The Gonk and The Forge (Cyberpunk Edgerunners/2077)

Chapter 13 –

"Oh hey, Night City! Fancy meeting you again. Now that you are here…. Welcome to InfoFlash! Let's start off with something new about the shithole we love to hate and hate to love!"

Out of a lot of the shows that aired here, I liked Ruth Dzeng's show the best. At the very least her style of humor was actually somewhat funny. Funnier than Ziggy Q at least.

"So, Mayor Holt—ah! That's the assistant, my bad, Mayor Rhyne…. Not that it makes a difference."

See… somewhat funny.

It was nice to listen to while brewing potions in my kitchen. I had been experimenting with the nutrient potion for a bit. I wanted to see what different flavor I could give it other than just lemon.

I had successfully made it taste like bananas. I didn't mind bananas all that much. But they aren't something I would want to be the only thing that I ate for the entire day. So, more experiments were necessary.

Honestly, I had started experimenting with nutrient-healing potions as a way to waste time, while waiting for Ethan to come over and take the bar of Gold off me. I just hadn't stopped even after he had left.

I had spent a lot of time in my pocket dimension working on my new Katana, improving my SMG, learning some chemistry, and crafting the weapons for my friends… some peaceful time brewing potions and taking in the sun would do me good. Kind of like making my own magical coffee to de-stress while the automated systems of my weapons lab handled the final finishing of the new gear.

"Anyway, remember that promise he had made back during the elections? The one about reducing the crime rate? It looks like he's keeping to that promise! He's introducing a bill to re-designate Pacifica as an 'independent district'. Now, that doesn't mean we're suddenly getting a new neighboring city—no, no. It just means Pacifica would no longer be part of Night City. Officially, at least."

A bill to redesignate an entire district as independent…? As far as I knew, Pacifica was …. a lawless warzone after the last war. Home to the displaced Haitian immigrant community after Haiti sunk into the depths of the ocean.

There really wasn't much information about Pacifica readily available. I knew it was the focus of a city development project from a few years back, but the war that broke out caused it to be abandoned. The Haitians and other immigrants that had been contracted to work on the projects were left stranded in that section of the city, and from the way they were being spoken of online… the city would rather forget they existed than acknowledge their existence.

The book that Becca had shared with me had some insights by the nomad lady, Dakota Smith. But all she had to say was 'Stay the fuck away' from Pacifica in Cyberspace – the local term for internet. Made sense if it was a digitally constructed physical landscape.

But how the fuck does re-designating Pacifica to become an independent district reduce crime?

You know what? I don't want to know. I had enough on my plate at the moment. There was nothing I could do about it right now, if I ever had the means to do something, then I will see.

I had skimmed through both books that I had gotten, after sleeping off my injuries and letting the healing potion do its magic.

'Rache Bartmoss' guide to the NET' needed a more thorough study. That and the Ocuset I had gotten from Yoko, both deserved a lot more of my time to actually figure out what the fuck they really are, in terms of Cybersecurity and how the tech really works.

I could sense the basic effects, but I couldn't make heads or tails of how the damn thing worked, and I was waiting on the forge to drop something in my head to make some headway there. All I could do for now was modify it to add some functionalities of my own. I had implemented a few ideas already.

Hacking the street cams from across my window was fun though. Watching myself from an outside perspective…. Not so much. It was quite jarring, mainly because my entire natural vision was from the point of view of the camera like I was a ghost sitting on top of it, watching myself ethereally. Like an out-of-body experience locked into the street cam.

The only thing that reminded me that I wasn't actually out of my body, was the weight the Ocuset had on my face, and still having the ability to really move.

I have no idea how it would feel for an actual netrunner who experienced such a hack through their Cybernetic Optics. I can only imagine.

The bright side to that bit of curious investigation was that I had verified that Yoko had been truthful about encrypting my facial recognition data. My face came through blurred and pixelated whenever I was in view.

Though it remained to be seen, how effective such an encryption would be against anyone truly determined to find me. Not very, I would imagine.

"And here's the fun part—if Pacifica isn't part of Night City, then all the crime there? Not our problem! It won't count toward the city's official stats anymore." The show continued and my mind blanked for a moment.

"So, next time you check the reports and see crime has miraculously dropped—uh-huh, that's not because things got safer. It's because Night City just took a big black marker and scratched an entire district off the map."

…. That was diabolically genius. Maddeningly, horrifyingly so. But genius regardless.

"Genius, really. If you can't fix the problem, just redefine the parameters that make it one." Looks like Ruth at least agreed with me.

That's certainly one way to bring down the crime statistics of the city. Just kick out all the immigrants and leave them stranded in the lawless asshole of the city that most would love to forget about.

Though that does make me question, why the city isn't taking more drastic measures to reclaim Pacifica? They have the capabilities for something more …. violent. It's not human decency or morals that's stopping them, and certainly not the façade of appearing humane.

I can only speculate what their reason must be….

Another problem to figure out if I can even do something about it later. Right now, I don't even know what the right thing to really do here is.

I had finished the last batch of my nutrient-healing potions. This will last me over a week, so I don't need to worry about brewing more.

Setting the volume on the radio on high, I walk back inside my workshop. I should probably check if my Katana has been polished sufficiently. My weapons lab had automated systems to handle the little finishings that were necessary for my weapons.

Most of the basic necessities to manufacture any conventional weapon I wanted were thankfully available in my lab.

"But hey, speaking of promises kept... you remember when Rhyne said he'd bring synth-egg prices under control? Well, choombas—promise fucking kept! That's right, a carton of delicious, rubbery, soy-based synth eggs is now just over 7.99 and climbing! That's a 60% increase from just after the end of the war, for those of you who still bother tracking numbers. But hey! The price is now under control!"

… how hard is reducing the price of eggs that are synthetically produced? There isn't even a chicken in the equation to worry about here. Did people really vote for Rhyne on the promise that he'd bring the price of groceries low?

"So yeah. Go ahead, whip up that synthetic scramble. Just don't think too hard about what it used to cost."

Even I knew that corporate farms control the food supply here, and their profits are not reaching their projection of whatever percentage increase over the previous year that they wanted to hit.

Did the people really think those corporations would say "Oh well, maybe next year"? No! They will do exactly what the corps back home did with real estate and housing. They only care about EBITDA. They will raise food prices to reach their targets.

No politician in such a situation can really keep the promise of keeping grocery prices in check. Fiddling with taxes and tariffs only goes so far as to cause the producers to jack the prices higher for the consumers out in the streets…. that is if the politician has the balls to lay such tariffs against the corps in the first place.

It's not rocket science to realize that when corporations control real estate and rents, pharmaceuticals and drug prices, food and agriculture, and then the money supply with crypto then almost all increases in market prices are also corporate-controlled.

Whatever, I wasn't the gonk who voted for Rhyne...

I had other things to focus on. Like my new Katana. And the other weapons that were still being manufactured in the various machines in my lab.

"But no—enough doom and gloom. Let's actually talk about something cheerful for once.

Let's talk about Watson! Because it seems someone out there has picked up a real grudge against the Scavs. And honestly? Keep it up! Now, I know what you're thinking—'Ruth, people hate the Scavs. This isn't news. Chooms kill them every day for sport!' And you'd be right!"

…. Suddenly, I am having a sense of déjà vu.

"But this latest batch? Ooooh, this one's a doozy. According to my sources in the PD, between twenty and thirty bodies of some Tyger Claws and Scavs were found over by Charter Street. Well. What's left of them, anyway. Because identifying them? That's gonna take some time…. seeing as they were the shattered remains of frozen solid body parts that seemed to have been set on fire immediately after…. Not that anyone wants to identify who they really were."

How the hell do these shows find out about all of this so quickly? First that body lottery show, and now this…

"Yeah. Try to picture it. Chunks of frozen meat. Shattered limbs. Signs of thermal shock so severe it turned people into bloody ice sculptures. And then someone lit the whole mess on fire just to be sure. Not something you see every day now, is it?"

I had expected this. People were going to find out inevitably…. but I didn't expect it to be this soon. It's been just about a full day!

"Now, I have a theory. And I know, I know, I'm just speculating, but tell me this doesn't sound like a prototype weapons test. Someone out there—some corpo if I have to take a guess, is field-testing new tech. It seems we have finally cracked the secret to cryo-weapons! The question now…. is which corp is it? My bets are on our fine chooms at Militech!"

….. what?

Okay, I can see her point of view... the fuckers we had killed last night had screamed about some prototype tech too in their confusion.

"Because let's be real—nobody is gonna complain about dead Scavs. If some megacorp wants to beta-test their latest portable war crime, what better place than the streets of our fine city, on a bunch of organ-harvesting freaks?"

This... is good.

Let most of the populace assume that my weapons are some corporation testing out some new technology. I will take the small smoke screen it provides from most of the watching eyes at the very least.

I will only need to worry about those that truly are curious enough to truly dig deeper.

"So, to our mystery exterminator out there—whoever you are—keep up the good work! And for the rest of you gonks looking to get their hands on a new piece of iron… looks like our childhood dreams of freeze-rays are soon about to be fulfilled. Keep your eyes peeled on the streets choombas! That's all for tonight! I'm Ruth Dzeng, signing off. Sleep tight, Night City… See ya next time!" With that the radio switched over to play some slow synth-Jazz between shows.

…. People are expecting mass-market versions of my tech already. I suppose whenever corps truly crack the secret of CETN-3 they'd have it.

Freeze rays on the other hand…. I wish I could make one for myself. That sounds so fucking cool.

Hopefully, I will soon be able to make one…. Whenever the forge decides it wants me to.

I have things I can make right now. Things that I am currently working on.

Like my Katana!

The machine that was polishing the blade had finished its job, and I moved to inspect the blade.

It was beautiful. There was no other way to describe it adequately. It matched the pinnacle of craftsmanship that not even the legendary smiths of Japanese Antiquity could hope to have produced.

This blade embodied simplicity in design. There was purpose behind every indentation of its surface, every fold of its alloy. Tempered in the hottest fires my alchemy could produce, with the highest precision my lab could manage.

The blade itself was a cool, deep blue, shifting in the light with a metallic sheen that seemed almost liquid. A finish the result of the hundreds of an Alloy that I had worked on throughout the day, of steel, carbon, and ingots of titanium all of which I acquired from the synthesizer.

I had created the alloy to be as light as a feather, but capable of handling extreme stress even if it was forged into paper-thin sheets. This alloy could handle a goddamn building falling on it and it would come out fine.

The edge was impossibly fine, tapering into a cutting line that looked more like an absence of material than metal. The surface was smooth, unbroken by imperfections, a single flawless piece from tip to tang.

The handle was just as refined—wrapped in dark, midnight blue synth-silk, tight and precise. The guard was minimal, a simple curve of polished alloy. Everything about it was as balanced as I could possibly make it.

I ran my fingers over the engraving along the fuller.

Tenretsu Eimu. The blade that cuts heaven, yet casts no shadow.

I know Japanese now….! Well, formal use of the written language at least. My pronunciation and speaking ability were still horrendous.

I had made full use of my skill in imbuing conceptual abilities in objects using Heavenly Inscriptions. I could give power to imagination, and form to thoughts. The only limitation was in the nature of the inscription I chose to use.

A single phrase meant a single concept. I could not inscribe multiple inscriptions on a single blade or object. These inscriptions were in essence naming the object inscribed after all.

My sole purpose with this inscription had been to make up for my lack of experience with wielding blades while propelling this blade beyond human capabilities. I could not rely on lessons to teach me to wield blades, that would take ages. And I did not want my blade to be like any other out there.

I needed to be proficient in the use of this as soon as possible. This weapon would be the last resort if I was out of options from everything else. And it should be a nasty surprise for whoever forced me into using it.

And I think I had outdone myself, the inscription was what made it more than just a weapon.

It would never break. It would never dull. No matter how many times it was swung, it would remain as sharp as the first moment it was forged.

It was weightless in my hands, yet I could feel the powerful intent behind it. The sword knew what to do and would innately guide me through every swing following my desires. A subtle guidance, an instinct woven into the blade itself, allowing movement to flow naturally even without formal training.

And when drawn, the edge magically vibrated at a frequency so high yet so fine that cutting was effortless. Smooth like butter. Anything placed before it—steel, armor, cyberware—would part as if it were made of air. This was a magical vibro-blade!

And the best part….

I focused my thoughts and grasped the handle tighter. The engravings I had carved on the blade shone bright gold, then faded black like ink. The blade folded into the blackness, which crawled up my arm and embedded deep into the skin of my wrist.

A small, dark engraving now rested on my wrist, a perfect recreation of the inscription.

If I willed it, the blade would return to my grasp. If I wished it gone, it would remain hidden.

A weapon, always within reach. I would never be unarmed again.

All my weapons henceforth would be but a thought away from my grasp. My SMG had already been etched with a similar engraving.

Eisen Gensou. Elemental Warfare.

The etchings on that massively increased the potency of any effect it produced. I had already modified the design of the weapon to fit the cartridge variant… manually imbuing each bullet every night was going to be a pain in the ass anyway.

This worked far better and saved a lot of time. With the engraving empowering the weapon, the potency of the little beast had been increased that it resembled grenades going off with every round.

With the reworked forge-crafted alloy body, the SMG was also a cool liquid blue with copper engravings. The gun wouldn't overheat no matter how many bullets I fired, and malfunctions were now not even a remote possibility.

Whenever we set out against Jae-Hyun's cell over in Watson, the carnage I left behind at Charter Hill would be considered a mere prelude to what it would do there.

And all my friends would be sporting similar weapons too… apart from the engravings of course.

I was not leaving anything to chance here.

Out of the four, I had only managed to work on one for now. Rebecca's shotgun was about done. I just needed to get the holographic sights on the thing, and it would be ready to hand over.

The shotgun itself was sleek, bold, and aggressive—just like its would be owner.

I had done my best to match Rebecca's style, and I think I nailed it.

The frame was a deep pink, almost bordering on magenta. With a frame that sported contours that gave it a smooth, aggressive look. Light cyan-blue tubing ran along the barrel and receiver, glowing faintly, feeding into the cartridge-fluid injection system. Every pellet would be laced just before firing, ensuring maximum effect without needing anything beyond conventional rounds.

The grip and stock were tight and ergonomic, built for stability under heavy recoil. The pump-action was fast and responsive, cycling effortlessly with a flick of the wrist.

I had also installed a smart choke system, giving Rebecca the option for tight, precise spreads or full-dispersal devastation at a moment's notice.

The only thing I held back on was the Heavenly Inscriptions. I had stuck to what I had promised. I did not want anyone else to have access to weapons inscribed with my Heavenly Engravings.

Even without cryo rounds, this was miles ahead of her old Carnage—Guts.

She was going to love it….. Whoever she used it against? Not so much.

A familiar pressure built at the back of my head. And I hoped this time the Forge was in a more charitable mood. It had left me hanging last time—I wasn't in the mood for another tease.

The galaxy came into view, vast and infinite, constellations shifting like puzzle pieces around the core of my soul. A single star pulled free, drifting closer, pulsing bright.

It pulsed again. Brighter. Then— warmth poured into my soul.

A veritable sea of information flooded my mind. Circuits, connections, algorithms—I could see the logic behind everything, break them down, simplify them without losing function. Complex systems unraveled in my mind, their principles clicking into place like I had studied them for years.

I reached for the Ocuset on my desk, turning it over in my hands. The barriers to understanding were gone—the design, the purpose, the software, even the limitations.

I knew how it worked. I knew how to make more of my own.

And not just this—anything I studied, I could standardize. Make it easier to replicate, easier to maintain. With the knowledge I now possessed… I could make Cyberware of my own if I wanted and had the resources to do so... There was virtually no technology that I would not be able to replicate given time to analyze.

Making my own Cyberware…. was a daunting idea. A more palatable idea than implanting unknown, untrustworthy technology from some random megacorp.

Even so… I was still aways away from figuring out how to block Netrunners from messing with the shit I made, so I will refrain from Cyberware implants of my own even now.

… besides I was still not completely on board with chopping off parts of my body to replace them with high-end tech.

The phone in my pocket buzzed.

I pulled it out and glanced at the screen—I had a text from Becca.

Becca:

Yo, u free later this evening?

Me:

Just got done with most of the shit I needed to do today. Yeah, I guess I'll be free. What's up?

Becca:

I'm just about done with a gig with the crew…. Total snooze fest. Wanna kick back for a while but no one's down for an after-party. Thought you'd be down.

I needed to hand over the shotgun to her anyway… This was a good opportunity to get that out of the way.

Me:

I am down to hang, yeah. Would do me good to get out again. Besides I have ur shotty ready for ya.

Becca:

Preem! Can't wait to see what you cooked up. How much you want for it?

I had done some research on the market rates for high-end weaponry—corporations charged insane prices for their premium pieces, easily pushing into the hundreds of thousands. I should be safe asking for at least that much.

With these guns, and the gold bar Ethan was selling for me, I could finally say money wasn't a problem—and actually mean it.

Me:

I'm going with market, so a hundred grand should be enough, I guess?

Becca:

Preem! Flicking the eddies over now.

My phone buzzed. A notification from Marmur Bank.

TRANSFER RECEIVED: 100,000 €$

Holy shit.

How rich does merc work make someone, that she can casually send that much over text?

…Then again, considering the constant danger she throws herself into, I guess it makes sense. If you survive long enough, Night City pays well.

Me:

Jeez, Becca. Didn't mean for you to send it over right now! At least check the piece over before committing like that.

Becca:

Zain, ur fucking adorable! I've seen your shit in action already. I know I'm getting preem tech from ya.

That was a lot of faith she was putting in my skills.

Me:

Right… so where are we meeting up?

Becca:

Was thinking Lizzies. Drinks are preem, top shelf like you like. Music's nova. And the girls there are always nice.

Me:

Lizzies… Isn't that bar run by the Mox?

Becca:

Yeah. But don't worry, Rita and Susie will lay off for as long as you need. No one's gonna bother you over your tech.

Me:

Alright… I'll take your word for it. When do I get there?

Becca:

Couple hours? So, 8?

Me:

See you there.

Becca:

See ya then, round cheeks 😏

Right…

Lizzies Bar was over on Sutter Street. It was advertised enough on Growl FM—one of the few radio shows Archie had introduced me to. The radio channel itself was supposedly a pirate network, but no one really bothered to bring it off air… or could not for some reason. Fuck if I know…

Either way no one really doubted that the Mox had a hand in running it. The iconography, the messaging—they blatantly showed that fact off for everybody.

No matter what Becca said, I wasn't naïve enough to think I'd just be having drinks.

Her Mox friend, Rita Wheeler, had already shown interest in my weapons. I was going in expecting at least some show of interest from them at least.

Checking out their turf firsthand wouldn't be the worst idea. If nothing else, I could get a read on whether I wanted to do business with them at all.

I had a couple of hours before then. Enough time to hit the gym.

Before heading out, I gave Becca's shotgun a final once-over.

The machining process in my lab had already smoothed out every edge, every component fitting together with precision. Now, I just needed to find a good sight to slot in.

One thing I'd come to realize about Night City's weapons industry—nothing was standardized. Every major manufacturer had its own proprietary rail systems, forcing buyers to either purchase attachments from the same corp or risk jury-rigging something themselves.

Corporate monopoly bullshit.

I wasn't about to pull that stunt. Every weapon I made would be modular, adaptable. Even if I wasn't expecting a flood of customers, I wasn't going to lock down the people I did sell to.

After digging through my inventory, I found the holo-sight variant I had copied off the Guillotine SMG. I slotted it onto the shotgun's rail. The system immediately zeroed in, running its diagnostic sequence.

It correctly indicated that there were zero shells loaded into the weapon as well as the fact that the charging cartridge was empty.

I loaded in each shell manually, calibrating the readout to reflect the ammo count. The accuracy checks came back solid. Finally, I grabbed a CETN-3 cartridge, slotting it into the back of the shotgun. The holo-sight acknowledged the changes instantly and accurately.

I stepped into the weapons lab range, raising the shotgun, sighting down the metallic targets.

The first spray of pellets was a wide spread. A thick layer of ice instantly coated the farthest few plates.

Switching the choke to a tighter spread, the second shot shattered a portion of the plates instantly. Tiny, frozen shards scattered across the floor.

The forge replaced the damaged plates immediately.

Well, I'd wrapped up Rebecca's shotgun. Didn't see anything I'd left out. Everything was in working order.

No reason to stay holed up. I could stretch my legs, head over to the gym.

Exiting my pocket dimension through my closet door, I ran a quick mental checklist. My SMG was secured on my left forearm, its engraving hidden in tattoo form, the katana on my right. The Overture sat comfortably in my back pocket, and I had my potions on me too. I should've spent some time working on better clothes, but I'd been waiting for the payout to pick up proper materials for bulletproofing. For now, the Kevlar-infused jacket would have to do.

With that, I locked up and headed out, making my way to my car in the parking lot of my apartment.

As I reached for the door handle, my phone buzzed in my pocket. An unknown number.

I frowned.

Who the hell was calling me? Everyone who actually had a reason to reach me was already in my contacts. Maybe Archie? Yoko? But neither of them were supposed to check in until later.

Telemarketers, maybe?

I answered as I slid into the driver's seat, pulling out onto the street, merging into traffic toward Watson. The moment I did, a familiar holo-image flickered to life on my phone's projector.

Wakako Okada.

Shit.

"Zain," she greeted smoothly, her voice carrying the same calm authority as the last time I saw her. "This is Wakako Okada. You came by my parlor a few days ago… listen, honey… I have a golden opportunity for you."

My grip on the wheel tightened slightly. What the hell did she want with me? Did she already know about the container yard? And more importantly—how the fuck did she get my number?

No, wait. Stupid question.

"Uh, yeah," I said, keeping my voice as calm as I could. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm sure you know I like to keep an eye on the pulse of the city around me," she said, ever the picture of polite conversation. "So you would not be surprised to know that I came across some rather interesting information about some very unfortunate business in Tyger Claw territory over in Watson recently."

Right. So she knew.

The real question was how she wanted to play this….. and more importantly, how I needed to play this.

I had to stall. Stall. Stall. Stall and Stall as much as I possibly can.

Keeping my eyes on the road, I steered across the bridge. "Right, yeah. Heard about that on InfoFlash earlier. Some Scavs got mowed down while handing over… 'merchandise' to the Tyger Claws."

I didn't say what the merchandise was. Didn't want to throw the human trafficking angle in her face.

I hated this. She was a Tyger Claw boss. No way she didn't know exactly what the scavs had been selling to one of her own gang. She was the one who'd handed us the information in the first place.

Did that mean she approved of us taking it out?

No. Rebecca has said that wasn't how fixers worked. She was playing her own game into Tyger Claw hierarchy… against the business associate she had been trying to protect…

Jotaro Shobo… she had refrained from telling us about Jotaro Shobo while making sure we hurt, what would have been supposedly a very profitable business of her gang rival…

The sly bitch.

"Yes," she said smoothly, her voice not betraying much. "Dreadful business, really. I'm sure dear Archie was thrilled with the lives you saved in the container yard."

She wasn't beating around the bush at all.

Not that I could deny it.

She continued before I could think of what to say next. "What really caught my attention, however, was the state of the bodies your crew left behind… Tell me, Zain, are you certain that you wouldn't be capable of getting me in touch with your benefactor? The tech that you displayed was simply marvelous."

There it is. So there was no point in denying it now. She was not letting me maintain even the polite fiction that I was not involved.

She was after my tech…. but it seemed she was working under the assumption that there was some benefactor behind me and my tech…. which from an angle, yeah. The forge was my benefactor. Not that I was telling her that.

Wakako's voice remained smooth, pleasant, like we were discussing the weather instead of how she had just put me in a corner. "I would be delighted if you could get me in touch with the proprietor of this technology," she said.

I clenched my jaw. How the hell was I going to get out of this?

She thought my weapons came from some unknown party. A megacorp like Ruth Dzeng and the media were running with?

Was that the assumption she was running with? That was the assumption I needed to maintain.

Before I could respond, she kept going, voice still honeyed but firm. "Why don't we have this conversation in my parlor? I am sure you will find I can be very accommodating to those that do business with me."

I did not want to do business with her. I did not even want to step anywhere near her parlor… but I lived a block away from it dammit.

Wakako Okada was putting on a polite face for now, extending an invitation that I could seemingly refuse. But we both knew that I really could not. This could very easily turn into something else if she didn't get what she wanted.

How far would she take this? How much did she value my tech? How far would she go to get at it?

I wasn't going to sell her any of my freezing weapons. That wasn't happening. But I needed to be careful about how I played this.

She didn't need me to come right now. I could stall. Take the offer, set a date, and buy time to figure out a way to deal with this properly.

"I can't meet with you today, Lady Okada," I said, trying to sound apologetic "You can understand… a little busy with everything with–"

"You can call me Wakako, my dear," she cut me off smoothly. "And that is perfectly fine… How does next week sound to you? After you and your crew are done dealing with the rest of your unfortunate business?"

Alright…. She was willing to give me time. This was fine.

I had time. I could take this. By next week, I'd be in a better position—or at least I hoped I would be.

I'd put myself, and my tech, out there to help my friends. I didn't regret that.

But this was the cost.

Wakako was only the first to come knocking, but she wouldn't be the last. This city wouldn't just let me lay low after this. Could I even afford to take time off? Even with just the money Becca had transferred to me I was now open to avenues of development that I couldn't go into because of a lack of resources.

Better, far more versatile potions were now in my grasp. Completely bulletproof clothing… with almost all calibers of firearms... even explosives was an easy possibility now. Even things like hacking tech for any hidden surprises or Cyberware that I would have to face, truly undetectable drones and weaponry —all things to cover the gaps I still had.

If I could take even a little time to get my foundation solid, I could face people like Wakako from a stronger, more secure position.

But could I afford to sit down and hope the Forge covered for all my weaknesses?

No. This city will not give me any opportunity to do that. It will never let me fade away into the background now that I am in the limelight. Okada's but the first of many who's come forward, and she was showing me some façade of courtesy at least… others would not. I can't afford to sit down quietly and hope the forge covers for all my weaknesses in time.

Night City will not let me hunker down and build up my defenses. I had to keep moving.

"A week is fine," I said. "That should give us enough time to deal with Jae-Hyun and the Scavs. I'll see what I can do for you then, Wakako."

"Fabulous, then, dear," she said, her voice rich with amusement. "Don't hesitate to get in touch with me if there's anything you want of me. I do hope your benefactor is worth the wait. You will find that I keep my business partners very happy."

And then she cut the call.

Right. I am sure she did.

Either way… I had some breathing room. At least from Wakako and her pack of Tyger Clawz.

Could Rebecca help me properly deal with her? She called her Aunty the first time we met… and I think she was somewhat fond of her? It's hard deciphering whatever relationship she had with the woman.

Could I trust her to help me out here? She has been looking out for me, and I don't want to insult her by not trusting her now…. Top of Form

If not her, could Archie…? Her father had been damned afraid of the woman when he had dealt with her face to face. Archie on the other hand, was not… but even she had tried to remain polite with her when we had gone to the woman for information on the Scav scumbag.

Both of them were options I could approach for help…? At least it doesn't hurt to ask.

I will talk with Becca first tonight at Lizzie's and see what I can do from there.

I pulled up outside the gym and immediately realized parking was going to be a problem. The street was packed, cars jammed up against the curb, and the lot was already full. I ended up having to squeeze into an alleyway a block down. Not ideal, but at least it was close enough.

I locked up and made my way inside, rolling my shoulders to loosen up. I could focus on working out for a bit, blow off some steam. Whatever Wakako wanted, that was a problem for later. Right now, I just needed to clear my head.

But the moment I stepped through the doors, I knew something was up.

The gym was packed—way more crowded than usual. The boxing ring, normally off to the side, had been moved to the very center of the floor. People gathered around it in clusters, around the ring. And everywhere I looked, posters were plastered on the walls.

NCBA WATSON BOXING GRAND PRIX - 76

PRELIMINARY FIGHTS HAPPENING NOW

LOOKING TO PARTICIPATE? FIND ILYA KAZMIR OR COACH ROH CHI-WON

Huh.

That explained the crowd.

I weaved through the people, cutting toward the locker area. If Coach was running prelims for this tournament, then I would have to work out on my own… I needed to get to Lizzie's after this.

I'd barely made it halfway when I literally bumped into someone.

I turned as he grinned wide, his purple flat-top shining in the dim lights. His gaze flicked over me like he was sizing me up all over again then he finally seemed to recognize me and grinned. "Ah, Zain! I knew you would be back!"

"Ilya!" I greeted, stepping up. "I'm not gonna stop coming till I can take you on in a spar."

He barked out a laugh and clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder. "Ha! That's the spirit! Coach was sure you would not show again! He is referee for prelims right now… You here for workout, yes?"

I nodded, and his grin widened. "Nova then! I will coach your training today."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You're not taking part? Or are you just part of the organizers?"

"I am with organizing! This one is not for me… But first, I need to hand over the forms for Grand Prix to…" He gestured toward the ring, where an official-looking woman stood with a couple of bodyguards. "Miss Boehner there. So you go get changed into gym clothes, I will come get you when I am done."

The woman was Corporate. Stiff posture, sleek dress, cybernetic wrist display lighting up as she checked her datapad. Probably some NCBA official making sure the event stayed on the books.

Ilya turned back to me, questioning. "Unless… you want to take part too?"

I chuckled. "Me? Oh, come on, Ilya. Wasn't it you who called me noodle arms?"

He laughed. "Hey, is worth to try."

Before I could shoot back, someone else cut into the conversation.

"Hey, hermano… You Ilya Kazmir?"

We both turned.

The guy was big—built like a wrecking ball. He had subdermal plating along his cheekbones, a gold cross glinting from underneath a heavy leather jacket, and a metallic ring wrapped around his left wrist. His hair was tied in a bun, but a noticeable patch up front was clearly hiding more plating to protect his skull.

Ilya looked him over before nodding. "That is me, yes. Are you here for fight? If you don't know… you are late."

The man nodded. "I am, hermano… I know I'm late and everything, but if you can help me out here…"

Ilya sighed, already knowing where this was going. "Give me your name. I will check with coach, see what I can do."

The man smiled. "Name's Jackie Welles… Appreciate it, choom. I won't forget this."

Ilya exhaled, already looking like he regretted getting involved. "I did not make any promise." He gestured toward me. "Zain here will show you to the lockers. Meet me by the cage in five. If you're lucky, I will have the forms for you to fill then."

Jackie flashed a grin. "Lead the way, amigo."

Ilya turned to me, already moving toward the official-looking corpo woman. "And you—get changed too, choom. I will come coach after I am done with this shitty paperwork."

I waved. "I have time…take however long you need."

Turning to Jackie, I nodded toward the back. "Come on, follow me. Lockers are this way."

We moved through the gym, past the scattered groups watching the fights. Jackie walked with a slight bounce to his step, but his eyes kept scanning the place, taking it all in. He seemed the impatient sort.

"So, uhh…" He glanced at me. "You here for the competition too, choom?"

I shook my head. "Oh, no. Just here for a workout. Didn't even know this was happening today."

Jackie chuckled awkwardly. "Right… my bad. I was just wondering how you were gonna fight without some chrome backing you up."

I shook my head. "Meh, I'm just here for a workout. Stress relief while learning how to fight. I don't mix well with chrome."

We reached the locker room, grabbing spots at the benches to change. I swapped into a pair of boxing shorts and a light t-shirt. Jackie did the same, stretching out his arms as he eyed me curiously.

"Why though?" he asked. "You don't have a good ripper? I know a guy… Vik. You ask me, he's the best ripper in all of NC. Actually, he should be here too… no way a guy like him misses out on the local fight scene. I could hook you up…?"

I shook my head. "Nah… nothing like that. Never really bothered with chrome, is all. Thanks for the offer, though."

Jackie shrugged. "Your loss, hermano."

As we stepped back out, he glanced around the gym, nodding in approval. "This is a sweet gym. I can see why chooms like this place. Has all the equipment you could ask for… just the crowds a bit too thick for my liking."

I adjusted the wraps around my hands. "The crowd's not usually this bad. Most of it's because of the tournament. The equipment's nice and all… but I like it because it's quieter than most."

Jackie grinned. "That's even better. You got me sold on this gym, choom."

We returned to the main area, spotting Ilya waiting near the corpo woman and her bodyguards. He spotted us and waved Jackie over. "Looks like you have a lot of luck, choom. You are in… but you fight first."

Jackie grinned. "Now that's what I'm talking about! Who do I gotta fight?"

The woman beside Ilya finally spoke up. "There will be three fights over three days—today, the day after, and Sunday. Win all three, and you will qualify for the main league in Little China. Your first match is yet to be decided. Wait…. away from me please."

Jackie smiled awkwardly. "Alright, hermana… no need to be so prickly."

He turned back to me, his grin never fading. "Well, guess I'll wait a while. I don't wanna keep you, but if you need to find me, I'll be over by Vik." He gestured toward another burly man standing near the ring, glasses perched on his nose as he waited for the fights to start.

Jackie clapped me on the shoulder. "I think we'll be seeing a lot more of each other. I'm getting one of my good feelings about you and me."

I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not. I doubt I would ever really interact with the man again anyway... I had enough on my plate as it is... unless he runs around in the same circles as Rebecca, Archie.... or I don't know, works as one of the mercs for Wakako... I don't think we'd be seeing each other a lot.

I shook his hand anyway. "Sure. See ya around."

I joined Ilya, ready to get through my workout. I wanted to get done with it as soon as possible and head over to Lizzie's to meet Becca.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

(A/N)

Well…. that was a fun little, relative slow chapter.

Rolls this chapter:

Domain: Quality: Design

Lab Standards (Starbound) (200CP)

You are comfortable around technology. You can deduce what complex machines do, at least as far as scientific principles go, and once you understand them, you can standardize them. Technology that you study can be converted into generic versions which may be weaker or less versatile but are easier to maintain and produce. You also can follow the most complicated techno-jargon as if it was plain English.

Zain opened with 100 points, earned 150 by the time of roll. Used 200 and ended with 50 points in reserve.