So, I started and finished this chapter, like, 3 hours after posting the last one. So… yeah, I decided to sit on it for a while, just to give people time to catch up on reviews. And, apparently, I needn't have bothered - wow, almost a full month since the last review? You guys are sa-la-hacking! Honestly, I'm losing motivation here.
But, whatever - I've got other stories to write, so, if people aren't that into this one, I can take a hint. I'll probably try to finish this one, but it's honestly not boding well for the series.
20:50 28th April 2090
Lizzie's Bar, Little China, Watson
Lizzie's Bar pulsed with life. Neon lights reflected off every surface, bathing the bar in a kaleidoscope of pinks, purples, and blues. The music was loud, pounding out of speakers embedded in the walls, its bassline syncing with the thrum of Night City itself. Holograms of dancers flickered on the edges of booths, blending with the real crowd, a mix of joytoys, mercs, corpos, and gangers. Kali stepped through the haze of cigarette smoke and synthetic pheromones, her expression sour, her black turning blue like a warning sign when it caught the lights.
The smell of Lizzie's Bar hit Kali first – sweet fragrant fruits, humid sweat, and the faint chemical tang of synthetic perfume and stim inhalers. The place reeked of desperation, but it had a strange charm, too. Neon lights bathed everything in a dreamlike glow, painting faces in shades of pink and purple while the polished steel fixtures reflected the chaos in jagged, distorted fragments. Somewhere nearby, a cigarette sparked, its acrid smoke cutting through the haze of e-cigarettes and cyberware coolant leaks. Kali wrinkled her nose and elbowed her way through the crowd, the heavy bassline of the music vibrating through her chest.
"Keep up, Esma," she called over her shoulder, her voice sharp.
"I'm here," Esma replied brightly, threading through the throng with a dancer's grace. Her sparkling blue dress stood out against Kali's neon-green aramid-weave jacket with carbon plating. It looked as if she didn't belong with Kali, but she didn't seem to care. Her lips curved into a smile at anyone who glanced her way, and by the time they reached the bar, she'd exchanged half a dozen friendly compliments, and twice as many waves.
Where Kali's sharp edges felt like an electric shock, Esma was soft warmth. Her wide gold eyes darted around the bar, lighting up as she caught sight of people she knew. Esma practically glowed under the lights, while Kali seemed to absorb them, the black top she that covered the tattoos on her chest making her an unwelcome shadow in the neon haze.
Kali slapped her hand down on the counter, catching the bartender's attention. The impact drew a glance from a man at the bar with eyes as black as charcoal – without any sclera or iris or pupil. He raised an eyebrow, smirked, and turned back to his bottle of Broseph lager.
The bartender approached: tatted with Mox ink and a floral shirt unbuttoned to his navel, Kali had always found him annoying. Too smug, too at ease, too friendly.
"Bourbon," Kali barked. "Cheap as you've got it. No ice."
The bartender nodded in acknowledgment and turned to pour the drink, his chrome-plated fingers flexing with a whirr of servos. Esma, meanwhile, slid onto the stool next to her, crossing her legs daintily as if they weren't perched at a bar twenty feet from guys and girls jacking off in booths.
"I'll take… a pink martini," Esma said cheerfully. "Oh, and can you make it extra cute? Like, umbrella-cute?"
The bartender gave a small smile as he set Kali's whiskey in front of her. "Sure thing, doll."
Kali stiffened at the word, her fingers tightening around her glass. "She's not working, pal. Just pour the damn drink."
Esma touched Kali's arm lightly.
"It's fine, Kal, relax." Her tone was breezy, but Kali could feel her sister's tension in the gesture. It was like Esma could sense Kali's disdain before she even opened her mouth, ready to smooth things over before it turned into a fight.
Kali shrugged her off, downing the whiskey in one go. The burn hit her throat like an old friend, and for a second, the rest of the bar faded into the background. She set the glass down hard enough to make it rattle against the countertop.
The bartender raised an eyebrow but said nothing, busying himself with Esma's elaborate cocktail order. Around them, the noise of the bar was constant – laughter, shouted conversations, and the occasional burst of static from a malfunctioning holo-ad. A trio of joytoys crowded into a booth nearby, their exaggerated features a mix of flesh and chrome, while a pair of Syndicate cutters loitered near the bathroom, their white optics glowing faintly in the dim light. On the dance floor, bodies moved in sync with the pounding music, their outlines blurred by the flickering holographic projections that pulsed in time with the beat.
"Place reeks of corpo chumps and bad decisions."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Esma replied. "It's fun!"
Kali snorted, her bitter laugh cutting through the air. "Yeah, I'll put that on my calendar. Right after 'sell kidney to pay rent.' Another beer!" She called to the bartender.
Esma tapped her manicured nails against the counter in a cheerful rhythm, looking around like she belonged there. "You know," she said, turning to Kali, "Watson isn't so bad. Nice vibe. Good people."
Kali snorted. "If by 'good people,' you mean 'opportunistic assholes who'll gut you for a handful of eddies', then sure; real great crowd."
Esma rolled her eyes, accepting her martini as the bartender set it down with a flourish. A little pink umbrella stuck out of the glass, just as she'd requested. She beamed at him and took a delicate sip. "Not everyone's like that, Kali."
Kali's bottle of Broseph lager was stomped down on the bar.
"Everyone in Watson is," Kali muttered, glancing around the room with a sneer. Her gaze lingered on the Syndicate gangers for a moment too long, and one of them caught her eye. He grinned, his metal teeth glinting under the neon lights.
Kali turned back to the bar, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Place hasn't changed a bit. Still full of people looking for the fastest way to screw you over."
"Or, maybe, people are just smiling?" Esma suggested, her tone light but pointed.
Kali shot her a look. "Yeah, because what I really need right now is to befriend every chromehead and joytoy in Watson."
Esma sighed, taking another sip of her drink. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"And you're delusional," Kali shot back, though her voice lacked its usual bite. She reached for the beer, lifting it in a half-hearted toast. "Here's to surviving another day in this shithole."
Over the next hour, the alcohol did little to dull the sharp edges of Kali's mood. She stared into her glass from their table across from the bar, watching the neon lights reflect off the amber liquid, her mind drifting to places she didn't want it to go. HEX's mocking shouting echoed in her memory, the sound as grating now as it had been a month ago. The Hellhound program had been a masterstroke of cruelty, a virtual executioner lurking just out of sight, ready to pounce the moment she jacked into the Net.
"I could've had her," Kali muttered under her breath.
Esma glanced at her. "Who?"
"HEX. That motherfucker. I was this close." Kali's grip tightened on her bottle, her knuckles whitening. "If I could just dive again – just for an hour…"
"You'd what?" Esma interrupted gently. "Flatline? Get your brain fried?"
Kali's jaw tightened, her glare snapping to her sister. "I'd have gotten what she stole from me. Everything she stole. And we wouldn't be stuck in this goddamn city anymore, would we?"
Esma set her drink down, her expression softening. "Kali, you think money's going to fix everything."
"Leaving this city would fix things."
"Even if you had all the eddies in the world, this city doesn't let go of people like us."
"Bullshit! I've seen people leave. Real corpos with enough cash to buy their way out. We could do that if you'd stop turning tricks for Tygers at Clouds."
Esma's smile faltered for a second, the usual lightness in her tone replaced with something sharper. "It's a job. It pays. And it's a hell of a lot more stable than whatever mess you're chasing."
Kali slammed the empty bottle on the table, earning a wary glance from the pink-haired Mox girl next to them.
"I'm not chasing anything. I'm working a plan."
"Right, because your plans have worked out so well so far," Esma shot back. "What was the last one? Spend, what, half a year hunting some runner, blow through every eddie you make, and end up with a Hellhound on your tail in the NET? Oh, yeah. Solid plan, Kali."
The air between them crackled with tension, the sounds of the bar fading into the background as they stared each other down. Finally, Esma sighed and picked up her martini, taking a long sip.
"I don't get why you're so mad at me all the time," she said quietly. "We're supposed to be a team, Kali."
Kali looked away, her lips pressed into a thin line. "We are a team. That's why I'm busting my ass to get us out of here. But you–" She stopped herself, her fingers gripping the edge of her seat like she was trying to keep herself grounded. "You don't see the bigger picture. You're too busy playing nice with this city while it chews us up and spits us out."
"And you're too busy being bitter to realize not everyone wants the same thing as you," Esma replied. "I don't need to escape. I've got friends. I've got a job. It's not perfect, but it's mine. And I don't hate myself every time I look in the mirror."
Kali flinched, her expression hardening. "You think I hate myself?"
"That's not what I said, Kal. Maiko runs a tight ship, and the Tygers take care of protection…"
"Wow, great…" Kali rolled her eyes.
"The doll chip takes care of everything: out of the two of us, I've got the safer gig."
"Really?" Kali scoffed.
"Out of the two of us, who's had more viruses?" Esma raised an eyebrow. "Difference is for me I take a couple pills – you shell out thousands to replace your chrome."
"I wouldn't have to if we both left," Kali shot back. "We could go anywhere. Somewhere better."
"And what then?" Esma asked, her voice quiet but steady. "You think we can just leave everything behind and be happy? You think you'd be happy?"
Kali didn't answer, her gaze fixed on the empty bottle in her hand. Esma leaned closer, her voice softening further.
"You don't hate this city, Kali. You hate that it beat you. And you hate that I don't feel the same way."
Kali's fingers tightened around her bottle, her throat working as she swallowed back the retort burning on her tongue. The two sisters sat in silence for a while, the weight of their conversation hanging between them like a third presence. Esma finished her drink and ordered another, while Kali nursed her whiskey, her mind racing with half-formed plans and impossible dreams.
Finally, Esma broke the silence.
"You know, there's a doll at Clouds who's saving up to start her own clinic. She wants to help people get out of bad cyberware deals. She's got a real shot at making it happen."
Kali raised an eyebrow. "And what's that got to do with us?"
"Just saying," Esma said with a shrug. "Not everyone who stays here is doomed. You don't have to leave to make something of yourself."
Kali laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Yeah, sure. I'll just open a bakery next to the Maelstrom hideout and hope they're in the mood a cupcake with their murder."
The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable.
"Well, who doesn't like cupcakes?" Esma asked, the corner of her lip curling.
Kali couldn't help but chuckle at that, shaking her head. "You're a piece of work, you know that?"
"Yep." Esma raised her glass in a mock toast. "To sisters."
Kali hesitated, then lifted her own glass. "To getting the hell out of this city. One way or another – and I'm still the one who's gonna drag your ass out of here when the time comes."
Esma smiled, her eyes warm. "We'll see about that."
They clinked their glasses together, the sound lost in the chaos of Lizzie's Bar. For a moment, Kali felt like they were kids again, dreaming of a future where the world couldn't touch them. But as the night wore on, and the neon lights blurred into the shadows, the weight of Night City settled back over them, a reminder that some dreams were harder to chase than others.
Kali stared into the amber liquid pooled at the bottom of her glass, her mind replaying the last few months in vivid detail. HEX's smug voice, the glowing teeth of the Hellhound that now waited for her, the endless nights spent scouring for leads that never paid off. She'd burned through everything – every eurobuck that came her way, every connections with the Fixers she'd worked with, every scrap of hope – only to end up back here, drinking in a bar, dreaming of leaving the city that would never let her go.
"You know anything about HEX?" Kali asked eventually.
"Never heard of 'em," she shrugged.
"She's gotta be a cunt…" Kali murmured. "Only a cunt comes up with a name like that."
"Okay, B3DBUG," Esma scoffed.
Kali narrowed her eyes at her sister. "Okay, we need more drinks."
"Here, I'll…"
"I'm not that broke," Kali insisted. She made her way over to the bar, delving into her pockets for the eurobucks she had scrounged: she had to go analogue.
Kali made her way over to the bar where she leant, waiting for the bartender once again. She looked back at Esma, who was laughing at something one of the girls next to her had said, gesturing to her dress. Her sister was radiant, untouchable in a way that made Kali feel both proud and resentful. Esma had always been like that, even when they were kids –
able to find joy in the darkest corners of their lives.
As the bartender returned, the man with black eyes raised a hand.
"Matty – bottle of Broseph."
"You got it." The bartender turned to walk down the bar to one of the refrigerators.
Kali clenched her jaw and glared at the man, who reached into his leather jacket to find a pack of Morleys cigarettes and pop one into his mouth.
"I was waiting first, shitheel."
He looked her up and down for a moment. "Well, feel free to wait some more."
Kali scoffed – used to be she'd shock the guy and fuck with his cyberarms so he couldn't even pick up his drink. But… not with the Hellhound. Even connecting to someone's neuroport could get her zeroed.
"Asshole…" Kali had to content herself with the cuss. The man next to her hung his head and chuckled before looking up to the bartender, who returned with a bottle of Broseph lager.
"And, erm… whatever she wants – it's on me."
The bartender nodded, a little surprised, and turned to Kali. She cleared her throat – she could still fuck with people without the NET.
"Large glass of Massy, glass of Champaradise, and two shots of Centzon – the blue shit."
The bartender glanced to the patron, waiting for his go-ahead, which was given in the form of a shrug. He walked off to start fetching the drinks, leaving the two of them alone at the bar.
"Well, at least you aren't scared of comin' off rude," he commented.
"Is this the part where you expect me to suck your dick?"
"No expectations – I like being surprised," he responded, a slight grin on his lips. She couldn't quite discern whether he was joking or not. "I'm Mike."
"I didn't ask."
"Well, now you know whose tab to put your drinks on."
He was talking like a rich kid. Entitled, as if money didn't matter. Hell, money probably didn't matter to someone like him. Probably grew up in North Oak or Charter Hill with the other corposcum.
"I don't need some rich gonk to buy my drinks…" she turned away from him.
"Lucky you, I could use a rich gonk to buy my tequila," he muttered as he looked back to the bartender, who had returned to pour the shots of tequila. "Make it three Centzon, Matty – and get one yourself."
"Celebratin'?" the Bartender asked.
"Pulled off a gig."
"Couldn't have been that hard…" Kali scoffed.
"Why d'you say that?"
"'Cos you're here, and not at the Afterlife." She stated.
"I do jobs with the Mox," Mike explained, "Plus Matty gives me a discount, don't you?"
"As long as you tip the difference," the bartender replied with a wink.
"How 'bout you, what do you do?" Mike asked.
"Talk to creepy guys at the bar, apparently…" Kali sighed, hoping the bartender would hurry up pouring the tequila.
Meanwhile, Mike simply smiled and turned back to the bartender. "Do you think I'm creepy?"
"The eyes are a bit off-putting…" the bartender admitted.
Mike grinned and looked back to Kali. "Y'know, there's better ways to prove you're tough than getting shitty at everyone you meet."
"You've mistaken me for someone who gives a shit."
Mike chuckled at that, apparently amused. It irked her. He picked up one of the shots of Centzon.
"So, what, to making friends in meatspace?"
Kali frowned – she noticed that phrase. And, looking under his jacket, she saw the top half of a tight jumpsuit: nanoweave, red elastomer… it wasn't unlike the suit she used to deepdive.
"You're a runner?" She asked.
"Takes one to know one," he replied, setting down the shot and picking up his beer instead.
"What's your handle?"
He took a swig of the beer. "ARCH NG3L."
"Cunty name."
"What's yours?"
"B3DBUG," she said, waiting to see if he would respond.
A moment passed and he eventually shrugged. "Am I meant to know you?"
"I'm the best runner in NC."
Mike let out a genuine laugh – something that made her itch to punch him in his face.
"Bug, I know the top five runners in this city, and you're not one of them… Unless you wanna prove me wrong?" He smiled and nodded to the DJ's booth on the floor above, the long window looking out over the bar and dancefloor below. "Change the music."
Kali chewed her tongue.
"That's not a challenge."
"Okay, so do something else."
"I could hack your Kiroshi's and make you blind?"
"Could you?" He smirked.
He was actually waiting for her to try. The bastard – she could if it wasn't for the Hellhound; it wasn't deepdiving, but… she was still using the NET to jack in to his neuroport. Even if the odds were small, all it took was one mistake for her to end up dead on the floor of Lizzie's Bar. This gonk wasn't worth it.
"You're a fuckin' asshole," Kali murmured.
"Well, consider this fuckin' asshole's feelings hurt…"
It as at that moment that Esma had walked over, rubbing Kali's arm. "Hey, Kal, what's taking so long?" Her gold eyes glanced over to Mike, clearly trying to discern if he was hassling her or not.
"Your friend just bought us all a round."
"She did?" Esma frowned, glancing to Kali.
"Don't worry, I didn't use my money…" Kali assured Esma.
"I'm Esma – Kali's sister."
"Nice to meet you, Esma. Kali." He nodded to them both.
"And you're…" Esma trailed off, waiting.
"Some guy," Kali interjected.
"Some guy called Mike," he nodded. "We were just trying to figure out what to toast to."
"To…" Esma glanced around to Kali, who had already knocked back her shot, feeling the burn down her throat. The music changed to something slow – a sultry groove driven by a steady beat with lush synths and dreamy guitar chords. It was a hypnotic song – one from Kali's childhood. A relaxed pulse like a heartbeat, with smooth and seductive vocals, layered with a smoky, almost wistful quality. The lyrics feel like a private confession whispered over the haze of a dancefloor.
"Oh, to Hallie Collins!" Esma said excitedly. She clinked her shot against Mike's, who shrugged.
"Good enough."
They drank the shots and Esma shook her head before tugging on Esma's hand. The dancefloor shimmered under pulsating pink and purple lights, holographic displays flickering in time with the music. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, spilled drinks, and cheap perfume, mingling with the faint hum of cyberware and the ever-present haze of smoke. The song enveloped the space, its sultry beat coaxing bodies to sway in languid synchrony.
"Oh, no," Kali protested, planting her boots firmly on the floor. "I don't dance."
"Bullshit," Esma shot back, grinning as she tugged harder. Her pink dress fluttered under the neon lights, and her confidence was infectious. "You're not sitting this one out. Not with this song."
Subtle electronic flourishes wove through the melody: a song that beckoned them to sway rather than jump.
The beat dropped, and Kali groaned but let Esma pull her into the thrumming centre of the floor. The crowd closed in around them, a kaleidoscope of neon hair, chrome limbs, and glittering makeup. Esma was already moving, her hips swaying effortlessly in time with the music. Her movements were fluid and graceful, as though the song had taken over her body entirely.
Kali tried to resist, but the rhythm crept into her limbs, loosening her rigid posture. She swayed cautiously at first, her movements awkward and stiff compared to Esma's easy elegance. Esma noticed and laughed, spinning in place and throwing her arms up in a carefree gesture. She reached out and grabbed Kali's hand again, pulling her into a playful twirl. Kali stumbled slightly, laughing despite herself as the Armagnac buzz made her head spin.
"All right, fine!" Kali said, surrendering to the beat. She started to move with more confidence, her boots stomping in time with the bassline. Her style was rougher, more grounded – less of a dance and more of a defiant challenge to the music.
The sisters found their rhythm together, a striking contrast on the floor. Esma twirled and swayed, her movements light and flirtatious, while Kali's sharp, deliberate gestures added a raw edge. They drew attention from the crowd, a few strangers pausing to watch the dynamic between the two.
"See?" Esma teased, leaning in close as the song hit its dreamy bridge. "You're not completely hopeless."
"Yeah, yeah," Kali grumbled, though the small smile lingered. "Don't get used to it."
For a moment, the rest of the world faded away. The weight of Night City, the sting of past betrayals, and the looming uncertainty of the future – all of it dissolved in the glow of the dancefloor. The song wove through the space between them, binding them in a fleeting moment of joy.
As the final notes of the song drifted into silence, Esma gave Kali one last spin, her laughter ringing out like a challenge to the city itself. Kali caught her breath, shaking her head with a smirk. For the first time in what felt like forever, Kali let herself smile back.
Just a little.
Anyone who knew what song it was is awesome – it was, of course, I Really Wanna Stay at Your House because, how could that not be featured? I really wanted to feature this 'Sis-Hang' in the first book, but didn't, so, here we have it again! I guess these two love going to Lizzie's.
But, yeah, a total of 23 chapters to go. I hope people actually start reading this again, otherwise I guess a random missile gets launched into NC and everyone dies.
I'd say stay tuned, but... there's not much point. I'm gonna write the next chapter and have someone jump the shark.
R