Hotwiring a car was surprisingly easy. It just took some cable ripping and tying together to get it working right. To get the vehicle moving properly and hurtling towards Night City.
Unfortunately, as Fulgore braced in the seat, it wasn't easy to convince Riptor from driving it himself. A glance to his right rewarded him with the sight of the raptor squeezed into the driver's seat. His claws gripped the wheel for dear life, jerking it left and right, as he sped the vehicle through the arid badlands, on a direct course for the city. In all truth, Fulgore should have driven, but Riptor was eerily persistent on the matter. Like the reptile wanted to give it a shot.
Needless to say, that was a mistake.
Another sharp turn made Fulgore's metal fingers dig into the dashboard. Fulgore's optics drifted to the hurtling landscape, making him ponder just how the land grew so ruined. His databanks remained incomplete, but the information he managed to siphon alluded to the fact the Corporations were to blame. That they were the catalyst to the area beyond Night City to be in such a ruined state. Said databanks also had much to say about the city itself. Apparently, due to the intense corporate presence there, as well as the illusive Arasaka, it virtually operated like a city-state; outside of the government's control and jurisdiction. Anything unsavory unfolding in the city was strictly to be handled by those within it. Because of that, crime of all sorts was rampant, from murder, to theft, to grand larceny and more. And with the corporations at the very top, they made little effort to stop such crime unless it directly harmed their image or enterprises.
How gutless.
Another sharp turn caught his attention. Fulgore refocused and saw they were on a busy freeway, with Riptor bobbing and weaving the car through traffic, cutting the wheel and causing countless near misses with the other vehicles around them. "Perhaps you should slow down. We cannot afford a collision at this speed." He suggested. Riptor screeched something and cut the wheel right, sending them across the highway. Whatever he said, he seemed insistent on—
Something sped past. Fulgore's optics focused on a speeding limo shooting ahead, one veering about as recklessly as their truck. A very quick scan showed two people inside of it, and the limo itself was outfitted with rudimentary ICE. ICE that was breached and openly broadcasting their location. Two bikes shot by as well, speeding after the limo with the riders brandishing menacing weapons. They were clearly after it, which meant whoever was driving the limo was fleeing from them. How strange—
The truck cut across the highway again, and Fulgore realized Riptor was pursuing the drivers. "Riptor, what are you planning? And please don't just screech again. We both know I can't comprehend that. Nor am I making an effort to." The raptor growled something, then took a hand from the wheel to tap the point at the cyborg's arm, then the side of his own head, before finally pointed at the two bikers. Fulgore paused for a moment. "You want them for me to siphon, I take it?" He nodded rapidly, then turned the wheel again, sending them after the pursuing thugs. The reptile was cleverer than he let on to notice something like that. But at least he had a way to loosely communicate. At least until they found a way to bridge that gap.
For now, Fulgore's attention fell to the bikers as they pursued the fleeing limo. The limo sharply shot across the highway again, sending it into oncoming traffic. Hurtling cars were deftly dodged and avoided with surgical precision, telling Fulgore whoever was behind the wheel had to be a skilled driver. A skilled driver and a skilled strategist, because the cyborg realized one of the bikers collided with a much larger truck and ended up crushed underneath it. A planned maneuver, no doubt. One was lost, but another was still chasing the limo.
"Riptor, keep on that one. Don't let them evade us." He screeched something and the truck sped up. The impromptu chase lasted for a while, with the two of them tailing the biker until the limo crashed into a warehouse building, one that was nearly at the city's outskirts. He didn't expect their chase to bring them nearly back where their adventure began, but the biker was still coming. And it had to be dealt with.
"On my command, hit the brakes as hard as you can." He instructed the raptor, then undid his seatbelt. The cyborg kicked open the truck door and clamped a hand on the roof edge. Deftly, he swung himself to land on the roof of the speeding truck, metal fingers anchoring him there as he focused on the erratic, enraged biker. He knew what he was doing was foolish and risky, but the biker was needed alive. Not to mention, something told him it would be in their best interest to save the limo. Whoever was behind that, they could be of use.
"Brake." The tires screeched, the truck slowed, and Fulgore let go just as the sudden stop sent him flying at the biker, just as he came up on the limo. The cyborg's bulk met the biker from behind, tackling him off the bike with a meaty crunch, as the two hit the ground. The biker shrieked something in a language Fulgore couldn't understand, and the cyborg punched him in the face, rendering him unconscious.
With that handled, the cyborg stood up properly, optics on the crashed limo just as the door opened and someone stumbled out of it. A teen, by the looks of it, of Latino origin. His brown eyes were wide with lingering fear and shock from what unfolded, and his quaffed hair was disheveled. The boy sported a thin, athletic build, and wore an odd outfit, consisting of a black tee-shirt, gray cropped sweatpants and white tennis shoes. The noteworthy thing about him, other than the yellow EMT jacket he wore, was the fact that a quick scan revealed minor cybernetic augmentation to him. Faint, even.
The teen's eyes fell to him, and he visibly recoiled. "W-What the hell are you?" He asked, taking a cautionary step back. "Y-You're not with them, right? Please tell me you aren't."
"I'm not." Fulgore answered, taking a step away from the unconscious thug. Briefly, he considered lying to the teen, but thought against it. "My ally and I saw your fleeing limo, and he chose to pursue the two bikers."
The teen breathed a sigh of relief, then shook his head. "Augh…good. Thanks, I guess. They'd been after us ever since we swiped this limo. Honestly, I wasn't sure what was gonna happen if they managed to catch up to us."
"We?" Fulgore asked. The other door opened, and someone else stepped out the limo. She looked far more composed when compared to the once-panicked teen. With pale skin and white hair, her eyes were an odd red and purple color, with a visible gradient to them. Her hair was a bob cut, with the left side longer and dyed with a colorful, pastel rainbow gradient as opposed to the other's pale color. Her outfit was also as odd as the teen's: a cropped white jacket with a sleeveless, thighless black suit underneath. Over it was a pair of white shorts and gray stockings, with a set of black knee-high boots.
Their outfits told him a lot about the style of the city, but still it left questions. More so, because when he scanned the girl, it flagged her with no augments. Not even optics. So, either she was completely devoid of them, or something she had hid hers from his scanner. How odd.
"We." She finished, her voice far more composed than the teen's. Her eyes flickered slightly, then she squinted. "And why did you help us?"
"Like I told him," Fulgore motioned to the fatigued teen. "my ally and I needed the bikers. Saving you both was collateral."
"Well, I'm fine with it either way. I appreciate the save…um…you got a name, choom?" The teen asked, still in the process of catching his breath and wiping away a lingering nosebleed. Fulgore wasn't sure where that came from. He didn't look like he sustained any damages in the limo crash.
"Fulgore." He introduced himself. "And you?"
"David Martinez, and that's—" The girl shot him a quick look, forcing him to fall silent. She was hesitant to give her name. That spoke measures about her cunning. "But…augh…I need a second."
"Take all the time you need. My business is with this one—" The skid of tires caught his attention. Fulgore turned as a purple car came peeling around the side of the warehouse, coming to a stop not too far from the crashed limo and downed biker. The door swung open, a massive metal hand gripped the hood of the car, as a much larger, more imposing man pulled himself from the vehicle, eyes concealed behind a set of sunglasses. A surface-level scan revealed a wealth of augmentation done to him, with the most drastic of them all being some sort of launcher housed in the right arm. Such a munition caught Fulgore off-guard, especially because it was already primed and ready to fire, even while housed in the big man's arm.
"E-Easy, Maine," David uttered. The boy looked faint. Did he fatigue himself or something? "he helped us out with the Claws. See?" He gestured to the unconscious thug.
"Huh, looks like he did." The man spoke, voice laced an iota of mirth. The scanner showed the launcher powered down, and the man visibly relaxed. "Though I didn't expect to see a borg, here in NC. But thanks for keeping the kid alive. Let's hope Faraday'll take the damn limo, though. Data should still be in there."
"Perhaps." Fulgore stated. So, the limo was stolen for something. How curious.
"Mhm. Still, thanks for giving them a hand." He stepped away from his car, casually flicking the door shut with his metal fingers. "So, since David decided to casually drop my name, you cool with me gettin' yours, choom?" He asked.
"Fulgore." The truck crashed into the warehouse seconds later, and Riptor flung himself from it, shaking himself off. "…and that is Riptor."
How far did he fly that it took him that long to get there…?
"So, you two are from outta town?" Fulgore nodded to Maine's question. Night had come in the city again, and the cyborg found himself in a lot, where people celebrated. People drank, laughed, and so much more, and he caught a glimpse of a man pulling party tricks, much to the growing crowd's amusement. The atmosphere was ripe with an unfamiliar warmth, one he wished he could properly understand. But alas, that wasn't an option.
"Correct," Fulgore answered Maine's question, quietly taking note of the prying eyes on him and Riptor. The latter of the two just hissed at those watching, currently cradling a plastic cup of beer. Where did he get it? Fulgore had no idea. He just wasn't optimistic about where it would lead the raptor. "We came to NC to see where things led. Make some funds and see where that took us." He borrowed heavily from the lingo he heard in passing. It helped to blend in slightly. Just barely.
The big man himself stood next to his own car, setting his own cup of beer on the hood of his car. "Shit, that's how it goes for a lotta people here. They pack their shit and leave for NC, thinkin' it'll be an easy place to make a name for themselves as a legend. And when they actually get here, they either get rolled by a ganger lookin' to make some easy eddies, snatched and scrapped by some scavs, or grabbed by Maelstrom even…and somehow that makes the scav thing look nice." He winced at the thought. "But, regarding eddies, I figured the two of you already had some. What with you being a full on borg and him…" Maine gestured to Riptor. Fulgore glanced over to see him also drawing a crowd. A crowd that watched with wonderment as he downed his cup and let out a fiery belch into the air. "…he's an exotic, right? Doesn't work like that cost a fuckin' fortune to get done?"
"…it's why we're looking for funds." Fulgore lied. Though technically it wasn't a lie, given their circumstances.
"Riiiiight," Maine took a quick swig from his drink. "still. You could roll with my crew, then. Does mean you and your choom over there'll need to prove yourselves first. Make sure you can handle what we're all about. Get that knocked out the way, then yeah, we'll let you two run jobs with us."
"And it'll give us the funds we need?"
"If you're asking if I'll pay, then yeah. Everyone gets their fair cut. Sides, David wouldn't shut up 'bout what he saw. Said you flew off a damn truck to tackle that guy. Stuff like that I can appreciate."
"I did. And Riptor was the one who opted to pursue the bikers to begin with. Were it not for his quick thinking, that situation could have been much worse." Fulgore nodded. "Still, send us the information whenever you're ready. Once we handle the task you wish for us to handle…"
"You two'll be proper Edgerunners." Maine smirked…then scowled. His gaze drifted to an approaching car, one Fulgore focused on as well. A quick scan told him little information about it, aside from model. The car came to a stop close to them, and a man carefully stepped out. Dressed in an ornate, fancy suit, he stared down Maine with the contempt of a businessman. Every move he made carried cold calculated precision, but what drew Fulgore's attention was the fact one of his eyes was three of them instead. Positioned right atop each other in a piercing glare. An augmentation for certain, but what use did it serve?
"Yeesh…this'll be good." Maine pulled himself away from the car with a grunt. "I need to have a word with our generous fixer." He approached the man, and the two exchanged heated words. Fulgore picked up on a few key words, such as the data being useless, but other than that, he didn't pay close attention. Didn't seem crucial yet.
His gaze drifted to David, who currently spoke with a shorter, pastel colored woman. One dressed in a slightly-oversized jacket, with her cyan hair done up in a set of dual ponytails. Her body language was friendly, so he figured she was part of the same crew.
And then there was the woman from earlier. The one who he couldn't scan. She stood distant from the others, with her attention clearly elsewhere. Out of everyone there, he couldn't get a steady read on her. Scanners or otherwise. Something about her was off, but he had no way of knowing for certain yet.
No, for the time being, all he knew was him and Riptor had a start on how to handle things in the city. That was enough for now.
"Fuckin' asshole…" He turned just as Maine collected his drink, a grimace on his face. "How're we supposed to do the damn job right if he ain't givin' us all the intel?"
"You work for him?" Fulgore asked.
"Sorta." He took a long sip of his drink, sighing after. "That was Faraday, our fixer for the time being. Basically, a middleman for jobs 'round Night City, for people like us. And he happens to be one of the best there is. Unfortunately, bastard's got info on a 'need to know' basis. And it's makin' shit kinda hard."
"Hmm." Fulgore recorded that info to the databanks.
Maine sighed. "Either way, you and your buddy got a place to crash? If not, I'd suggest finding a motel somewhere. Should be one down the road, I think. They're cheap, at least. If you can stand the smell of copper from whatever went down 'fore you got there."
"That will suffice."
"Preem. I'll let David know to show you two the way and give him the eddies to cover the motel room. I'd wire you the eddies myself, but…doesn't look like you got the chrome for that. Might wanna get that fixed quick, cause carrying eddies in person's an easy way to get rolled by a ganger looking for their next payday."
"It will be done." Fulgore nodded, then settled against a nearby car.
"…can…you even drink? Was gonna say you should get somethin'…but…"
"…no. Besides," He gestured to Riptor. "he's drinking enough for the both of us."
"I can see…also did he just drink vodka—where did he even find vodka? Who the hell's got vodka 'round here and didn't share?"
…Fulgore hoped Riptor's regeneration countered hangovers.
[So, here's me answering a question someone had a while ago, about if this would follow 2077 or Edgerunners. My best answer? Both. That way I can have plenty of time to vibe with both stories, while also writing how these two would interact with it.
Speaking of, I hope I got the banter and dialogues right for all the characters. I think my last viewing of Edgerunners was late October, so I might be rusty when it comes to portraying people correctly. It's also partly why David didn't get many speaking roles in this. I'm steady relearning how he talks. But do let me know if I made an error. I can correct it next chapter.
But, until then, I hope this quick chapter reaffirmed that I'm working on things. Just when I can.]