Marco Ramirez
A young guy lazily watched a Trauma Corporation air vehicle pass by his window. Apparently, another wealthy client had suddenly fallen ill. With the recent outbreak, this had become a common occurrence. Literally every five to ten minutes, another aircraft flew to meet a holder of a platinum insurance policy to provide timely medical assistance. The new avian flu was a big problem for Marco. Lately, his income had hit rock bottom. His savings were no longer enough to maintain the lifestyle to which he had become accustomed as a Latino.
The city had recently imposed a curfew, and with it, many places were closed for quarantine. After that, the already small stream of orders was completely cut off, and Ramirez began to feel the full extent of the mess he had been trying so hard to climb out of. Now a young adult, Marco, like all people his age, had distant plans for his future, in which he saw himself as a self-sufficient man, but dreams are always far from reality.
The fourth megatower was completely quarantined, making it impossible to leave the house. However, the building's internal ecosystem continued to operate. People opened their shops and workshops, continuing to run their businesses to avoid going under completely. Small shopkeepers suffered the most, unable to comply with all the sanitary measures imposed by the city health department. Before the epidemic, their operations were overlooked, but alas, the current situation forced the authorities of Night City to be much stricter.
Knock-knock-knock
"Who's there now?" - The guy looked at the door with displeasure.
Knock-knock-knock
The knocks grew louder, and Marco had to grimace unwillingly, reluctantly going to the door. His hand habitually picked up the old Unity, taking the pistol off safety. Ramirez didn't have a surveillance camera, so the young man had to be quite cautious. There had been a recent increase in apartment robberies, and the Latino decided to take precautions just in case. Stopping at the door, Marco listened, slowly unlocking the electronic lock, letting the stranger in.
Knock-knock
"Who's there?" - The guy asked loudly, stepping away from the door, pistol at the ready.
"Marco, it's me, Jeremy, your landlord." - The familiar voice of the man made Ramirez relax a bit.
"I'll open the door." - The electronic lock obediently beeped, sliding the door aside, letting Martinez inside.
"I see you were expecting someone else, am I right?" The former security chief wasn't at all scared looking down the barrel of the pistol aimed directly at his face.
"These are troubled times; I have to be more careful about my safety." Marco carefully peered behind the man and, ensuring no one else was there, quickly closed the door, putting the gun back on safety. "So, why have you come, Jeremy?"
"Sorry, I wanted to call you, but your phone was off, so I had to come on foot." Martinez gave an awkward smile, met by an equally awkward one. "Do you know anything about tech chips?"
"Well, it depends on what you're offering?"
"Take a look." The man pulled a package of chips with a special marking out of his backpack.
"Militech training chips, the penultimate model. On the black market, they can fetch up to five grand apiece." The guy pondered for a moment and then added, "Of course, assuming they're without any surprises and hacked."
"Don't worry, they have my corporate firmware installed, and you can be sure of their quality. I don't need them anymore."
"Are the chips still functional?" Marco looked uncertainly at the handful of chips.
"A woman who used to work for the corporation helped me make them indefinite." Jeremy smiled, dispelling his interlocutor's concerns.
"And what happened to this woman?"
"Unfortunately, she's long been dead." Martinez sighed heavily, trying to recall the features of Hirako.
"I see, that's a pity." Marco offered a perfunctory sympathy, managing a sympathetic smile.
"Don't worry about it. Instead, tell me, can we find a buyer for these?"
"I'll try to ask around the fixers, but I think such goods will quickly find a buyer."
"In that case, you'll get a fifth of the revenue. Deal?" Jeremy extended his hand for a handshake.
"Agreed, I think I'll need no more than a week."
"That works for me... Well," Martinez broke the silence that had formed, slapping his hands on his legs, "then I'm counting on you." The man deftly picked up the box of chips, heading towards the door. Reaching it, the lock obediently opened, letting the apartment's owner out. "See you, Marco." The former security chief smiled contentedly. He had secretly hoped that the Latino would want to keep everything for himself, so he was always on guard.
"Goodbye." Marco watched the departing man, closing the door behind him with a voice command.
"Twenty-five chips... And where did he manage to get so many?" The Latino massaged his temples, recalling the fixers who could quickly sell such a quantity of potential eddies. He could only think of the owner of an underground fight club in Arroyo, who wouldn't refuse such a purchase, but dealing with him was dangerous. For that kind of money in Night City, someone could easily get killed, and the mercenary understood and realized this perfectly. That meant he needed to look for those outside his direct circle of acquaintances, and there were plenty of such people.
"A headache..."
***
Waking up, I slowly opened my eyes to the familiar canvas of my tent. Kiwi was still lying by my side, softly breathing into my chest, slightly tickling me with her breath. I don't know when I became accustomed to such behavior, but now Kiwi's presence in my bed no longer embarrassed me. At fifteen, she had become quite a beautiful girl, though her behavior remained as aloof as ever, with only minor changes for the better.
Casting another brief glance at the blonde, I gently brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen onto her face. "Sorry, kiddo, I'd love to stay longer, but I have a lot to do." Carefully, I got up from the bed and quietly, after putting on my clothes, left the tent. The sun was just starting to rise over the horizon, and once again, I greeted it. Lately, my need for sleep had significantly decreased. Where I once needed about six hours, now just four sufficed. Because of this, I even had to change my daily schedule, spending almost all my time learning something to pass the time.
The guards were lazily swapping cards, occasionally glancing at the sensors set up around the area. Chad and Kirk, the perennial patrol duo, once again greeted me with their sleepy faces. After exchanging the usual greetings with them, I quickly headed to the cliff where I usually did my morning workout. Following the morning training, I also took a quick shower. There was still plenty of time until lunch, so I had to deal with the daily routine.
Gradually, the camp began to come to life. People reluctantly crawled out of their tents, lazily surveying the surroundings with their sleepy eyes. Kiwi had also managed to wake up and, with a displeased face, headed my way. Before the girl could reach me, I managed to turn on the radio, tuning into the city wave. Flicking through the channels, I found one playing light, relaxing music.
"Good morning," Kiwi mumbled a customary greeting to herself, settling into a free chair at the bar counter.
"And to you, good morning. Water or soda?" I asked, looking into the fridge at the stacked variety of bottles.
"Water." Shrugging, I grabbed an aluminum can of cold water and placed it right in front of the sleepy-faced blonde.
"Will you be helping Mike today, or will you go with John to Aldecaldos?" I sat opposite the girl, looking attentively into her eyes.
"I'll go with John," Kiwi answered briefly, shifting her gaze behind me, where our breakfast was currently being prepared.
"Want some fresh air? Well, as you wish." I flipped the first batch of pancakes onto a plate and served it to my companion, along with two jars of jam.
"Roosevelt has finished synthesizing the vaccine, and we'd like to trade the medicine for some supplies we need." Kiwi gratefully accepted the plate of food, immediately biting into a hot pancake, squinting contentedly after each bite.
"I see, you want to pick up items from their recent raid on the Zetatech convoy. It seems the Aldecaldos managed to pin the whole blame on the Rusty Stilettos. I wonder how long it will be before they come knocking after such a setup?" I prepared another batch and, turning around, was met by the faces of two brothers who were looking at me with satisfaction.
"Good..."
"Morning..."
"And the same to you." I rolled my eyes, once again hearing this irritating greeting from Han and Shiro. The guys terribly enjoyed saying anything alternately. "So, you were going to show me something today?" I recalled yesterday's conversation, which ended quite quickly because Roosevelt needed my help.
"We wanted to show you this." Han handed me a data chip, which I quickly inserted into my bracelet, reading the information from it.
"Let's see what you've got here." I briefly scanned the engine design, built on my reactor but disguised as a regular electric motor. "Not a bad idea, but if it takes a strong, one-time hit, there'll be a big explosion."
"No more dangerous than installing standard micro-nuclear batteries," Shiro disagreed with me.
"Well, you may be right there." I nodded in agreement, turning on a few more burners to deal with the influx of moochers that would soon appear here. Cooking for a large crowd is indeed a troublesome task.
The conversation ended as the work of the jaws of the people around me intensified. The last to join the feast were our guards, who wearily dragged themselves over, lured by the smell of freshly cooked food. John and Susan had already eaten their share and gone about their business. The girl to look after her restless daughter, and the man to prepare for the upcoming trip. Kiwi went to help him, leaving words of gratitude behind.