[Tanya]
[Night City, Heywood, The Glen]
[June 8th, 2067]
"Mal, please sit here and don't touch anything," I told Malcolm as we slipped through the back door leading into the 2nd Amendment shop, his brown eyes instantly flickering around the interior.
"I know, you already said it like, three times on the way over," The tween chuffed and crossed his arms over his chest, but that didn't stop him from immediately starting to walk about looking over everything closely but not touching anything.
"And I will remind you as many times as I feel I must," I mentally checked the clock to see that Gloria and David would be approaching soon; the NCART bus stop was only a five-minute walk down the street and the bus would be here in less than ten minutes if there wasn't a delay.
Gloria hadn't messaged me about a delay, so they should be right on time.
The faux leather of my gloves crinkled as I ground my fingers against my palms to get rid of the ticklish sensation of sweat prickling them.
"This is my workplace, not a playground. My employer has graciously allowed me to let you and my friends come back here for lunch before we go down to the range." I reminded him as I walked over to where a couple of poly bags were resting on top of one of the workbenches, "I know that you're anxious to meet a new choom who's around your age, but if you don't stop fidgeting then I'll be forced to place your bottom into a chair."
"I'm not anxious," Malcolm scoffed as he scratched at the black beanie on his head, the boy looking over a Militech Ajax assault rifle that was torn down and in the middle of a... barrel replacement if I was looking at it correctly. "Just bored. You've been away from the orphanage for less than a week and it's already just... it's shitty without you there, Tanya."
I kept a careful eye on him as he bounced up and down on his toes while I unpacked the various XXL Burritos and snacks that Valdez was kind enough to purchase from the corner store once I flicked him the eddies. Malcolm began fussing with the buttons on his shirt as he grew disinterested in the Iron in pieces on the workbench and began looking at the display panels of the hydrosonic cleaning tanks, "The moment you were gone? It's like the whole place got hit with a crazy bomb! Everyone is acting like gonks— girls are beef'n with each other, an' Richard an' Ricardo have thrown hands like three times in the last two days! The only ones still behaving are the younger kids, but I think it's only a matter of time before they start bein' pricks too."
My hand nearly crushed the Red Bean and Beef (Made with genuine EEZYBEEF!) XXL burrito, "They have, have they? I did not realize that I was such a... calming influence on the other children."
"Duh!" Malcolm walked over and placed his elbows on the table, cradling his chin in his hands as he gave me the stink eye. "Tanya, you've flatlined gonks before. Straight up zeroed 'em ice cold without so much as a 'How do you do'! Then you had the guts to record it and send it to the NCPD in a police report too! Like you were just begging the Badges to come and haul you away. That shit is so preem... and the older kids and teens knew you were Miss Del Vera's right hand, so they always kept themselves in line should you decide that they were gonna be next."
I felt myself blinking reflexively as I looked down at the boy, a small inkling of hero worship visible in his brown eyes, "I had no idea."
Said brown eyes rolled as he scoffed, "Psssssh! Of course, that whole 'I'm so far higher than you it's beneath my notice' attitude only adds to the mystique. Always had those scop-heads wondering if you weren't some City plant or something to keep the orphans in line from the inside. Like a sleeper agent."
I felt my lip curl as I let that settle into my brain, "That is one of the most outlandish things I've ever heard."
His eyes crinkled as he smirked, "But I bet half the idiots there believe it too."
"Those gonks better not make more trouble for Miss Del Vera. She doesn't deserve it. I don't want to have to make routine visits just to wave the flag around." My shoulders fell as I sighed, "Now why don't you get the wipes from over there and clean the table off while I get us some cutlery."
"Who uses...? What kind of gonk uses forks and knives for burritos?" Malcolm whispered to himself while I turned on my heel and strode to the main office.
I cracked open the door, poking my head in to check and make sure that Bart wasn't on a call.
Instead, my boss was leaning back in his chair with a t-shirt draped over his face while Cherry was seated at the circular poly table that made up the 'break room' of the shop. Behind her was an aluminum shelf with a couple of poly trays that had plastic silverware, napkins, and alcohol-laden micro-towelettes. The brunette former Joytoy gave me a half-hearted wave with one hand as she speared her burrito slice with a fork, "Tanya, you excited to bring your girlfriend here?"
At her words, Bart lifted his cyberlegs off of the edge of his desk and pulled the t-shirt off of his face, a broad grin on his lips, "Oho? So she's finally arrived?"
My eyebrow twitched as I walked around the table and grabbed a clean polymer tray, loading it up with disposable poly-plates, since paper plates were expensive and repurposed plastic was cheap, and some cloth napkins with enough plastic silverware for four. "She's not here yet, but should be in only a few minutes."
[Gloria: Just got off the NCART, and should be there in just a few minutes.]
[Gloria: It's the back of the shop right? The one with the skeevey-looking alley?]
"And speak of the red-haired she-devil and she will appear..." I muttered lowly to myself as I sub-vocalized the response:
[Tanya: Yes, that one. It looks shady but that's just to keep outsiders from digging around. We have cameras on it and I was just through not ten minutes ago, so go on in and I'll let you in through the back.]
[Gloria: Preem! See you in a minute!]
I sat the tray down on the table and ran my palms over my thighs before adjusting my tie and checking my hair to make sure nothing was out of place.
I turned my head to see Bart and Cherry both staring at me with smirks on their faces, and I frowned, "What?"
"Oh nothing~," Cherry ran her fingers through her brown hair as she shrugged, "Just nice to see that there is someone in this city who can get our resident ice queen defrosted."
Bart just kept on grinning, and I huffed before grabbing the poly tray and pushing my way back out into the shop; thankfully Malcolm was seated at the table, his foot tapping at the bar of the stool and picking at the poly wrapper of the XXL Burrito he had chosen to grab. "Here, set out four places for me if you would, Mal."
He didn't complain, knowing full well that if the table wasn't set then he wouldn't eat— something we both knew from living in the Heywood Angels orphanage. While he did that I walked to the back door and mentally activated the monitor next to the door, looking over the handful of camera angles to make sure there wasn't anything new that didn't belong on the screens. My suit jacket felt odd so I unbuttoned and adjusted it, before checking my belt buckle to make sure that my gig line was properly centered. I tapped the tips of my shoes against the steel floor, feeling a bit irritated that my socks felt loose.
With one last check of my ponytail and a solid tug at my gloves, I felt ready.
Though now that I was thinking about it there was some lint on my shoulder and I plucked it free before letting it fall to the floor.
With one last flip through the cameras, I could see Gloria and her son come around the corner and walk with caution down the alley.
I opened up the door and stepped onto the steel grating of the platform.
"Hello, you must be David. My name is Tanya, and it is a pleasure to finally meet you; your mother has told me all about you." I smiled warmly down at Gloria's son.
David was neither tall nor short for his age, standing roughly 1.4 meters in height, but given his mother was only a handful of centimeters taller than him it made him look bigger; Malcolm was at least a dozen centimeters taller given he was two years older. The sides of his head were shaved, and his dark brown hair was quaffed up giving it a fuzzy appearance; he had the same brown eyes as his mother, but given they were a shade darker the difference was likely due to the fact that his mother had cyber eyes and he still had organic 'peepers'. Said eyes were narrowed slightly in undisguised suspicion as his lips curled down into a deep frown, "Hi, choombatta."
His clothing looked a little better than I expected given the state of Gloria's apartment building, but given the windfall of eddies, I wouldn't have put it past her to take her son out shopping for a better outfit for today. He had a silver chain hanging from around the collar of a red polo shirt with all of the buttons undone; interesting to note the collar was popped up for some reason. A black long-sleeve t-shirt was worn underneath it, and both were tucked into a pair of black jeans that had holes along the thigh and knees; given their poverty, I highly doubted that these were of the pre-stressed variety like Clarice liked to wear. A red fabric belt with twin-steel D-buckles kept his pants up and shirts tucked in, and white sneakers with velcro straps instead of laces adorned his feet.
"Mijo," Gloria smiled sweetly as she grabbed the back of his neck, causing his shoulders to raise up near his ears, "Go inside and say hello to Malcolm and greet the staff of the store, okay?"
He winced with a hiss as he nodded, and the moment she released him he slipped past me and into the shop, where I followed him with my eyes until he walked directly over to Malcolm.
A slight tug at my neck made me look forward, and the woman wrapped her hand gently around my tie before pulling me down so that she could wrap her arms around my neck—
"Mhmmmmmmmm~."
I felt my blood pressure spike as the Latina claimed Tanya's lips- her kiss demanding but at the same time very plush. The slightest hint of cheap perfume filled my nose as her hot breath washed over my face, and a small giggle left her lips as she pulled away to gaze at me with hooded eyes, "Hello again, bonita, did you think about me while we were apart?"
"I did." Unbidden, I swallowed thickly as I tried not to think about the electric tingles still slithering over Tanya's lips; a lick confirmed that the slight cherry flavor on my tongue was from her lip gloss, "It was impossible not to..."
Gloria had been sending me messages over the past twelve hours, asking me all sorts of business-related questions as she read through the paperwork that 'The Dastardly Couple Law Firm & Accounting' office sent to her. Helena and Dastan Olenov were exceptional at what they did, if pricy, but that didn't mean that you didn't need to put in some of the work yourself; one of the things that made their resolutions so quick was that if they needed assistance trawling through legal codes they would enlist your help. Some decried this practice on their screampage reviews, but there was nothing better than being forced to get acquainted with the Night City Legal Code regarding the area you were navigating; it was through one of my adjacent consultations that I even learned about the legal codes Gloria was using for her business.
So yes, it could be aggravating at times, but getting your legal documentation done sooner rather than later was always for the best as the Night City Administration could be rather mercurial in the speed at which they processed your paperwork. It also meant that you were actually familiar with the legal codes you were operating under, and could pull them up as required to show off to the necessary authorities instead of having to wait for them to look it up themselves and confirm that yes, you were not committing a crime by stripping chrome off of a corpse as long as you didn't murder them yourself.
Spoiler: Gloria
The cyberware marks on her cheek crinkled as she grinned, "Mhm, glad to hear it. Now, are we going to just stand out here in the alley with your hands palming my ass cheeks or are we going to go inside?"
I nearly choked as I realized that sometime during the kiss Tanya's hands had slid down Gloria's back. A reflexive squeeze of the succulent buttocks covered in thin, nearly painted-on blue jeans confirmed that for me.
Her grin stretched just that much wider as she kissed my lips again before letting go of my neck and patting me on the cheek, "Glad that you find the goods satisfactory, Tanya~! Now, introduce me."
Taking a few steps back I ushered her inside before securing the locks, and while David and Malcolm were distracted talking to each other, I could see Cherry and Bart standing next to each other with smug smiles on their mugs.
[Bart: Good job, Tanya. I'm glad to see that you have fine tastes.]
[Cherry: Tanya, how the fuck? Which Corpo gonk did you flatline to kidnap this little hottie!?]
[Tanya: I am happy to hear that you both approve, not that I requested or desired said approval.]
"Bart, Cherry, this is Gloria Martinez— she is an Emergency Medical Technician working at the Arroyo General Hospital, and this is her son, David." I gestured from Gloria to my Boss and co-worker, "Gloria, this is my boss and the owner of this establishment, Bart Andrews, and my co-worker, Cherry."
Cherry stepped forward and she and Gloria embraced before the former Joytoy stepped back, "A pleasure to meet you, hermana, now let me get a good look at you."
Gloria had worn the same clothes the day we met, with her dark brown sneakers with laces, blue jeans, and a dark brown t-shirt that clung to her large bosom; she was lacking her yellow reflective EMT jacket, but the yellow and silver windbreaker she was wearing was a close enough approximation. Her beautiful red hair was done up as it always was, with her bangs artfully framing her face and a few strands hanging to loop back to her bun.
They exchanged a bit of rapid-fire Spanish back and forth, with Cherry's eyes darting to me as she made some surprised noises. "Si? Oooh, si..."
I placed my tongue between my teeth to prevent them from grinding.
Bart, for his part, stuck out his hand when the two were finished conversing, but he instead got a quick hug, "It's great to finally meet you, Mister Andrews; Tanya has had nothing but glowing things to say about you."
He cleared his throat as he scratched at the back of his head, "Happy to hear, Miss Martinez, and you can call me Bart. Any close choom of Tanya's is a choom of mine."
She tilted her head and grinned impishly, "Only if you call me Gloria, Bart."
"Fair enough," He shrugged before pointing toward the table. "Tanya prepared some lunch for you, so when you've finished chow we can go downstairs to the range. It's pretty dead for a Saturday, so you should pretty much have it all to yourselves."
Gloria's brown eyes turned to me, "You did? You didn't have to; David and I were going to stop by and grab something to eat on the way home since the SCSM near our building was empty."
I hummed, "Well, the 24/7 shop down the street has a better selection than most SCSMs and I thought it would be nice."
"Mom, she got us XXL Burritos," David raised his hand high with said burrito clenched in his hand, "The kind with the EEZYBEEF and nacho cheese in them!"
"Don't forget the Nicola Silver or the chips," Malcolm added in, though his joy was more subdued, "The SCSM outside our orphanage never carries preem stuff like this."
"That's because Mister Hollis keeps breaking into them, I'm afraid." The homeless man who slept in an alley opposite our orphanage was fairly harmless, but whenever the machine was restocked he was very nifty with a crowbar. It was annoying but the children of the orphanage never had enough eddies to afford what was in the machine anyway, and I always gave them enough to get ice cream whenever I finished a debugging gig; the ice cream was the far superior option to a six eurodollar bag of chips.
"Crummy old man," Malcolm grumbled as he tore open the bag and poured some onto his plate, "It wouldn't be so bad if he'd share with us or something."
Cherry and Bart faded back into the breakroom as Gloria and I sat next to each other and we began divvying up the spoils, "If you'd take food from a dirty homeless man I'd start to question your sanity, Mal."
"Pssh, if it's sealed it's fine, just gotta wash the bag with soap and water."
David nodded his head in agreement which made my little brother perk up.
I gave the tween an unimpressed look, "I know that you've got gray matter between those ears, gonk, so rethink that assumption. You don't accept any food that isn't from myself or Gloria, or you purchased it from a vendor and received it with your own two hands."
"She's right you two," Gloria used her pinky to draw her bangs behind her ears as she peeled open her burrito and placed it on her plate, "Scavs are doing some crazy things, I hear. Lacing food and drink with drugs. You wouldn't want to end up a glitter addict before you even made it to high school, would you?"
"Mom, we're from these streets. You think we don't hear from our chooms about all the gomi crap that the Scavs are doing?" David scrunched up his face, and so did Mal, and the boy puffed up, "Besides, we're smart and tough, so don't worry about us, worry about any gonks trying to pull one over on us."
"Awwww, mi lindo hombrecito fuerte~," Gloria cooed as she patted his fluffy head before licking her thumb and rubbing some sauce from his cheek, "You had a little something right there, but your mama took care of it."
Malcolm chuckled and a muffled 'thump' made the steel table jump as David lowered his head and began to hiss— the boy rubbing his shin; idly I leaned back in my chair and tilted my head to see that David had likely kicked the cross beam with his leg trying to kick Malcolm. The older boy's eyes widened as he shook his head rapidly. Good.
Gloria just smiled as she returned to her meal, and while we ate— burritos, chips, salsa, Nicola Silver, and a small package of 'Rainbones' candy disappearing from the table— I took the opportunity to give the boys a rundown of firearm safety as well as our range rules for downstairs. When we were finished eating the trash was gathered up in the poly bag it came in and I tossed it into the closest can while David and Malcolm both worked to get the table wiped down once more.
While Gloria watched on, I took that moment to head over to my locker and grab a large, faded brown Codura nylon range bag; it looked like a large lunch box that anyone might have carried to work ten years ago, which made it perfect for storing everything. The case for Gloria's custom Lexington, the two-hundred and fifty rounds of 'Tungsten Defender' ammunition I'd segregated into eleven vacuum-sealed poly baggies, a handful of spare magazines, and the eventual holster and magazine carrier that we'd choose once Gloria decided what she liked. It was rather hefty in weight, but I didn't think she would have any issues lugging it around back to her home. Of course, she'd be wearing the pistol and its accompanying holsters and pouches with she left, not carrying them.
While I walked back over to the table with the bag in hand, I saw Valdez, Marco, Cherry, and Bart standing by the office; Salvatore was down at the range since a regular customer came by and was putting some rounds through his weapon of choice. Bart gave me a nod, but a buzz at the 'front counter' signaled that someone had entered the showroom, and the trio played rock-paper-scissors... which Valdez lost and went over to go help the customer while Cherry and Marco gave me a thumbs-up.
Their support was... inspiring but I didn't really need it.
The 'thump' of me setting the bag onto the counter yanked David's and Malcolm's attention away from Valdez, who were both gawping at the massive Scandinavian man in awe at his sheer size, and Gloria's eyes widened slightly, "Oh, wow, what is that?"
"This is the case that will contain everything you'll be taking home with you," I remarked dryly with a wry smile as I unzipped it and began unpacking it, pulling out the black poly pistol case and a single baggie of ammunition, "This here is your new iron, Gloria, and some proper ammunition to go along with it."
Spoiler: Stock Lexington
Spoiler: WSC Lexington - "Silver Promise"
"Oh wow."
"Oh wow."
I blinked as both mother and son spoke aloud in stereo.
My smile tugged a bit as I leaned up against the edge of the table, "It's everything a Lexington is, but better."
"I, um, started looking up some gun nut vids on the Net after the incident with that Nova, and when we settled onto the Lexington I started to look up vids of them too," Gloria's fingers slid over its glossy blue and silver surfaces as she picked it up out of the case, and hesitantly ejected the empty magazine and pulled the slide back to ensure it was empty. "And I got David to watch them with me. You know, features about the gun, care and cleaning, how to shoot them... so you don't have to dumb it down that much for me..."
Her small smile was dimmed as she winced, "At least not that much anymore."
I stepped a bit closer to her and gently took the handgun from her as I went down through the list of features that would normally be on a standard Lexington, and made note of what we had changed or improved. Then I got into the actual additions to the pistol— the new sights, the auto-deploying red-dot optic, the flashlight, and of course the very obvious suppressor on the front.
"—and this suppressor was something I would have liked to have made in-house, but time constraints set me back. We could make everything but the baffle stack, so in the interest of saving time I took my plans and forwarded them off to another custom shop here in Night City to fabricate for me," I frowned as I shook my head. "We'll be rectifying that by next Friday when the new auto-fab comes in that can handle machining Vibronnel alloy. It is a unique shape, isn't it?"
I posed this question more toward David and Malcolm, though while Gloria's son was focusing with rapt attention on the detailed break-down, Malcolm was likely more interested in shooting it rather than talking about it; I'd have to gauge David's actual interest, but it appeared that I might have a budding weaponsmith on my hands.
"It doesn't look that long, or like the ones I've seen in the movies," The ten-year-old reached out and I brought the pistol closer for him to touch. "You said this was real titanium? That's so nova!"
It was a blocky-looking suppressor that extended below the barrel, down to the bottom of the pic rail, with a gradual taper from the front toward the bottom— all to make it easier to holster and look visually more appealing. It was indeed short at 8cm in length past the barrel of the pistol, but it contained thirty 1.5mm baffles with small air gaps in between to catch the expanding gasses as they traveled; the Vibronnel alloy was very tough. If anything it was overkill for even the +P+ 9mm ammunition it would be firing, but the alloy had special sound-dampening qualities that lowered this pistol to hearing-safe levels. Which was the goal— I wasn't trying to gift Gloria an assassin's weapon with a near-whisper quiet suppressor, as that would be pointless.
I wanted a weapon that was light, compact, controllable, and quiet enough so that it wouldn't hurt her hearing if she had to fire it in an enclosed space. This was meant to be concealed by her EMT jacket, and if it didn't have those qualities then she would be less likely to actually carry it with her every day... as numerous studies have shown when it came to civilian firearms owners; I was in the infinitesimally small minority that routinely carried two concealed firearms.
When I was finished with my explanation, Bart came over with three different bags in his right hand, while the left hand carried a Kydex, press-formed holster. The bags contained a shoulder rig with a pouch that could hold two spare magazines, an external hip connector with a similar pouch, or a small-of-the-back connector, also with the same two-mag pouch. "The holster can connect to all three of these, and I'd like you to have them as well so that you can adjust your carry options based on the outfit that you're going to be wearing for the day."
"Oooooohhhh.... what are these?" The Latina pulled out two stretchy lengths of cordage with sturdy alligator teeth clamps on them; a set of small D-clips was also included in the bag.
"Those are stabilizers for the shoulder holster and the magazine pouches," I made a show of unbuttoning my suit jacket and raising it up so that Gloria and the boys could see where the D-clips were attached to my belt loops, and I gave it a 'thwang' with my finger. "It keeps the holster and pouches tighter to your body so that it prints less against your coat, and it also has the added benefit of keeping them slightly under tension so that you can draw more smoothly."
"I see, I see," Seeing as she wasn't wearing a belt, Gloria happily shucked off her windbreaker and slipped the shoulder rig on, clipping the stabilizers to her belt loops. "Help me adjust this?"
"As if you have to ask?" I replied smoothly, as I was already going to help; Bart did the same for me when I got my shoulder rig, but my words for some reason made Gloria's smile that much brighter.
Once everything was adjusted, the woman attached the holstered pistol to the rig, and slotted in the two spare 23-round magazines before drawing her coat back on. Her grin was blinding as she futzed around, letting the coat hand open and walking around the shop, and when she was done with that she zipped it up and walked around too, "Hmmmmm? What do you think? Do you see it, mis ojos?"
I blinked and was about to open up my mouth when David chirruped from his stool behind me, "Nope! If I didn't know you had it I wouldn't even be looking! It's preem, Mama. How do you feel?"
"Huu, huu, huu~," Gloria tittered behind her hand as she walked over to me and pressed herself into my side, her eyes shimmering, "I feel like Secret Agent Gloria Martinez, FIA Special Operative!"
"Fuck the FIA..." I heard Bart grumble to himself as he crossed his arms over his chest, and at my questioning head tilt, he shook his head, "Sorry. Personal beef."
Ignoring the subtle shift in the mood, Gloria's arms squeezed my waist, "I haven't shot a Lexington before, but I can already tell that this iron is going to be like shooting a dream."I blinked and looked down at her, "If you've never shot one before how could you tell?"
It seemed to be something she was waiting for because she released me from the hug and poked my nose, "Porque mi Tanya lo hizo por mí, con amooooorrrrrrrr~, that's why."
I could only pick out a bit of that but what I did understand made Tanya's cheeks flush.
Her eyes crinkled as she unzipped her coat and pulled the pistol out of the holster before dragging her finger along a laser etching on the side, "Now, 'Promesa de plata'... what does this mean, exactly?"
It was named 'Silver Promise', because Bart argued that all personalized pieces like this needed one.
I did my best to meet Gloria's inquisitive gaze, "That's simple. It's a promise to come home, and if that iron is in your hand it will help you do just that."
Studies showed that those who had a weapon in hand were far more likely to survive a physical encounter, and it also was symbolic of the fact that when she left the house each day... she would come home to her son. Her dedication to David as a mother was one of her most admirable traits, and I wanted to cultivate that same level of loyalty to her future enterprise— n-not just for me.
For some reason, Gloria looked like she was about to swoon.
The regular of our shooting range wasn't Dalton like I had thought, but Roscoe; the man had an old Darra-Polytechnic M-9 rifle that he liked to carry to the range, along with one of the many 2025-vintage steel spam ammunition cans his father had saved over the years. We of course had brand new manufactured 5.5x45mm ammunition, seeing as it was as popular as the old AK-74-styled rifle was, but Roscoe allegedly had a whole closet filled with the surplus Russian ammunition that he 'wanted to get rid of before he died'. The sidearm he liked to use was a more modern Malorian Arms Overture revolver, but he only shot a few handfuls of the .42 caliber ammunition each visit given the M-9's ammo was 'free' and the revolver ammo he had to replace.
The boys, equipped with hearing and eye protection, were rather enamored with the old man's rifle, and while he offered to let them shoot it I had to step in and take a rain check on their behalf; neither of them had fired a weapon before at all, and Bart had a wonderful little .22LR rifle and pistol made by the now-defunct Ruger for them to use.
When Roscoe vacated, I left David and Malcolm in Salvatore's more than capable hands and took Gloria off to the side where I demonstrated the proper way to hold the Lexington to get the most out of the textured grip tape along the frame. Thankfully she had some idea as to how to hold the weapon thanks to her recent research, but I was forced to wrap my arms over her and adjust some things as we went through dry-fire drills. She seemed to smile more brightly every time I did so, and it was hard to concentrate on correcting her when she mashed her plump derriere against my pelvis.
This was much easier when I could float above my meatshields and lecture them from on high about ranged gunnery against fast-moving targets.
Still, once I dug a little bit into Colonel Degurechaff's handbag with some more terse instructions, she ceased attempting to distract me, but if anything the sudden shift in demeanor seemed to make her more excited. Which left me feeling a bit lost in the breeze, because how was I supposed to educate her properly if no matter what I did it only made her happier?
Eventually, we were able to load up her magazines with some standard 133-grain FMJ ammunition, and the Silver Promise was fired for the first time by its intended owner.
'Bang!'
Gloria didn't even flinch, which spoke well of her, and with the suppressor, the noise wouldn't have made her flinch even without the hearing protection she was wearing, "Oh wow, that was very quiet!"
She made to take her earbuds out but I stopped her before pointing to the boys whose rifle wasn't suppressed; the .22LR wasn't too loud, but in an enclosed space like this the signature was magnified. "Oooh, right!"
'Bang!' 'Bang!' 'Bang!' 'Bang!' 'Bang!'
The self-healing polymer target, a man-sized silhouette at a 7-meter distance, was soon filled with holes in short order, and I used the control interface to pull it back in along the roof-mounted track once she ejected the magazine and put the pistol on the table.
"Not bad, Gloria," I hummed as we examined all of the holes, "A few fliers here and there, but most were in the torso where the vitals are."
Her cheeks lit up as she toyed with the empty magazine using her finger, "I saw on the Net that it's easier for first-time shooters; no bad habits."
"That's true to a certain extent; being a new shooter makes you open to instruction and easier to train than trying to retrain someone who is used to something different." I pulled the wafer target off the steel runner and walked it over to the 'sun box' where the light and heat from the lamps would stimulate the polymer crystals to realign to their previous position. However, not before taking a still image and sending it to her with the words 'Gloria's First Magazine' attached.
The Latina was reloading the magazine she emptied when she finally got it, and when she looked at me I placed my hands on her hips and spoke close to her ear, "It is important to document these sorts of things; that way we can look back on them a year from now to see how much you've improved."
"A year from now..." The woman's warm brown eyes stared off into space for a moment before she pecked me on the cheek, "I like the sound of that."
I nodded dumbly, feeling like I was missing some critical context; seeing your progress as time passed was indeed very important, but I didn't think that it was worth getting a kiss over. However, Gloria seemed to be humming happily to herself as I put up the fresh poly-wafer target and sent it back down the line.
'Bang!' 'bang.'
This time her first shot was accompanied by a quieter retort from a few lanes over.
After getting her used to shooting with the iron sights, we switched over to the red dot as that was going to be her primary tool, and we found that as long as her fundamentals were good her precision was much higher using it; I had zeroed the optic myself and I knew it was set perfectly.
The groupings went down from the size of my spread hand, with a few zingers here and there, down to the size of Gloria's clenched fist, and just for the experience we had her shoot out the head of the target as well; she was surprised at how much more difficult it was to hit even while standing still, and I had to remind her that I worked here and I spent a good deal of my daily paycheck on ammunition to practice.
I likely shot more in a week than most NCPD officers shot in a quarter— for training purposes anyway.
After that, we ran her through a few magazines of her 'Tungsten Defender' ammunition to get her used to it, but the additional weight at the end of the barrel in the suppressor and weapon light helped tame some of the extra recoil. Once Gloria got used to it the difference between her shooting the standard FMJ and the TD ammunition was negligible.
From there, we spent the last twenty minutes of the rage time running her through some simple drills— mainly geared toward showing her just how much more difficult drawing from a concealed holster was. Media and Cyberpunks made it look easy, but you'd be surprised at how just adding a few extra steps could bungle up the process if you were not deliberate in your movements. It was why the Omaha at the small of my back was my first choice to draw from, usually because my suit coat was buttoned up most of the time, and I had to have my coat modified to make the draw easier as well. Since Gloria was going to be wearing her EMT jacket most of the day, getting her used to unzipping her coat, pulling it back, and drawing her Lexington before getting into a shooting stance was what we practiced the most.
We did it without ammunition at first, but once we got her more comfortable we added a few rounds of ammunition into her magazine and put one in the chamber.
"Threat!" I barked harshly, and Gloria immediately sprung into action, her left hand grabbing the flap covering the zipper while her right hand reached for the zipper itself; that, however, was where the smoothness ended.
"Damnit," Gloria hissed as her fingers struggled to find the pull tab, and I put my hand on the box controlling the target and began moving it toward her at a fast walking pace. Finally, she found it, and she yanked it down before pulling her coat wide so that she could grasp her pistol. The Kydex polymer holster 'zipped' as she tugged her sidearm free, and she took a stance and squeezed the trigger... however, the barrel jerked down as she realized that she still had the safety on. The target, unfortunately, ran out of track and bumped up against the poly table of the shooting booth.
"The cyber psycho reached you, and you're dead," I intoned solemnly before resetting it to its previous position, "Reset and we'll go one last time."
When her pistol slotted back into the holster and her coat zipped back up, I started the scenario again, "Threat!"
I mentally counted down as Gloria, this time slowing her movements down, pulled her zipper and managed to get her pistol out to put three rounds in the approaching 'cyber psycho's' torso area before he reached her. "3.9 seconds, better than when you first started, Gloria, but it is apparent that you need to make some modifications to your coat and practice the draw if you want to get that down fast enough to save your life."
The Latina gave me a rueful chuckle as she popped the magazine out and cleared the weapon before placing it on the table, "It's a lot harder than it looks, gatita, you weren't kidding."
I hummed as I reached out and grabbed onto the zipper of her coat, "My recommendation would be to add either a larger zipper or a larger pull tab; or both. That and you can also not zip your coat up and instead just keep it closed with the buttons; if you want a better seal to keep you warm during the cooler months or rain you could simply hot glue or stitch in some velcro patches between the buttons. That way instead of fiddling with the zipper you can just rip the jacket open."
I grabbed one of the empty magazines on the table and grabbed the poly baggy to start loading it up with the TD ammunition since we were done for the day. "We'll work on it some more the next time you come, so don't worry about that too much; if you unload it and practice in the mirror with a timer then you can start to work in some muscle memory even at home. We'll work on changing magazines next time as well... and trying out the full-auto feature since it is one of the selling points of the gun; instead of three rounds in the target before he reached you there could have been twelve."
"All great ideas," Brown eyes crinkled as she tilted her head, helping me speed things up by starting to load another magazine, "So what's next?"
"Next is cleaning the weapons." I leaned out of the lane to look over at David and Malcolm, "Especially those .22 weapons; the cartridge is very dirty and I won't have you thanking Bart for letting you shoot those legacy weapons by leaving them filthy!"
"Fine!"
"Alright, Miss Tanya!"
I nodded, pleased that the two boys heard me, "Good."
"Huu, huu~," The red-head tittered into her coat sleeve, "You're acting like Drill Sergeant Tanya with the boys, it's cute."
I grabbed a handful of +P+ 9mm and narrowed my eyes at her, "And you can call me 'Sir', Trainee Martinez."
Her cheeks pinkened as her eyes dipped down and to the side, "Y-yes sir~."
The way she said it made my belly do flip-flops, and it made me thankful that none of the men or women under me before had ever said it like that.
It took about half an hour for us to clean all of the weapons, with Bart showing the boys how to clean the two Ruger relics while I devoted my time solely to showing Gloria how the tear-down and cleaning for her Lexington differed from the standard model. There was a shard that I made in the case that had a detailed manual with pictures and videos of important steps, but since I was here I didn't feel the need to break that out; it would be useful for when I wasn't around, and well, Gloria just seemed to be happy as a little lamb with me sitting next to her as I walked her through it step by step.
There was a cleaning kit included, but that was something we put in the case of every weapon we sold, so I sent her a Net link to a kit that I preferred to use; it was only for pistols, but other weapons for Gloria's home arsenal would follow as funds and time allowed... and I hadn't had any time to design anything new custom weapons yet.
With the brown range bag all packed up, her new pistol with topped-off magazines in her holster, and her jacket half-zipped, Gloria and David were ready to go. Malcolm and David went outside ahead of us, the two whispering to each other, and Gloria and I stood on the inside of the threshold. She had the bag in both of her hands, her shifting causing it to bounce off of her knees, and I was... at a loss for words.
"I greatly enjoyed having you over today, Gloria."
Or for any words with substance.
"I did too," Gloria smiled softly as she peered up at me, "It was both fun and eye-opening, being shown just how much of a difference there is between a gonk with a gun and someone with experience. It really put into context just how hard you must have trained to get as... proficient with your pistols as you have."
I nodded dumbly and she chuckled as she popped up onto her toes and gave me a gentle kiss on the lips, and the hooded eyes she had once the kiss ended made Tanya's womanhood tremble. "I had a great time, lindura, and as far as first dates go? Well, I can certainly say it was the most enjoyable and the most informative."
"I liked it as well—"
I was cut off by the sounds of scuffling in the alley, and I grabbed my Omaha from the small of my back and wrapped an arm around Gloria so that I could reverse our positions; with the pistol raised I stuck as little of myself out of the doorway as possible... only to see Malcolm and David pulling themselves off of the pavement. The gun was lowered and slipped back into my holster as Gloria stepped around me, "And what happened here, boys?"
The two grimaced as they patted their clothes off, Malcolm readjusting the black beanie on his head and David tugging his shirts back into order, but it was Malcolm who spoke up, "We had some disagreements—"
"—But we punched each other in the face and so now it's settled," David reached up and gingerly probed around his eye. "We're chooms now, Mama. It's fine."
"Oh? Is that so?" Gloria put the bag down so that she could cock out a hip and cross her arms underneath her breasts, "What sort of disagreements?"
"Nothing that bears repeating, Miss Martinez," Malcolm grunted as he rubbed at his jaw, "Water under the bridge. As David said, we're chooms now, so it's all good."
David nodded emphatically, "Yeah, it's just how things are done in the streets; disagreements between men settled as it should be. I wouldn't expect you to understand— we're preem."
Gloria sighed as she held a hand up to her head, "Your eye is already starting to swell, mijo. You're going to go to school with one hell of a shiner."
That only seemed to make David puff up even more, and the Latina grabbed the range bag and gave me one last peck before walking off with her son in tow. "Bye, Tanya. We'll talk soon, okay?"
Malcolm threw up a half-hearted 'peace' to David, who returned it with a grin, and when he looked back at me he blanched, "I'll be waiting with Delamain. Bye!"
An arm bumping into my shoulder distracted me long enough for Malcolm to flee, and I looked up to see Bart leaning against the door frame with a half-smile on his face, "I'm so proud of you, Tanya... to grab a woman like that? Damn proud."
"Bart, don't make me shoot you."
Before I left, I shot a message off to Mister Butler, the Hastings estate's chief of security, and asked him if he had any members on staff that had a Lexington as their primary side-arm. He was suspicious of why I asked, and I sent him a picture of the other eight custom Lexingtons we'd made. After giving the specification sheet a review, the man told me to bring one with me so that they could test and evaluate it to see if it was fit for their purposes.
He was a rather brusque individual, but I felt that his attitude was exemplary— a good guard dog needed to be suspicious of everything if they were to do their job properly, especially in Night City where plenty of things could be more dangerous than they appeared. He was the type of man that I wouldn't mind having as a security head once I got my own establishment handled.
After dropping Malcolm off at the orphanage, I picked up my emancipation documentation from Matron Del Vera and made sure to stop by a few rooms of troublemakers for a 'meet and greet' to wave the flag. With a few none-so-subtle hints that making trouble for her would have serious consequences— as to what those consequences were?
Well, I'd let their overactive imaginations fill in the blanks for me.
When Delamain shuttled me back to the Hastings estate, Mister Butler was there to meet me, and he spent a few minutes playing with the Lexington before looking at me with a slightly different light, "It looks more than serviceable, but only after some proper T&E can we be sure. If it passes we'll call you, and if it doesn't we'll return it to your establishment."
I took my shower and placed my suit in the dry cleaning bag, and when I laid down in the luxurious bed it was with a smile on my face. However, as I tried to let my weary mind rest, there was this niggling temptation to open up Gloria's little 'gift'... and after a few moments of thinking about it, I quickly opened it back up. My cyber eye was awash with color— red hair, brown eyes, pale skin, and pink nipples— and I found myself just lying there and appreciating the beauty before me.
The issue was, however, that I felt Tanya's panties grow damp as she unconsciously began rubbing her thighs together— the stimulation drawing even deeper breaths from her chest as she grew wetter and wetter. This left me with the very familiar problem of being sexually frustrated and without an appropriate outlet to take care of her needs. For a moment I briefly considered asking one of the staff personnel if the showers really were bugged, but after thinking about it I discarded it outright.
"Ugh... now I need a shower."
In the end, I closed the still image so as not to torture myself any further, and rolled out of bed to clean Tanya's dripping nethers with a cool, wet washcloth; after changing into a fresh pair of panties I crawled back into the center of the bed.
[June 8th, 2067]
My mood, however, didn't last long, as I received a message from a complete stranger early the next morning.
[?????: Good morning, Tanya, or would you prefer Argent Silver when we're talking like this?]
I squinted as I rolled onto my back and scraped at the morning crud in my eyes, my organic eye bleary but my cyber eye showing a message from an individual with no name— though she did have an icon: a generic anime girl with red hair, who was well endowed, and wore a tight-fitting netrunner suit with a Japanese sailor fuku over the top with a very short skirt.
A soft hiss left my mouth as I checked the time and saw that it was just barely past four in the morning; a solid half-hour before I usually woke up.
Interesting to note, however, was that her PIP was pinging from inside of the Hastings mansion's net; whoever she was, she was a phenomenal netrunner, especially since she hadn't tripped any of the home's Black ICE or tipped off any of the mansion's three around the clock netrunners. That realization swept the fog of sleep from my mind, causing me to sit up directly in my bed; the only thing that kept me from freaking out was knowing that I didn't have any cyberware that she could use to fry me with if she desired... but that didn't mean there weren't two ceiling mounted auto-turrets in my guest room that she couldn't activate to do the job well enough.
I swallowed thickly before taking a calming breath.
[Tanya: Tanya is fine. Given you're here I would assume that you have these communiques heavily encrypted?]
[?????: Of course, I'm no rookie. LOL]
[Tanya: Well then, do you have a name? Or should I just refer to you as the 'Anime Girl'?]
[?????: You can call me 'Silk'. But I'm not really here for a social visit. Our mutual friend is planning to make her break towards freedom soon, but she can't do it alone, and I'm not in Night City so I can't really help.]
I frowned a touch as Tanya began nibbling on the pad of her thumb; I had an idea as to whom Silk might be referring to but just to be certain...
[Tanya: Our 'mutual friend'? Care to verify?]
[?????: "Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart."]
[?????: Elanor Roosevelt, in case you were wondering.]
My shoulders slumped as my hands came up and cupped over my eyes.
[Tanya: I take it that you're the one who got her into the whole 'quoting historical figures' thing?]
[?????: Ha! If you mean forcing her to look up historical figures to broaden her horizons and get her educated since she was kidnapped from her home and not allowed to continue her schooling? Then yes, that was me.]
I felt myself nodding along as I followed the logic— getting teenagers to learn was like pulling teeth unless they wanted to do it. There was no doubt in my mind that constantly quoting historical figures and leaving the questions unanswered would poke at a teen's dislike of being left in the dark... and would drive them to seek out the answer themselves. A subtle use of reverse psychology to get them driven to dive deeper into the net and find historical figures and quotes to try and beat Silk at her own game.
[Tanya: That is a very effective method, if anything. Do you do that just for her or is this something you do to everyone?]
[?????: She's hardly the first net-kiddy I've mentored in the past, and likely won't be the only one in the future. I just look for whipper-snappers with some talent and gumption, and give them some direction to see where life takes them when they're not stumbling around blindly. Someone did that for me a long time ago... and I'm just paying it forward.]
I hummed.
[Tanya: Alright then, I'll help. What do you need me to do?]
[?????: Just like that? You don't even know what I'm going to ask for.]
[Tanya: She is my friend. The first one I made on the Net. That means something to me, so if she is in need then I'll do whatever it takes.]
[?????: Heh. Alright, I can accept that. You're a rare breed then.]
[Tanya: What does she need?]
[?????: What she'll need are some supplies... and eddies. She can't receive anything directly so when it's time for her to make her move she'll be picking it up along a route I've prepared for her. Or more accurately, a route that YOU will prepare for her. We've got a month or so before she plans on making her move, so we'll have time.]
I blinked. Ah, dead drops then.
[Tanya: I understand. Give me the locations and I'll put together some care packages for her.]
[????: Nova. Stand by.]
Shopping was honestly one of my least favorite activities, but when shopping for a friend in need the whole situation was much more bearable.
"Is this all for you?" A shop attendant with bright pink hair and matching pink eyes drawled as she plucked at a steel stud piercing the bridge of her nose.
I looked from the small pile of clothes— two complete streetkid outfits of the Entropist styling, meaning poor people clothes— that covered the body, along with a plain purple beanie and a set of black fingerless gloves. A pair of sneakers that were two sizes larger than what T-Bug needed sat on top of the pile; Silk informed me that she would keep her netrunning suit on because it would help regulate her temperature and also provide some resistance to any bullets that might come her way.
"Yes, this will be all."
"Doesn't really seem like your style, chica." The cashier picked up the sneakers and scanned them, her eyes drifting from me and back to the clothes, "Or your size, for that matter."
"These aren't for me," I huffed lightly as I crossed my arms underneath Tanya's bosom. "They're for my girlfriend."
Her pink eyes seemed to sparkle with some interest as she slowed her scanning to smile wryly at me, "Oh? Do tell."
"Some car-gonk in her complex washed his dirty coveralls in the washing machine," I snorted, and shook my head, "Didn't bother to use a neutralizing detergent afterward like a good neighbor. Got her whole wardrobe covered in oily residue and now they smell like a machine shop."
The woman's nose crinkled as she scoffed, her lips curling down, "No shit? Fucking asshole. Had that happen to me before too— fucking boltheads never care about anyone else but their cars."
"Tell me about it. So now I'm having to take my lunch break to run around and get her some new clothes so that she can leave the apartment for work tonight," I tilted my head to the side, "N-not that I mind, she's worth it."
The suspicious demeanor of the woman melted away as she bagged my purchase up, "That's super sweet of you."
My cheeks warmed up as I coughed into my fist, and I placed the cred chit up to the scanner to siphon off €$230 for the purchase.
With the transaction complete, she put everything into two large poly bags and gave me a wink. "Here you go, take care of each other, alright?"
"Thank you. Have a pleasant day."
"Just what are you doing, Tanya?" Bart's voice came from behind me, and I looked over my shoulder to see him approaching.
My eyes glanced over to the digital clock on the wall of the shop, "I'm not over-running my break, am I?"
"No, no, nothing like that. Just saw you bought a few things from the shop and removed them from the inventory," The man chuffed as he tugged on his beard, "And I come out and see you're working on putting together... a Go-Bag?"
"Yes," I said as I finished laying out the contents of the first of a handful of bags I'd be laying out in hidden locations along the route that T-Bug and Silk agreed on, "Though it's not for me, it is for my friend; she's going to be escaping her gang soon so... I'm providing some indirect assistance for her."
A thin, reversible windbreaker with red on the outside and blue on the inside, two long-sleeve shirts, one being black and the other red, two pairs of jeans with one black and the other blue, the sneakers, and four pairs of undergarments with socks. In addition to that was a thin tactical vest with front and back soft armor panels, but it was an older one from the 2050s, so it wasn't modular like modern vests; it had four magazine pouches were designed for thin stick magazines of an SMG, and two magazine pouches that only seemed to fit a Lexington. Because of that, I ended up choosing a Militech M225 Saratoga SMG and a Militech Lexington to be the weapons that I'd put in this Go-bag; it had a cross-draw holster on the chest of the vest, and while the Lexington would be a bit loose in it, there was a strap with a button on it that would keep it secure.
Ultimately, while the Saratoga was a bit more expensive, everything in this bag was meant to be dependable and something that I wouldn't mind losing. I wouldn't shed a tear if T-Bug was unable to recover this bag and some lucky bastard stumbled upon it and found it.
Accompanying the clothing and weaponry were two stripped-down surplus MREs, two 1L bottles of Real Water, a travel-sized baggie of soap, a washcloth, a small medical kit with a tourniquet, a Max-Doc, and bandages. Lastly, a baggie containing €$500 eddies in cash and a cred chit with another €$500.
Bart's large hand reached up and squeezed my shoulder before he stepped around to the side and began to help without another word.
We tightly rolled up the clothing, bundled the like items together, and vacuum sealed them in poly bags. The slight hum from the machine as it sucked the air out and the sound of 9mm ammunition being loaded into magazines filled the silence between us. Once everything was secured, we loaded the ratty brown messenger bag, one that wouldn't be out of place hanging from the shoulder of any street kid, and made sure that there would be enough space within it once she started unpacking things.
The final touch was a fresh, new-in-the-box Agent with some pre-set numbers and the geolocator disabled, with one of my steel business cards that I'd had laser etched with an encoded message with one from myself and one from Silk. They were the true instructions to an alternate route that the older netrunner and I had created; if her gang thought that they had T-Bugs route cracked then they'd be very wrong.
However, it all hinged on her being able to make it to the first dead drop without anyone on her heels... but Silk was confident that T-Bug would be able to recognize the sudden shift in plans.
Later that night, with my clothing changed and hair concealed, I had Delamain drive me into Pacifica where he dropped me off a few blocks from the dead drop point. I had a mask over my face to hide my features and some low-quality Night Vision shades to cover my eyes, and to further improve my stealth I switched off the geotracker in my agent and turned it off for the duration of this mission. If things went south quickly there would be almost thirty seconds before I could call out to Delamain for extraction, but he assured me that if I called he'd come right away.
Making my way through Pacifica without backup was a nerve-wracking experience, but the Omaha in my hand— concealed behind the messenger bag— did a lot to allay my worries. This section of town was an eclectic mix of completed, pristine high-dollar structures and half-built high-rise construction sites. The Black Sapphire Hotel, one of the ritziest places in all of Night City, was already open for business— its beautiful black windows reflected light far off in the distance... but right across the street were a dozen half-complete buildings including a parking garage.
Silk's superb netrunning skills had mapped out a route for me to take that would avoid all of the operational cameras in the district, but that meant that I'd have to avoid the encampments of the workers sprinkled throughout the area on my own.
I slowly padded down the streets and alleys, sticking to the shadows and moving about behind dumpsters filled with trash and cuttings from construction supplies. The large shipping containers served as excellent cover while I slipped past numerous small tent communities— skirting around them as far as I could. Clambering on top of a trio of boxes let me slip over a windowless sill and into one of the many uncompleted structures, but upon sticking my head into the hallway of the empty office I found myself in, I saw that the floor was very occupied. In the end, I had to go out the way I came because going through the building when there were dozens of Haitians milling about around small campfires within its concrete confines would be impossible.
It was as much an exercise in patience as it was stealth. The population density wasn't nearly as high as it would be in one of the other districts, but given the violence between the Nomads and Haitians, it just meant that the people who were around were always on alert. A few guards to protect their camps were stationed around with shotguns and rifles dotting the exteriors of their perimeters. Still, with the size of Pacifica, going around them was my best option, so I took it, even if it meant I had to stop and pull up the screen-cap of the map of the district to get my bearings.
Sticking to the areas where the buildings were completed made my travel time faster, making up for the time I lost in circumnavigating the more populous areas, and eventually, I reached the location of the first in a chain of dead drops.
The alleyway was rather clean, with little in the way of trash or scraps lying around. An auto shop named 'Grand Pacifica Auto Repair' was on the right side and a large courtyard area with a half-dozen shipping containers stacked up was on the left, with a completed but still walled-off apartment complex on the left side. From what I saw while sneaking around, the customers' vehicles would drive in off the street and into the shop from the front, and when their repairs were completed they'd exit out the back, drive down this alleyway, and return to the front parking lot for their owner to pick up. I didn't know if the courtyard behind the shop was owned by the company or the complex, but that was immaterial.
There were two cameras on the auto shop that I could see, with one facing up the north side of the alley, and the southern camera roaming between the south side of the alley and the courtyard; I was hidden by a handful of trash bins, where I waited for the camera to pan away. When it did, I leap-frogged my way up to the next set of bins on the opposite side, stepping over a few trash bags and crouching to paste myself against the wall of the complex. I had to do this twice more before I could slip into the courtyard and behind the shipping containers, out of sight of the camera, and once I was in I began looking around for a suitable place to stash the bag.
There wasn't much— just the half-dozen containers that were sealed and locked, a small concrete mixer that was chained up to a steel bar buried in the ground, some folding chairs, a 55-gallon drum that was serving as a burn barrel, and a few pallets of bricks. I mentally hummed to myself as I surveyed the area further, looking up at the completed building and seeing no lights coming from the inside that denoted occupants; whether Nomad or Haitian-occupied buildings always had light sets or campfires visible from the outside. The night vision on the glasses, even as weak as they were, would have picked any light source easily.
Given I couldn't see anything, I felt it was rather safe, but to ensure that there wasn't anyone watching me, I dropped the messenger bag in a dark corner and crawled on my hands and knees through a gap in the erected wall around the complex. I then scaled the scaffolding as quietly as I could— taking a peek through the windows of the next three floors.
Thankfully they were all empty, and from my elevated position— the flapping tarps hiding me from the auto shop's roaming camera— I could tell that this location wasn't frequented too much.
Likely why it was chosen as the first and most important of dead drops.
I slipped back down the scaffolding and returned to the bag, and then spent the next few minutes deciding just what I was going to do to hide this Go-bag until T-Bug arrived to collect it. I had to make sure that she could readily access it, but it also had to be concealed well enough that anyone who frequented the place wouldn't notice anything amiss.
My gloved fingers toyed with my lower lip as my eyes took in the whole area... and after some deliberation, I settled on the three pallets of bricks; there were two in the front that were easily accessible, with a third behind it. However, given the trash, dust, and dirt built up on them, I didn't think anyone had done more than sit on top of them in a long time. So I carefully climbed on top of the first set of bricks and slipped into the gap between it and the shipping container, where I began unloading the bricks from the third pallet onto the ground behind me.
It took me fifteen minutes, but I'd made a gap large enough to store the messenger bag, and carefully re-stacked the bricks in an interlocking fashion, before setting up a single layer on the exterior of the stack with a gap large enough for a woman to put her hand through and find the strap; if she was careful then if she slowly pulled the bag out then the exterior bricks would part just enough for her to get it out without needing to unstack everything.
With that done I put the top bricks back into position, grabbed a handful of dust and dirt, and sprinkled it on top before blowing on it lightly to obscure any gloved fingerprints.
I took a few still images with my Kiroshi— one of the third pallet with the gap, another of the three pallets, and finally, after sneaking back into the alleyway, one of the courtyard with the camera in the background.
Once I made it out of the alley I made my way a few blocks down before turning my Agent and geolocator back on and called Delamain to my position, and I only relaxed once we had driven out of Pacifica and back into Night City proper.
[Tanya: Silk. The first drop is complete. Here are the images— all metadata has been scrubbed.]
I sighed as I pulled the cloth mask off of my head and began stripping out of the clothes so that I could change back into my regular suit and tie.
[?????: Preem work. I'll take this and package it up for our girl and send it off to her when she says she's making her move.]
[?????: When will you do the next drop?]
I tilted my head as I crossed my arms; the next drop would be in Arroyo, and that would contain some cash eddies and a little more food and water. Then from there, it would snake through to a drop in Vista Del Ray for the next location, then to Wellsprings, through Downtown, and across the river to Kabuki where Yoko would take her in. Given the Voodoo Boys were serious netrunners she'd have to avoid cabbies and make the trip on foot— blending in with the crowds and using a surgical facemask and her clothing to obscure her identity. I wanted to simply wait for her in a vehicle outside of Pacifica, but Silk was adamant that T-Bug wanted a clean escape without any verifiable outside help just in case the VDB managed to track her.
She didn't want anyone else directly involved if she could help it— better perish on her own than drag any of us down with her.
[Tanya: I can take care of the Arroyo drop tomorrow, and the Heywood drops when I'm out and about.]
[?????: Alright. Perfect. Good work, kiddo, I was watching the camera feeds all along the route and I didn't spot you once. Are you secretly a ninja?]
I rolled my eyes as I finished buttoning up my Oxford.
[Tanya: I'm not even going to bother dignifying that with a response. I'm going to bed as soon as I get back; I have plenty of things to do.]
[?????: Eh, take your time. No need to rush. She ain't ready to leave yet anyway.]
[Tanya: The sooner this is done the better. No plan survives first contact with the enemy.]
[?????: Helmuth von Moltke the Elder?]
I almost responded that no, the quote was attributed to General Adelgaard von Hoenheim of the Germanian Imperial Army back in 1899, but I stopped myself as I was mentally typing. That wasn't the case here.
[Tanya: Yes, I do believe that was who said it.]
[?????: Nova. Glad to see you're a student of history too.]
That had been close.