"Shit…damn BD's broken…" James muttered to himself. The security guard eyed the faulty BD with a scowl, running his thumb along the cracked cartridge as he set his wreath down on the breakroom table. The useless BD left him upset for several reasons, with the top one being he knew that street hustler was selling it for a little too good of a price. Unfortunately, now he saw why. "Means I ain't gonna be able to afford those new syn-lungs…"
"You also shouldn't be using BDs at work anyhow." James flinched. He looked over his shoulder to see one of the researchers standing in the doorway, dressed in a stuffy labcoat, dress shirt, and slacks. Like most of the lab techs, and most of the workers in the damn outpost, he had a level of cyberware installed, evident by the slim gray lines along his wrinkled face and hands, though James had no idea what. "Especially this close to shipping out. Everything needs to be in peak condition. Nothing can go wrong, after all."
"Wait, shit, really?" He asked, hastily stuffing the wreath into his jacket. "Deal's gone through?"
"Mhm," The researcher nodded. "I just heard word from the higher ups about things. "The others in the lab are just working on the final calculations and logging the data for our buyer. The assets, however, are undergoing last minute training so we can log the footage as well. Like demo reel for said buyer."
"W-Well, that's great, but—ahem—what am I needed for?" James asked, then flinched. "N-Not to sound like I don't wanna help! I-I mean…I don't think you came all the way here just to tell me off, right?"
"If I was, I wouldn't be nice about it," The old researcher chuckled. "but you're right. I need you to come help oversee the testing. We need a few security guards to oversee the final testing. In case something goes wrong and whatnot. Nothing should, but standard protocol."
"Right, like having iron on you, or a condom when visiting a dollhouse." He suggested in agreement. James reached over to snatch up his Unity handgun, checking the mag before holstering it hastily. "Well, let's get going. And hope nothing goes wrong."
"That's the plan. And nothing should. Just a formality, like many tests conducted here in the facility." The man turned to leave the breakroom. James followed suit, and the two trekked through the long, gray hallway of the research outpost.
The musty, dimly lit hallways. Even with the two months he spent there, James never got used to the smell, but he did his best to push past it. After all, he wasn't about to bitch about a small thing when he finally managed to land a gig working for Biotechnica!
…or…at least one of their subsidiary companies. Their name wasn't as easy to remember; Ultratech, apparently. Wasn't perfect, but it was a foot in the door. And James could already see it now; just a few years of working as security and he'd afford his own private office, fancy apartment, and be able to hire that live in joytoy he had eyes on! He'd have the perfect life, but first, the job at hand.
James focused as he and the researcher reached an elevator. The old man boarded it first, and James followed suit, flicking a finger to the required floor. "So," He asked, just as the elevator doors slid shut. "I got a few questions about things mr…?"
"Desmond," The old man responded. "and ask away. It's a long way to the testing facilities anyhow."
"Right, so…we nailed the deal, right?" James asked. "I heard a lot of chatter about it, but never had a chance to ask about it 'til now."
"For the most part, yes," Desmond nodded. "we've closed a deal with another corporation and squaring away final preparations: archiving data on shards, preparing the asset transport, and even designating a path for the transport truck to take."
"Truck?" James raised a brow. "You're transporting things with a supply truck?"
"We have to. Ever since that mole incident, and the data theft from that, management's been cutting corners on things. That, sadly, includes the transportation of the assets. Thankfully, we've used drone data to designate the safest route to take through the Badlands."
"Shit, the Badlands?" James shook his head. "Ain't there weirdos out there riding around in cars and stealing shit?"
"Nomads, yes, and for the most part we have a plan in case any decide to get smart. A decoy truck will be sent on another path. If they ambush it, they'll find nothing but a nasty surprise in the form of remotely detonated explosives and a strike team on their position. Round up some extra bodies for future testing."
"Sounds like a decent plan, but…no security for the truck?"
Desmond shook his head. "Nothing outside of some interior automated turrets. The board of directors apparently decided to plaster the decoy truck with automated defenses and infantry. Make whoever looks at it assume it's carrying something valuable, so Nomads and even Militech's more likely to attack it. And, again, they'll be met with death."
"Huh, that could work, then." James didn't mention he half knew about Nomads. His cousin had to meet with one when he wanted some fancy liquor smuggled down south. Unfortunately, James forgot to check back on how that went.
The elevator doors parted. Desmond was out first, with James following, as the two walked into a viewing platform, like a fancy personal booth at a stadium. Another researcher was there, standing in front of the glass with a hand pressed to the side of his head. Desmond moved closer to the glass and James followed suit, rewarding him with the sight of a mock jungle below. Like a little overgrown courtyard, with tall trees, thick grass, and thicker foliage. It even looked a little humid in there. It honestly reminded him of an enclosure, like where zoo animals were kept.
"Well, let's get started. The handlers should be getting him into position."
"Him?" James asked, just as a set of double doors in the closure slowly slid open, revealing nothing but darkness.
A clawed hand rested on the rim, and James' bravado slowly ebbed as something stalked out into the overgrown room. A goddamn dinosaur. The thing inside the pod looked like a horrifying cross between a human and a raptor, with a human-like torso and arms, but digitigrade reptilian legs, tail, and head. Its scaly skin was a scarlet orange in color, with a set of snake-like amber eyes darting about in the pod. Its fingers ended in gray talons, and darker, shingle-like scales adorned its back. Its long tail slid and thrashed against the floor as it moved forward, and when it was lifted high enough, he saw it ended in a bony, keratin-like spike. The reptilian monster had a lanky, lean figure, yet the way it paced around told the security guard the damn thing had a lot of hidden muscle. Like a joytoy with hidden muscle grafts, ready to tear someone's head off. Eerily, the damn thing had a set of shackles on its forearms and shins, with bits of chain dangling from them, telling James right away they kept the thing chained up at some point. And it clearly didn't like that.
"Right on cue," Desmond noted with a smile. "The room's cameras are rolling, and the shard's properly slotted. And the testers should be arriving shortly." The other set of doors opened, and a few men trekked into the room, armed with rifles. James zoomed in his optics to see they wore Kang Tao security outfits, and the men looked confused as all hell. The raptor looked nothing close. Its head lifted, nostrils flaring as it smelled the air, and it bolted into the brush, gunning it straight for the men.
"S-Sir," James asked. "a…am I allowed to ask about…that?" He gestured to the scene playing out below.
"Of course," The old man waved a hand. "if anything, it'll help for the demo. Answer questions the buyers might have." He flicked a hand to the room's own security camera.
James nodded. "Right, well, for starters…a goddamn dinosaur?"
"Technically, a raptor." Desmond corrected. "You understand that Biotechnica, from time to time, works to restore animals that went extinct, no? The asset below was founded under that same principal, but we opted to use prehistoric genes instead; two genetic templates to be exact. The sample of Deinonychus antirrhopus and V. osmolskaw, or otherwise known as the deinonychus and the velociraptor."
"So…raptor genes. Like from the movies?" James asked.
"Precisely…and like said movies, the templates were incomplete. A complete genetic code couldn't reliably fabricated, so we here at Biotechnica sought to improvise, adding genes from now-extinct reptiles from modern day earth and even synthetic genes, granting the specimen unique abilities." He gestured to the combat scenario just as the raptor hybrid was upon the men, quite literally tackling one to the floor and ripping him apart. That tail whipped towards another, impaling him through the chest and lifting him high, all while his gun discharged, flatlining another guard in the process. The rest shrieked and scattered, with one staying to fire his handgun at the reptile's back. His optic zoomed in, and James saw most of the bullets strike those shingle-like scales practically harmlessly, but one bullet sank into its shoulder, drawing purple blood. The raptor stopped feeding and glared at the man, rising to its full height, and towering over him. James saw the wound in its shoulder seemingly…close itself, even pushing the bullet out as the wound quickly closed-up like the damn thing never got hit in the first place.
It flicked its tail, sending the impaled, flatlined guard flying to the side. The security guard in there didn't even get time to act before it tackled him, mauling him with the same furor, much to James' disgust.
"As a bonding agent for it all," Desmond began again, no doubt for the recording itself. "we used human genes. To grant the newly assembled genetic template stability, and unwittingly granting it increased intelligence. Almost that of a human's. Because of that," Desmond reached forward to push a finger against the wall-mounted console. "he can be made to understand and execute orders. Riptor, approach the window." The reptilian monster stopped eating and poked its head up, looking towards the window. Even with how far away he was, James didn't feel safe with that thing's eyes on him. It stalked towards the tall window, and James noticed it kept its arms close to its chest, just like raptors did in the movies. An unsettling fact. "Hunt the remaining men in the room. Don't let even one escape." The damn thing nodded, then tore off back into the brush. Screams came again, and James shuddered. That nod felt too human.
"So," Desmond took his finger off the button. The researcher nearby plucked a shard from a terminal in the room, pocketing it quickly. "that answers everything, James?"
"Y-Yeah," He said, still somewhat unnerved by what he saw. "except for one…Riptor? That's it's name?"
"His, actually," Desmond corrected. "and it was chosen by the team assigned to the project. Sort of like a play on words of raptor. For marketing. Anyhow, follow me, we need to oversee the next test. It's just on the next floor down." Desmond turned to walk, seemingly unbothered by the mutilation taking place in the room. James stole a glance at the enclosure again, at the sight of the raptor messily eating a severed leg from one of the guards.
Those eyes shot to him in an instant, and he quickly hurried into the elevator. The button was pressed, and they descended, giving him time to catch his breath. Fuck, that was scary. In so many different fucking ways! But at the very least, it wouldn't be Biotechnica's problem soon. That was a relief.
A ding told them they were on the next floor, and the elevator led out into another viewing booth. The new room was a sterile white one, and there were already guards inside. Militech this time, which made James figure they either snatched them too, or baited them into working for Biotechnica. Either way, Desmond took his spot, as did another researcher. "And now, the combat test for the FULGORE-Advanced Combat Borg.
The metal doors parted, and something simply strode into the room. It looked like a damn borg, for the most part. It looked like a fully armored, burly man, with its head resembling a great helm, and glowing red eyes slanted into a permanent glare. The metal plating was arranged to give it a streamlined look, with yellow highlights along its chest. Oddly, it had an orange plume jutting from the back of its head, like what a knight would have, and electrical tubing showing through its chassis. The scary thing about it were the set of "claws" jutting from its forearms, two to an arm, and they glowed a haunting blue color. Like those could cut someone apart in six different ways.
The guards turned towards it. Desmond's finger was already on the intercom. "Fulgore, execute all available targets. Pronto."
"Affirmative." Its voice was eerie. Low and bass, the shit was more felt than heard. It raised its arms all the same and in the blink of an eye it was in front of one of the men. Its arm swung, and the man's went flying; cleaved from the shoulder down and sent clattering to the ground. The man screamed and the others turned, open firing at the full borg who just stood there as bullets harmlessly dinged off its chassis. It raised its arm again, the limb seemingly vibrating before it lunged at one of the shooters, plunging those dangerous blades through him next.
"Fascinating, isn't it?" Desmond said. "And practically the exact opposite to Riptor up there, considering this one's fully borged out, instead of being entirely organic."
"Yeah, I see that, but how'd you get past…y'know…" He rolled his wrist. "Cyberpsychosis?"
"Oh, through an experimental procedure. Normally, psychosis hits when someone adds too much cyberware to themselves with little moderation or restraint. The mind can't take it and, usually, snaps. Often with unpredictable and often violent results. However," He looked back just as Fulgore continued fighting, moving with practically superhuman speed to dispatch the men, practically making the shit look like a game. "for Fulgore, we instead tried to take a brain and spinal cord and instead implant those into a cybernetic body, one outfitted with militaristic cyberware: bionic limbs, high end optical camo, a repurposed Militech paraline cyberdeck and more. He's no Adam Smasher, of course, but we've been able to mesh him well enough for those without issue, and considering how experimental the process is so far, the team didn't want to press things." Desmond chortled slightly. "Honestly surprised they didn't try and shove a Sandevistan in there, but considering he'd be nothing but a brain at that point, the team was unsure if it was the right call."
"Right, and the claws?" James asked, just as a severed hand hit the wall.
"Those, yes," Desmond still didn't seem bothered. "think of them as quad mantis blades, ones that are designed to retract into the arm via two slots on each arm as opposed to deconstructing the entire arm to conceal them. The blue is just there because they can be electrified. Make an already lethal weapon even more."
"Makes sense, but…you mentioned he's like Smasher, right? Like, the Adam Smasher of NC?" James began. "How's this borg kept on a leash, then? Cause doesn't Smasher work for a paycheck?"
"Behavioral chip," Desmond quickly responded. "modified from the same tech used to make doll chips. While it's slotted into his chipslot, he follows and obeys orders perfectly and without hesitation. No self-awareness. No hostility. No chance of him deciding to turn on his new buyers." The last guard was killed through a decisive beheading, with the borg twirl-kicking the head across the room. "And there's the footage recorded. We'll get these shards edited and ready for delivery along with the assets." Desmond's finger rested on the intercom again. "Fulgore, power down. Good work."
Those red eyes were centered on the booth…and the damn thing wasn't powering down. It just stood there, staring up into the viewing booth. Staring at them. "…Desmond, it's not powering down."
"What?" Desmond approached the glass just as Fulgore's head dipped, eyes going opaque as it…seemed to shut itself down just as Desmond came to check. Something about that didn't seem right. James scanned, tuning his optics to identify the chipware the borg had, but…he…couldn't see what was there. So, either there wasn't a behavioral chip in there, or it was just too advanced for him to scan. That didn't sit right.
"Well, let's be off, James," He stopped his examination and looked over. Desmond and the other researcher were already in the elevator, ready to depart. "we need to get these shards edited, then send in the teams to contain the assets."
"Right, yeah. Guess it was nothing." James shrugged. He stole one final glance at the testing room—
It was on and staring up at him again. That death-glare was on him, glowing red optics focused on him, and James inched away. No, something was definitely wrong with that damn borg, but all the same he hurried into the elevator as well. The doors slid shut and the elevator ascended. What he saw had to be a trick…Desmond assured him nothing would go wrong. And, technically, nothing did, in a sense…aside from both assets freaking him out.
"Well, guess that all went well," James sighed, trying to forget what he saw. "but one final question. Who's the buyer? Considering I saw Kang Tao and Militech guys in there, I assume it's not them."
"Absolutely not. Not even I would be caught dead dealing to them legitimately." Desmond shook his head. "Arasaka's the buyer. Interestingly, they even paid in advance for us to transport the assets and all related data on them to one of their major facilities. In Night City."
He raised a brow. Now that was something. James knew about Arasaka's inner dealings from word of mouth from co-workers and family who managed to work with them at some point. But, even with that information, James didn't know what they could want with a genetically enhanced dinosaur and a cybernetic fighter.
Probably nothing good. But it wasn't his problem. Especially that behavioral chip issue.
The dreams were always the same. A blurry mess, for the most part, but there was something there. Gray hallways, distorted screaming, jumbled voices in more. Every time he shut down, he tried to piece it together, but he never came closer to understanding. For every answer just brought ten more questions for him to process.
His optics powered up, as he went through the usual process of powering back up. He found himself slumped against the metal wall of his cell, optics focusing on his cold, metal hands. He brought one close, studying and examining it for a moment. His scanner hummed to life, and once more he was rewarded with a mere scan of himself.
FULGORE: MKII
More questions, unfortunately.
Thuds caught his attention. Fulgore lifted his head, optics taking in his surroundings. He was still in his cell, the same cell he knew for all his brief life, but something was different. Instead of the vast empty room beyond it he came to know the cell was instead in a narrow space, with a bright light fixture above. They were in the transport truck, the one the researcher colorfully told the security guard about, which meant he and the other one were truly being transported. Sent to Arasaka. The name brought up mixed results from his limited database; they were another mega corporation, but he knew little of their grander schemes. Perhaps if he could jack into a computer, he could learn more, but for now, nothing. That infuriated him.
More thuds sounded. Across from him was the other's cell, the raptor hybrid he knew of faintly, housed in the outpost with him for a time. He was throwing his shoulder into the front of his own cell, trying to smash through it, though to no avail. A warbled screech left him as he frantically clawed at the front, though Fulgore couldn't tell if he was trying to escape or was simply panicking from the ride. Or both, possibly.
Still, the noise could alert the drivers. That could bring trouble. "Calm down," He spoke to the frenetic reptile, voice still as low and bass as ever. "you'll alert the humans." The raptor paused from his panicking, reptilian eyes on him now. That barbed tail lashed at the ground, and the reptile paused from his frantic attacking. Perhaps he understood?
A torrent of flames left the reptile's maw to strike the front of his transport pod. No, he was just trying something different. Oh well to that. Still, his efforts weren't alerting the drivers, so Fulgore settled back and let him continue, mulling over things. What would Arasaka do with the two of them? Given his lack of information, it was next to impossible to say. Did they hold good intent for them both? Or would it be more of what Ultratech put them through? Put him through? It was hard to say—
A lurch sent him against the wall. Something was going on outside. Fulgore stood up just as he felt the truck come to a skidding halt, resting a hand against the wall as he tried to get as good of a look as he could from within his cell.
"Ah fuck, shivs!" He heard one of the drivers call from the front. "How the FUCK did they find us?!"
"They must've saw through the decoy! I KNEW we shoulda just flew these fucking things! Goddamnit! Radio for back-up! We gotta hunker down 'til reinforcements show up."
"Alright, chooms, come out with your irons on the ground and hands in the FUCKIN' air!" A gruff, guttural cybernetic voice called. It was muffled due to the walls of the truck, but Fulgore's audio receptors heard it clear enough. "We just want the loot in that there truck. We ain' gotta flatline ya. Not 'less ya wanna make shit complicated. So, ya got 'til two minutes to surrender, 'else we're comin' in! And we're takin' our TIME flatlinin' you gonks!"
"Shit, reinforcements ain't gonna be here fast enough." One of the drivers walked past. He hastily readied a handgun, sliding a magazine into it and turning to his ally. "Any bright ideas?"
"Well, we can't just let them have the damn assets," The other driver walked past, holding a stocky shotgun. "we'll get crucified back at the outpost. Plus, there's no telling if they'll let us go after! You KNOW how Raffen Shivs operate!"
"Fuck, don't remind me, but we ain't got the firepower to repel them as is, and reinforcements ain't gonna be here for another fifteen minutes. We'll be flatlined by then!" The two continued to argue back and forth. Fulgore vaguely understood their emotions, their fear. These Shivs, whoever they were, carried ill-intent for them all. He wanted to make a suggestion, but he needed to remain silent, lest they realize their previous behavioral chip was long gone and he could make his own conclusions.
Ironically, that was gone for a long while. Was the first thing he removed the instant he had a chance, but it forced him to feign docility. A tedious effort.
The lights above flickered off. Fulgore felt his joints slow just slightly; the ones outside detonated an EMP close to the truck. It didn't short him out, thankfully, but the truck was another story…and he scanned the keypad on the reptile's cell.
It was depowered, which meant the doors were also unpowered. If he wanted escape so badly, it would be granted.
Fulgore raised an arm, pressing it close to the glass, namely the slit in the middle where the doors were to slide apart. A single blade jutted from his arm, and it sank into the slit, easily sending the blade to the other side, much to the growing fear of the humans outside. "Oh FUCK! That thing's moving! D-Do something! Ain't it supposed to be turned off?!"
"Well apparently, it's not! Maybe the EMP fried the chip? Fucking get management on the line! Find out what we're supposed to do!" Slowly, Fulgore twisted his arm, blade holding up as the depowered doors were slowly pried apart until he could wedge metal fingers between them next. Servos hummed to life, and his fingers clenched, as he pried the doors apart, and took one bold step out into the truck. His optics focused on the cowering, fearful humans, before he turned towards the captive raptor.
"Get back." He commanded. The creature did so, and Fulgore jammed his blade into the door's wedge, prying it open the same way. His blade sank back into his arm afterwards and the borg stepped away just as the raptor lumbered out of his own containment cell, finally given the freedom he coveted. Fulgore noticed quickly the reptile was taller than him by half a head, putting him at seven feet, most likely.
Now, free at last, it simply stared at him. He couldn't figure what its intent was, but for the most part it had a lax, non-aggressive stance. Amber, serpentine eyes stared at him, no doubt assessing him the same way he did. Considering he wasn't attacked yet, Fulgore figured the raptor didn't view him as a threat. Hopefully.
His optics briefly darted to the lettering along the side of the raptor's own containment pod, then darted them back. "You are free, Riptor, to—"
A bullet sank into Riptor's shoulder, producing a spray of purple blood. He screeched, whipping his head to one of the truck drivers. His handgun was pointed at the two of them, and his stance reeked of unfathomable fear. "G-Get back in the pod!" He commanded. "G-Get—URRK!" Riptor's tail ripped straight through his chest, impaling him so the reptile could bring him closer. The creature's maw opened, wider than expected, before he bit down on the guard's head, ending his life. The other guard screamed and retreated to the front of the truck, with a metal door sliding shut to block off his escape.
"Alright! I lost track of time! So, whatcha got, chooms?! Ready to play nice? Or is it time to get FREAKY?" The ones outside were still there. Troublesome.
"Your freedom is impeded, Riptor." Fulgore spoke, before making his way towards the back of the truck. "There are countless foes outside, ones seemingly prepared to assault this truck and kill everyone aboard in pursuit of 'loot'. So, we need to help each other." Riptor gave a low growl and swung his tail, sending the mostly headless corpse sliding off his tail. "Even with your regeneration, I doubt you can take on the forces outside, nor properly outrun them. We must work together to deal with them all. Do you understand?"
The growls quieted down. Riptor nodded after. Fulgore nodded in return. "Good." The borg's fist mashed the door controls and they opened quickly, filling the narrow space they were in with harsh sunlight. Riptor hissed warningly, taking a few steps back, and Fulgore's optics rapidly adjusted to the harsh, nearly blinding light, allowing him to see the vast, nearly endless desert ahead of them.
And a few trucks. Men and women stood outside of said trucks, armed with various weapons that were pointed their way. They looked disheveled and rugged, and their firearms looked in various states of disarray. Ahead of the men was a burlier, larger man, armed with a bulky revolver. He looked like the apparent leader of the bunch, and sported numerous cybernetic augments, with the gristliest of them being a warped optic replacing his eyes. Ones with bright red optics focused up at the borg. "Well, what the fuck are you?"
"Fulgore." He stated, then gestured back towards the truck's interior. "And he is Riptor."
The hybrid came bounding out the truck, leaping out and tackling the leader to the ground, mauling him with ruthless efficiency. His screams quickly turned into death-rattles, and gunfire erupted. Bullets peppered Riptor's side, causing the raptor to screech and dart behind one of the trucks, pressing against it for cover. He was shrewd enough to take cover, even his regeneration.
Fulgore rushed forward, vaulting over one of the trucks and charging the foes. Their bullets harmlessly bounced off his armored chassis as he made his approach, freeing his blades from his arm to drive them through someone's chest. The man shrieked and spasmed, and Fulgore lifted him to use him as a meatshield, blocking the hail of gunfire as he continued to push forward. The body wad flung into a vehicle nearby, and he extended his other set of blades, lunging towards another man and impaling him in the same brutal fashion, tanking shots to the side to lift and use him as a shield as well.
Screams erupted nearby. Fulgore turned and saw Riptor perched atop the hood of a car, spewing a torrent of flames to cook a foe alive. Purple blood dripped down his back from wounds plastering his back, wounds that were slowly closing before his optics as the raptor incinerated someone, then swung his clawed hand at another, slashing open their neck.
Fulgore continued to fight, working with ruthless ease to dispatch the shivs. Even as he fought, more questions came, about how efficiently he butchered them, but he shoved those intrusive thoughts aside. They could wait. They had to.
The borg plunged his blades through another shiv's chest, pinning him to the hood of one of the trucks as he went still. He turned his head and sighted one final shiv inside, shivering and trembling with fear, and clutching a revolver for dear life. A revolver he slowly lifted, aiming at him first, before the terrified man turned the gun on himself.
Fulgore's hand smashed through the windshield, clutching the man's arm. Metal fingers dug into flesh and, with a firm yank, he ripped the man free from the safety of his vehicle and dragged him out onto the truck's hood, next to the dead man. "W-W-W-Wait!" He stammered, voice quivering and on the verge of fearful tears. "Lemme go! You want eddies?! I-I got 'em! Plenty! I-I didn't even wanna be here! I wanted to join Snake Nation!" Fulgore studied him for a moment, scanning him and revealing a handful of things. Nothing useful, though. However, there was info he could still extract.
He released his grip on the man's wrist, yet he didn't flee. Petrified from fear, no doubt. The borg used that time to raise his arm and withdraw a jack from his forearm, and he curtly shoved it into the man's port, located on the side of his head. The fool went rigid, spasming slightly, as the borg swiftly bypassed the dismal ICE he had to gain access to so much more; entry into the personal files within the man's very mind. And from it, he learned a wealth of things: the ones killed were Wraiths, otherwise known as Nomads who opted to attack anything and everything they could for profit and things to sell. They differed from regular Nomads mostly in ideology, and brutality, but the two were frequently lumped together to the eyes of outsiders. Still, it painted a good picture of things and answered a few questions, but unfortunately, there were many more that needed to be dealt with.
The jack was tugged from the man's port, and his head fell back. The cable sank back into Fulgore's wrist, and the borg turned his attention to Riptor who was handling his own affairs; messily eating the corpse of one of the Wraiths. His wounds were healed for the most part, and the reptile feasted and gorged himself on the corpse with no signs of stopping, pausing only to rip away cyberware and fling them aside. Seemed he was smart enough to notice those.
Still, with the threat handled, it left him time to address the list of questions again.
The most pressing one, what now? They were amid the Badlands, free from UT's captivity. Borrowing a phrase taken from the Wraith's info, "the road ahead was open" and so much more.
However, he recalled the cowering driver still in the truck. They had to have some useful information as well. Fulgore reboarded the truck and delved into it again, leaving Riptor to his own devices for the time being. It was time to harvest some more information, fatten his databanks, and see if he could quell some of those growing questions while he could.
Fulgore emerged from the truck, dragging the corpse of the guard with him. So much new information was obtained, and a handful of the questions were placated. But there remained so much more. Unfortunately, he didn't get to the guard in time. Reinforcements were inbound, so the area was unsafe.
Riptor, interestingly, was still outside. A few desiccated corpses were strewn about around him, and the hybrid sat on the hood of a truck, holding a revolver in his scaled hands, seemingly examining it. A curio taken from the fight. "You chose to stay here instead of leaving?" Fulgore asked. Riptor looked away from the revolver, then nodded. Interesting. "Why? Is it because we helped one another?" Curiosity tickled the borg's mind as he dropped down from the open truck. Riptor nodded a second time. He didn't expect him to have loyalty, all things considered, but it was a relief all the same. "Curious, then do you think we should travel together?" A third nod. Fulgore saw no issue with it; if anything, they worked well together, and strength in numbers was smart.
For them at least. For the Wraiths, not so much.
"Then we need to relocate, Riptor," Fulgore dropped the guard's body and scanned the area. "reinforcements are on the way, and I doubt you wish to return to captivity. So, where shall we go?"
Riptor pointed. Fulgore followed the raptor's finger to an utterly massive, brightly lit city in the distance. Translucent adverts stretched high into the sky, many of the roads in the area all led towards it. From the information logged into his database, he knew it to be called Night City. The city of dreams, allegedly, where legends were born and so much more. It was also where they were being taken initially, so venturing there directly could prove troublesome. Then again, Fulgore didn't see too many ulterior options.
So, they had to go to Night City. See what could be done there. But how to reach it?
Fulgore turned towards one of the abandoned trucks, then nodded. It would have to do.
[So, me again, after a considerable time away from the site. I've been handling personal projects, writing elsewhere, and fighting to retain inspiration on existing projects. It's led me down a curious rabbit hole of playing Cyberpunk 2077 after it went on sale, and after rediscovering my love of Killer Instinct, I asked myself what would happen if I combined the two? So, enter this story, featuring two characters fit for the setting and two characters I rank highest above them all in my personal chart.
But, to clear up some quick confusions, I did tweak and change both characters to fit them more into this setting and also "nerf" them slightly so there's viable reason for them to struggle. For starters, both Fulgore and Riptor are based off their Retro Skins from the newest KI game, with Riptor's tail being normal, and Fulgore not having his Cyberport and laser eyes but gaining newer abilities I'll reveal as the story unfolds. This project's my most ambitious but oblong of them all, so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I like writing it.
Until then, thanks for reading, and stay safe!]