Her head was pounding. That wasn't the only thing she could feel, but it was the only thing she cared about.
It felt like someone was beating on it with a hammer.
Well, okay, maybe she cared about the part where her mouth was half-numb, too. Her tongue was a large, unresponsive lump and she forced herself to roll on her side to keep it from rolling back into her throat.
She groaned as she felt her brain shift in her head. It fell what must have been a mile before it finally crashed into the side of her skull with a thud.
That didn't help her headache.
"Breeead."
It took her a few seconds… or maybe a few hours for her to figure out that was her voice. It didn't sound right, deep and raspy. Was that because her hearing was jacked up, her throat was, or both.
After another… few seconds? Another few seconds of contemplation, her brain decided that was way too much effort.
Whoever said that, they were right. She needed her time-honored hangover cure: bread and OJ.
Did it work? She didn't fuckin' know but, right now, she needed something.
As she peeled her eyes open, she found herself staring at the cheap wallpaper of her cheap motel in the cheapest part of town. It was some terrible mixture of shit-brown pinstripes and bodily fluids.
Or maybe the pinstripes were bodily fluids that ran down from the ceiling?
No… they were too even. Bodily fluids were never that even.
Somehow, in the back of her head, she'd remembered to actually get the 'ingredients' for her hangover cure. They were sitting in the minifridge a few feet from her.
… How had she remembered that?
Don't care. They're there.
She tried to push herself into a sitting position on the cheap, flimsy mattress. The thing might have been about as comfortable as a couch… if that couch was old, lumpy, and smelled like something she didn't wanna think about.
That, her head decided, was a bad idea and it pounded even harder.
Fuck you, head.
This was a fight she'd had hundreds of times. She knew how to win.
Getting her right elbow under her and on the poor excuse for a mattress, she levered herself up most of the way before swinging her legs forward until her knees cleared the side of the bed. They dropped over the edge and her boots thudded to the equally cheap poly floor.
Oh. Guess I was too shit-faced to take those off last night.
Not that it mattered. Anyone who decided to sleep in that bed wasn't worried about some road grime.
With that, she was able to lean to the side and reach the minifridge's door.
After a minute of negotiating with the OJ and bread to stop running from her hand, she finally had both of them in her lap.
The sweet, tangy, and sour juice washed down her throat. It tingled and, once she'd downed a quarter of the bottle, her tongue finally started feeling like a tongue again.
Whatever that was supposed to feel like.
When she was confident she could take a bite of something without inhaling it, she started chewing on the end of the… what the hell was one of these things called? It was a really long roll… or a really thin loaf…
Whatever. Who cares?
Fair enough.
By the time she was a third of the way through the long roll-thing, her mouth had mostly returned to normal.
That didn't mean her head had decided it wanted to cooperate.
It's gonna be a rough morning. Gotta get moving, though.
So she did. Cheap booze and even cheaper food were never a good idea but… fuck it. She'd been on the road for over a week. Before that, she'd failed at starting herself a new life on the other side of the continent. She needed some cheap booze and cheaper food. Not like she couldn't go out and make some money anyway.
If I'm gonna do that then I need to do that.
Once she was… sort of presentable, she threw the empty OJ bottle and bread wrapper into the garbage, grabbed her pack, and got the hell out of that smelly, run-down motel room.
She needed somewhere to stay that wasn't a cheap, run-down motel.
That could come after she remade some connections.
Her head was still pounding when she walked down the staircase and into the motel's lobby. The bored-looking old lady standing behind the desk didn't bother looking at her. She just kept her head down and eyes stuck in the pad she was watching something on. That was just fine by her.
Other than the desk and old lady, there wasn't much in the lobby. Just some trash on the floor and a stain on the wall by the door. It was big and splotchy. Brown. It was enough to tell her that old lady had a shotgun under the desk and wasn't afraid to flatline whatever gonk came in trying to cause problems in her motel.
Even if it was a cheap, run-down shithole.
Welcome to Night City, baby.
As much as she wanted to say "it's good to be home"-
Well, no. She didn't want to say that. But she was home, for whatever that's worth.
The sounds of the street outside slammed into her like a coked-out dorpher. People were walking by, heads down, eyes on the ground in front of them. Cars were zipping by on the street past the sidewalk. Some were honking, she caught the screech of tires. Shouting. A lot of shouting.
That was normal.
Thankfully she was downtown where the buildings blocked out most of the sun so she didn't have to worry about it trying to bake her brain. No, all she had to worry about was her brain getting scrambled by all the noise, some gonk trying her, or some dumbass not paying attention and hopping a curb.
To be honest, that last one didn't sound too bad right now. At least she wouldn't have to worry about this goddamn hangover if someone did that.
Unfortunately, as she stepped out of the motel and joined the foot traffic, all the cars stayed roughly where they were supposed to.
Smells were the next thing that forced their way past the fuzz in her head. The good old scent of despair. Well, it wasn't really a scent. Not on its own. It was a mix of shit, piss, and the distinct smell of the crowd around her. People who hadn't showered in a week because their water had been shut off. Other people who were coming off a binder. Except, unlike her, they were coming off a binder every night. You know it's bad when your sweat starts smelling like a cheap bottle of tequila.
She almost laughed.
What this fuckin place does to people…
It wasn't news to her, she knew what Night City was.
But she was gonna make the best of it. Only shot she had left.
X
Night was more comfortable for James. He knew, intellectually, it would be but there was always a difference between knowing something and knowing it.
While it was still strange to him the city had people crowding the sidewalks and cars filtering through the streets at 0200, it didn't bother him much. If anything, it made keeping to himself easier. If he were alone on the sidewalk, he'd stand out even more than he already did.
So, as he marched through the crowd, bag slung over his left shoulder, he felt more comfortable than if he had been alone or in the middle of the day. This was a simple job, according to Becca. Another courier one, like his first time with Reggie. Pick up this bag and get it to a drop point about three klicks away.
He turned down a side street, eyes roaming the city's inhabitants.
With how busy it was, even though he'd been on the move for 15 minutes, he'd barely covered half the distance.
That being said, it would be even slower if people still weren't giving him a wide berth. If they looked up from the ground in front of them long enough to notice him, that is.
There weren't as many people pressing in around him on the quieter, two-lane road as there had been on the main avenue. It meant he could pick up his pace.
It also meant he could make better use of his motion tracker.
Nothing yet…
When there was a break in the line of cars, he detached himself from the foot traffic and crossed to the south side of the street.
Normally, he wouldn't be worried about being used as the equivalent of a glorified mailman. Three things caught his attention about this job.
No one followed him to the other side.
First, they wanted to do it under the table instead of either mailing the item or delivering it themselves. That usually meant dangerous or they didn't want to be caught with it.
He turned right at the next intersection and rejoined another avenue.
Two, they were specifically looking for someone with combat experience.
Third, the pay was 2500 Eurodollars for about an hour of work that was mostly walking. It wasn't a ton of money, but it was enough to pay for a month of food.
James's eyes drifted back and forth between his motion tracker and the people around him.
So what was he transporting and who else wanted it. Becca hadn't told him who the job was for but, he assumed, it was one of the gangs. That meant it would probably be a rival gang coming after him.
As he crossed another street and turned south again, Fourier began wondering when an attack would come.
Gangs didn't care about collateral damage; he'd seen that on two more occasions since the driver-by. Hell, any of the cars trundling down the road could be one looking for him.
Choosing a job that requires discretion when I stand out as much as I do wasn't a great idea. He'd have to talk with Becca about it. For now, he needed to keep moving.
With a little over a kilometer to go, he started getting that odd tingling in the base of his skull. It felt like he was being watched. Problem was, there were buildings around and over him with too many windows to count and a crowd of people around him. No way he'd pick out who was watching him and from where.
But he'd been in enough positions like this to trust his instincts.
James' hand hovered over his sidearm. He hadn't made the change to adopt this place's firearms. He only had two spare magazines for his M6I. It would be enough to get himself out of trouble.
Or kill whoever might attack him and take their gun.
A car passed on his left and, as it did, James glanced at it. It was a long, body SUV large enough to carry five or six people with windows tinted dark enough he couldn't see inside.
He felt someone watching him from behind that tinted glass.
His right hand wrapped around the pistol grip.
It turned and pulled into an alley 50 meters ahead of him. James slowed-
Something told him to keep walking.
A quick glance over his shoulder didn't- wait. A dozen meters back. He could just make out something red and glowing. That wasn't too unusual, he'd come to expect it.
This was different. Something about the pattern, he'd seen it before. He saw it when he'd been researching the different gangs.
Maelstrom.
It was hard to tell for sure but he knew that gang member was tailing him. He caught a glimpse of another three sets of lights before he turned back around to watch the mouth of the alley.
Based on what he learned from the net, he was reasonably confident he could handle himself in a fight with them. There were civilians around. If he was gonna fight them, he wasn't doing it with innocent people in the way.
Which meant he couldn't cross the street. They might see that as a sign he was onto them. And that would probably light it off.
That meant crossing the alley that car pulled into. If you couldn't get away from a fight, take some initiative.
As he closed on the alley, James pulled his handgun from his hip. If this turned into a gunfight, he needed to pull it away from the civilians and take it into the alley.
Just before he could reach the four-meter-wide gap between buildings, motion flickered on his tracker. He slipped his finger in the trigger guard, ready to raise-
A familiar, yellow jacket appeared in front of him, its owner smiling up at Fourier.
"Hi. I wanna crack a joke but we ain't got time", David said and jerked his head into the alley.
James' eyes narrowed. He didn't know why the kid was there. Did he follow him? Or was he hired by whoever wanted this package?
Sometimes, it's better the devil you know.
Unless that devil bites your head off…
In this case, Fourier was inclined to go with it. David didn't seem like he wanted to fight, his posture was relaxed and his voice was calm. Besides… he wanted to hire James the last time they saw each other. If something didn't change, and he just wanted whatever Fourier was carrying, it was better than turning this into a fight.
He slipped into the alley.
David was climbing into the SUV, its double doors at the back wide open.
Well… this could be an interesting night.
It was either get in or risk a fight that would put the citygoers in a lot of danger.
So he squeezed himself in behind David, barely enough room for him to fit through the doors. The suspension groaned under the half-ton of extra load.
"Jesus, David", someone said from the front. "You tryna bottom us out?" They had the drawl of someone from north-central America. Denny had a similar accent.
… Denny…
"Your rig can't handle some 'borg? Let's delta before those Maelstrom gonks come try their luck."
There was one other occupant besides James and David, a small girl with purple and blue hair and eyes to match.
Well… he assumed she was a girl, based on her size, but she had a shotgun in her oversized cybernetic hands. It was a Carnage, styled in the same colors as her hair, eyes, and hands. Nasty piece, if the information he'd read about it was anything to go by. He was surprised someone her size would be carrying it.
Then again… cybernetic implants.
"Take a seat", David said and motioned to the small bench beside him. "It's rated for heavy cargo, don't gotta worry about breakin' it."
Martinez sat on a similar bench on the other side of the cabin, beside his friend.
James twisted in the cramped space and wedged himself onto the bench. There wasn't enough room for him to sit in front of his new 'hosts' so he ended up at the back of the SUV.
"You weren't lying about this fucking guy, David", the… young-looking woman said in a voice that didn't match her appearance. "He's huge."
David huffed. "Don't know why you'd think I'd lie."
"Before I offer my gratitude", James interjected, setting his sidearm on his leg, aimed away from the two of them, very slowly and deliberately, "you could explain why I'm in here."
"Gonk doesn't beat around the bush, either. I like that", the mystery woman said.
The SUV turned out of the alley and onto a sidestreet.
"You took a gig for that bag", David replied, nodding at the satchel still slung over James' left shoulder. "I'm guessin' you're a by-the-books kinda guy so you didn't look at it. The Tygerclaws are havin' you run some new chrome, or that's the story we got from 6th Street."
James cocked his head. "I'm not surprised. That's why Maelstrom was shadowing me. And you're here because 6th Street hired you to intercept the package."
The young man nodded. "That's right. The Tygers were smart enough to have a couple different dummy routes. You just happened to be the lucky winner."
"I see", he hefted the bag. "Wanna tell me why two other gangs are after this and why it's important enough to set up independent couriers with dummy routes to run interference?"
The woman blew a raspberry. "That's the question you're askin'? Not 'are you gonna flatline my ass?'"
"No", James said with a shake of his head. "Your boss wants to work with me." He looked at David. "And you don't seem like someone who would waste a relationship you're trying to build on a simple job like this. Especially when you might be able to accomplish it without fighting."
David smiled again. "Told you this chrome jock was smart, Rebecca."
'Rebecca' frowned and sat back on the bench as it rattled over some bumps. "Sounds like a brainiac. That's lame. You're the size of a fuckin' truck, borg. The fuck do you need to be a brainiac for?"
It sounded like she was pouting of all things.
"Sorry to disappoint", Fourier replied. "So this is the part you ask me to give this to you. The problem with that is if I end this without the package and healthy, the Tygerclaws will know I gave it to someone else. That makes me a target."
"And if I don't deliver the goods", David said, "that's a hit to my rep."
James shrugged. "I'll sacrifice a little of your reputation to keep my head out of the Tyger Claws' crosshair."
"What if we don't wanna do that", Rebecca shot back.
If your only recourse was asking me to give you the package, you wouldn't be where you are. "I'm not the only smart one in this car." His eyes were still locked on David. The young man hadn't stopped grinning. "So what's your offer?"
"We got another gig we're running. Could use a little extra firepower. You agree to do that, we take you to the drop, no drama."
"Oh yeah?" James huffed. "You're determined to get me to work with you."
David nodded. "Our crew's been runnin' a little light for a while. Never hurts to scout some fresh talent. Especially when that talent ain't just fresh."
The kid was young and relatively inexperienced. His approach was a little rough and he was probably a little too confident.
But James had to admire the creativity and persistence.
Their ride turned down into what might have been a brightly lit parking garage and idled to a stop.
"What's this job and why do you need help?"
"That was fast", David said.
"I'm asking for a brief, I'm not agreeing to anything."
"Fair. Detes are simple, it ain't much different than what you're doin' now. Gotta pick up some cargo from the Nomads and bring it to the Mox."
"... And you're expecting trouble."
"Yep. Not from the gangs though." David paused, frowning. "Well, not the gangs people call gangs. NCPD."
James frowned behind his visor. "You're giving me the options of fighting my way out of here, putting myself at odds with the Tygerclaws, or getting in trouble with the police. Great choices."
Rebecca threw her head back and laughed. "This gonk's worried about some goddamn backward uniforms."
Backward? In his hours upon hours of data mining, he didn't fail to notice the constant stories about police corruption in Night City. Especially considering the police were privately owned, like everything in this place. That didn't mean getting in a fight with them wouldn't put him on their radar.
"What does that have to do with this job?" he asked.
David shrugged. "Maybe I didn't say that right. These cops won't be workin' as cops if they stop us. They'll have the cars, uniforms, badges, and pretend they are, but that ain't how it is."
"And you know this…"
"Because the last two times the Mox have tried to run this shipment, the same badges stop 'em before they can get it into the city. They were sayin', from how those cops acted, they weren't legit. Couple of their people got hurt pretty bad last time. Cops said they'd zero 'em next time which ain't normal, even for NCPD." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his legs. "Seen people get busted plenty. They might be rough but they'll take 'em in, not kill 'em."
The Mox want someone more capable of handling this transit and they're willing to pay for it, then.
"What's the cargo?" James asked.
"Medicine. Another reason this stinks. Bringin' in medicine ain't illegal. Sounds like, to me, someone's got their hands in the cops' pockets because they don't want the Mox to get their hands on those meds. Means eddies get taken from whoever 'they' are."
James nodded. That sounded reasonable enough if he was going to take David at his word.
"Do you have proof for any of this?"
David reached into a jacket pocket and pulled out a small computer chip. What they referred to as 'a shard'. "Detes are all here. Includes audio and video of both transports."
Setting his sidearm on the bench beside him, Fourier reached forward and took the small chip from David.
He knew what was coming next but… it wasn't like he could avoid it.
James reached into the pouch on his hip and pulled out his small datapad.
"What the fuck?" Rebecca barked. "You gotta goddamn datapad." She roared another laugh. "You-you're a fuckin borg and you still use a datapad?"
The small woman lost whatever else she was going to say in a fit of laughter as James slotted the shard into a port on its side.
Even more than Becca's reaction to him asking for it, the few times he'd pulled it out in front of other people elicited a similar reaction. Having a Link was so ubiquitous, he hadn't seen anyone else with a datapad like his.
That being said, it wasn't like he'd be able to read the shard any other way.
And the added security of having an isolated system more than made up for whatever convenience the Link might provide.
The icon for the shard's file appeared on screen and James tapped it. The first few pages were simple details: route, pickup location, cargo, and who David was supposed to meet. They also placed markers where their last two pickups had been intercepted. They were on entirely different roads out in the area the people in Night City called the Badlands.
Either they were followed out or these cops had an informant.
Nothing stood out to him as he absorbed the information so he moved to the first video file. It was from a dash-mounted camera of a vehicle driving through the unlit Badlands either late at night or early in the morning.
While it was hard to tell from the dim headlights, based on how much vibration was coming through the footage, James guessed they were on a dirt track.
Fourier scrubbed through the first 20 minutes until he reached the meet-up. A vehicle similar to the one he'd seen that woman, Palmer, driving pulled up in front of the camera vehicle. He saw the doors open on either side but the glare from the other vehicle's headlights washed out whoever was in it.
"Hey Hannah", one of the Nomads called, a man based on the deep, raspy voice. "How'd we doin'."
"Preem", a woman, Hannah, yelled back. "Don't got a lotta time tonight so we gotta hook up and delta."
"Let's get you gone, then."
The sounds of boots crunching across dirt replaced the talking.
He scrubbed forward again through them pulling a trailer over, securing it, and departing.
10 minutes into their return trip is when the police showed up. The driver had just rejoined a paved road when the flash of blue made it to the camera.
James returned the video to normal speed just in time to hear Hannah mutter, "Oh shit…" it sounded like she knew what was about to happen.
The camera vehicle pulled off to the side of the road and rumbled to a stop. It was followed by the sounds of a window rolling down and, a few seconds later, the crunch of boots on dirt again.
"Smuggling contraband is a class C felony", the office said without preamble. His deep voice was smug enough that, combined with what James assumed was about to happen, he decided the guy was an asshole.
"This isn't contraband", another person in the car shot back.
"Looks like contraband to me", a second cop said.
Hannah grunted. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah", officer asshole snapped. "I'll be nice: you get to stay out of jail today. We'll just remove the contraband from your possession and you can crawl back into whatever the hole you call home is."
The threat was met with silence.
"Perfect. We'll have you unhooked in 30 seconds, then you're free to go."
James didn't need to see the other footage. Unless this was faked, it was enough to support what David told him and he couldn't think of why David would go through that kind of trouble to get him in on this job.
… Unfortunately, the choice seemed pretty simple: fighting his way out wasn't something he wanted to do. David seemed like an alright kid and he did prevent a gunfight that would have caught civilians in the line of fire. James supposed he owed him at least that much.
Pulling the shard out, he offered it back to David.
"Do they know who their leak is?" Fourier asked.
David frowned as he took the data chip. "Leak?"
"Two different routes and the same cops intercept them both times. That doesn't happen by chance unless they were careless enough to get tailed twice."
David and Rebecca exchanged a glance.
"Never thought about it, choom", David said. "They didn't say anything about a snitch. That mean you're in?"
James shrugged. "How much am I getting paid?"
"Equal cuts all around, 5 grand."
That was more than enough to pay Becca's rent for two months. The job seemed reasonably safe if it was isolated and these cops were acting… extra-judicially.
For now, he'd go with it. At least it would get the job he was actually given done.
"Let's do it", he said.
David smiled. "Nova. Where are you supposed to be dropping that off?"
"A place called Dark Matter."
"Gotcha." He turned to the front of the SUV, suddenly excited. "Falco?"
"We're movin'", the man drawled and the vehicle lurched forward.
He needed to talk with Becca about this…
Muting his external speakers, James activated his earpiece and called her.
Becca answered almost immediately.
/ That gig done yet?
"Soon but things got complicated. I was getting tailed by Maelstrom and 6th Street hired another mercenary crew to intercept. I'm fine, that other crew was David Martinez's. We've had a run in before and he's been wanting to recruit me. They've agreed to take me to the drop-off if I help them with another job: transporting medicine to The Mox that keeps getting intercepted by a group of corrupt NCPD officers. Pay is 5000 Eddies. Thoughts?"
The SUV left the parking garage and turned back onto the street.
/ Holy shit that's a lot of money. And you know David Martinez? The guy's a big deal.
"Yeah, we had a fight, then I found him tailing me on my way to meet you for the first time."
/ You trust him?
"Not really but this seems legit. Any red flags coming up for you?"
/ Nah. From what I know, Martinez and his crew are pretty stand-up. Maybe a few screws loose but they do right by people they like. The Mox trying to get meds checks out, they don't got the money or network the other big gangs do. NCPD fucking with people is a given. You sure you wanna risk being seen with them?
His new ride turned down another street and a brilliant pattern of blue and green lights flashed by the window across from him.
"I don't like the other options and this will be out in the Badlands. The officers are, supposedly, not working in a police capacity when they've intercepted the Mox's people before."
/ … Okay. I'd still try to find some way to stay outta the way. We don't want to attract attention and getting involved with Martinez is a great way to get attention.
James frowned. "Copy that. I'll have to be discreet, then."
/ Yep. Call if you get a funny feeling. I got some folks I can tap to see what the deal with this is. I'll get you the detes as soon as I got 'em."
"Much appreciated". James said and dropped the call.
Rebecca was staring at him, still cradling her carnage. He had his handgun resting on his leg. He wasn't in any immediate danger, probably.
"What's our ETA?" Fourier asked, unmuting his speakers and clamping the M6 back to his thigh.
"'Bout five minutes", Falco called back from the driver's seat.
That was enough time for a few more questions and, hopefully, enough time for Becca to get back to him.
James pulled the pack off and set it in front of him. "Chrome isn't rare so why is this a big deal."
"No clue, choom", David said, shrugging. "Best guess is some new 'Saka tech but who knows."
Rebecca blew another raspberry. "We could if we looked in the damn bag."
"It ain't worth it." Martinez shook his head. "'Sides, ain't our job, ain't our call. Dunno what's special about this chrome. Where'd you pick it up from?"
"Public lockbox."
David grunted. "Figures. Tygers didn't want wherever this came from getting tracked down. Bet that means they got a source getting it for 'em." He shrugged again. "Ain't our biz to worry about."
"That could be hardware we gotta deal with", Rebecca retorted.
"We made a deal, I ain't goin' back on it."
"Club's on the left", Falco called back from the front seat as the SUV began to slow.
It stopped a moment later and James looked through the window across from him. It was nothing like the club he'd run security for the other night. If he didn't know this was where he was supposed to be based on the images Becca had shown him, he wouldn't have known there was any club.
There was an entrance beneath a set of stairs 20 meters off the street.
James swung the rear doors open and squeezed out into the street. The passersby shot him the customary furtive glances but they didn't want to make it look like they were staring. Whenever one of them noticed him looking, they ducked and hurried away.
Cars were sweeping past just to his left, as busy as it would have been during the day.
Slinging the bag over his shoulder, Fourier made for the well-lit staircase. As he passed, he saw what looked like a service door tucked into the wall just beneath it.
Now this was the easy job and he had one where he might have to get involved with goddamn cops…
Oh well…
He pulled the door open-
And was greeted by two unhappy-looking men. Both were dressed in red and black suits that didn't do a very good job of hiding the handguns under their jackets.
The one on the right, taller, had cybernetic eyes and a tattoo on the left side of his neck, running down under his shirt. He didn't say anything, only stepped forward. His right hand stayed by his hip and the poorly concealed handgun, the other extended toward James.
As he slipped the bag off his shoulder, Fourier went slow, with exaggerated motions to telegraph exactly what he was doing. No reason to make these guys any jumpier than they were.
The bag was yanked from his hand and the guy's eyes lit up as he studied the delivery.
After a few seconds, he nodded.
"Good job", the Tyger Claw said in heavily accented English and his eyes flashed for another instant. "Your fee is paid."
Without waiting for a response, the two of them turned and entered an elevator that was the small room's only other exit.
There was a tone from his earpiece as James left. He pulled his datapad from its pouch to find a message waiting. Becca
[Got the eddies from the Tyger job. Guessing whatever you gotta do with your new gig is happening now. Talked to a friend in The Mox, they've been trying to get that shipment your new friends are going after. Hired Martinez and his crew last night. Apparently, the nomads just got a message to meet up.]
James looked up from his datapad to the waiting SUV
I guess they don't waste any time.
[Affirmative. We're moving.]
[You know what you're gonna do? It might be better to cut and run if this will get us in trouble.]
He started back toward the others.
[There are a few options. Need to learn more about the operation. Leaving would be worse, don't need a group like this angry at us.]
[... Okay. I'll see if I can dig anything up on who these blues are.]
[Copy. I'll keep you updated on developments.]
As he reached the SUV, he put the datapad away and climbed through the rear doors.
"Where are we meeting the nomads?", he asked, sitting across from David and Rebecca. "Do we have time to scout the area?"
Falco pulled the vehicle forward and back into traffic.
"There's a town out in the badlands, been abandoned for a long time. Grabbin' the stuff from them there." David's eyes illuminated for a few seconds before he said anything else. "We gotta be out there by 4. Falco, what time you think you can get us there?"
0400? An hour wasn't long to get out of the city and into the badlands.
"You wanna be comfy back there?"
David looked at Fourier.
"I don't care."
"We're good", he called to the front.
"Gimme a half hour."
A half-hour? James cocked his head.
David smiled.
Half an hour turned out to be a lie. They were out in the badlands less than 25 minutes after leaving Dark Matter. Most of the ride involved Falco weaving in and out of traffic, racing down alleys that were too narrow for the SUV to pass through if a sane person was behind the wheel, and, on one occasion, losing the police.
Based on the practiced ease and the calm hand Falco performed with, it was a common occurrence.
James had himself braced against the rear of the SUV. The last thing anyone in there needed was a 500 kg projectile in very confined spaces.
The city and other cars were flashing past them. It wasn't the scariest ride of Fourier's life but it was probably top 20.
Once they were on the highway, the speeds the SUV reached seemed unsafe but the other two weren't worried so James did the best he could to relax. Not easy when someone he didn't know or trust was behind the wheel of a large vehicle performing maneuvers it wasn't too comfortable performing.
Then again, that's probably how someone felt whenever he was behind the wheel of a Warthog. Liam sure as hell didn't like the ride his first time. It was one of Fourier's… talents.
So, maybe, his reservation was he wasn't the one behind the wheel.
The town itself was… what he'd expect for a ghost town in the middle of a wasteland. The broken concrete road was covered with dirt and sand, surrounded by squat buildings that had fallen into disrepair years ago.
James extricated himself from the back of the SUV and scanned the long-abandoned refueling station. The shelter over its pumps wasn't collapsing yet but it didn't look far off.
"Where was the second try ambushed?" Fourier asked as David climbed out behind him.
"A half mile east of the Sunshine motel right after they got back on the road." David turned back to look in the direction they'd come. "Hey Falco, you think they'll hit us when we get close to Sunset Motel?"
The driver emerged from the SUV and James took a look at the guy who just raced an oversized vehicle through a crowded city. The man was middle-aged, or at least he looked like it, with black hair, a mustache, and an outfit that might have been out of one of those classical 'Western American' vids.
"Yeah. Gonna be a quarter mile out so they can't wait long."
"Any chance those pussies are afraid to deal with someone who can punch back?" Rebecca sneered, still cradling her shotgun.
"Nah", David shook his head. "Ain't gonna scare that easy. Whoever's got 'em doing this'd be pissed."
"You said they'll try to kill someone this time?" James asked.
The mercenary shrugged. "That's what they said, yeah."
"Do you believe them?"
"Why?" Rebecca snapped. "You afraid to shoot a dirty pig?"
"Yeah", David interjected. "I do. NCPD's just as bad as any gang. Worse if they're in a corpo's pocket."
James looked toward the main road. It would be dumb to maintain the same MO after they made a threat like that. There was always the possibility they weren't smart enough to adjust. Or whoever was behind this might have sent more than two people with the intent of overpowering them. If there was a leak, they'd know The Mox hired David.
They won't know about Fourier. So how did they keep it that way? Easiest option would be long-range overwatch. He could give them advanced warning and cover fire without exposing himself.
"The area around the turnoff was flat. Same with the road up to the town." He looked north. There was a long, low hill that ran almost parallel to the road, maybe 400 meters away. It ended somewhere behind the motel near the turnoff, he wasn't sure where.
Should have been paying better attention.
"Do you have any long-range hardware? A high-caliber rifle?" He pointed toward the ridge. "I can provide cover from there. It allows for flexibility if they don't ambush at the regular spot and advanced warning."
The three of them exchanged glances.
"We just met brainiac borg and we're gonna trust him with iron at our backs?" Rebecca asked.
David shrugged. "Choom trusted us. He wants to zero some dirty cops from a distance, I say let him." Looked at Fourier and jerked his head at the SUV. "Rebecca always brings plenty of extras."
"Whoa, hold on!" Rebecca planted herself between Fourier and the vehicle. "You're gonna give this gonk some of my stuff? What the fuck?"
"Is he a brainiac or a gonk?" David asked.
"He can be both! Don't avoid the question, David!"
"Yes, I'm gonna give this gonk some of your stuff. You'll get it back. You ain't using it anyway."
The small woman glowered at her boss, then Fourier. "What kinda range we talkin'?"
They used the Imperial system. Fourier learned about it but he wasn't familiar with it. A meter was a little over a yard, right?
"Between 500 and 1000 yards."
She cocked an eyebrow. "Only thing I brought that'll hit something that far's the Nekomata. I hope you don't break it." From the way she said that it was clear there was a 'for your sake' at the end of it.
As Rebecca hopped back into the SUV, James tried to remember if he'd read anything about the rifle during his hours of research. He was familiar with most common weaponry here after the last few days learning as much as he could…
It was a 'tech' weapon that fired small projectiles at near-hypersonic speeds. It was a semi-automatic, multi-stage coil gun that used inductance loops to propel the round. All tech weapons had a function where one could pre-charge a set of individual capacitors for each loop to increase current, dramatically increasing muzzle velocity.
There would be next to no need for correction at the range he'd be shooting at. That was good considering he'd be aiming for a man-sized target with a rifle he'd never fired and hadn't had time to DOPE.
When Rebecca re-emerged, she was carrying the long rifle and a bandolier of spare magazines.
"Here", she said, holding them out to him, frowning. She looked like someone was holding a gun to her head to get her to do it.
James accepted the weapon, slung the bandolier, and shouldered his new (temporary) rifle. It was topped with a digital scope that had a built-in rangefinder showing in the top right corner. Good, that would help.
"Controls for the scope are on top."
Lowering the rifle, Fourier found a small input panel with adjustments for illumination, windage, and elevation.
"Thanks", James replied with a nod. He pulled his datapad and offered it to David. "Put your contact in. Pipe in audio so I can hear what's going on."
Martinez took the offered tablet and tapped at it. "Choom, you gotta get a link."
"In another life."
"Right", David said with a huff.
A few seconds later, he handed it back. "Let's do this."
James nodded again and slipped the datapad in its pouch. After another quick scan of their surroundings, he jogged northwest out of the small, abandoned town and toward the hill's crest.
They still had time but he wanted to get set up so he could do a little proper recon.
It would be a good opportunity to see how supposedly reputable guns-for-hire work.
X
The ridge wasn't ideal for overwatch. It angled away from the road and behind the small, two-story motel as it neared the junction. That junction was just the road from their meetup merging with the highway at a shallow angle. There weren't any tracks leading down the road more than 100 meters besides theirs. That was a good sign.
In the 15 minutes it took James to jog back to the potential ambush location, he didn't notice anyone hiding in the uneven desert surface or along the ridge. There was plenty of dried brush someone could use for visual cover but his visor's NVS was very good at light-balancing. Unless they were camouflaged against the desert, he'd have noticed.
And they were dealing with cops, not special forces.
As the ridgeline started to drift away from the road, Fourier began looking for a usable position. Contrary to popular belief, the top of the ridge was probably the worst place to be. It was obvious, offered little cover, and could paint you as a silhouette from the wrong angles.
No, he found a spot about 20 meters from the ridge's peak on a small flat, surrounded by brush. It was innocuous, with plenty of visual cover around which meant, even if someone narrowed his position down, they'd have a lot of positions to clear. He was near enough to the ridge, if he needed to get behind something that would stop more than air, he could do it in a hurry.
Rule number one when maintaining a position like that, however, was don't expose yourself to a situation where you'd need hardcover.
Settling in his new position and behind his borrowed rifle, Fourier placed a rock large enough to support the weapon under its forend and started examining the road.
With the motel a half-klick up the road from the merge, there wasn't much room for their friends to pull off an ambush. On top of that, aside from a dropoff on the far side of the road from James, there wasn't much cover, either.
That means they'll come in hot in vehicles, hide in the gulch, or ambush them further up the road.
Turning, Fourier looked past the small motel and toward the city. There was plenty of road before they got to anything else if the cops wanted to wait. If they did want to wait, there wasn't much he'd be able to do from that position.
He frowned.
They'd have to audible if that happened. It was something he did constantly, a fixture during both his time as an ODST and a Spartan. Especially with a tornado like Damon running point for his team.
No, his concern was doing that alongside people he was unfamiliar with while still keeping his involvement quiet.
James retrieved his datapad and set it in the dirt beside the rifle before activating his earpiece and calling Becca.
/ I got nothing new, James. Sorry.
"Don't worry about it. I don't think there's much to learn here. Do you have any contacts that can track police transponders?"
There was a brief pause over the connection.
/ Uh… I think Jerry can. Maybe.
"If he can, It needs to happen in the next 15 minutes. Look for units near the Sunset Motel. I'll be on comms with Martinez's crew from here on. Contact me over text."
/ I'm on it.
"Thanks, Becca. Out here."
With that, he disconnected the line and opened another one to David. The mercenary answered almost as soon as the first tone sounded.
/ Where you at?
"Crest overlooking the motel. No signs of an ambush."
/ No surprise. Still got a few until the meet-up.
"I need audio on your end", James said as he adjusted his hold on the borrowed rifle. Its scope was a little low for him to look through comfortably and the cheek weld wasn't adjustable. At least he didn't need to worry about an eye box…
There was a short pause, then a click.
/ You got it.
The optic was powerful enough he could see features in the motel's dilapidated siding at full zoom. More than sufficient for shooting at this range.
"Much appreciated. There's concealment on the south side of the street that could serve as a hiding spot. It's also possible they change MO. If you aren't hit as soon as you rejoin the highway, stop at the motel and give me five minutes to reposition."
/ You're calling this gig now?
"Yes. I'm your overwatch. You listen to your overwatch." Fourier didn't mean for his voice to revert to its 'CO' mode but, with people outside his team, he found that happened without his input, at times. Especially with new or inexperienced people.
/ Alright, no worries 'brainiac borg'. I gotcha.
A smile tugged at James' mouth. "That nickname's too long."
/ Since when do we get to choose our nicknames?
Cars were drifting along the road. It wasn't anywhere near as many as in the city. Between the optic and his own visor's enhancements, it was easy enough to see none of them were police cruisers.
"It'd be hard to call me out in a high-paced situation."
/ That mean you're thinking a working with us more?
That got James to laugh. "No. Not yet, anyway. If this is a quiet job for you, I think I'll steer clear until I'm more familiar with Night City."
/ Fair. So what do I call you?
"Is there something wrong with my name?"
A trio of sedans departed the motel's parking lot in an odd formation. They all had matching paint schemes too: the red and black of the Tyger Claws.
/ Gonna be honest, it's a little lame for a borg. 'James'?
Reggie used his name… "My last name's Fourier."
/ Better, still not great. You were in the military, right? NUSA? Militech?
"Weird assumption."
/ C'mon, choomba. I think we can give each other a little respect, right?
It was an incorrect assumption but close enough. "Sure."
/ So what did they call you?
"My callsign was Romeo-1."
/ Romeo… you know, that ain't bad. We'll go with that.
At least that would be easy to remember. "Fair enough."
/ Preem. Oh- hold up, looks like our boys are a little early.
The sound of an engine and tires on dirt came across the connection a few seconds later. They drew closer as James studied the highway again. Was it bad they showed up…
Fourier checked his HUD.
10 minutes early? He didn't know. They'd been half an hour early but…
Dammit. Transponders.
Pulling his eye away from the scope, James glanced down at his datapad. That meant Becca's timeframe just got shorter. He tapped the icon to open its messaging application and swiped out a quick message
[Contact came early. Status of transponders?]
There was almost no delay before the dots signaling Becca was typing a reply popped up on screen.
[Yes. Jerry's got the network up. We're searching for units in the area or heading that way. Give us a minute.]
"Hey guys", a cautious voice came over his connection with David. "Y'all aren't the Mox."
"That's right", David replied. "We're here picking up for 'em."
A low clunk sounded on their end. It sounded like metal on metal.
"They needed to hire some mercs for this one? Why?"
That got Fourier's attention. It could have been genuine curiosity or concern for the state of affairs but, in his experience, that generally meant they were suspect.
"Yeah", David said. "Have had a few gang problems on their way back."
The sound of an engine starting came through.
"No way… is- are they good? Kate was on both pickups. Is she alright?"
"I don't know who Kate is but no one got dead."
The dots appeared on his datapad's screen again.
[Got five units heading out to the badlands from the city right now. Looks like they're moving toward the motel. Jerry's saying the cops those cars belong to are out of their normal area of operation.]
Cars heading their way outside of their normal patrols.
That wasn't suspicious…
Something started driving on David's end.
[ETA?]
[Looks like… two minutes? They're coming straight in from the west.]
"Alright, good- that's good to know."
[Thanks, Becca. You're too good for me.]
[Jerry said you owe him some of those eddies.]
[Copy that.]
"What do you think about the guy you're talking to", James asked.
/ Haven't met him. Seems a little jumpy. Could be nerves, could be he's your leak.
"If he is, it's too late to do anything about it. Five units heading this way, they'll be at the motel in two."
/ Fuckin- nova. We'll hook up and delta as soon as we can.
"Copy, I'll keep you updated."
James zoomed back out on the optic and turned west. Headlights were still flowing steadily from the city and, without street lights to illuminate the roadway, his NVS didn't have to worry about light-balancing.
Once he started scanning the cars, it only took him about 20 seconds to identify the targets. Five of the strange-looking police cruisers the NCPD used drifted along with traffic.
Another clunk came over the connection along with more talking James didn't pay any attention to. He was preoccupied watching the small convoy of police cars.
Two cops in each, all wearing what looked like standard kit. It was thick enough to stop most small and medium-caliber rounds. A round like the one fired by the Nekomata was designed to penetrate armor: high speed, low volume, high density, and hard.
"Visual on five cruisers, two cops each", he said. "Standard armor, don't know about firepower."
/ We're done hooking up. About to load in and delta. You think we should take a detour?
"Negative. If that guy's a leak, he'll let our friends know. They'll intercept somewhere else and I won't have overwatch."
/ Alright. 10 ain't a small number.
The sound of a door slamming preceded their rig crunching across the dirt, back toward the road.
"It's 10 here or 10 somewhere else."
David didn't respond. The police cruisers disappeared behind the motel and James started counting off the seconds before they re-appeared. He got to six when the first car came into sight.
Then the second and third.
But the fourth and fifth didn't. They'd stopped at the motel.
The other three continued on until they reached the turnoff. Two stopped on the west side, the other went to the east.
Before he could grow concerned about what the other two were doing, the four cops who had been in them jogged across the highway and down into the ditch on the far side.
It wasn't a bad setup. The principle was simple enough but the location made it more dangerous for David and his people. There would be no cover besides the vehicles and they'd be flanked coming up to the turnoff by the cruisers. They'd have to be careful if they wanted to get everyone out alive.
"What's your ETA?"
There was a short pause before David's reply.
/ Four or five minutes.
"You'll have three cruisers at the turnoff, four foot units across the street in a gully. Is that rig armored?"
/ We ain't amateurs.
I know, you get paid. That doesn't mean you know how to deal with an ambush.
James bit down on the retort. "Do you have a plan for this situation?"
Four of the cops dismounted and took cover behind their cars leaving two in one of the cars on the west side of the turnoff.
/ Does it look like they're gonna start shooting right off?
Two were still in the car… James frowned. If they drove straight through would they be able to get away? Disable the three cars here, they were half a klick away from the other cruisers…
But there was always the possibility they brought something of their own that could disable Falco's SUV.
Shit.
"Unclear."
/ I'm guessin' they will. Easier to flatline us if they're close and all around us.
Fair enough. "Copy. I'll be to your northwest. Take cover from the south side of the street and don't put yourself between me and them."
/ For sure.
A minute later, James saw the four officers who had moved on foot peak over the edge of the road. They were staying low and, in the dark, would be almost impossible to see without some form of enhanced vision. They would be his job to neutralize. Even if David and Rebecca had low-light optics, hitting those shots with the others on top of them would be difficult.
David was relaying the situation to the others but Fourier wasn't paying them much attention. His thoughts were on what would happen in about a minute. He'd fought police forces before, during his ODST days. Sometimes the odd colony would get the idea they wanted to side with Innies and… some of them went hot.
Since joining Spartan Ops, he hadn't been assigned to any of those details. It just… didn't seem right. Putting special forces like the Helljumpers on that sort of operation had felt a little overkill, but justifiable in the more extreme cases.
Siccing a Spartan on them was an entirely different story.
Focus on the job. It's either the cops or David's crew. David's paying me and they aren't the ones stopping medicine from getting to poor people.
James took a deep breath and rested his finger against the trigger.
Light spilled across the road from his left. That would be them.
As if to reinforce his reservations about the current opponents, the cops on the far side of the street were spread over, maybe, 10 meters. There was nowhere near enough spacing to prevent volume fire from catching all of them.
Focus on the job.
He pulled three magazines from his bandolier and set them in the dirt beside his borrowed rifle.
15 seconds to contact.
The cops still hadn't fired.
Falco slowed the SUV as they neared and the occupied cruiser flipped its lights on. The blue washed out the immediate area and the scope on Rebecca's rifle wasn't quite able to compensate.
"Shit", he whispered, low enough to keep it from transmitting.
Fourier tapped at the controls and disabled the scope's low-light filter, leaving it to his own NVS to compensate. It worked well enough.
The SUV stopped a dozen meters from the trio of cruisers.
A muted voice came through from David's side of the connection. James couldn't make out what it was but it wasn't hard to guess they were telling them to approach.
"Falco, turn right and stop. If we're gonna fight it out, I want the cover."
"You got it, boss."
Good, that would give them protection and keep his firing lines clear.
The vehicle ambled forward a few meters and cut right. Once it was perpendicular to the road, it stopped again.
And the telltale flash of a muzzle joined the blaring police lights.
The crack of a small-caliber gunshot reached Fourier a few seconds later. He was already settling his crosshair on the left-most cop across the street. A woman, her rifle propped on the edge of the cracked pavement. Once he took that first shot, he'd need to move quickly. They'd realize what was happening if he didn't.
Four rounds in the magazine, four targets. He wasn't Amanda but, at this distance, he could make that work.
Another deep breath, relaxed his arms…
And he squeezed the trigger.
His borrowed rifle made an odd smack as it sent the first near-hypersonic projectile on its way.
It impacted an instant later, just inside her right shoulder. It was low and left of where he'd been aiming. Regardless, the shot was enough to send her scrambling down the gully and out of sight. That probably meant it passed through whatever armor might have been there.
Switching to the next target, he sent another round on its way. This one, he steadied better and was rewarded with a clean headshot.
The third trigger squeeze got him the same result.
By then, the fourth cop realized what was happening and was pushing himself away from the edge. Fourier had him-
His finger didn't tighten on the trigger.
That was an enemy combatant… but was a civilian. A cop.
His target disappeared below the berm and Fourier switched his aim to the others.
David and Rebecca were out of the SUV, shooting at the other cops.
One car, the one that had been occupied, was riddled with bullet holes. James could see blood inside. Both doors were open so he wasn't sure if the officers were dead.
Three of the cops were returning fire, staying low and close to their cars for cover. It was obviously what they were trained to do; minimize target area and even use them to steady their aim.
Another deep breath.
He settled his gunsights on one-
Just in time to see her take something big to the head. The left side of her face disappeared and she slumped to the ground.
Her partner turned to look and James put a round through his head too.
As he swapped a fresh magazine in, the rear of one of the cruisers went up in a hand-grenade-sized explosion. David ducked back behind their SUV.
That must have been that arm-mounted launcher he had.
One of the officers that had been using the car as cover was down, his right arm missing. The other was stumbling away from the wrecked vehicle. James put him down before switching to the last car.
"Go!" David yelled as he pounded on the side of the SUV and it began creeping forward. He and Rebecca used it as moving cover to advance on the last cruiser.
One cop peaked out long enough to take a shot and Fourier found his chest just before he could duck behind cover again.
Then the others were on the last car. He watched as they flanked either side and, a moment later, it was over.
Well… not quite.
He looked back at the south side of the street. The last cop there hadn't reappeared.
"We have a runner", James said. "Likely moving back to the motel."
/ It's fine. His buddies are zeroed. Doubt he's gonk enough to try anything after this.
"You aren't concerned with him reporting back to whoever has him on payroll?"
There was a short pause before David answered.
/ Maybe but it ain't like we can do anything about it. If we chase him into the city, it won't matter what he was up to out here. Nah, get down here and let's delta.
Fourier frowned, scanning the far side for a few more seconds. He didn't like leaving a risk like that on the board.
It's his op. I'm clean as long as he doesn't see me coming down.
Maybe he shouldn't have let him go.
Maybe but I can't go back and change that.
With a grunt, he replaced the loose magazines in his borrowed bandolier, grabbed the rifle, and pushed himself to his feet.
A minute later, he was jogging up to the SUV. The others were scavenging the bodies.
It seemed… wrong to do but who was he to say anything. He didn't know how this world worked.
"Niiiiiiiice shooting Romeo!" Rebecca exclaimed as she yanked the vehicle's rear hatch open and dumped an armful of weapons inside. "Guess you aren't too bad for a brainiac!"
She was excited.
David walked around and did the same thing, grinning. "Yeah, that was preem work. I won't ask if you're sure about not joining our crew but I'll keep you on speed dial."
Speed dial? James cocked his head. "No blackmail next time."
"HA!" Martinez barked a laugh as he climbed inside, closely followed by Rebecca. James squeezed himself through the rear hatch and pulled it shut. The armored glass on the driver's side of the SUV took a few hits but nothing got through.
"That wasn't no blackmail. We both knew what you were gonna say."
James shook his head. "That doesn't make it not blackmail."
"And now we're back to the boring brainiac shit", Rebecca muttered. "Gimme my gun back."
She was an odd character. In a weird way, he kinda liked her no-bullshit attitude.
When he handed the Nekomata and ammo back, Rebecca ran a critical eye over the rifle before nodding. "Guess if you wanna borrow my iron again, I wouldn't mind... Long as your work is this good next time."
"Now there's an endorsement", Falco called from the driver's seat as the vehicle pulled back onto the road. "Gonna need to get some repair work done before the next job."
"I'm sure The Mox won't mind paying", David replied before turning to James. "Gimme a minute to flick you the Eddies. Where do you wanna be dropped off?"
Fourier looked out of the damaged window at the city in the distance. He needed something to eat and some time to sleep.
At least he made a lot of money in one night.
"The market where you tried tailing me."