Reilly planted both feet on her desk the moment she came back to her office.
She couldn't erase that giddy, shit-eating grin off her face anymore as she lit another cigarette.
Unlike Dexter Deshawn and his fancy-ass cigars he smoked to look like hot shit, Reilly's cigarettes were 10 eddies at a local mart.
You didn't need to put up an appearance to show class- no, your action showed that for you. Appearance will follow class.
Reilly learnt that from the Baba Yagas. Normally, wearing heavy armour like that would've been made fun of, insulted as tin cans and doughboys.
No one on the street was dumb enough to call them that. Even behind their backs. Everyone who has their ears even slightly next to the streets all heard what they've done, seen what they've left behind (or the lack of anything left behind).
You don't so easily talk shit about someone capable of making even a truck disappear from the Corpo eyes without them even noticing, either because of fear or admiration… or both.
In fact, words on the street says that some low-grade mercs have started to imitate the Baba Yagas, either attempting to go fullborg or wearing armour from head to toe, optical camo implanted to make them copy even just a small pint of the Baba Yaga's skills.
They were easily scoffed at by the fixers and mercs, now those guys were freely insulted- called Boogeymen wannabes both in front of their faces and behind their backs.
And those lower grade mercs, and the way they carried out a gig, only accentuated just how much their was in the disparity of skills between them and the Baba Yagas. One cannot simply follow in the steps of a 1st class merc, as Rogue had told her one time they had a drink together in the Afterlife.
Now THAT was class - that, was something no one could copy.
And it also told Reilly that the Mercs she directly sent gigs to was that much of a legend in such a short duration of time.
I mean, for crying out loud, it's only been a month and half the eddies she raked in was from other fixers willing to pay high money just to get in contact with the Boogeymen for hire.
She wasn't stupid- as much as she wanted to monopolise on the Mercs she had listened to the Queen of Fixer's advise, and she learnt pretty quick that unless she was a very high ranking Corpo like Yorinobu Arasaka, she couldn't keep someone like them under such a short leash. Hell, she couldn't keep them on any leash.
The least she could do was pay them well enough to have them take her gigs just as much as the rest of the Fixers in Night City.
And… also get as much eddies from the situation before it ends. She called it 'Celebrity Tax', and the Fixers understood well enough to know why they should pay it. Baba Yagas, despite their reputation, was elusive. It fit their namesake, to be quite honest.
Fixers that made good enough reputation would get a way to contact the Boogeymen after a gig. Those that were less fortunate would… have to ask Reilly for their contact again. Once again paying the Celebrity Tax.
It was the way of the city. Of course, she could only keep 40% of the tax- the 60% was for the Baba Yagas to convince them to meet up with their newest 'client'.
Reilly took the cigarette out of her mouth as she saw the holocall buzz to life.
The name was familiar enough. She let out a smoke as she stubbed the cigarette into the ash tray.
Speak of the devil.
[Heeey, Reilly! I've heard a lot about you from a lot of Mercs!]
Muamar Reyes held up his ever cheerful persona. Reilly smiled at the fixer.
"Hey, El Capitan. I'm sure you're calling because you've got something for me?"
[Oh yeah. It's not that big of a gig… Ok, I guess it is. But I'll cut to the chase - couple of mercs I hired for a gig is in hot shit with the package I need. They've managed to Delta out for now, but they're not in a good situation. They can't leave the current place, but they also can't stay - gangoons had sniffed their trail and are closing in. Thing is, I NEED this package, and I would also rather have my employees alive.]
"Before I ask where and who- I'd assume you're here to hire one of the 'special' mercs for the job?"
[Yeah, Yeah. Bang on. I need one of the guys that so many people right now are too scare to meet face to face. You know… the ones that go bump in the night.]
Reilly smiled. Fixers never really called her for her mercs… unless it was for 'them'.
It was always for 'them'.
"Of course, I can give them a call to ask them if they're up for a gig. To be fair, they're almost always up for a gig. Of course, trying to contact them ain't going to be cheap…"
[ I know, I know. I've already heard. Celebrity Tax up front, then whatever eddy I pay for the gig to be done I pay them directly.]
"Good, just tell me where you want them to meet you and zip me the eddies."
Muamar chuckled on the other side of the call. Truth be told he expected contacting the NC's newest Boogeymen to be a lot harder than this.
[You got it, boss. Sending you the detes along with the Eddies.]
Reilly saw the Eddies rolling in the moment Muamar ended the call. Along with a text message that displayed the location - The edge between Santo Domingo and Westbrook.
By the sound of it, Muamar needed a merc quick.
Feeling quite giddy at the potential prospect of having fixer indebt to her, Reilly didn't hesitate calling up Spartan Locust.
The rain outside was pouring down like a water fall. It had been a while since a rain this heavy came to Night City.
Almost as if there was a storm coming.
[… Reilly.]
It had taken Reilly a month to finally get used to that distorted voice…
… but fuck, it still felt uncomfortable hearing the monotone synthetic voice.
"Hey, Locust! You guys up for a gig?"
[Details and Location.]
Reilly snorted a little. At this point she was using Locust's no-bullshit requests as a way to know it was Locust she was talking to.
"Your Fixer will also be your client: Muamar 'El Capitan' Reyes. Says that he gave a gig to some mercs but they're in hot shit with gangs, need one of you guys to extract them. You'll get the rest of the info from the guy himself. I'm sending you the location. You up for it?"
[…]
Reilly quietly transferred the data Muamar gaver her along with the eddie.
She didn't need to get nervous. Not anymore, right?
She knew he'd bite.
She knew he's always aching for a new gig.
[Tell him we'll be there in 5 minutes.]
See? He was just talking to the rest of his team.
Reilly smiled.
Another day where her bank account got richer, and her street cred as a Fixer was going up in places.
Muamar sat on the edge of a rundown highway, overlookig Charter Hill while sipping a bottle of beer.
He'd like to put on a cool face, tell everyone including himself that all was Ok.
But he'd be really eating up those lies if those Boogeymen-for-hire would come soon-
"Muamar?"
"Holy Jesus Chri-" The beer still left in the bottle swirled and crashed against the glass wall, Muamar nearly falling off from the highway road.
This motherfucker didn't make any sound until he was right behind him.
Muamar quickly looked back. He couldn't help but smile.
God damn, the Baba Yagas in the flesh.
The one in front, who clearly was the leader of their little group, was the most horrifying to look at.
Damn… He heard the Mercs in the Afterlife talk about him. He thought they were a little exaggerating about the whole eyeless-skull thing.
No, it was an apt description.
That was all the 'El Capitan' needed. His fixer's sense was telling him the rest -
That they were more than capable of finishing this job exactly the way he wanted.
"Right, name's Muamar Reyes. You can call me 'El Capitan' if you want."
Muamar extended his hand towards Agent Locust, who took the hand and shook it.
"What's the job."
"Glad you asked. I've heard about you from the other fixers - how to get you salivating for a gig, I'll cut to the chase: We have two Mercs: A solo named Dorio and a Netrunner named Sasha. Their gig was to go into an Arasaka territory and steal some packages for me. Trouble is, the entire Merc team they're in is shit at stealth. Those two were probably the best at going in quietly in their team too. Their best wasn't enough for the gig, however. Now they have Tyger Claw gunning them down. Last time I contacted them was 7 minutes ago. They're holed up somewhere in Japantown, and Tyger Claw is closing. I need one of you guys to go down there and help them out - make sure you get the package with you as well. I'd rather not have the mercs I hired die. Those kind of shit kinda tanks a fixer's street cred as well, though not as much as the mercs themselves."
Muamar saw the 6 mercs look at each other, before the leader looked back around.
"Before we continue, would their be a particular reason why you'd only have one of us go in?"
Muamar smiled bitterly.
"A lot of reasons. Unfortunately, I don't have enough money to hire all 6 of you. I know that would've made this job a lot quicker, but at the same time I know that stealth is no longer an option if you're going to try and rescue our mercs while they're still breathing. Westbrook is where the wealthy elites and corpos live, that means they're is way too many security cameras. Perfect stealth without proper prep and time will just take too long. I need my mercs and package out and away from the Tyger Claws and I need them out and away now. Now, I know that gang wars are common - especially in Japantown. What isn't common, you see, is 6 successors of Adam Smasher running around and stirring shit up. That causes chaos. Way more chaos than Night City wants. If we're starting shit, let's keep it as low as possible. One person, I'm sure you guys are capable of doing this job with just one guy, right? You don't even have to kill all of the gangs- just take the 2, take the package, and run."
Muamar looked across the 6, hopefully they were understanding his point of view. Sure, fixers liked criminal jobs if it benefited them. That was the whole point of a fixer. What fixers shouldn't like, is causing shit that puts them under thin ice. Especially when it's starting shit in another big Fixer's territory. Muamar sure as hell didn't want Wakako breathing down his neck.
Sure, maybe with 6 they could pull this gig out of the water without raising more alarms than now.
But Muamar doubted that. Dorio and Sasha had caused enough shit that the Fixer was sure that it was impossible to quietly cover up.
Then just sending in one guy to do this should be good enough, right?
"Which one do you want?"
Spartan Locust asked.
El Capitan smiled.
"I'd need some explanation of the menu, Choom."
Locust chuckled curtly as he turned to face the 5, he first pointed his index finger at himself.
"Infiltration and Interrogation Specialist."
Locust then pointed to Spartan Leon.
"Sabotage and Espionage Specialist."
As Muamar quietly nodded his head, Locust's index finger then pointed at Killshot.
"Recon and Long-range marksman specialist."
Locust pointed at Spartan Ram.
"On-field Engineering and Cyberwarfare specialist."
Locust then pointed at Spartan Jim.
"Assault Specialist."
Muamar's eyes lit up at the mention of Assault. Yeah, if it's the assault specialist… he might fix this current situation ASAP. Rush past the gangs, get the good and our little helpers, and run.
Just as Muamar was about to answer, Locust finished by introducing Noble 6.
"The all rounder."
Muamar stopped in his track.
The last one was not like the others.
Not a specialist, not… really something that told a lot to Muamar about the armour completely steel black.
Yet somehow that made Muamar curious.
As much as he wanted to choose the Assault Specialist…
"What's… the all rounder?"
The 4 of the Spartans chuckled, the Spartan IIIs simply standing there quietly.
"Easy. It's who you send when things are tricky."
"… Could you… elaborate?"
"Right…" Locust folded his arm. "You want something to be delivered safely? You call the all rounder. You want people to be safely evacuated from a war zone? You call the all rounder. You want a vehicle to be piloted? You call the all rounder.
You want an entire militia group disappear overnight? You call the all rounder. You want someone to clean up your mess because something fucked up? You call the all rounder. You want every single general and army to focus on a single soldier? You call the all rounder. You want an entire war zone gone with the only signs that there were ever soldiers fighting there being corpses and guns littering the floor? You call the all rounder.
You want to put the primal fear into whoever fucked you over, and make sure they either never set their sights in dark corners again, or never let them take their eyes off even that small little shadow behind a door? You. Call. The. All. Rounder."
Muamar silently gulped as he looked at Noble 6.
Compared to the Sniper with a cross-shaped visor, the techno-goliath, the man with several knives holstered on his body, a giant spacesuit and an eyeless skull, Noble 6 didn't look special. It showed in the color of his armour too, when the rest of his team had highlights accentuating the plates and helmets, Noble 6 was steel black from head to toe. Only having a gold visor to accentuate his helmet.
But Muamar knew not to judge a book by its cover.
And his instinct, his sixth sense, honed by his experience, told him that he may need the all-rounder more than the assault specialist.
Muamar grinned.
"I'll take the All-rounder."
"For fuck's sake!"
Sasha was reloading her Pink Omaha when she heard Dorio swear at their current situation.
It was supposed to be a quick and easy gig - go in, hack the terminal, get the medication crate, and get out.
How should they know the package was rigged? Even Sasha had scanned it twice for potential trackers!
Sasha checked how much magazines she had left. Not much, she and Dorio had used up most of the bullets they had packed when they were trying to shake those Tyger Claw fuckers off their tail.
Dorio emptied the used shells of her Overture and started reloading.
Her left shoulder was slightly bleeding but she didn't really care about that. It was a graze, she just took a MaxDoc. It's fine.
Sasha bit her lip. Dorio saw that through her periphery and simply patted the cat-like netrunner on the head.
"Don't bash yourself, Sasha. It was an outside context problem."
"But I should've checked for the truck itself instead of just the cargo…"
"Yeah, well… who gives a shit? We're still alive, we have the package, and Muamar told us that he's getting a clean up crew to come in and help us."
"Clean up crew?"
Dorio scratched her head.
"Well… more like a clean up man. Didn't really give much detes, just told us to hold tight and survive for 5 more minutes."
'C'mon, C'mon!'
'Where did you guys go!'
Tyger claw goons were heard from outside the building.
Among the many here, the Tyger Claw was going through them one by one to get to the two.
Sasha was getting ready to quick hack a few chumps from the window. Dorio saw the glowing eyes of Sasha, and quickly grabbed her shoulder.
"Sasha, whatever you're thinking of, don't! They'll trace you!"
"I know, I… I'm just getting ready for when they find us."
Sweat was running down Sasha's cheek. The bob cut hair she had dyed black was slowly sticking to her.
[Hey, Dorio! Sasha! You girls still alive?]
El Capitan's voice was heard on the other side of the Holo Call.
"Damn it, Muamar! Where's the back up!"
[He's coming in 20 seconds. Let me tell you, you guys got yourself into hot shit but you toughed it out long enough. It's nothing but cruising for you two ladies now!]
Dorio heard the excitement just dripping out from his voice.
From the distance the two mercs heard the sound of something thudding across concrete.
It was from the roof top of the buildings across the street.
[Honestly, I knew it would be expensive to higher at least one of these guys but- whooooah! I know that I have to sell cars at double the price for the time being.]
Dorio felt herself relax a little, chuckling at Muamar riling the two up for the reinforcement.
"You never raise the price of your car. Is he that good?"
[Good? Good?! Dorio, Choom! You don't even know how much your underselling this just by saying that! Saying that he's 'good' is like saying that Arasaka is just 'rich', or saying that the Rayfield Caliburn is just 'fast'!]
From the corner of her eye, outside the window, Sasha saw something jump from a building.
Something big,
Something dark,
Something…
… scary.
[Out of the 6, this guy costed the most! Almost double the price of the rest of the 6!]
Sasha looked down at what had fallen to the ground, under the nervous looking Tyger Claws.
Dorio heard the crash on the road, and the sudden frantic screams and shouts from the Gang.
Then gun fire rang in the air.
Sasha had already scooted closer to the window to see outside, and Dorio crawled next to her.
"… Holy, shit."
That was all Dorio could say.
She knew who their back up was, mercilessly shooting the heads of the Tyger Claw with pin-point accuracy.
Bullets were flying the giant's way, but they effortlessly bounced off of some yellow hexagonal particles interlocked with eachother into some form of energy barrier.
[Ladies, meet Noble 6: The all rounder of the Baba Yaga.]
More Tyger Claws were either flooding out from the buildings they were searching, or trying to take potshots from the windows.
Noble 6 punched a head clean off of a Tyger Claw, the decapitated head with a caved in skull rolling next to a buddy of theirs, and soon took a blood-stained pistol off of a Tyger Claw Corpse and returned fire at the windows.
Some barely saw the barrel of the pistol as a bullet smashed into their optics.
Sasha couldn't believe how the guy could just snipe a gang with a pistol that far away.
But what was even more surprising was when a Kunoichi activated her Sandevistan to close the distance, Katana in hand and ready to stab the new intruder.
She circled around him, clearly thinking that despite such an entrance the guy would be too slow to catch up. Even if he did have a Sandevistan, it would be too late to activate it-
Noble 6 immediately turned his head towards the Kunoichi, startling her.
Oh fuck-
Noble 6 immediately sprinted towards the Tyger Claw, way too fast for her to react to even with the Sandevistan.
She tried to back off, but the fist dug into her ribs faster.
She felt her feet get lifted off the ground, and next thing she knew she collided with her friend so hard that her upper torso was in one place and her legs were in another, intertwined or embedded into her friend's fragmented body parts.
"He-He's got a Sandevistan!"
"I can't do anything! He's way too fast!"
"Someone hack him! Quick hack him now!"
"I-I can't!"
"Break his ICE then!"
"It ain't that! I just can get a read of him! He's invisible to the scanner!"
"What the fuck does-."
One of the Tyger Claw's neck twisted 180 degrees with one sweep of Noble 6's arm, before a mozambique drill confirmed the kill.
Whatever guns ran out of bullet he threw to the ground and picked up a new weapon, reloading and checking the chamber before firing at the gang.
The guy was unstoppable. Shoulder tackle caused someone's ribs and organs to collapse under the force - a kick cased someone's head to get flattened like a pancake.
Noble 6 grabbed one man by the neck and used him as a human shield, firing a Masamune with one hand like it was a pistol, firing it without swaying from the recoil of the three-round burst.
It was insane.
This whole thing was insane.
Nobel 6, in the eyes of the Tyger Claw, was insane.
"…DaiTengu..! DAITENGU! IT'S DAITENGU!"
One of them shouted at the top of their lungs, several were deciding to call it quits the moment one of them managed to get a clear view of the Spartan informed the rest.
"大天狗だ！はやくニゲロ！"
"大天狗だよ！殺すことはできない!"
Tengu. A japanese yokai, demons that took the forms of birds of prey. Using magic they would cast curses and pranks that made people or objects disappear.
DaiTengu, were one of the greatest one among the Tengu - more akin to gods than simple demons.
Tyger Claw was too scared to call Baba Yagas by that name - they thought they would be hiding in every shadow, waiting for someone to call their names to invoke them.
Superstitious lots, but the Spartans' skills made sure that irrational fear spread like wild fire amongst gangs.
Like a code word, Fireteam Baba Yaga were called DaiTengu like a euphamism. A roundabout way to refer to them amongst Tyger Claw and those associated with them so that the Spartans wouldn't know the gang was talking about them.
Sasha didn't take her eyes off him. Couldn't even blink.
"Muamar, that magnificent bastard… he actually went and hired a boogeyman…!"
Sasha heard Dorio mutter to herself.
Noble 6 threw the human shield away, who had unfortunately expired thanks to numerous friendly fire.
The Spartan had come without any weapons - and now he was surrounded by guns that he could use.
Shotgun was picked up to blast a Tyger Claw point blank, ripping the torso in half. Nowaki in the other hand to snipe more of the cheeky buggers shooting from the windows.
Many that were still alive were leaving. Either running away or going back to their cars and motorbikes and revving up the engine.
Soon the streets were nothing but blood stains, bullets, guns and corpses.
Noble 6 picked up a pistol and a rifle that looked like it still had bullets loaded in them, collecting spare mags and other ammos.
Sasha saw Noble 6 place a finger to the side of his helmet.
[Yo, Chooms. I've heard from our back up that the Tyger Claws are gone for now. Tell me which building you guys are in so I can have our boogeyman escort you two out with the package.]
Sasha and Dorio only realised how dry their throats were went they gulped their spit down to speak.
One of those guys could massacre an entire group of gangs like he was cooking breakfast.
Sasha and Dorio knew there were 6 of them total. They saw them whenever they walked into the Afterlife to get preem gig from the Queen of Fixers herself.
And they all knew how to take things quietly.
Dorio, after finishing sending their location to El Capitan, looked over to Sasha and laughed.
"Fuck Adam Smasher, amirite? We've got someone that outdoes him and the legend he built up in a month."
Sasha grimly smirked.
"I don't know about that, Dorio… But I get what you're trying to say."