August 2nd, 2076
Japantown, Night City
"How the fuck does a single shirt cost so many damn eddies?"
David sighed as he walked out of the tenth store that morning, Lucy at his side carrying a small bag of items in her left hand.
"Well, it's not like we're in Santo or Watson, doubt we're going to find many preem deals here," Lucy said.
It had been nearly two weeks since their night at Rocky Ridge, most of which the crew had largely spent in hiding. They made sure to stay in contact, sure, but for the most part, their time had been wasted sitting inside not doing much. Well, David and Lucy did do a lot of things, more so a lot of the same intimate act, but nothing actually productive.
Today was different though, as Rogue had called David at the crack-ass of dawn to tell him that it was time for his crew to do some work. When she asked him about whether he had managed to get new outfits, though, the young edgerunner's response amounted to a disgruntled facepalm.
So now they were strolling around Japantown, the sun almost directly over their heads, and had made little progress. Lucy had found a few items of interest, some of which she used to tease him so well that he had to hold himself back in public, but no full outfit yet. David had found basically nothing so far, as most of the clothing stores in this area of the city either didn't have his style or were far more expensive than he felt was worth paying.
Thankfully for the moment, the two of them still had their old running clothes to wear as a temporary cover. This did result in a pretty humorous moment when they found that David's old jacket barely fit him and was so tight it was more like a skinsuit. Instead of having his nipples easy for anyone aside from Lucy to ogle, he had gone with a large white T-shirt alongside his old light blue pants, whereas Lucy had her pink and purple sweatpants plus jacket combo on.
"Any other places we can look at around here?" David asked, taking Lucy's free hand in his.
Lucy shrugged, "I don't know Japantown that well, or at least the clothing scene of it anyways."
"Really?" His eyebrow raised. "With how your leotard outfit fits you, coulda' swore you got it custom made."
Lucy's giggle made his heart beat a tiny bit harder, just as it always did.
"Hah, no. I found that thing in a dumpster when I first came to NC. Jacket too, but all I did was clean them up and put 'em together."
Garbage, huh? Sorta reminds me of-
David snapped his fingers, "That's it!"
"Huh-hey!" Lucy jolted as he began jogging, pulling her along the sidewalk.
David looked back to see her laughing at his antics, and he got a familiar feeling in his chest, the same one he had all those months ago when she had started running with him at night. It was light out this time around, and he knew that in a genuine foot race he would more than likely win now, but that didn't matter. What mattered was her laugh when he looked back at her and gave his best goofy smirk. How her eyes seemed to be glowing when they opened again, how her lips curved every so slightly up. Then she laughed again when David tripped over a slight bump in the sidewalk and faceplanted into the concrete hard.
"Ow," he groaned, "probably should've been looking where I was going."
Lucy outstretched a hand to him, and he gladly took it, standing up with his eyes locked onto hers.
"You gonk, what did you think would happen?" Lucy said lightly.
David chuckled, "I wasn't thinking. I got distracted by the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
The tinge of red on her cheeks contrasted with her pastel hair as she glanced away for a moment.
Lucy looked back up, "You are so sappy." She quickly kissed him.
David just smiled and took her hand in his again, walking together in silence for a long while.
The last time they had done this, just walk around the city, was right after she'd taken him to…
Oh. Right. When she took me to Doc after I passed out in the apartment and scared the shit out of her.
Same night she almost died.
Their connection had improved since that night, but David still felt that she deserved better. He had promised her so much, only to throw it away and stuff himself full of chrome at the prospect of what, becoming a legend?
She told me once that legends are made by how they die, not how they live.
He was tempted to chuckle at the irony of that, considering that they were both now technically dead, their fake legend spreading around the city like wildfire. Turns out Rogue was right, people ate up the story like candy and didn't question the absolute insanity of it. Especially once Arasaka and Militech both denied the accusations that their forces had been attacked. That further prompted anyone who doesn't believe in corpo bullshit, which is damn near everyone that isn't one of their employees, to accept their façade more. The problem the two megacorps faced was that if either of them admitted to the claims, they would look weak next to their competitors for supposedly losing large amounts of forces and prototype technology to a few Edgerunners.
If they claimed the opposing corporation did it, the only result of that would be an escalation between the two corps at a time when their reputation was already at risk of deteriorating. If the two sides ended up in a fight or either side called the other on their bullshit excuses, then their standings in the corporate world would be shaken up, even if just slightly. So the best strategy for them was simply to say nothing at all and let rumors be rumors, even if it was partially true.
The only part of the rumored legend David didn't like was that many had altered the tale to say he had installed the cyberskeleton and used it to wipe out the Militech battalion. All that did was remind him of the nightmare he had when Faolan had first rescued Lucy, of her cold body staring up at him as she tried to save him from his stupid chrome addiction.
I will not let that happen. Ever.
During their time in hiding the two lovebirds hadn't really discussed David's condition much, the magic meds that Faolan gave him had been working wonders, but it still kept nagging at the back of his mind. Sooner or later the meds would run out, and if the crew did have to go back to doing biz for Rogue, he wouldn't be able to keep himself from using his cyberware in the field.
Maybe I should look into scaling it all back…
David was brought out of his thoughts as he saw the building he had been leading Lucy to for the past several minutes. It was a small outcropping built into the bottom of a tall apartment tower, looking more like an industrial bunker than a storefront. The walls were entirely smooth, holding no advertisement screens or large billboards of any kind, with the one exception being a single heavily faded sign which read, "Solo's Surplus."
Lucy cocked her head to the side, "A thrift store? Really?"
He nodded, "Mom and I used to go to them all the time when I was young, or just whenever rent was too high and I needed some new clothes. Can't always be sure of the quality of what they sell, but the prices are good and they never run out of stock."
"Well how'd you know about this one then? Doubt your mom would drive you all the way from Santo to here just for some clothes."
"Oh, one night when Falco was drivin' us back from a job, I spotted it as we went past. Never went to check it out though." David started walking toward the front door. "C'mon, let's go see what they have."
Lucy chuckled to herself and followed him inside.
One Hour Later
The lovers walked out of the store, several bags in each hand.
"That went surprisingly well," Lucy said with a smile on her face.
"See? I have good ideas sometimes," David smirked back.
"Gotta hand it to you D', didn't expect to find these kinda threads in there. Did that old timer say where he gets these from?"
"Not really, just said he 'collects from those less lucky', whatever the fuck that means."
Lucy shrugged and followed David as they kept walking back to their apartment.
David rubbed his chin, "Only problem is that now we need to find someone who can tailor clothes to fit us better. Any ideas?"
Lucy shook her head at first, but then stopped and said, "Well, I might have a hunch about someone we know that would probably be into it."
"Who?"
August 3rd, 2076
Rancho Coronado, Night City
The giant Scandinavian slammed his palm on the table and laughed heartily.
"Oh! I haven't been asked that in so long!" Garth said.
David and Lucy had gone to the crew's old hideout, which is currently where Faolan's team had been using as their own living space while their boss was in Brazil. Considering the "teddy bear's" fascination with creating machines and food, the couple had hoped he would also have a similar interest in wardrobes, especially considering he definitely had custom-fitted clothes for his gargantuan torso. They were currently inside the makeshift "workshop" Garth had set up in one of the corners of the building, the counters of which were covered in so many different tiny tools and gizmos that David couldn't even begin to guess what they were all for.
"Well… can you?" Lucy asked the big man hesitantly.
"Of course! I just need to find a sewing machine somewhere around here…" Garth said while rubbing his chin in thought.
"I can get it for you, think I saw one at the surplus store yesterday. How much will this cost us?" David asked, placing the bags of clothes down on the large wooden table Garth was sitting at.
Don't think we had that in here before, did he make that himself? Where the fuck did he find the wood? Or the screws and paint?
The craftsman shook his huge head, "Nothin'."
"Really?" David asked, surprised that a merc aside from Faolan would work for free.
"It'll give me something, anything, to do aside from sitting here in-no offense-this shithole on my ass doing nothing but tinkering all day, which is more than enough payment for me."
"Are you all really that bored?" Lucy asked.
Kalina's voice rang out, "Yes!"
The workshop didn't really have a door, so it was still in open view of the main area that had been added to with a few extra couches and chairs. On one such couch lay the veteran polish soldier, who was either pretending to be asleep or just staring up at the ceiling. Faolan's team, Alpha, were highly experienced international mercenaries that did crazy jobs and rarely got long breaks. So when they were forced to sit around a dusty old warehouse for nearly two weeks, since none of them worked with Fixers and couldn't go out to do jobs on their own, it had taken a toll on their sanity.
Annie walked in from the room next door, "I dunno, I've been fine."
"That's because you've been climbing every slight hill or cliff you can find in this fuckin' city," Kalina muttered.
"Hey, I climbed some buildings too. Got boring quick though," Annie said, sitting down on one of the other couches.
"You do rock climbing?" Lucy asked, seeming more interested in the topic than David expected.
Annie nodded, "Mountaineering, actually. Who do you think gave Faolan that climbing gear?"
Wait, I thought they climbed up the side of the interior support beams at 'saka tower? Why would they need climbing gear?
Before David could ask his output about it, Garth interrupted, "I was trying to have a damn conversation here, you two."
Kalina opened her eyes and stared daggers at the far larger man from across the room, to which he averted his gaze immediately.
"Sorry, boss," Garth muttered.
"Uh-huh," his superior responded.
I'm almost glad that Kiwi isn't anywhere nearly that scary. Most of the time, anyway.
"Anyways," David said as he turned back to Garth, "we really appreciate it. I'll bring you the sewing machine in just a bit, how long do you think it'll take?"
Garth rubbed his chin in contemplation for several seconds, nodding to himself.
"Maybe a couple of hours? Depends on the number of alterations needed," he said, looking back up and meeting David's eyes.
Oh, wow, I thought it'd take longer than that. I'll have to run back out later tonight and pick 'em up.
"Preem, anything else you need?" David asked.
"Nope, got your measurements from my optics, well except for one." Garth glanced at Lucy. "Are yours natural or fake?"
David had never seen Lucy's face go so red before, especially after she blushed harder when they heard the other two women in the room burst into laughter. Their laughter did die down though when she got a leg up on them with her answer.
"Bullshit! No fuckin' way," Kalina yelled.
To be fair, I wouldn't believe Lucy either if I hadn't seen them about a thousand times by now. It's still nova each time though.
"I'm with her on this, you can't be serious," Annie added.
"What? Jealous?" Lucy smirked.
The sharpshooter scoffed while the older 'pole said, "There is no way those are ganic."
Lucy sneered, "Guess I'm just built different."
David couldn't hold in his own laughter that time.
August 4th, 2076
The Glen, Heywood District
"A pickup truck? Really trying to fulfill a stereotype, aren't ya?"
"Hey! This thing is a classic. They have a whole damn museum dedicated to these trucks in Tennesee!"
Rebecca laughed, "I'm fuckin' with ya choom. As long as it gets us to the shop I'm good."
It had been a while since Falco's original wheels got deconstructed via explosion, and Rebecca hadn't seen his new method of transportation yet. So when he'd pulled up outside of the crew's hideout to pick her and Mark up to go gun shopping, driving a gun-metal gray Mackinaw MTL1 , she couldn't resist the opportunity to mess with gramps a bit.
Rebecca would've actually gone gun shopping sooner than now, but since they weren't doing any gigs for the past ten or so days, she hadn't really seen a reason to go out and spend the eddies quite yet. After David had sent her a message saying to get a new outfit, and that Garth could tailor it to her size, she decided that now was the perfect time to get some new iron. Her original plan was to drop off the clothes she'd gotten at their hideout, and then walk to a shop nearby to just find something basic. Mark, much to her enjoyment, had told her that he'd found a far better place to get preem firepower when doing some research in his off-time. Then he'd asked if he could come along.
Despite Mark no longer immediately putting her on edge, she still wasn't one hundred percent certain that he wasn't some corpo experiment that would backfire someday. However, the 'bot himself had never once been rude, mean, or harmful to anyone in the crew, he didn't even make jokes at their expense. So, she agreed to let him tag along since he clearly was proficient with guns from what she saw during the Rocky Ridge battle, and having a superhumanly strong robotic guardian walking around with you in NC couldn't hurt.
Mark spoke up from the backseat of the pickup, "Anything's better than a humvee."
Rebecca looked back at him and had to hold in a giggle at his ridiculous disguise. Despite corpo security bots being quite commonplace, one that looked like Mark did and talked as if it was a full human might freak people out a bit too much. So Rebecca got an oversized hoodie and a motorcycle helmet, which she'd found lying around in the hideout, that Mark was now using to cover up his torso and head. His hands and legs were exposed, but there were also endless amounts of people in NC with cybernetic limbs anyway, so he didn't really stand out that much. However, that didn't make the way that the oversized motorcycle helmet freely bounced around on the top of the bot's head any less comedic.
"You've ridden in one of those?" Falco glanced in the rear-view mirror. "Aren't they like 50 years out of service?"
"Yes sir, I… guess I have?" Mark stammered.
Huh?
"Sorry," the NUSA-trained bot continued, "it's hard to tell sometimes if what I say is just my programming emulating what a marine would say, or if it's… something else."
"Still no luck breakin' that damn ICE?" Rebecca asked.
Lucy and Kiwi had both offered to assist Mark in trying to break through the internal security walls that blocked his access to the older files on his drives, but both times they hadn't even been able to make a dent. Whoever programmed Mark really knew what the fuck they were doing. The two netrunners did say they would keep trying if they found the time, but there wasn't much they could really do beyond attempting to look for leads that weren't there.
Mark shook his head, causing the motorcycle helmet to bounce around loosely again, Rebecca unable to hold back her giggle this time.
"This the place?" Falco said.
Rebecca looked out the front windshield to see the entrance to a small market area coming up, the midday sun lighting up the small herd of people ambling between the surprisingly trashy shops.
Maybe it'll be better once we get closer to the actual store.
"Yep. Park out front, I'll lead you guys in," Mark said.
The market was just as trashy as Rebecca had initially seen, but the stores themselves were clean if you could ignore all the concrete barriers and barbed wire surrounding them. This area was quite close to city hall, and as such usually got a lot of bums or those more unfortunate in life to congregate near it as a strange form of protest or way to ask for help. Shops in the area usually got hit with the most criminally inclined of these refugees, causing the stores to beef up their security.
All three of them, Falco deciding to tag along as well, made their way to the rear of the market and down an alley. A few garage doors down, there was a large row of reinforced concrete barriers with even more barbed wire on top of them protecting a moderately-sized storefront labeled as "2nd Amendment." Mark led them into the shop's small interior, about the size of Rebecca's living room, which was covered wall-to-wall in racks of firearms behind wire-mesh cages.
Alright, this is my kinda place.
"Yo, Mark," Rebecca asked as they started perusing the various lead throwers, the shop's attendant not behind the counter yet.
"Ma'am?"
Is he ever going to stop calling me that?
"How'd you find this preem fuckin' spot? Place I usually go to forces ya' to look through some ratty-ass catalog, not see the iron in person."
"I have had a lot of spare time as of late. I spent most of it learning this city's history and where to get supplies if need be. When I saw this one I saw who the owner of the shop was and had a hunch."
Rebecca smirked up at him, "A robot with a hunch, huh? What of?"
"Sorry for that," interrupted a very honest voice from behind her, "was trying to find a part. What can I help you three with?"
Turning around, Rebecca saw the store's clerk now standing behind the main counter of the shop, which was locked off with a presumably bulletproof wall of glass. Behind the clerk was another wall of weapons, although as she looked it became very obvious that the ones behind the glass were likely far more valuable and destructive than the others. The store clerk himself gave off an aura of both honesty and indifference to everything around him, his face not portraying any emotion other than full relaxation.
Dude must be used to working in this trash heap by now, he's not even wearing damn body armor.
"Well, we're lookin' for iron, choom," Rebecca answered.
The clerk smirked, "Well, you've come to just the right place. I got Militech rifles, a few 'saka SMGs, maybe even a few Constitutional Arms piec-"
Mark put a metal hand up and stopped the clerk, "I can see what you have, sir. Mind I ask your name though?"
Huh?
Raising an eyebrow suspiciously, the clerk responded, "It's Zach, and you seem to know what you want, so what is it?"
"What's the Navy's official policy for a gunfight?" Mark said, sarcastically crossing his arms.
Zach, seemingly on instinct, shouted, "Send in the marines!"
Wait, is this guy what I think he is?
Realization dawned on Zach's face, "Wait, you a Marine?"
Mark nodded, "Of sorts. First Recon. You?"
Zach chuckled, "First Division, but I was just a POG. Small Arms Repairman."
Falco joined their conversation, "POG?"
"Person other than grunt." Mark put his hands into the oversized hoodie's pockets. "Now, Zach, you wouldn't happen to have any more… exotic firepower, would you?"
Where the hell is he going with this?
Zach nodded and then gestured for them to wait one second, walking through a door behind the counter and out of view. When he reemerged, it was from a different door connected to the main area that Rebecca hadn't noticed before. The ex-armorer gestured for the three of them to follow.
Rebecca had lived in Night City her entire life, had been exposed to guns since a young age, seen plenty of them. All shapes and sizes, in every gauge, caliber, or personalized setup imaginable. The weapons that were lined up on the walls of the room Zach led them into, on the other hand, were baffling to her. Some looked as if they had come off the assembly line last week, others as if they had been hand-built a hundred years ago, and some were just so strange Rebecca couldn't even begin to describe them. Regardless of their design or appearance, though, there was a shitload of them. They covered every inch of space on every wall, floor to ceiling, with labels just below each one that listed its specs and price.
FN-RAL? Barrett M-90? EMG-85 Railgun? Tsunami Arms Ragnarok? The fuck are all of these things? More importantly, where the hell did this guy find all of 'em?
"Normally," Zach said, "I wouldn't be so quick to show off my supply here, but it's been a long time since I've met any First Recon guys, and I know how much you crazy bastards respect firepower."
"Choom, you have no fucking idea," Rebecca said, staring around the shockingly spacious room in awe.
The next two hours were a blur, the two NC veterans getting advice and tips from Mark, who turns out had a database of every firearm ever built in the world stored on his drives. Rebecca thought she knew a lot about iron, and she still did to an extent, but this experience reminded her of when she'd started out edgerunning and just had no fucking clue what was going on. She tried every size and type of weapon on the wall, or at least the ones Mark said weren't completely worthless, but none had felt right yet.
Falco on the other hand was finishing up paying for his new piece, having decided after discovering his innate talents with a revolver during the convoy job that he'd get one more suited to him.
"Alright, anything else sir?" Zach handed the box of .454 rounds over to Falco.
"Nah, think I got it," the ex-nomad said, sliding the Federated Arms Super Chief revolver into his new synth-leather hip holster.
Zach nodded, which their driver reciprocated before turning back to Rebecca, "I'll be out in the car, wake me whenever you two are done."
Rebecca smirked, "Will do, gramps!"
Falco rolled his eyes and made a quick exit.
"Rebecca," Mark said, getting her attention, "are you sure none of the things you've tried are good?"
"Choom, I need something me , I ain't spendin' the eddies if I can't enjoy using the fuckin' thing," Rebecca answered, putting the H&K MP-2013 she'd just tested back in its place on the wall.
Too wimpy. Looks cool though.
"Alright, well what is 'you?'" Mark asked.
The gun maniac had to think for a long moment, not entirely certain how to respond. On one hand, she liked how loud and powerful her Defender and 'Guts' had been, but the efficiency and usability of the other SMGs and Assault Rifles she had before couldn't be beaten. Right now she didn't have the eddies to just buy one of each but settling on a single weapon that met all of her criteria was proving difficult.
"I think," Rebecca said after a long moment, "I want something loud, that I can use to blast the shit out of some goons, but also not go empty on me thirty seconds into a firefight."
Mark nodded slowly before suddenly yelling out,
"I got it. Zach!"
The clerk glanced back at the bot, "Yeah?"
"You have any 12-gauge frag rounds?"
I'm sorry, what rounds?
"Of course I do. Why?"
Mark pointed at a weapon higher up on the wall than she could reach.
Wait, is that-oh. Yes. Fuck. Yes.
She left the shop with a huge smile and a new tool of destruction in her hands, whereas Mark walked out with a large, rectangular container labeled "Helix" that he put in the back of the pickup.
"What's that for, Mark?" Falco asked once they'd gotten back in.
"Just something in case things get dicey. Don't worry about it," the bot said, finally taking off the helmet and jacket.
Falco decided he didn't even want to know and just turned the truck back on, the goblin next to him already obsessed with the very bizarre-looking rifle in her hands.
August 5th, 2076
Militech Regional Offices, Corporate Plaza
A large man in a business suit slammed his fist on a Mahogany desk, cracking the expensive wooden furniture in half.
"YOU STILL HAVEN'T FUCKING FOUND THEM?!"
Said man was pretty pissed at his subordinates right now.
Almost two weeks ago a small group of mercenaries had raided their rival's convoy, one the corp had been told would be given to them on a silver platter, and destroyed the cargo it was carrying. Not only that, but they had also managed to destroy an entire battalion of their local paramilitary forces, not to mention the response force that was wiped out in a matter of seconds. Ever since then the higher executives of every Militech office in North California had been in a nearly constant shouting match with each other, never taking the blame for the giant clusterfuck themselves.
But Marcelo Sterne did not get where he was by pettiness, so he had put the entirety of Militech's Intelligence Officers in Night City on a job to find the ones responsible, and then make sure that they were erased from history. The results of that search had just been reported to him, and they weren't what he'd been hoping for.
"Sir," one of his underlings said, "the city is steadfast in their claims that they are dead. We can't get intel out of anyone, even the fixers we have in our pocket are refusing to tell us anything."
"How fucking hard is it to find four dumbass punks!" He punched the desk again. It damn near split in two.
My entire career is on the line here. If the higher-ups in D.C hear about this…
"Excuse me, gentlemen."
Marcelo looked between the two petrified desk jockeys to see a man dressed in an all-black suit with no hair, a small bowler hat covering his bald scalp, standing at the entrance to his office. The man's pale face was emotionless, his blue eyes so devoid of life that he appeared to have no soul whatsoever.
"Who the fuck are you?" Marcelo asked, standing up, towering over the two smaller employees.
"Bureaucracy is such a tiring thing, is it not?" the newcomer said flatly.
Oh.
Marcelo gestured for the two subordinates to leave, and they scampered like rats out of the office.
"Going to guess I'm not getting your name?" Marcelo asked the pale man, already knowing the answer.
"Correct."
"What do you want?"
These guys never care for formalities, so I'm not going to give this dickwipe a single one.
"You have a problem, I offer the solution." The man walked up to the broken desk and handed Marcelo a shard, which he eyed nervously.
"Come now," the pale man's voice was laced with no emotion at all, but still flowed out of his mouth as if he was impersonating a human being, "Mr. Sterne, we wouldn't come to you and ask for work if we wanted you dead. We have far better methods for that."
God I hate these creepy fucks.
He slotted the shard, and his eyes widened in surprise as he recognized the footage he was seeing. From a time not that long ago, when he'd overseen a project that had been so promising, yet had collapsed in on itself.
"What is this?" he asked sternly.
"Call it a… mutual compromise. We wish to revitalize this old wound of yours, and you need to wipe the dirt off of Militech's reputation."
The pale man put his hand out, prompting Marcelo to take the shard out of his neck and give it back to the middleman.
Walking past him and toward the office's large window, the stone-cold human continued,
"The deal is simple. We help you find the ones responsible for your loss, and in return, you assist us in recovering an old asset of yours."
It turned to stare into Marcelo's soul.
"I'm sure you can guess which asset that is, Commander."
The room was silent, the air was hot, and Marcelo's blood ran cold. Not out of fear for the newcomer, he'd dealt with their kind plenty of times by now after all, but due to a nightmare. One that he had tried to suppress for several years now, featuring the beast that this fool now wanted to try and recapture.
"You'll never find him," Marcelo said, honestly. He'd already tried more times than he could count.
Without breaking eye contact, the pale man smirked. They never smirked.
"Mr. Sterne, I thought you would know better by now. There is nothing that Lazarus cannot do."
Without seeing another option, other than continuing to yell at his subordinates for weeks on end, Marcelo accepted. As the pale man exited his office, the businessman looked at his now-destroyed desk, coming to a realization.
I will make sure that those punks are broken beyond recognition. No matter the cost.