Antonio looked confused. Who would pay for his drunk ass?
"Who?"
Bartender points at a man with green cameo pants with a brown jacket and combat boots. Both faded from aging away over the years, he can't identify him properly from his blurry vision, he foes notice is this guy is fairly taller than the small drunken corpo rat who just so happen to sit three seats down. His biological legs were replace with chrome, a smooth silver metal.
To the Netwatch agent he felt familiar. Very familiar.
He finishes his drink and gets up. "Thanks for for the drink." He says as he tries getting to the exit. The man grabbed him by his neck collar. Antonio stood silent. Was he gonna choke home? Mug him?
The man let's out a hyena sounding laughter. "Now is that how you greet an old friend?" He asks. The Midwest dialect escaping his mouth with a deep rough voice following behind. "Tony..." Oh how long he hasn't been called by his middle name in God knows how long.
He takes the man's hand off of him to take a good look at him. From afar he could see his clothing, it's his face that he couldn't see.
A full brown beard covered him. His hair is braided like a viking would do. The eye color intermixed between red and yellow with a small logo on the right bottom of the eyeball
Kiroshi
"Hint, hint." The man says. He lifts his jacket up to reveal a tattoo around his belly button. 'Asshol' it said with the E missing, created in a rushed and sloppy manner.
"Holy shit...Daniel Berkeley." A man he hasn't seen since their youth in the Windy City.
"Tony Blackfield..." He mimicks Antonio's surprised realization. "Oh, sorry. Antonio Blackfield. The Menace from Cicero..."
For the first time, in a long time. This broken down man named Antonio felt something good that's been missing for years in him.
Happiness.