The apartment wasn't that bad.

Fulgore stood in the center of the Megabuilding apartment, surveying and scanning it with crossed arms and lingering trepidation. Following Pilar's suggestion, Fulgore opted to take a sum of their earnings and invest it into getting him and Riptor a proper home. An apartment in one of Night City's many Megabuildings, somewhere the two of them could actually rest. Rest and plan between their jobs and assignments for Maine and the others. And they had much to plan for, especially considering Fulgore used a faux identity to get the apartment in the first place. Something easy to do via his Cyberdeck and access to the net to fabricate a social security and general identity.

In advance, he warned Riptor that if there were any emails for a Ryat Adams, he was to be notified immediately.

None the less, the apartment had the usual amenities. A computer close to the wall and a small living room across from it, with a fancy TV ingrained into the wall. Nearby, there was a door leading to a weapon's room, where they could store guns and other curios. While the bed was a single one, he was more than content to let Riptor hog it for himself. He didn't even require sleep anyhow.

And speaking of Riptor, the hybrid stood in the shower, curled up under a pouring showerhead. While he had the sense to disrobe himself first, it didn't change the fact that he was curled up under the water. Thankfully, he didn't try drinking it. Allegedly, the water that came from those wasn't safe for consumption.

"Riptor." Fulgore walked over to mash a button, silencing the showerhead. Riptor glanced up and gave a huff. "That costs us Eurodollars. We need to converse those as best we can." Another huff. He was disappointed, clearly. "Besides, we need to leave. We need to visit that shop and get your Agent augmented with a proper text-to-speech function. So we can communicate and whatnot. So, get dressed." Riptor gave a low grunt and stood up. Fulgore raised an arm when he shook himself off, showering the bathroom with water. Much to his chagrin.

"…crass." He told the hybrid before stepping out of the bathroom. "Regardless, we also need to figure our grander plans, Riptor. As you know, we can't stay in Night City indefinitely. Eventually, Ultratech and Arasaka will become aware of us somewhere in the city. And when that happens, it's only a matter of when, not if, they send capture teams to attack us." Riptor emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed and with his Agent secure on his arm. "Neither of us can afford to fall into Ultratech, or Arasaka, custody. There's no telling what they'll do to us, given they paid considerable Eurodollars for our transferal." It was a serious topic to address, but the sooner it was addressed, the sooner they could square away a plan and work towards it. As lovely, and insidious, as Night City was, Fulgore didn't expect them to stay indefinitely.

Riptor glanced about the room, before he pointed at a poster. One left by the apartment's previous tenant. Fulgore turned his head and realized it was a destination poster. Of Hawaii. His optics flickered for a moment as he accessed his databanks for information he stored on the place. He archived a handful of things since coming to the city, and his data on Hawaii itself proved unfortunate.

"Hawaii isn't a viable option," he finally told Riptor. "following the United States' collapse, and the rise of the NUSA, Hawaii forged itself as a sovereign nation. One soon occupied indefinitely by Militech forces. Now, it's a hotspot for their activity. If we go there, we'll simply be handing ourselves over to them instead of Arasaka." And given the more militarized intent of Militech, Fulgore was almost convinced they were the greater of two evils yet were somehow more transparent than Arasaka.

Riptor warbled and fiddled with his Agent. He showed Fulgore a photo of the Arasaka symbol, then the Militech one, before he…moved to make an X with his arms. If he had a brow to raise, it would've crept up right then.

"You know of Militech and Arasaka's disdain for one another?" The cyborg questioned. Riptor nodded. "Seems you're quite busy on the net, Riptor…but it doesn't change the fact that we would just be handing ourselves over to Militech."

Riptor paused again, then rapidly fiddled with his Agent. This time, Fulgore noticed that he was loading up a video and rewinding it to a certain point. The moment he stopped, he presented the Agent as the video played. Of an old spy film.

"What I'm saying, Douglas, is we need the data," he skipped forward a bit. "we get that data and—" more skipping. "those fat cats'll be cool with us." He paused, then looked at Fulgore expectantly. Slowly, the cyborg nodded.

"You're…suggesting we acquire data on Arasaka, then barter with Militech?" Riptor nodded, his tail thumping the ground rapidly. "Clever…and that very well may work. Arasaka and Militech hate one another, given how the Fourth Corporate War turned out for the former. And my brief scan of the net told me they may very well be gearing up for a fifth, if things continue the way they are. So, stealing Arasaka data and wagering it to Militech for their cooperation could be an assurance. We feed them intel on Arasaka's next experiments so they can weaponize it, they leave us alone while we're in Hawaii. Besides, they're not as likely to stab us in the back. Or if they try, we'd easily see it coming." While it wasn't the greatest plan they had, Fulgore had to appreciate the level of effort Riptor put into it. The hybrid had been thinking about it just as much as he had.

"With that settled, we'll need to start finding means to acquire sensitive Arasaka intelligence. Something Militech would greatly want. It means we'll need to connect with various Fixers in the city and use them to hopefully find a lead." Fulgore moved to gather his street clothes. They needed to run some errands. "I'll ask Maine and see if he knows any. But first, we'll be seeing that store and see if we can get you text-to-speech for your Agent." Given their earlier conversation, as one-sided as it was, Fulgore decided it was abundantly clear that Riptor had some means of formally communicating. Because he doubted using video clips would work in the middle of a gunfight.

"Oh…god…not you two again…" the same clerk bemoaned as Fulgore stepped into the phone store, followed by Riptor. The place had been cleaned up since their encounter with that Solo, yet the store still looked as dingy as it was when they last visited. The clerk looked at them with a mixture of clear hesitation and growing exhaustion. Like she anticipated another issue with them in the store. "Augh…whaddya want…?"

"Text-to-speech for his Agent," Fulgore gestured to Riptor's arm. "as well as encryption for all incoming and outgoing calls. Just in case. Can it be done?"

"I-I mean…I'll check, but…you're asking me to see if we got hardware for an outdated piece of junk." She gestured to said Agent. "No one's used those since twenty-twenty! Everyone just uses cyberaudio now."

"Alas, he cannot use those. His own augmentation disallows it." Fulgore quickly drummed up a decent lie. "So, please look for something. If we need to order the parts, I'll pay for that." Reluctantly, she dipped out to check the back of the store. Once more, it left the two alone in the empty shop, with Riptor watching a video on his Agent and Fulgore browsing the various bits of tech in the store, scanning each so he could archive their data in his banks. He briefly considered getting some improvements to his own setup, but given what he had already, it would be pointless. As David's ripperdoc pointed out, he was roaming about with top-of-the-line cyberware…and that also meant he couldn't see any doctor except him. Other ripperdocs would be either less likely to work on him or more likely to try salvaging what they could. Military-grade cyberware was exceptionally sought out, after all. And he was roaming about with a plethora of it.

They waited for a while, as Fulgore continued to scan things. He lost track of time for a moment, only to hear commotion outside. What sounded like screaming and gunshots. And it didn't sound like the usual mayhem of Night City. It drew his attention within seconds, and judging from Riptor's curious warble, it caught his as well.

"Stay here," he told the hybrid. "wait for her to come back. I'll investigate." He pushed through the glass door and stepped outside.

He found an alarming scene. A car was flipped, and several dead bodies littered the road. And the shooting itself came from someone standing atop the overturned car, firing two guns in the air. He looked like the Maelstromers they fought a few days ago, but his cybernetics were hastily made. Like whoever did them was rushing to get them installed. A pair of menacing Mantis Blades waved free of his partially destructed arms, as his hands clenched a set of SMGs he fired into the air. As he turned, still firing his guns, Fulgore noticed his optics were…corrupted. Flickering and sporadically twitching like the glitching of a video. The longer he regarded the twisted Maelstromer, the more his concern grew. Especially when those guns were trained on him.

Fulgore sprinted to the side just as bullets peppered the spot he was in moments ago. His own cyberware fired up and flared to life as the cyborg rapidly approached the maddened man, just before leaping onto the overturned car.

"THE VOICES! THEY CALL FOR BLOOOOOOOD!" The man shrieked before he tried shooting at him again. No bullets came, and Fulgore delivered a heel-kick to the side of his head, sending the maddened ganger to the ground. The second he connected with the pavement he was already on his feet. With reflexes unbecoming of a typical Maelstromer, as he screamed and leapt back onto the car. As he swung those Mantis Blades for Fulgore's midsection. The cyborg dodged, hastily rolling up his own sleeves so he could free his own blades, just as the second strike came. Metal clashed with metal, as blades connected again and again. Despite how crazed the man was, his reflexes were impressive enough to match Fulgore blow for blow, even with the cyborg's military-grade augmentation. Whatever the Maelstromer had, it left him just fast enough to keep up with Fulgore, which begged the question as to what he had in there to begin with?

Fulgore delivered a sudden, swift leg sweep to the crazed man's legs. The moment he fell, he followed up with a thrust, ramming his armblades into the man's chest and pinning him to the overturned car. Despite that, he didn't scream or wail in pain. Instead, he just…cackled. That same cackle he'd been doing the entire time before that demented optic focused on Fulgore's face.

"Don't you hear them? The voices! They cry! They scream! They beg for freedom!" His hand clamped down on Fulgore's wrist. His grip was surprisingly strong, and his foot planted itself against his midsection. "AND WE WILL NOT SILENCE THEM YET!" And he kicked, sending Fulgore off him and straight through the window of the shop, smashing through it and sending him colliding with several racks. Riptor gave a startled warble, and it turned into a hiss at the sight of the crazed man. As he staggered into view, with a bloody smile on his face. He charged, and Riptor charged as well, causing the hybrid to body slam and tackle the man to the ground. Ruthlessly, Riptor clawed at the crazed man. Slicing through flesh and metal with his talons before he swung a blade at Riptor's side, splattering purple blood onto the ground. The hybrid screeched in pain, and the Maelstromer kicked Riptor off with the same force, sending the hybrid crashing into the wall.

Swiftly, Fulgore righted himself, just as their foe did the same. His optic shifted to Riptor, and just as he turned towards him, Fulgore charged. The cyborg leapt and delivered a crushing knee to the man's jaw, producing a sickening crunch as metal met bone. The Maelstromer stumbled backwards, and Riptor's tail blade rammed through his side, splattering a mixture of synthetic and real blood upon the floor. Fulgore's own blades swung, this time severing the man's forearms and sending his own Mantis Blades tumbling to the ground, just as Riptor grabbed the man's head with both hands. Messily twisting and tearing until he ripped it free and flung it out into the street, before following such a savage act with a warbled roar of what Fulgore could only assume was triumph. They'd won, and their twisted foe was dead…just as strange red lights appeared outside. Flashing red lights upon the pavement, like a landing zone was designated. Fulgore stepped outside just in time to watch four heavily armored soldiers drop from an AV, armed with sophisticated weapons and menacing helms. What's more, from a brief scan, they sported highly advanced cybernetic augmentations. Putting them close to where he was in ability. As one lowered his gun, Fulgore caught a glimpse of the name on his chest. Denoting their organization: MAXTAC.

"Huh, well I'll be damned," one man spoke. "the cyberpsycho's been eliminated before we got here. We were late, for once." Guns were lowered, as they spread out to survey the scene, save for the one who spoke. He regarded the severed head of their foe for a moment before turning his attention back to Fulgore. "And who the hell are you?"

"…Fulgore." He answered cautiously. "And that is Riptor." He pointed back to the store, just as Riptor tossed the man's body through the shattered window.

"Hmm. Either you're choosing to use your handles, or you two've got some weird ass names…either way, I need a statement from you both on what happened. It's not every day someone else has to zero a cyberpsycho, especially not one sporting 'ware like that. You…almost looked as chromed up as we do. Huh." The man noted. Fulgore shrugged. The less they understood, the better.

"Riptor…cannot give a statement. He has trouble talking," Fulgore quickly covered for him. "but I can provide one in his place…if you'll answer a question."

"If?" He could almost hear the man raise a brow. "You're making a demand?"

"I'm asking a question. Cyberpsycho. What is that?"

"Hmm…you must be a tourist, then. Not from 'round these parts…" The man sighed. "Cyberpsychos are the term we use for those afflicted with cyberpsychosis. Shortening it as best I can, it's a mental illness that causes radically different effects, ranging from intense depression, horrendous mania," the soldier eyed the severed head, just as another lifted it and tossed it into a metal box. "or murderous rage. Hence the name, egghead experts believe it's primarily caused by an abundance of cyberware in the victim's body. The mind can only handle so much chrome before it cracks."

"…I see." Fulgore pondered that. Weighed on that definition. "And there's no cure?"

"Heh, the cure tends to be a healthy case of lead," he pointed to his own head and mimed shooting himself. "cause once they go off the deep end, there's no coming back. They gotta be zeroed before they zero as many people as they can on the way out."

"…noted." Fulgore said. "I'll provide my statement, and—"

"What the FUCK?!" He turned to see the clerk standing in the middle of the destroyed shop, an aghast look on her face. "SEE THIS IS WHY YOU TWO ARE TROUBLE!"

"Ma'am, calm down," the soldier called. "this was a 'psycho attack. You're insured. Most businesses in NC are. Since this tourist handled the fun part, we'll handle the cleanup." He sighed. "Because honestly, it's that or going back now, and there ain't shit to do right now."

"…oh…augh…just…okay then." She sighed. "…anyhow, I didn't find the thing you were after. So, I'll have to order some parts. Just…come by tomorrow. I should have…something, I guess."

"Thank you. I'll provide the compensation following my statement." Poor woman. He made a note to throw in extra for the trouble they'd given her.

The city looked breathtaking still, especially with how high up they were. How high above it all they were.

Fulgore stood at the window to their apartment, staring down at the roads of Watson. The cyborg's hands rested behind his back as he let his mind wander. Restless as ever, unable to ever truly stop, even for a moment. Thus, instead of sleeping, he instead used the quiet hours of the night to plan and ponder. To process how the day went and how the next should go. How it needed to go. It was another reason he only sought a single bed for the apartment. Riptor was the only one who required sleep, and thanks to his hybridized state, it wasn't an overt amount.

The cyborg glanced over to his ally. Riptor was curled up on the bed, devoid of his street clothes. He curled around himself like a tired hound would, yet it still gave the impression he could easily spring to action if something happened. After all, it was night one in their new apartment. Day one of their proper stay in Night City.

Fulgore looked over to the computer. The cyborg turned to approach it, flicking the mouse to light the screen up as he sat down. Metal fingers slid across the keyboard, as the cyborg browsed the net to the best of his ability. Accessing it and searching for all the information he could find on that simple, menacing word.

Cyberpsychosis.

Article after article, page after page; each finding proved more confusing and disastrous than the last. But from them all, he came to an absolute conclusion. The amount of cyberware, and their potency, were primarily what put someone at risk of reaching cyberpsychosis…and going fully borg was often a death sentence in regard to that.

…and yet he was fine. Why hadn't he turned? Fulgore knew what cyberware he was fabricated with, and knew how sophisticated it all was. And yet he was still fine. Still himself. Which begged the question as to why? Why was he fine? He almost questioned if it needed time to rear its head, but according to one of the articles, it could happen practically anytime. Even with something as simple as a Sandevistan could cause someone to hit cyberpsychosis and be lost forever. Lost in their own mind, never to return.

…out of all the fates he knew possible, that sounded like the absolute worst of them all. To be a prisoner in his own body, as it tore through everything in its wake until it was finally put down. The thought was genuinely harrowing.

A warble caught his attention. Fulgore turned to see Riptor awake, staring right at him. A confused sound left his maw. Like he was asking what Fulgore was doing.

"Don't worry. I'm just…researching something." He answered. Even that didn't feel right. "…on cyberpsychosis. The man we fought today, he was suffering from it. And according to this data, experts believe it's primarily caused by an abundance of cyberware in the body. Like the mind cannot handle it. And goes mad." He clicked the mouse, closing out the various open tabs. "And…I fear I could succumb to the same thing. After all, as far as I know, the only organic thing left in me is my brain. Most of me is cybernetic, so I'm…afraid I could easily succumb to the same, grim fate."

Riptor looked at the nightstand. The hybrid grabbed his Agent from it and quickly affixed it to his arm, just as he uncoiled himself from around himself. He tapped and typed at the screen, fiddling with it as he stepped off the bed, so he could approach the cyborg and present the Agent. Present what was on the screen.

It was…a scene from an old movie. A crime thriller. And the hybrid tapped the screen, unpausing the movie.

"Nnnnyyyyeh…you're overthinking it, Chuck. Something woulda happened by now." He paused, then pointed at the screen. And then shook his head. At least this time, it was easier to decipher what Riptor meant. And see the logic in it.

"Perhaps you're right," he nodded. "if I were to hit cyberpsychosis, it should've happened by now. But just in case, I'll visit a Ripperdoc for a detailed scan at a later date. Use that to determine my chances. But I won't fret over it." Riptor nodded and moved back to the bed. Fulgore watched the hybrid skulk off for a moment, metal fingers drumming upon the desk with increasing fervency.

"Wait," he spoke, halting Riptor. "…if I do hit that point. If I…reach cyberpsychosis…promise me, Riptor." For once, he needed to search for the right words. "…promise me you'll be the one to end me, before I hurt you or others out there." Riptor stared at him, silent as ever. His fingers touched his Agent, but he didn't seem to be loading up another video. He was fidgeting. Like he was thinking.

"Riptor," Fulgore repeated. "I need to know, if it comes to that, you'll make the shot count. I know me well enough to know you won't get another. Can I trust that you will be the one to end my suffering, should the worst come to pass?"

Riptor stared for a moment more…then nodded. It was hesitant. Unsure. Fulgore could easily see that. Easily see that it was a thought the hybrid never wanted to entertain yet did so on his behalf. To put his mind at ease.

"…thank you, Riptor," the cyborg finally said. "this is just to put my mind at ease. Even if it never happens, I like knowing there's a way out, should it come. I'd rather us have a plan now over then, after all." Riptor nodded once more, then went back to bed. Fulgore swiveled in the chair, optics trained onto the screen once more. As he processed the information on cyberpsychosis once more.

…Riptor was right. If it was going to befall him, it would've already done so. Especially with the cyberware he possessed, and how sophisticated it was. So, he was safe. Or at least, he liked to think he was.

With that, he stood at last. They had a lot of work to do in Night City. Not only did they need to do more work for Maine and the others to earn more funds, but they needed to acquire some information worth bartering with Militech over. Something truly worthwhile to guarantee safe passage to Hawaii, where the two could remain indefinitely. Or at least until Fulgore figured something else out. One day at a time, though.

He mashed the power button, and the computer flicked off.

[Wanted a smaller chapter before we hit the initial timeskip Edgerunners had. The one that prelude's Pilar's death. Here, wanted to highlight a real fear of Fulgore's, as with the information given on Cyberpsychosis, and his logical mind, he'd naturally question why he ISN'T one himself, given that a full-borg conversion usually speedruns the matter of cyberpsychosis. So, interesting thing to play over.

Other than that, I hope you enjoy before we jump into meatier content!]