The Ghost Sightings: Episode #14

Content Warning: Description of gore and torture. Implied nudity. Implied necrophilia. Nothing explicit, but just to be safe.

The first thing Kaname Hayato noticed, waking up to the pounding headache of a hangover, was an unfamiliar ceiling. Cracked plaster, wires snaking through crude bolts to cheap light panels, an old ceiling fan squeaking as it cooled the room. This wasn't his ceiling, or the ceilings of any of his chooms. Did he crash in the room of some street scum?

The next thing he noticed was the tang of copper and iron. It was overpowering. Hayato could just make out something else, something florally, trying to cover up that stench, but it wasn't doing a great job at it.

He also felt a bit groggy. Sluggish. Did he shoot up on something last night?

Hayato tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes, and that was when he noticed the straps tying him down. Felt them cutting into his bare skin, into his wrists and biceps, his thighs and ankles. He noticed then that he wasn't on a bed, but a ripperdoc's chair, cushioning rough on his bare back.

He tested his bindings, which held, and was about to scream for help when a calloused hand pressed on the underside of his jaw, pushing his head against the coppery smelling cushion it was resting on.

"None of that now. It ain't time yet."

The man who popped into view had course black greying hair, framing his tanned wrinkled face. four pairs of mismatched eyes peered down at him, almost distracting him from his captor's toothy, metallic grin. He wore a red jacket over a black shirt, with matching black trousers that appeared only slightly worn. The eight-eyed man proceeded to fiddle with the controls of his chair.

Memories clicked into clouded clarity. Hayato had been in some run down bar, drowning rejection in drinks. Right. That… that… that slut that shared English with him at Arasaka Academy turned him down yesterday, didn't she? On day after his eighteenth birthday too! He remembered the old man running the place recommending a place, something about enjoying a joytoy for free so long as he allowed them to record the experience?

He remembered getting chipped, and given some tea that was supposed to improve the experience. Stumbling out of the place to use the bathroom in the store next door, because there wasn't one in that building.

Then… he was grabbed. A prick in his arm. The opening of van doors.

Kami, this is a scav den, isn't it?!

They exist?!

Nonono! Fuck! FUCK! He didn't want to die!

"Now, I've got you set up for one of my shows," the scav said, oblivious to his peaking horror, "I'll be editing this bit out because this is just prep work, you know? For now we'll be testing out the BD recorder I chipped in you. Work out the kinks before we get to the shooting. I want you to keep quiet for now. Not a peep. No screaming. Whimper if you understand."

Was that what the smell was! Blood? So much of it! How many people died in this chair! How many got hacked to pieces by these psychos, their parts divvied up and sold to the highest bidder. Oh no oh no oh no, Hayato was so fucked, and he hadn't even fucked a—

Hayato's thoughts were cut off by a hand smacking into his cheek.

"I said, whimper if you understand."

Hayato whimpered.

"Preem. I prefer it when my actors are cooperative."

The psycho stood, and started to pace.

Now that Hayato was slightly calmer, he was able to take in the room, which wasn't in any better condition than the ceiling. The walls were cornflower once, now faded and cracked with storage crates stacked haphazardly up against them. The floor was swept clean, with only a few brown stains telling tales of the room's purpose. The was another chair like the one he was in, newer with less wear than anything else in the room.

"But first, let me introduce myself. You may call me Spiderhead, and I'll be your host for this evening," he declared, before tilting his head in the mockery of a bow, before pulling out a tablet and scrolling through it.

"Now, I'll be going over the plan. You're going to be watching your neighbour get worked on first, get you nice and scared. Maybe even aroused. Hah! The good barkeep was kind enough to tell Ol' Spiderhead that you were drinking 'cause you got dumped by some girl. So, I made sure to get some pretty lil' thing in the other chair. Some street rat who we grabbed while she was trying to klept a car. It's important to get these things right. Wouldn't want to cut up some lady only to find you respond best to dudes, yeah?

"Then we'll work on you next. You got some pretty nice optics," A pair of chromed up fingers tapped the spots above his eyelids, the chill of their contact matching the chill creeping down Hayato's spine, "Almost military grade, with how good they are. Those'll go first. It's always a tough decision, deciding where to start, but this is a classic start. The sensations are just so much stronger when you can't see.

"Then we will start on your limbs, starting from the legs. You got some of them sports implants in your ankles for jumping better. Some reinforcement in your knees and shins to help with that. Nothing in the thighs. No studd. A few implants in your hands. For typing, yes? Good. Good. Gives me an excuse to remove fingers, then show you your hands after. Delectable.

"Nothing else in the arms. Some health implants in your gut and chest. Protection from some poisons. An intake controller to make sure you don't get fat from pigging out. Your biomon, used to contact Trauma Team if you get too hurt"

Some hope bloomed…

"But you don't need to worry about that. We jammed it. No need for our sessions to be interrupted by those brutes storming the studio."

… and immediately withered away.

The world was getting blurry. Watery. Shit. How was Hayato going to get out of this?

"Then we'll finish up with the stuff in your brain. All those learning implants, they'll make us some good eddies.

"Your job is to scream. Cry. Wail. Moan. Make it good for the viewers. We'll try to keep you conscious for most of it, but no promises. Now, my lovely assistants,"

The door to the room opened, and a quartet of grimey men marched into the room. One of them was wheeling a metal cart laden with surgical tools while another had some undressed girl slumped over his shoulder, her bright orange locks trailing down to his waist. They dumped her into the other chair and proceeded to strap her down.

Fuck, this is happening! Impossible! Getting scavved was supposed to be something that only happened to the bottom feeders! The lacking spawn of lazy lay-arounds begging around for meagre handouts from their betters. To dropouts and washouts! Not to people like him! His father was an Arasaka executive! He goes to Arasaka Academy! Third of his class!

He doesn't deserve this!

"It's not often I get some rich corpo's kid to work on. People like you make the best BDs. Most of the people we pick up are just too… jaded to violence. They scream and despair like any other, but they always have this undertone of acceptance that just brings down the experience. No! I need something better for my art!"

Does this gonk never shut up!

His father was rich. Important! Surely he could pay off this scav to spare him!

But his father wasn't here.

That acknowledgement sent a chill down his spine.

His father's money couldn't protect him. His father's connections couldn't reach him. His father's influence couldn't shield him. His father's status couldn't save him.

No! There is still a chance! He needed to get this scav to ransom him. His family are rich, they can pay!

The words caught in his fear-constricted throat, but he forced them out anyway. "S-s-sir. M-my father has money. S-surely you'll get more ransoming me than from selling my chrome."

The head scav tilted his head, seemingly considering it.

Go for it! Please! Kami, get him out of this and Hayato will pray at the shrine every week!

"Tempting offer… but no," said Spiderhead, finally, transmuting Hayato's hope into dread. "The money would be nice, but you don't survive almost fifteen years in this business tweaking the nose of every corpo. That's how you get the ninjas sent after you."

No! No! NONONONONO! Please Kami, he'll be good from now on, just save him!

Spiderhead clapped his hands together.

"Alright team! Let's get this performance started!"

Then the lights shut off.

"Fuck! " yelled Spiderhead, "Get those lights back on!"

One of the scavs fiddled with an old lamp at the corner of the room, giving them some light. Another scav, a reed-thin man with blue hair rushed over to the power switch and thumbed it repeatedly. "Shit. Look's like the power's out, boss."

"ARE YOU SERIOUS! Of course this happens right before we record! Mike, find Bill and tell him to stop sticking his dick in the refuse and fix this! I did not pay him all those eddies only to suffer power cuts in my studio!"

"Got it boss," said Mike, a balding man with tattoos on his face before exiting the room.

"Good," huffed Spiderhead, "The rest of you, at ease. Not much we can do without light, and I am not filming this with subpar lighting. I'll be at my desk. Tell me when Mike gets back. Might as well do some paperwork."

Hayato could not help his sigh of relief as Spiderhead stomped out of a door at the far end of the room. He had more time. The Kami had answered. Thank you thank you thank you.

Now he needed to escape. Stay calm, Hayato. Calm. Collected. Cool. He blinked to clear his eyes, tested his bindings, and found that the one around his right wrist was loose. He wiggled his wrist and almost slipped right out. With it free, he should be able to undo the rest of his straps.

He just needed to not get caught.

Hayato's eyes swept across the room, taking note of the two men by the other chair. The unconscious girl in the chair…

At another time, that felt so long ago now, he would have oggled her. Take his dues as an elite, as his father would say. Did, when watching those BDs he bought off some of his fellow students. But now… she was another victim too wasn't she?

Hayato shook his head to clear his thoughts. Not the time. Philosophy later.

But he could spare her some respect.

So Hayato averted his eyes, focusing on the two men. One of them was seated on a stool, listening through some headphones, while the other was standing by the card with his back to the first organizing his tools. There was a cart about a meter away from his chair.

The cart had something on it Hayato recognized from his video games.

An SMG!

What luck!

This is his chance. Kami, thank you! He could free himself, grab it, shoot those two, get the drop on Spiderhead and Mike and Bill, and hopefully free the other captive and escape.

That could work, right?

He glanced at his captors once more. They were still distracted.

Time to make his move.

He slipped his right hand free, and with some stretching was able to undo the strap holding down the upper arm. Now to free his other arm, then his legs, then—

Wait.

Two scavs?

Hayato double checked, indeed finding only two scavs in the room.

Where was the third?

He scanned over the room, trying to spot the missing man in the darkness of the room.

Nothing.

Shit. Does he still take the risk? He couldn't see the entire room, and the third man could be directly behind him, or hidden in the shadows. He could almost imagine the scav breathing down his neck, ready to clamp down on his shoulders and alert the other two.

Fuck, what should he do?

Then he saw it.

A pair of arms reached out of the darkness behind the headphone-wearing scav, one covering his mouth and the other slitting his neck. The soon-to-be corpse was then dragged out of the dim light. Hayato could just about catch a glimpse of purple hair melding back into the shadows.

Purple hair... Stealth expert...

There were rumors that Hayato had heard back in the Academy, stories of some stealthy scav slayer slaughtering unseen through the Night City underworld. The Ghost, she was called, because of all the scav dens she's slain without even so much as a raised alarm.

Little is known about her. Short, with purple hair. There were some that believed her to be some rogue Arasaka operative, while others believe her to be an wrathful spirit born from the lingering hatred of the many scav victims.

But one fact undisputed was that any still living victims were recovered alive.

As the last scav had his neck slit, Hayato couldn't help but laugh. He's saved.

Thank you Kami, for giving him this second chance. He'll do his best to live up to it!

Relief and joy flooding his heart, Hayato let his tears freely flow.

=====

David Martinez pulled off the BD wreath and leaned back into his chair, breathing heavily and wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. He pulled out the chip, slotted it into its casing and stashed it in the box with the rest of his Ghost Series collection. Then hid the box where his mother couldn't find it.

Like many BDs in The Ghost Sightings, this one was made using BDs recovered in the aftermath of the Ghost's many rampages through the city's scav dens. Apparently the editor of these BDs bought the raws for this one off the NCPD.

It was also the only one taken from the perspective of the victim, which made it even more sought after.

This particular Ghost Sighting was his second favorite, his favorite being the one with that scav doing a tour of their den, with there being mysteriously less and less people in the background until the recorder's brains were blown out his forehead by a silenced bullet from behind.

David grabbed the bottle of realwater off his desk and chugged it down.

Watching XBDs was thirsty work.

Kaname Hayato was a classmate. He had been absent for a week, and came back… different. No longer looking down his nose on David for being a 'street rat'. No longer hanging with the richest kids of Arasaka. No longer hanging out with Tanaka.

And always clutching some talisman he wore on a chain.

No one could figure out what happened to him.

Though David supposes that he knows now.

It was… odd. He had built up this image of his fellow students, one of noxious, unapologetic priviledge, and the early parts of this BD had only built on that image. What sort of deluded gonk could dismiss the scavs as a fantasy? Apparently the people he goes to school with.

Then Hayato had an… understanding. Of sorts. Started to see the 'lower classes' as human, even considered saving some street rat girl.

Maybe he wasn't so bad after all?

David didn't think that one moment of bravery erases all the bullshit Hayato has done to him and to others. This wasn't some third rate movie where redemption is handed out like candy. He didn't even believe that Hayato had truly changed.

For all he knew, this is just a phase and Hayato would be back to his normal acts in time.

Wouldn't be the first time some gonk 'repents' before their lifestyle drags them back to their usual ways.

Still, maybe he could try approaching Hayato? Get to know him a little?

It would make his mother pleased, right? So much of what he had read in preparation to working for a corpo said that connections are everything among the elite of Night City. So making contact with Hayato would help him later, right?

Maybe they could eventually be friends in truth?

Hah.

As if.