James didn't go back to Becca's apartment, not immediately. Once Falco dropped him off just outside the relatively low-traffic market, he waded into the sparse crowd. It was incredibly unlikely anyone had followed him but he wasn't about to take chances. Those Maelstrom gangsters had gotten a clear look at him. That hardware would have recording and playback functions.
In a city the size of Night City, it wouldn't be easy to find him. That didn't mean a group the size of Maelstrom, knowing what to look for, couldn't or wouldn't do it. Just like Martinez, they'd probably be interested in a new player on the field, especially if they hadn't seen hardware like his before.
He stopped near the south end of the market and scanned the thin crowd filtering between the half-closed stalls.
The sun wasn't up and wouldn't be for another 45 minutes. That didn't mean the place was dark.
LED light strips threw an almost offensively busy mess of colors from every open shop and stall.
There weren't many places dark enough to hide. That was good, in this case.
As… aggravating as it was people knew of him now, it wasn't like that cover would have lasted long anyway.
Then why am I annoyed?
The answer was easy enough: that job should have jumped out at Becca. Even if it was just the work content and price. The highest pay rate he'd gotten to that point had been the bouncer gig. It was only as high as it was because they were having an event that night.
He moved to another spot further along the wall and waited again.
The Tyger Claws' job was less than a quarter the work and paid more than twice as much.
That right there should have told her something was up, that it wasn't a normal courier job.
Relax…
Fourier breathed in deeply and took another look through the market.
While he didn't need to be upset about it, that would be something they were talking about when he got back. He needed to be able to trust her judgment.
After 10 minutes of watching, he moved to a third position, this one just behind a small noodle stand advertising its synthetic beef: "So good, you can't tell the difference!"
That sounds appetizing…
If he was too harsh, that would be a problem. She wasn't one of his team. She didn't have the experience or discipline to take the types of criticism most expected in special forces.
But another slip like that could turn out much worse. It was lucky Martinez happened to find him. Next time, it might be a fight in the middle of a crowded street. That wasn't something he wanted to deal with.
Then I better start heading back.
… Yeah.
Pushing himself away from the wall, he skirted the perimeter of the market until he arrived at the eastern entrance.
From there, it was only a few minutes to Becca's apartment. She'd given his datapad access so she wouldn't need to buzz him in every time he came back.
"Holy shit, James", Becca said once he got to her room and closed the door. "You handled all that so well."
She was standing just inside the door, barely far enough away to allow him to enter.
If you couldn't adapt in his world, you didn't last long. Shit rolls downhill and sometimes you have to deal with that, even as a Spartan. Take what the mission gives you and keep moving.
That being said…
"Thanks but we need to talk about that Tyger Claws job."
Becca frowned and her eyes dropped to the floor. "Yeah… I- it was dumb to take it. I knew it was risky, that kind of scratch for not much work. And those conditions."
James squinted. "Why'd you accept it, then?"
"Because it was a lot of money for not much work and… I just thought you could take care of it."
Stepping around her, he moved farther into the apartment. He wanted something to eat and the conversation didn't seem like one he needed to be stern about. Becca already knew what she'd done wrong. She recognized the danger, she just got excited.
That needs to not happen again.
"I can", he said as he pulled a pair of protein bars from the small cabinet Becca had allocated for whatever food he wanted that she didn't normally buy. "That doesn't mean you should take advantage of it."
"I know." Becca turned to him, nodding. "I got excited, it was dumb."
James pulled his helmet off and unwrapped the first bar. "Well, between that job and the one for Martinez, you don't need to take the risk again." He took a bite. "How much does Jerome want?"
"Five hundred Eddies. Said he'd give you the first-time customer discount."
Great. Fourier rolled his eyes. "I'll send it after I'm done eating."
"No", Becca shook her head. "I'll pay it outta my cut from the TC gig-"
"Consider it a freebie", James interrupted. "Just don't put me on any more risky jobs until we're more familiar with how things work." Especially if they'll involve more fighting. Which I'm sure they will.
"I- alright. We'll keep things low-key."
After chewing another bite, Fourier nodded. "Thanks."
Silence settled in the apartment as Becca returned to her workstation. She'd seemed genuinely apologetic and agreed to not repeat that mistake…
So why was he still agitated?
One of the things he learned very quickly when he first took his command was a good leader detached emotion from conduct in most circumstances. Most of the time. There were a few times he hadn't been as professional as he'd like, especially with Damon. That being said, he liked to think he was… passable. One had to be in Spartan Ops.
Everyone was a consummate professional, you don't get chosen for a program like that without being the best of the best.
That being said, everyone in it was also confident, competent, and prideful. Commanding the respect of other Spartans had been one of the most difficult things Fourier had ever done.
But he'd done it.
An area he knew he needed to improve was his ability to examine where his emotions were coming from.
I need some time to think.
James finished his first bar and stuffed the second one in a pouch.
"I'm gonna go up on the roof", he said, taking his helmet from the table. "I'll be back in a few."
Becca frowned up at him.
"Don't worry, I'm not upset with you. I'm looking for a few minutes to think." He slipped his helmet on and sealed his suit. "A lot is bouncing around in my head. I just need a little time to sort it out."
"… Alright…"
Leaving the apartment, James took the stairs up to the roof of the 20-story building. It was one of the tallest towers in that area of the city so it afforded him a good view.
That was if he went to the edge of the roof.
After checking to make sure there was no one else on the rooftop with him, Fourier climbed onto the service entrance's small shack and took his helmet off again.
The air… wasn't fresh. It had a stale quality he'd never experienced before. Air in large cities in UNSC space was strictly regulated and quality controlled. Tens of millions of people living in an urban area could lead to extensive pollution quickly if it wasn't.
It was another thing to remind him he was in the most backasswards situation he could think of.
Is that why I'm agitated? He unwrapped the second bar and started eating again.
Ahead of him was the downtown area, massive towers shimmering in the morning light. With the sun directly behind him, the reflection off those huge walls of glass was almost blinding. Even though he couldn't see it, he knew past that was the ocean. Damn, wouldn't it have been nice to leave the disaster that was Night City behind?
I haven't made any progress. All I know is I'm on some… fucked up alternate version of Earth.
James took another bite.
Keeping a low profile means I get more time to learn but it also means I take longer to learn. And the longer I'm here- who the hell knows what's happening back home.
So what could he do to expedite the process without drawing too much attention? Finding someone, or a group, that had an interest in maintaining a low profile while still having access to supplies and information would be his best bet.
If he was surviving whatever this goddamn mess was, he'd need a lot of both.
Who could fill that role? David and his crew were knowledgeable and connected. They were too high profile. And liked a little more chaos than James needed to add to his life at that moment.
There was 6th Street…
After learning a little more about their exploits, he wasn't sure he wanted to associate with them. He still owed Reggie that favor, and he'd keep his word, but… no.
The Nomads were a decent pick. He knew they had a mole and that's something he could use as a bargaining chip.
How would he convince them? All he had was suspicion.
That left the Mox. From what we knew, they were closer to a protectorate than an actual gang. A bunch of people fed up with the lack of safety and protection from the powers that be. They grouped together to look out for each other. They weren't saints.
But they were an order of magnitude better than the rest of his options.
He had the same in with them as he did with the Nomads. On top of that, they were burned by this guy. They'd be more interested in weeding him out than anyone. They'd have access to supplies and information too. Not as much as other gangs but he was far more comfortable working with them than anyone else at that moment.
Yeah, because I worked with the most reputable 'resistance fighters' during my ODST days. And everything I do now is on the up and up.
He didn't and it wasn't but, this time, he got to choose who he worked with. If it turned into a hindrance, he'd reconsider. The Mox (probably) wouldn't ask him to get involved in even more unsavory activities than normal. That both meant it would be easier to keep a lower profile and reduce the risk of involving people who didn't need to be.
The biggest challenge would be convincing them to help him while remaining as anonymous as possible.
I can offer them more than information on a mole…
He was already acting as a mercenary, adding a regular client to his list might not be a bad idea. Especially if he limited his business with them to the more reputable job opportunities.
For the time being, he'd keep them at a distance. What he'd been able to find on them was- "reassuring" wasn't the right word. It was passable. So he'd stay anonymous.
While his mood wasn't fixed, he felt a little better with some direction. Once James had finished the second bar, still hungry, he set his helmet back in place and slipped down to the roof.
A little sleep wouldn't be a bad idea but he wanted to get things moving before he got that shut eye.
Back down the service stairs and to Becca's apartment, she was sitting behind her desk, eating a bag of… James wanted to call them 'chips' but he wasn't sure.
"Are… you feeling better?" she asked through half a mouthful.
He nodded. "A little bit. Part of my frustration is the lack of movement. I need more information than what's available on the net."
Becca snorted. "More?"
"Different information. I didn't come here willingly. I got dropped off at the Petrochem dam and I don't know how or why. On that job I did with Martinez and his crew, we figured the Nomads had a mole. That's how they knew where to ambush us. The Mox might have a bone to pick with the mole so if I can give him to them, I might be able to get in their good graces."
"Yeah… that makes sense", Becca mused, setting her bag on her desk. "And what about keeping a low profile? Seems like you're trying to get your name out there with this."
From what he'd been able to find, The Mox were both a protection gang and smugglers. Smugglers were one of the many parts of the underground world he'd had the pleasure of working with in his past life. Spartans… they didn't use them for that but ODSTs? That kind of wetwork was right up their alley.
There was more to it than that.
"A group like The Mox doesn't survive in a place like this without knowing how to move undetected and keep information close. They understand discretion. I'm just gonna test the waters and see what happens."
Becca pursed her lips. "Damn. Didn't think of that." She nodded and leaned forward. "If you can get me who delivered those supplies, I can find out where you need to look."
"Copy that." James grabbed his datapad and swiped down to David's contact.
[Can you ask your contact with The Mox which nomad group supplied them? And if you can supply a picture of the guy you were talking to at the meet, I'd appreciate it.]
He didn't have time to set it back down before the three dots under his message appeared. Apparently, Martinez was eager.
[Why?]
[Looking into their subterranean mammal problem.]
[What?]
James looked up from the screen for a heartbeat and grinned.
[Mole.]
[What do I get outta this?]
[Me not holding a grudge for the blackmail.]
[You said it takes a lot for you to hold a grudge.]
The grin turned into a full smile.
[You're giving it your best shot.]
[Funny. Gimme a minute, I'll ask.]
"David isn't giving up on me anytime soon…" he mused.
Becca grunted. "Doin' biz with that crew won't keep a low profile either."
"No, but they can be a valuable source of information. I don't intend to do much work for them."
"Much?"
James looked up from the tablet. "Circumstances have a bad habit of changing. I still intend to stay low-key."
"Alright", she said with a shrug. She didn't do a very good job of making it nonchalant.
A chime from his earpiece brought James' attention back to the datapad.
[Contact's name's Anna Nox. Said she was doin' biz with the Aldecaldos. Sending a pic of the guy.]
Below the message, an image appeared of a thin, dark-skinned man with an unkempt beard and, shaved head, in a dirty leather jacket.
[Don't got his name. Not ta push too hard but, you keep askin' for favors, I'm gonna expect some help on jobs for it.]
[This will work. Thanks. And consider us even for attacking me and stalking me. Twice.]
[You got it, Romeo.]
James pulled up Becca's contact and forwarded her the picture.
"I think that's their mole. Martinez's contact is Anna Nox."
Her eyes lit up in an all too literal manner. "I can figure out who Anna Nox is but a pic ain't much to go on."
"Can Jerome help?"
"If you wanna pay", she muttered.
"Depends on how much."
Becca waved at him. "I asked for the cop stuff, this is all you. I'll track down Anna Nox."
"Really…" James said. "You're eager to help."
"Duh." She pulled herself up to her computer. "You get in with The Mox, that's a steady supply of work. And if you're lookin' for how you ended up in this shithole, I don't mind helping."
Fourier smiled. Then he remembered he had his helmet on and she couldn't see it. "Thanks."
Half an hour, and a thousand Eurodollars later, James had the information he needed. Becca had tracked down Anna Nox. She was the manager of a supplies warehouse on the north side of town.
Jerome hadn't taken long to find their mole. Apparently, facial recognition was ubiquitous.
His name was Colin Wesley. A little digging found he'd been an informant for the NCPD while he was with 6th Street. Jerome couldn't tell Fourier when he left for the Aldecaldos but James would be willing to bet he still had the same relationships.
It was tempting to take that to the Aldecaldos, they might find the information valuable.
Stick with the plan. They never survive first contact so no reason to blow it up before then.
"Info's all ready to go", Becca said.
James nodded. "Send it. I'm gonna get some shut-eye. Can you wake me up when you get a response?"
"You got it."
"Can you do me a favor and use my callsign? Romeo? Martinez suggested it was a good way to stay anonymous."
Becca nodded. "Can do."
Settling against the wall just outside of the kitchen, Fourier took a deep breath. As he felt sleep creep toward him, he did the same thing he'd done every time he'd fallen asleep since dropping on top of that dam: thought about his team.
He didn't sleep well, his mind was too busy for that.
It was odd; he'd slept while under fire from Covenant. He'd slept while hiding out in a safehouse with Insurrectionists hunting him and his small team. He'd even slept with the pain of his post-procedure rehab.
Since the first night he spent in the slums, he couldn't sleep right.
Then again, he was in some kind of alternate timeline and didn't know anything about how it had happened or how to get back. As far as extraordinary situations, that was the best he could think of.
The 'sleep' felt like it was over in about five seconds. It seemed like he'd barely closed his eyes when Becca called his name.
Fourier's eyes snapped open, the light from the dim overhead illumination chasing the visions of- well he couldn't tell what- away.
As he climbed to his feet, he checked the time. Almost 0800. He'd been out for a few hours.
Becca was still sitting behind her desk and waved him over.
James pulled his helmet off and took the small canteen he'd bought from his waste.
"A meeting…" James mused as he stood behind her. She had the message from Anna Nox on screen.
[Checked with Martinez, story seems legit. Calling this guy a snitch is a big deal. We got a long relationship with the Aldecaldos and they've always come through for us. You want us to play ball, we talk face to face.]
An address followed. It didn't mean anything to him. That's what maps were for.
I probably should have considered that a possibility… He was a newcomer but this world didn't show up when he jumped over the side of a dam. Every gang in town used the Aldecaldos to run merchandise.
"Makes it hard to keep a low profile", Becca said and turned in her chair to look up at him.
Fourier nodded. "Agreed."
"Problem is if you say 'no' now, they're gonna be real suspicious. Of both of us."
"Yep."
"So when are we meeting her?"
"You don't think I can handle this on my own?" James asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"No." Her face said the rest for her.
He laughed. "Fair. Tonight. 10:00. If we wait, they'll get suspicious."
And I want to get things moving. The faster we do this, the faster I can get back to figuring out what the hell happened to me.
Becca nodded and turned back to her computer. As she typed out a response, James went to the kitchen and pulled a large bowl of instant noodles and synthetic teriyaki chicken out of the cupboard.
It wasn't a meal he'd have chosen on his own but… it was food.
He just wished it was good food.
By the time Becca had sent the response, James was standing beside the kitchen table with a steaming bowl of noodles. At least it smelled good.
"How risky do you think this is?" he asked.
Becca pursed her lips. "Well… I've known a couple of Mox for a few years now. You're right about trying to stay on the down low. Things might get a little messy if they go after this guy. And you're gonna be attached to it if they do."
"Yeah, I know." He nodded to the screen. "Based on that, I'm guessing they'll be cautious. They don't want to burn their bridge with the Aldecaldos."
"Probably." Her eyes shifted from him to the screen. "Looks like we're good."
"How long will it take to get there?"
"If we walk? A few hours. It's on the north side of the city."
James huffed. "I don't feel like walking that. Too many random shootings."
"We can rent a taxi. Larger ones'll probably be able to carry you."
"That sounds more reasonable", Fourier replied.
X
The 'taxi' was a cargo van, not unlike the one James had ridden in with the 6th Street members when they'd picked that shipment up. The only difference was the rear had bench seats on either side. They weren't made with someone of his size in mind so he had to stoop to fit under the van's roof.
Their driver, an old man with hair that was so patchy there was more space without it than with it and looked at everything like he wanted to fight it, was almost constantly shouting at other drivers.
He drove concerningly fast without the finesse James had seen from Falco.
Becca had been clinging to the bench the entire way. With no safety restraints, it was up to them to keep themselves from pinballing around the cargo compartment.
By the time they were done weaving through the crowded city, buildings and a mess of different lights and colors, his fixer was sweating and wide-eyed.
Ian, their driver, pulled the van to a stop on a side street between two warehouses. It was poorly lit and no other cars were around.
"Let me know if you need another lift", he called back in a voice that matched his looks as James pulled the latch and pushed the rear door open.
Fourier uncoiled himself and stepped out of the van. "Sure."
There was a pair of men on the street corner ahead of him, standing under a streetlight, talking.
Becca disembarked behind him and slammed the van's rear door shut. Ian was gone an instant later.
"That fuckin' sucked", she snapped.
"Yeah. I wouldn't call him again." James's eyes were still on the two men. They hadn't turned to look at them.
The area Ian had dropped them off in looked like an industrial district. There were warehouses, what looked like a refinery of some sort, and a vehicle storage lot all within sight.
"Which building?" James asked.
Becca took a deep breath and pointed at the warehouse across the street. It had three-meter-high fencing around its perimeter and flood lights illuminating the inside. It looked exactly like every other warehouse in the area.
The occasional car would pass an intersection on either side of them. None turned down the side street, however. The area was a lot quieter than the rest of the city had been. Maybe that was because it was an industrial area at night? James didn't know. It was nice to have a little bit of quiet, though.
As they started walking, Fourier checked the time. 2152. They were a little early.
At least Ian can hang his hat on that…
The warehouse's entrance was directly ahead of them, a two-way gate in the center of the fence. There was no one outside standing guard but, after a quick scan, James noticed a half-dozen cameras set in the fence and gate. They had security, at least.
"I just let Anna know we're here", Becca said as they came to a stop in front of the gate.
I think they already know…
She sounded nervous, which was understandable. Becca didn't leave her apartment often. Now she was on the other side of town, about to meet with The Mox, her only protection, a man she'd only met a few days prior.
Even knowing she had her Lexington hidden under her windbreaker, that took some courage.
The sounds of footsteps on concrete drifted over the fence and, a few seconds after they stopped, the gate groaned into motion. As it slid aside, light poured through the opening. Fourier's visor dimmed-
And found himself facing a dozen men and women standing just inside the perimeter. Each of them was carrying a weapon of some sort, including two women with… swords.
James had read bladed and blunt weapons were a regular part of people's armament in Night City. Even with some of the available implants, he struggled to come up with a use case for weapons that, even by 21st-century standards, were horribly outdated.
Their armaments weren't what caught Fourier's attention. They were all dressed in what could best be described as prostitute attire. It was something else he'd read during his hours-long data mining sessions; since The Mox were originally born from a brothel, they adopted their aesthetic.
With a few modifications to facilitate their more active combat roles.
The ones in front of him weren't 'full body' conversions but they were all extensively modified. Everything from replaced limbs to ocular and one with a full-facial reconstruction.
"'Romeo' and 'Becca'?" one of the women carrying a sword- a katana- asked. She was the most heavily modified. It looked like both arms and legs had been replaced, and her only clothes were a tight-fitting unitard under a blue jacket. The wraparound sunglasses were an interesting addition considering it was night.
"That's right", James replied.
She nodded and stepped aside. "Inside."
It had been a while since Fourier worked with extra-governmental forces like this. He knew, from experience, their hosts would pick up on any sort of hesitation. Back then, he'd conditioned himself to be comfortable with potentially hostile forces around him.
His job since joining Spartan Ops had been entirely different. Those instincts didn't fit in his life after that transition. Even now, with his armor between him and whatever they might try, his body told him to stay where he was.
James forced himself to walk past Anna and her guards. He'd need to reacquaint himself with his prior life if he was making it back.
If that was even possible.
Becca did hesitate for a heartbeat before hurrying to catch up. Regardless of what The Mox had in mind, she was infinitely safer around him, and she was smart enough to know that.
A bay door was open in the side of the warehouse ahead of them. The interior was just as bright as the perimeter and, from what he could see, full of racks loaded with supplies.
Their 'escort' fell in behind them as they passed through the door.
"Keep going", Anna said. "There's an office at the back. We'll talk there."
James nodded.
They continued down an aisle until they reached the rear of the warehouse. Directly in front of them was a door into a smaller room behind a wire mesh-reinforced window.
Pulling the door open, James ducked through. Becca, Anna, and two of her friends followed.
The office wasn't large, maybe five meters a side, with a large desk and computer terminal taking up one corner. That didn't leave much space for the rest of them.
At least it means, if things go pear-shaped, they'll all be within arm's reach…
"Guns on the desk", Anna ordered.
Becca looked from the Mox to him.
"Go ahead", he said as he pulled the M6 from his thigh and placed it on the desk. Becca followed suit.
"Weird piece", one of the other Mox, a young man with blonde hair cut short on the sides and long on top. "The hell model is that?"
"Just a leftover from my previous life."
"That ain't an answer."
James shrugged. "I'm here to talk about your shipments being stolen."
"Martinez said you were on his crew for that gig", Anna said. "Got into it with the pigs who snatched our shit."
On his crew? It didn't take a genius to see what David was doing. It was something he could deal with later.
"Yeah. They came looking for a fight."
Anna looked at Becca. "The detes you sent made it sound like their rat has a history."
"... Yeah", Becca said slowly. "That's the info our netrunner was able to dig up on him."
"You don't know who's got him on a leash?"
The fixer shook her head. "The only thing we saw was he was an informant. Didn't have much more than that."
Anna nodded. "Makes sense. Don't want your informants to lead someone back to you."
"If you knew who would benefit from starving you, that might give you an idea", James said.
"We been thinkin' that. Problem is that list is long. Goddamn Tyger Claws are always fuckin' with us."
As much as Fourier wanted to contest someone in the Tyger Claws wouldn't have been in the NCPD to run this guy as an informant…
He knew that wasn't true.
So he had a choice: he could offer his services to help track this guy's bosses down, or he could stand pat on the information they'd provided. If he kept going, it would probably lead to more access and better cooperation from The Mox. And more notoriety.
This whole thing needed to be a balance.
"How good is your relationship with the Aldecaldos?" James asked. "The information you have might be enough to get you in a room with him if they like you."
Anna frowned. "That's a ballsy play. Nomads are a family. Asking them to turn over one of their own's a big deal. Especially if you're saying they're a rat."
"It's a bad bet", the last Mox said. "We gotta figure out who woulda hit us like that first. We do that, we track down who this guy's bosses might be. Gives us more ammo when we go to Saul."
"Good point." Anna leaned against the desk. "So what are you two looking for? I know you didn't give us this outta the goodness of your hearts. Like that's a thing that exists in this fuckin' city."
Becca cleared her throat. This was why she wanted to come. "Some low-level biz." She jerked her head at James. "Romeo's good for some muscle when you need it."
"We got plenty of muscle." The Mox leader looked up at him. "And the fuck's a full borg doing asking for low-level gigs from us?"
"We're just getting started", Becca replied. "Trying to stay on the down low. You know how NC is."
Anna was still watching him. "You're just getting started with chrome like that? Who are you trying to fool?"
It was a fair question…
What's that old saying? If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is?
If he wanted to open this door, he needed to commit. Half-assing anything never got him anywhere.
Becca shook her head. "We aren't dumb enough to try lying to you. All we're looking for is a chance."
"And I'll help with this investigation", James added. "As long as whatever roll you have me play is quiet."
"Uh-huh…" Anna folded her arms over her chest and started tapping an index finger. "You know how this looks to me, right?" She looked at Becca. "You, you're new to this game. I'm guessing your netrunner's got skill and that's how you dug up those detes on this gonk."
"But you, Romeo", he felt her eyes lock on his visor through her sunglasses, "Martinez likes you, you're chromed out, and you feel like you been around the block. So I got a fresh fixer show up with some serious talent and you want me to think you're here to help out?" She shrugged. "The Mox don't survive in this shithole by getting worked over."
Dammit… This isn't how I wanted this to go. Only one thing to do now…
James blew a breath out through his nose and nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I'm new to Night City but I'm not new to wetwork."
Anna cocked an eyebrow at him. "Wetwork? The fuck kinda word's 'wetwork'?"
… That was supposed to be a hint she picked up on.
"I've worked in environments like this before. Just not here. I'm not trying to make a name for myself while I'm in Night City. Just looking for steady work and The Mox seem like decent people to do work for."
One of the other Mox snorted. "Not trying to make a name for yourself? This is Night City, gonk. Ain't no one in the merc biz not in it to make a name. You were rolling with Martinez."
"That was my fault", Becca said. She glanced up at James. "You're right, I'm new. I screwed up with a gig. Romeo wasn't trying to get involved with what happened."
She was quick on the uptake. That was good…
"What's the difference now?" Anna asked. "Now you wanna get involved?"
James nodded. "I already said: I want steady work with decent people. There aren't a lot of those in Night City."
Anna didn't respond. She watched Fourier in silence as the sounds of work from outside the small office drifted in. Experience told him that was a good thing. She was relaxed, arms still crossed, tapping an index finger on her upper arm.
Thinking.
"Here's what we're gonna do", she finally said. "The detes you sent over were good. I'm gonna have a few of our people check them. If they're legit and you're serious about helping out, I'll give you a call. If they aren't, don't come around our territory again."
"Understood", James replied.
"Oh and, if you're looking for regular work, you're doing this one for free."
That wasn't happening.
He shook his head. "No, we've already given you what we have for free."
"He's right", Becca added. "I get you aren't looking to get worked over but the same goes for us."
Anna huffed. "We'll see. If we need your help, we can talk about it."
That was good enough for him.
James looked down at Becca. She chewed on her lower lip for a few seconds before shrugging.
"Fair enough", she said. "You got my contact."
"Alright then, looks like our biz here's done." Anna jerked her head at their handguns.
Pulling both from the desk, he clamped his M6 back to his hip and handed Becca hers.
With that, the Mox leader pushed the door open and the five of them left the cramped office. Other members were working in the warehouse and, if he didn't know better, he'd have thought it was a regular operation.
Not that he was unfamiliar with this exact scenario. He'd seen plenty of illegal outfits look exactly like the standard fare.
They followed Anna back through the building and out into the night.
Fourier tensed as soon as they were outside. There was… something wrong. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was but he'd been around the block enough times to know he should always listen to that little voice.
"You two have a ride back?" Anna asked.
Becca shook her head. "No, we were gonna use the same guy who brought us out here but he fucking sucked."
What had him uneasy? It wasn't anything he could see; the Mox were all just as relaxed as they'd been since the two of them had shown up. Was he hearing something?
"Trev", Anna called to a group standing on the far side of the warehouse. "Give 'em a lift. Consider it pay for the detes on this gonk."
He strained to listen-
The screech of tires sounded from the west side of the warehouse's perimeter.
Engines. A lot of them. That wouldn't have been strange in the downtown area. There weren't as many cars in that area.
As if someone threw a switch he could hear them clearly. All of the sound was coming from the same direction.
James twisted to face the fence on that side just in time to see it burst inward, a large, boxy SUV careening straight toward them.
Oh shit!
In one motion, he pulled his M6 from his thigh and wrapped his left arm around Becca. His legs coiled and he threw himself back toward the warehouse.
The SUV flashed past them and he heard a hard thud as it hit one of the Mox they'd been with. James caught the glistening of bright red blood lit up by the intense floodlighting as it splattered across the side of the vehicle.
They came down just outside the door. He glanced at Becca. She looked more bewildered than hurt.
Staying still in their position would get at least her killed.
Fourier jumped to his feet and yanked her up with him.
"GO!" he shouted, and shoved her through the door with his left hand. His right was leveling his handgun at the next car that came barreling into the perimeter.
"Shit!" Anna screamed, running for the door. "Fucking Tygers!"
The next car just barely missed her.
As it flew past, James centered his sights on the driver's window and pulled the trigger. The 12.7mm armor-penetrating round shattered the glass and the car jerked to the right. It slammed into a large concrete support with a boom almost as loud as the gunshot.
He knew he hit the driver but he wasn't staying out there to see what happened next.
Anna was through the door, James followed, and the third Mox was right behind them.
Great… we come here just to get caught in the middle of a gang war.
Gunfire erupted from outside of the warehouse.
The last Mox through slammed the door shut. Anna was already running for the back.
Becca was on her backside, propping herself up and staring at the door, wide-eyed.
"Come on", James said, pulling her to her feet again. He gave her another, much more gentle push. "Stay ahead of me."
Moving as if she was on autopilot, she jogged after Anna toward the office.
Inside the small room, Anna was at the computer, switching between camera feeds. She looked up at them when James ducked through and pulled the door shut.
"At least 30 of these motherfuckers. I know you ain't stupid enough to lead 'em here. Bastards've known about this place for a while. New deal: you help us keep this place safe, you got a job."
James cocked his head. "You want to see if I'm any good?"
"Damn straight. This ain't a one-way thing. I give you biz, I gotta know it won't bite me in the ass."
A clatter pulled his attention from Anna.
Becca was standing beside him, her handgun on the ground between her feet. She was staring at the computer screen, wide-eyed. It showed a half-dozen black and red cars in the perimeter fence, the gunfight they were hearing going on between them and the Mox defenders.
"Hey", James said softly. He bent down to pick her Lexington up from the concrete floor and offered it to her. "Just stay with me. I'm good at this sort of thing."
The young woman tore her eyes away from the screen and down to the small 9mm pistol.
Shaking hands took the gun from him and she nodded.
"Fair enough", he said, turning back to Anna. "Got anything heavier than a handgun? That's all I brought. I didn't think I'd get involved in a gang war."
The Mox nodded. "Come on."
Anna led them out of the other door and into what would have been an employee break room in a regular warehouse. This one still had the tables and counter but the far wall was lined with weapons racks.
One thing James made sure to do was research what weapons this world had to offer. Not only did he need to know what would be available to him, he needed to know what might be shooting at him.
Their armaments weren't all that impressive; most were standard powder-based ballistic firearms. Compared to some of the more exotic offerings he'd seen, it was bare bones.
But bullet throwers were bullet throwers. As long as the thrower functioned and the bullets were big and fast, they'd work.
Well, none of these are 'big'. Most of the weapons were intermediate-caliber rifles or submachine guns. There was the ubiquitous Arasaka and Militech hardware. A few Nokota rifles… and not much else.
Without knowing what he'd be up against, James preferred to have a little extra punch.
"The M251 Ajax", he said, pointing to the rifle on a rack directly in front of him.
Anna nodded. "All yours. Ammo's in the crates under the rack."
He retrieved it and a half-dozen magazines. After taking a few seconds to familiarize himself with the controls, Fourier turned back to Anna. "I'll help defend the interior but Becca's my priority."
"Makes sense. She can stay in here. Doors are locked and reinforced. There's a mezzanine above us you can use."
"Thanks." James looked at Becca. "Focus on your breathing. Nice and slow. If it makes you feel better, put something between yourself and the doors. I'll let you know if you need to be ready for something."
Her eyes were still the size of small plates. It was probably the first time she'd been in an active combat situation. A pang of guilt worked its way into his head. He was the reason she was here…
I can worry about that later. Keep her safe for now.
"Okay", Becca whispered. "Okay."
James nodded and turned back to Anna. "Your lead."
The two of them exited the break room to the sounds of gunfire. The reports were echoing in the warehouse.
They're inside…
Anna pointed at a set of stairs beside the door. "Up there, to the right. Make sure you shoot the fuckin' Tygers and not my people."
"Copy that."
Double timing it up the stairs, Fourier found himself standing on a mezzanine with a half dozen cheap fold-out tables and the accompanying chairs. It was ringed by a rail that provided nothing by way of cover. Past it was the rest of the warehouse. Sightlines weren't great considering most of the space was taken up by shelves. That meant he wouldn't add much to a fight. It also meant anyone coming his way would be obvious.
As he settled into a kneel behind the rail and propped the rifle on it for support, James took stock of the situation. He could see a half-dozen Mox taking cover behind supplies and shelves 40 meters away. They were occasionally leaning out-
One directly ahead of him took a shot to the chest from the left.
A few seconds later, a Tyger Claw dressed in a dark shirt with tattoos covering his neck ran across the aisle the Mox had been covering.
James put his gunsight a few centimeters in front of him and squeezed the trigger.
The Ajax barked and, before his target could make it across the three-meter opening, he lost half his head.
It was odd, he'd done a job for the Tygers earlier that day. Now he was blowing their brains out.
It isn't that odd. These guys are just as fucked as every other gang in this goddamn city.
That was true. He'd done that job to get money.
Settling in, James checked the other approaches. Mox members were still fighting, including Anna down the aisle to his right, but no more Tyger Claws in sight.
Another boom shook the warehouse and a portion of the wall on the other side of the building exploded inward. The blast threw dust and shrapnel into the air.
Fourier shifted his sights to the right side of the newly minted door. He was playing odds. Most people were right-handed shooters. Anyone with any sort of self-preservation would take position that would keep them in cover while firing.
He counted off four seconds before sending 10 rounds downrange, starting at the edge of the hole and walking them into the wall. While he didn't know if the walls of the warehouse were armored, he doubted it.
As the dust settled and no return fire greeted him, he had a split-second to wonder how the hell a full gunbattle was happening in the middle of a city.
Then someone leaned out from the left side of the hole, rifle up, and took aim.
The Ajax barked again and the Tyger slumped to the ground.
With a half-magazine gone, and the Mox forces moving to cover the new hole, it was time to reposition.
There weren't many options on the small mezzanine. He moved to the left and dropped into a prone position.
More gunfire from about halfway up the nearest aisle to him.
Shit. That's getting close.
If the Tyger Claws came in force, he'd need to start working on an exit strategy.
An unnaturally proportioned gang member was trudging toward James's position. He wasn't much taller than average, but he was almost as wide as he was tall. His arms were as large around as most people's legs, and his shoulders were the size of his head.
He also wasn't wearing a shirt, the mess of tattoos showing for the world to see.
Musculature enhancements and, judging by the half-dozen gunshot wounds across the left side of his chest, subdermal armor. He was carrying a large, belt-fed squad automatic weapon.
Three other Tyger Claws followed him past the five dead Mox defenders.
It didn't look like the three smaller gang members had any remarkable implants.
Sighting on the rightmost one, James squeezed the trigger. His borrowed Ajax sent a round through the bridge of that man's nose but he didn't see it.
By the time the bolt cycled closed, he was aimed at the next Tyger. Then the third.
The last, heavily modified man recoiled as his buddies dropped to the ground around him. He swung the light machine gun in his arms wildly and sprayed the aisle with bullets.
Without the less significant distractions, James settled on him. Subdermal armor in his chest and torso, no doubt some kind of reinforcement in his head. The next candidate was…
Fourier put a trio of shots into the man's neck, just over his jugular. He watched as the first one slammed into its mark. It broke the skin but didn't penetrate.
The second round did and the third one burst out of the opposite side.
So that subdermal armor could be degraded. Or maybe this was a sub-standard model. It didn't matter at that moment. The Tyger Claw collapsed in the middle of his buddies, grabbing at the structurally superfluous holes in his neck.
Unless him catching them off guard meant they didn't have time to activate it, none of them seemed to have a Sandevistan. That was good. They hadn't had time to react. Big and overconfident would have been a pain in the ass.
No harder than a damn Sangheili.
James almost laughed. Fighting those bastards before he'd joined the Spartans had been a motherfucker.
From the sounds of it, the fighting in other parts of the warehouse had died down. Had that group been their primary attack vector? If so, he wasn't impressed.
These are gangs.
Very large, well-funded gangs. But still gangs.
After another scan of the aisle, he repositioned again to give himself a view of the front of the warehouse. The only people he could see were either Mox or dead bodies.
The ordeal was both good and bad. Good because, after it, he'd probably have a steady supply of work. Bad because, after it, The Mox would probably expect him to handle shit like it.
Oh well. I'll need to be careful.
Several sets of squealing tires followed by another loud crash probably signaled what was left of the attackers retreating.
Years of dealing with constant fighting meant that wasn't the end of whatever just happened, not in Fourier's mind. There were too many… conveniences.
The Tygers happened to attack the warehouse where the supplies he'd helped David get were stored the night after they got them?
No… unless that kind of attack was common, there was no way. Judging by how The Mox in the warehouse behaved before the attack, something like that wasn't an every-night sort of thing. While he'd need to ask to be sure, it seemed unlikely.
Standing from his position on the mezzanine, he marched toward the stairs.
All that could wait for at least a few minutes. Becca wasn't used to being in that situation. He needed to make sure she was alright.
Before James could reach the door, he paused. Right. The room was locked.
He activated his earpiece and called Becca.
The 'call' tone sounded a half-dozen times before she answered.
/ … James?
"Yeah", he replied softly. "We're good out here. Can you let me in?"
Another pause.
/ One sec.
The line dropped and, a moment later, he heard footsteps from inside the room. They stopped on the other side of the door before a third pause.
Then the door hissed open and he found himself looking down at Becca. Her expression was slack and she had the same wide-eyed stare he'd seen on a lot of faces.
Too many.
"That was exciting", she offered. It was painfully forced.
His eyes dropped to her hands. She was still clutching the Lexington so hard her fingers were turning white.
They were shaking.
'Are you alright?' was a dumb question. Fourier always wondered why people asked it. Of course she wasn't.
"Take a deep breath", James said as he met her eyes. "You're safe. Understand?"
Becca nodded. It was an automatic response, nothing more.
He walked into the break room, pulling her with him, and shut the door. "Say it for me."
She blinked.
"Take a deep breath with me and say "I'm safe". On three. One. Two. Three."
He took an exaggerated breath and Becca followed suit.
"I-" her voice caught and she cleared her throat. "I'm safe."
It was shaky but she said it.
"Good." Fourier nodded. "Another deep breath. Ready? Go."
They both took a second deep breath.
"Good", James repeated. "One more time."
A third deep breath. As it left her mouth, Becca's legs unlocked and she sagged into a chair beside her.
"I'm safe…" she muttered.
James nodded again. "Nice job."
Becca looked down at the Lexington in her still-trembling hand.
"Don't think I coulda hit shit if I had to."
"Probably not", James said. "That's what you have me for."
She smiled and stuffed her gun back in its holster under her windbreaker. "Thanks. I… we should probably go find Anna, right?"
"Right." Fourier looked at the door. He could hear voices and running from the other side. "Come on. This should be interesting."
As they left the break room, he again wondered what the hell kind of place he'd ended up in. He started off the morning by killing cops and ended the day by getting caught in the middle of a gang war.
They didn't have to go far. Before they could start looking for the Mox leader, James caught sight of her trudging down the nearest aisle toward them.
"Nice, Romeo", Anna said as she stopped in front of them. "Zeroed Xiu Wong and his boys." She took a deep breath of her own. "Fuck."
"I was thinking it was odd they'd come at you this hard this far away from where they normally operate", James replied. "Have they hit you like this before?"
She shook her head. "That shipment, you showing up here…" The Mox looked back toward the front of the warehouse. "You don't survive in this fucking city without good instincts and mine are saying whoever was telling those cops to hit us told these assholes the same thing."
"Seems reasonable."
She glanced at him out of her periphery. "Don't play like you weren't already thinking that, borg. You wouldn'ta asked."
James shrugged. "I wanted to make sure."
Anna didn't respond immediately. She took another long, deep breath, staring at the hole they'd put in her wall.
"Alright… I got a lotta bullshit to deal with. Delta, we'll give you a ride home. I'll be ringing as soon as we got something." She turned back to the two of them. "Let's call this your freebie. Keep the gun and take some ammo. We got plenty we can pull off these gonks."
"So next job'll pay?" Becca asked.
Anna huffed. "Didn't know this was a 'job'. Yeah. Next one pays."
X
Coming back to Becca's apartment was beginning to turn into a strange ritual. It was one calm spot in the mess James had found himself in.
The young fixer was pulling her jacket off as he shut the door behind them. She placed her handgun on the kitchen counter before grabbing onto it and leaning over the sink.
"Dammit", she muttered. "Dammit."
How she said that seemed strange to James. He couldn't put his finger on why but he'd learned, over the course of leading his team, to listen to that voice.
"What's up?"
"... That ain't the first time I've been around that. I mean, hell, the first day we met, there was that drive-by."
He noticed her shoulders were trembling.
"This is Night City", James said. That was sufficient to get his point across.
"Yeah- so why the hell am I so scared all the time?" she snapped. "I've lived here my whole goddamn life. I'm a fixer. This is-" her voice broke and she replaced whatever she'd been trying to say with a frustrated grunt.
"Normal", James said. "It's normal."
Becca threw her hands up and turned to him. "I can't walk around scared all the time. What the hell kinda life's that?"
"One where you aren't the kind of person who enjoys that." Fourier pulled his helmet off and grabbed his canteen. "Someone who's a little too nice to live in Night City."
"Do you enjoy that?"
James finished taking a drink from his canteen and screwed the cap back into place. "Yeah. It's one of the reasons I'm good at it. But most people aren't like that. I don't think most people should be." He shook his head. "It isn't the healthiest lifestyle."
"But, like you said: this is Night City."
He frowned. "It's Night City", Fourier repeated.
Craig and Jerome had been right… Becca was too good for all this. He'd only known her a few days and could tell she gave a damn. It was more than could be said for most of the people he'd interacted with. Trying to stop her from doing this was probably the wrong move. She lived in Night City. You did what you needed to survive.
At the same time… no, he didn't get to say anything about that.
"Don't worry about it", James said. "I'll handle the stuff I enjoy as long as you handle the stuff you enjoy."
Becca frowned. "So I'm supposed to stay in this damn apartment the rest of my life?"
"No. All I said was don't worry about it. If we get caught in one of those situations again, I'll take care of it." He offered her a smile. "That's my job."
Her eyes stayed glued on his for a few, quiet seconds before she returned the smile, tentatively. "Deal."