In other news, the Meadow Clinic had sorely missed my presence, as while the two new hires had been doing an admirable job keeping the low-level repairs and maintenance done, the Inbox for the Level 4 repairs had apparently stretched to the ceiling. Dozens of broken or damaged pieces of cyberware languished in poly tubs, surrounded by cold anti-static bags and clinging polymer wraps. It was rather unfortunate but given the average turn-around time for an L4 repair for one of the Mega Corps could be as long as six months, waiting a month or two for me to get back into 'fighting shape' would still be considered exceptional service.
I would take care of those items first once I was released under my 'Active Patient Observation Period,' because as it stood right now I was awake and confined to bed rest for the next 24 hours. After that, I would be put through a battery of tests, using the pre-surgery tests I took before I went under, and we would see the final results. Strength, endurance, flexibility, agility, reflexes, proprioception, hand-eye coordination, stress reaction, neural mapping, blood oxygenation, etc, etc, etc. It was a long and tedious affair, but I won't deny that I was feeling more than a touch excited to see the results!
It just made me hope that I wouldn't have American Comic Hero Syndrome, having to spend weeks adjusting to my newfound powers; while Night City didn't have door knobs for me to rip off, there were plenty of other things that could be easily broken with superhuman levels of strength. Things, or people. I wasn't thrilled at the possibility of accidentally squeezing too hard and breaking someone's hand for instance… or something more intimate, in the case of Gloria, should the situation arise.
If there was one thing that I disliked about this whole ordeal, besides the burning in my lungs from hacking up a half-liter of PCF fluid, it was the testing.
Not that I had an issue with the testing itself, no, it was that I had to do all of the physical testing while virtually in the buff— a dozen different cameras, sensors, and machines watching and recording my every movement. Every twitch and contraction was recorded with high-fidelity cameras and sensors to watch the recruitments of my muscle groups for the various physical exercises I was undergoing. Every single muscle bundle, tendon, and a bit of connective tissue was scrutinized by Suzume-sensei and my uncle, with every push-up, pull-up, crunch, squat, deadlift, barbell chest press, lunge, and more in full-color, infrared, and x-ray.
Thankfully, once I moved on to more energetic tests, particularly those involving dexterity, agility, and speed I was given a sports bra and a glorified thong, but even then my legs and glutes were watched like Formula 1 engineers viewing the data-tracking logs as they stress-tested an engine on a dyno. Even if I knew that my primary physician and my uncle were professionals, having Tanya's nude form on display while undergoing the bulk of the physical testing was still an embarrassing thing... but one that I pushed through regardless. I wanted to know just how much I had improved over my baseline, so I gave it my full effort despite the discomfort. And there was always the lingering thought that it could always be worse. Suzume-sensei especially could have— and probably would if it were just her— pushed to test my, ah, physical reactions to stimulus. Thankfully, she did not.
I could now carry 750 kilograms of weight and deadlift 3,000 kilograms. My grip strength was more than double that of my original world's record holders at 3,900 newtons of force, and I could sustain a running speed of 25 miles per hour, while sprinting at a speed of 34.6 miles per hour for almost 1,200 meters; I likely could have held that speed for longer distances, but that was what we tested for. According to Julius, my gait would need to be altered to take full advantage of my newfound speed and strength, as borgs and heavily augmented individuals had a more 'loping gait,' but that would come with time and training.
I had to admit, my reflexes had improved remarkably—and not by some trivial margin. From the previously pedestrian 190 milliseconds, I now find myself responding in a swift 73 milliseconds. That's an improvement of 61.6% if we're being precise. A rather satisfactory result, considering the circumstances. Naturally, the standard reflex test they insisted on, that inane "touch the blinking lights as fast as possible" nonsense, seemed laughably beneath me. Childish, even. It's nothing more than a rudimentary measure for those without any real skill.
But of course, I'm not your average subject. While it might be enough for the average soldier or civilian to tap at lights like an automaton, what would have been far more appropriate—and truly reflective of my improvements—would have been a test that measures a more applicable skill: say, a quick draw and accurate target engagement. That would have been a far more adequate demonstration of my newfound capabilities under pressure. But, as always, I'm forced to settle for streamlined testing standards that fall far short of my expectations.
Alas, it appears that those sorts of tests I would just have to conduct on my own, it seemed... it was a good thing I had a library of recordings of my training at the 2A range to compare my new footage to.
I was also now two and a half inches taller than when I'd gone into the tank, though despite my desire to be at my full height, my uncle had plenty of medical reasons to dissuade me from such a thing. I would be putting my health and bio-augments at risk if I tried to speed up my growth too much. I would just have to spend the next six months growing into my remaining two and a half inches and be satisfied with that. While a touch annoying, it did make sense, and I'd also have to maintain a strict nutritional and supplement regimen over the next six months to ensure that my quickly growing body and bioware got the necessary materials needed— though I don't think I'll ever not raise an eyebrow when I see the quartet of horse-pill sized capsules containing the micronized ceramic powders needed for the nano surgeons to coat my bones with.
Overall, the improvements in my physical performance were rather impressive, if a touch under the norm given most who'd undergone similar procedures were men and there was a natural disparity in strength and power based on size and bone structure. It also didn't help that I hadn't— to borrow a gaming term— spec'd fully into strength, as I did not want to harm my overall aesthetics. Despite my larger size and vastly increased physical abilities, Tanya was still a work of art. She was tall and muscular, but not off-putting in the slightest, and if anything the increase in muscle mass only served to accentuate the carefully sculpted layers of fat around her chest, belly, hips, buttocks, and thighs.
Flexing certainly showed off the increased musculature, but only when the body was fully under load did the true nature of the beast reveal itself. Under full recruitment, the muscles bulged and expanded in size, revealing all sorts of interesting striations and cording that wasn't natural to the human form. I didn't know what the 'optimum' layering or fiber layout was for the best possible strength from organic materials, but it was both impressive and a touch intimidating.
Yet, as I said before, despite all of that, as long as I wasn't pressed the muscles would sit calmly beneath the surface of Tanya's flesh and leave her as gorgeous and aesthetically pleasing as possible. The additional retroviral treatments and the inclusion of nano surgeon-based nano groomers which would forever keep Tanya's skin clear, hair silky smooth and lustrous, and body odor non-existent just further enhanced her beauty. I felt that Tanya had always been a rather pretty girl before I began seeing Suzume-sensei, and her beauty had only been enhanced under her careful hands, but... now Tanya was so unearthly beautiful that I caught myself staring at her nude form in the mirror more than a handful of times.
The updated body map that I used for my digital avatar could not do Tanya any true justice— truly, the technology of this world was patently unfair, because just how smoothly would my life as Salaryman have been if I'd had access to beautification technologies such as this?
Then I remembered that Salaryman had been a middle-level HR manager, and was most certainly not the long-lost child of a German noble house who had access to these technologies in the first place... and the lamentations became moot and short-lived.
Crying about hypotheticals was pointless.
[Tanya]
[Heywood]
[Night City Ladies Clinic, City Center]
[July 28th, 2067]
The 28th marked my first day under the 'Active Patient Observation Period,' which essentially was just me going about my daily life attached to a more complex and detailed biomon. I spent twelve hours outside handling my business and then returned to the clinic for twelve hours of observation. It was rather convenient all things considered, as I could now go and handle business personally and still come back and have four hours to take care of my electronic requirements. This would continue for the next two weeks, and after that, I would be cleared to have my cyberware installed, which would be followed by another, shorter observation period to ensure that the cyberware and bioware were playing nice with one another.
"Recording Start: Cyberware Technician Tanya Degurechaff, License ID# 73248-A-1121, Level 4—" I enunciated clearly as I sat at my bench in the Clean Room clad in a larger size of clean room clothes; I actually had to borrow the spare poly coveralls from Mister Jackson because the clinic hadn't gotten around to ordering another set of scrubs in my size.
"—And I am performing a Level 4 Cyberware inspection, cleaning, and repair on a Seacho 'Full-Pro' Mk. 1 Ex-Disk, Serial Number-"
The Ex-Disk was a very new piece of technology meant to augment those who used cyberdecks, with the claims being that it could improve the rate at which the brain could process information, which would lead to improved performance for Netrunners and the like. It had a small, flexible body that was attached to the left, back, or rear of the spinal column of the neck; according to the documentation it was installed wherever the cyberdeck wasn't. It was an interesting piece of kit, however, while the initial reviews had been positive, like with all new cyberware it was best to not be the one to pay the early adopter tax... especially ones that were so heavily intertwined with the spinal column and brain stem.
Given that it had come out less than four months ago, I was actually quite surprised to see it come across my table for a Level 4 rebuild, but the attached report showed that it had come from a corpo Netrunner who had died in a car accident and the company was wanting this expensive bit of tech operational for new installation. While some might see it as callous, I could understand the desire to see their property restored to working order; as sad as it was that this individual was dead, the dead didn't need their cyberware, and with it being company chrome there was zero chance that the next of kin would be able to claim it in the first place.
Regardless of my personal feelings, my job was simple: take what was broken and fix it for the customer.
It was clear-cut and unambiguous, which suited me just fine.
It was also a nice change of pace from all of the digital work and learning I had been doing the past month, and since the Level 4 repair jobs had stacked up while I was away it was only natural that I would return here to the Meadow Clinic to put this particular fire out; Bart, Jackie, and the others were doing just fine for now without my physical presence, but these jobs were not something I could just delegate.
With the Seacho Ex-Disk's repair and maintenance manual pulled up on the monitor next to my station, I was simply able to relax and lose myself in the process. Cleaning, testing, and then stripping down the cyberware to its base components so that I could confirm what the Built-in Test (BiT) and external tests extrapolated to be the issue. From there I could replace the damaged components, button the cyberware back up, and perform the required tests to ensure it was functional once more.
What made the entire job more... enthralling in a way... was just how much my improved body made the whole process smoother.
I no longer needed to use the mechanical waldos for the smallest parts, as I could do it more quickly with the Tech glove and other hand tools; there was a keenness and surety in my movements without any flinch or waver. My organic eye had actually surpassed my cyberware eye for definition, clarity, and responsiveness; given I now had the ability to see wavelengths outside of the typical human spectrum, such as infrared if I flexed my eye just right, and my night vision was on par with 4th generation Night Vision devices. Of course, those were decades out of date by this point, but having that in an organic eye that couldn't be hacked? That was a huge positive for me.
However, it did mean that I had to order a pair of the newest Zeiss 'Crystal Glass' Mk. 2 optics to exceed the current capabilities of my organic eye. In addition to being superior, they had a 10x optical zoom, native thermal/IR night vision equivalent to Gen 4 tubes, and were the current market leader for Augmented Reality overlays to improve my Netrunning. The Kiroshi it ran against was serviceable, but given there was only a one thousand eddie difference between the two, the 'Crystal Glass' Mk. 2 was worth the €$10,000 premium in my opinion. Certainly the newest 'Tru-View' Mk. 3 that Kiroshi was set to release in 2068 would be the superior offering, but I was no longer so strapped for cash that I would hold back on securing the best cyberware for my person.
Still, despite the cyberware eye holding me back, I managed to complete this job in 1.25 hours compared to the 2 hours the job was supposed to take; it made me salivate at the thought of just how fast I could work once I got the 'Screaming Eagle' Kerenzikov installed. With my new body and the additional time the Keren would afford me, I could likely complete jobs in a fraction of the time— complete and perfect control over my body combined with multiple times the ability to take in and comprehend information leading to a vastly improved repair performance.
No doubt anyone looking over my repair recordings would think that my footage was doctored or that I was a full borg performing the repairs but no, a simple look at my profile would show that every repair made was very real and still conducted to the highest level of quality control at international standards!
"Recording complete." I sighed happily as I placed the anti-static poly bag containing the Ex-Disk into its tray, pushing it off to the side. "What is the next one that Doctor Meadows wishes to see taken care of, Mister Jackson?"
From his seat at the stainless steel workbench next to me, the former Zetatech Level 2 cyberware technician stared at me; even with the mask covering his lower face I could keenly visualize his consternation.
"Well?" I tilted my head and arched an eyebrow, which snapped him out of his torpor.
"Oh, shit, yeah, um..." He looked around a bit and drummed his fingers on the table before finding a poly clipboard hanging above him and squinting at it. "If that was job 0-2-3, then the boss wants job 0-1-5 done next."
I looked over my shoulder at the newest addition to the workshop, which was a large steel shelving unit with dozens of poly boxes on it, and I tracked over to box #15. "Ah, a Raven Microcyber Mechatronic Core; I don't think I've ever worked on one of those before."
Mechatronic Cores were mainly seen in the skulls of drone operators, security professionals who watched lots of cameras, and robotics technicians, so they weren't a piece of cyberware that would come across a Level 4's workbench unless something drastic happened. I retrieved that box from the shelf and opened it up to see the control board implant and... it was smashed entirely to pieces. The circuit board, processor, chipsets, and onboard memory and storage were completely irrecoverable; the only things that weren't completely mangled were the interface ports and the fiber-optic jack.
I'd have to purchase 90% of the parts, perform all of the soldering myself, and essentially make the whole Mechatronics core myself.
"This isn't something I can fix..." I muttered to myself as I placed the pieces on my workbench and spun up the recording software.
"Recording Start: Cyberware Technician Tanya Degurechaff, License ID# 73248-A-1121, Level 4, and I am performing a cyberware autopsy on a Raven Microcyber 'Oberon' Mk 1. Mechatronic Core. The customer, Tidwell Heavy Industries, requested a Level 4 rebuild, however, as the footage displays the core is shattered beyond repair—"
Geeze, their own people should have taken one look at this thing and knew it couldn't have been saved!
[Tanya]
[Watson]
[Yoko's Parlor, Kabuki Roundabout]
[August 4th, 2067]
"Tanya," The dull voice of Yoko filtered into my ears as I stepped through the front door of her shop, my nose instantly catching the wafting scent of synth-tobacco, and I caught sight of the older Tyger Claw seated on a beanbag chair in the back with a pair of old headphones on his head. "Give me fifteen minutes or so and I'll have today's stream finished up. Go ahead and hop into the back and you can start going over your new equipment."
"Of course, Yoko-onee-chan," I replied simply and walked around the counter next to the entrance and into the back room of the shop.
The parlor was a little deceiving in how large it was. For the uninitiated, it didn't look that big at all, with some booths, tables, and cushy BD-chairs. Though for those that knew the parlor was a lot larger than it appeared, though most of it wasn't open to the general public; it had a much larger backroom area that was filled to the brim with cyberware modification benches and the like, though they were all geared toward working on cyberware that had to do with Netrunning.
Yoko sold a lot of stock Netrunning equipment, and for almost all beginner Netrunners the standard equipment was perfectly fine, but if you were in the market for something a little more custom? Then for a fee, you could get invited to the backroom here and sit down with her for a one-on-one consultation on how she could modify whatever equipment you had or were looking for to make it better. Of course, the level of improvement you were looking for depended on both the equipment you were bringing in and just how many eurodollars you were willing to spend; some cyberdecks were easier to modify than others, and while Yoko was among the best in Night City for this line of work, she wasn't a miracle worker.
The moment I stepped through the door an air curtain kicked on and blew down over me, and when the door shut I was thankful that I no longer had to smell the stench of the synth-tobacco even if it was a rough neural stimulus representation of the scent of the tobacco thanks to the nasal filters I had installed.
It irked me that there wasn't a proper clean room in the place, but given Yoko did these modifications off the books it wasn't that surprising; at least she had a suit she wore, and the air was filtered to almost NC CWS 12.1-1 standards.
The backroom was exceptionally well lit, with shelves upon shelves lining the wall— all packed to the brim with Netrunning equipment— and the first workbench was seemingly my target. Two small polymer tough boxes sat on the bench, and given the poly-sheet documentation packets placed in front of them they had already been opened. I strode over to the steel table, flipped the latches up on the hard cases, and was greeted with my purchases— a Militech Paraline Mk. 3 and a Militech Kerenzikov Mk. 3. They both had been out on the market for just over a year now, and any teething issues had since been resolved; the reviews for them had been rather good, and while they weren't the best in their respective categories, they were both rock solid with some of the lowest failure rates in their classification.
The 'Screaming Eagle' Kerenzikov, like most Kerens, didn't have much in the way of customization, but the Paraline was noted to be rather easy to customize to suit the end-user's tastes.
Not that it was designed to be easily customized, mind you, but the cyberdeck's board layout was surprisingly roomy, with plenty of space for additional power and fiber runs, and the most recent miniaturization of the Paraline Mk. 3's chipset over the Mk. 2 gave someone like Yoko essentially a blank canvas with which to improve. Doing so, however, was highly ill-advised and would void the warranty, but 8 times out of 10 those warranties were never really honored by the likes of Militech to begin with. Regardless, the easy customization of the Mk. 3 gave me options, but that meant I now had to choose which options to go with.
I could add additional RAM slots, storage slots for pre-made Quick Hacks, an Overclock module, or extra ICE Cubes for defensive measures. Not all additions took up the same amount of space on the board, and it was possible that with some clever routing, I could optimize the Paraline to get the most out of its real estate. It wasn't like a video game where I had a grand total of three or so upgrade slots and then had to choose the upgrades that were 'best in slot.' No, it was far more involved, and while I was confident I could come up with a decent slate of improvements, the modification of cyberdecks and the like wasn't exactly my forte... which was why Yoko was going to help.
I took a seat on one of the stools, grabbed the Militech Paraline's documentation packet, and started reading through it while I waited.
True to her word, Yoko appeared about fifteen minutes later, and the short washboard of a woman squealed as she wrapped her arms around me. "Tanya-chan~! You're so tall now! And big! And muscly! And bigger in all these other places too~!"
"Hyanh!" Tanya reflexively squeaked as the small Japanese woman's arms wrapped around my waist and squeezed the bottoms of Tanya's breasts through the coat... which for some reason sent a thrill up my spine. "Y-Yoko-nee!? What are you doing!?"
"Just getting a feel for the goods! Very nice, your Nee-chan approves!" The woman released me and chortled to herself as she pushed her dark, circular glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Remind me to schedule a Girl's Only Skinship Day at the Housenkyou spa in Japantown, and I'll invite Kiwi-chan and Tiff-chan too!"
With an arm covering my chest to ward off further sneak attacks upon my person, I leaned away with narrowed eyes. "That sounds to me like you're just looking to find an excuse to molest me."
The older woman placed her hands on her hips and pouted, "Mou! For someone so in tune with Japanese culture despite being an American gal you should already know that it's tradition! De-n-tou! Even when I was in Kyoto all of the girls would grope and pinch each other in the communal baths. Geeze, don't be such a stick in the mud, Tanya-chan!"
I shook my head before turning my attention back to the poly sheets of documentation in front of me.
As Salaryteen I thought such things were only shown within anime because I hadn't heard of any girls in my schools doing the same thing, so it made me doubt that it was a thing here as well. Poor Yoko was either delusional or a pervert, and neither boded well for me. Granted she was essentially a full-time streamer who presented herself as a busty nine-tailed kitsune who was steeped in 'The Culture' at all times... yes, perhaps I should avoid going to any spas with her.
"I think... that if you do try to arrange such a thing, for the purposes you have expressed, I'll pass."
Showing up to what should be a relaxing day at the spa knowing that I would be sexually harassed by a friend and co-worker was the exact opposite of being 'relaxing' and would defeat the whole point entirely.
Not to mention it would be wholly unprofessional!
It made me wonder if women in Japan had faced such discrimination before... I knew that some men in the workplace could be quite aggressive— I would know because I had fired at least a handful for unwanted advances in the workplace— but did the older female co-workers also do things such as this?
"Fiiiinnneeee~." Yoko's shoulders sagged as her lips contorted into a decidedly uncute pout, though she seemed to have thought of something because she perked right up. "But what if Gloria was there, hmmm?"
"Also denied," I flatly replied.
If there was any form of touching going on between Gloria and m-myself, then it wouldn't be in front of an audience of my peers!
I wasn't an exhibitionist!
"Che, stingy," the woman huffed before she sat down next to me and plugged her wrist-mounted jack into the table, and a small holo-emitter popped up and began displaying the schematics of the Paraline. "I guess we should get to it then, ne? Here is the Paraline, and here is what I know I can do with it. Yours isn't the first Mk. 3 that I've done this year..."
With the mood whiplash out of the way, we settled in and got down to business.
Given the additional board space, I opted for two additional slots of RAM, increasing the Paraline's stock RAM from 4 to 8, and instead of getting an overclocking module— which I didn't see the need for— I chose an additional ICE Cube. I had my personal ICE, but Yoko was supplying me with one of her personal ICE blends for that secondary slot. With the Kerenzikov and my already exceptional coding ability, I didn't think that overclocking my module and potentially frying my brain for a slightly faster upload time on my personal hacks and Quick Hacks was all that beneficial. The additional protection, however?
That was invaluable.
If I was given some additional time I could smother Quick Hacks before they were able to melt too much of my ICE, and after I'd seen it once, killing the hacks could be done with much greater alacrity. Given I wasn't a script kiddie and could actually code, my mind was my sword; I just needed a strong enough set of shields to keep me alive long enough to use it.
And speaking of coding, after we had finalized the additions to my Paraline, we started digging into the Militech code to disable their trackers and figure out what bloatware could be immediately cut without impacting the performance of the cyberware... and highlighting some portions where some of my personal attention could be applied to make it better. Yoko would help, her expertise was greatly appreciated, and in exchange for her taking these improvements and modifications to sell as a 'Yoko-sama Exclusive Sof Update' for her customers, I would get a 50% cut of the proceeds.
All in all, I spent almost my whole day out at Yoko's, and when I arrived back at the Clinic for my nighttime observation period I was able to sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
[Tanya]
[Heywood]
[City Center]
[August 5th, 2067]
I had to admit the past few days had been rather productive!
Not only had I gotten both my Ground School in-person completed, netting me my Ground School Certificate, but I also got my driving examination handled! For some reason I had thought that I couldn't take my driver's license exam until I was 16 years old, and while that would usually be the case, since I was emancipated that allowed me to take it early. After filling out the paperwork and giving a small bribe to the wage slave manning the counter, I was rather slyly bumped to the front of the line where I met with Mister Jose Salazar who was my driving tester.
It had been a long time since I had been behind the wheel of a car, but it truly was just like riding a bike; the instructor had even given me full marks and remarked that I was one of the safest drivers he had— even fondly comparing me to his beloved grandmother. What a nice man. Once we pulled the car back into the City Hall's underground parking garage, I shot Gloria a message to invite her to come out and celebrate with me for lunch— and to help me pick out a new car— but unfortunately, she was on-call so she had to decline.
"Well now, Miss Tanya, you are finally a licensed driver in Night City. How do you feel?" Delamain's voice was warm as his visage smiled at me from the screen on the back seat, and I hummed as I settled into plush leather.
"I feel quite good, in fact. The simple fact that I no longer have to take the NCART is quite enjoyable, but I must admit that purchasing a vehicle has its own set of challenges. Namely choosing the vehicle, but also storing it, though I will say that there is always parking nearby in Night City." I leaned back and crossed one leg over the other while leaning against the armrest. "The luxury vehicles seem over the top and garish to me, but the economy vehicles seem quite... well... efficient in all the wrong places. I also want a car that can be upgraded to stop most ballistic threats this city has to offer, and while I don't even know who I would contact to have such work done in the first place, I can't imagine that would be cheap or easy to do. Not that money is an issue for me."
"Hmmm..." Delamain hummed as his head bobbed from side to side. "Well, if you're amenable, then I believe I might have a solution to your problem?"
I stopped looking out over the parking lot and the crowds milling around City Hall and tilted my head. "I am all ears. I was going to ask for your input on the current roster of vehicles available at dealerships in Night City anyway. What do you think, Delamain?"
"Well, as it just so happens... I have one of my fleet vehicles that I was going to 'retire,' as it were. It's reached the upper limit of its approved lifespan and I will need to sell it to make room for purchasing a new one." The bald AI gave me an exaggerated wink, "The Villefort Cortez that I have specially made by Militech offers all of the best upgrades in terms of performance and armored protection. I certainly believe that it might suit your needs just fine if you have the eurodollars for it."
I blinked before I cupped my chin and smiled, "My, that is serendipitous, is it not? And very kind of you to offer, Delamain. How much would this fleet vehicle sell for?"
"Brand new, my Delamain Corp vehicles would retail for €$90,000, though this does include the premium appointments as well as the performance and armor upgrades. However, given this vehicle has over 10,000 service hours and 160,000 kilometers on it... when taking depreciation into account... I would be willing to release it into your hands for €$35,000 'out the door.' That means tax, title, and license included."
I hummed and pulled out my Agent to look at the other vehicles I was going to shop around, and most of those were in the €$22,000 to €$30,000 range to begin with. "That is very attractive. Would it come with a repaint as well? I wish to use this for my business, and as long as it has three or more visible emblems on it that display appropriate signage I can write it off on my taxes."
"Of course, I can do that; it will be a cinch with my automated facilities to repaint the vehicle in your desired color scheme." Delamain's head nodded, "If you would like, we can head back to my office to discuss the finer details. I also have an idea that I would like your input on. A business proposal."
"I am always willing to listen to one of your ideas, Delamain."
[Delamain HQ, Vista Del Rey]
The ride back was as smooth as ever, and when he parked the vehicle in the lot out back, I was greeted by both a floating service drone and a slightly overweight Hispanic man in dirty coveralls.
"Welcome to my headquarters, Tanya." The drone bobbed in the air before turning to the man, "This is Julio Morales, one of my three Senior Vehicle Technicians."
"So you're the one who convinced ol' Del here to hire us back on? A pleasure to meet you, Senorita." The techie held out his surprisingly clean hand, and I took it gently before applying enough pressure for a good 'business' handshake.
"I won't claim sole credit, as Delamain here was already thinking about hiring back the old service staff from before, but I will say that I did posit that having human personnel would be a benefit to the company." I looked to the drone, "Not only does having people around help with the interpersonal side of the business, particularly in dealing with the customers, but it also is a net benefit to the city and community. More opportunities for young men and women to find work as vehicle technicians, which equals more experienced technicians in the employment pool, and expertise raises wages which means more money for all involved."
"Well, I've got my old job back, and I've had a good time teaching the kiddos how to work on cars, so I'll say it was a good deal and leave it at that." Julio snorted and placed his hands on his hips before looking at the drone, "You need me for anything else, boss?"
"Oh, no, not at the moment. I just wanted Tanya to meet at least one of my personnel to show her that her valuable insight has had a positive effect on my business." The drone's motor hummed as it gained a few centimeters of elevation before bobbing up and down in an approximation of a nod. "Please do keep up the 'nova' work, Julio."
"Gotcha. Well if you need me, you know where to find me." The man chuckled as he walked off, and the door leading inside opened up.
"If you would follow me, and stay close to the drone. There is a lot of work going on in the shop right now."
"I can see that," I muttered to myself as I stepped inside and I was suddenly assaulted by light and sound.
The shop floor was awash with activity, with lifts hoisting cabs high up, waldos welding body panels or fixing cracked frames, and even arms with powerful electromagnets pulling dents out. Drones exactly like the one guiding me floated about to and fro, while at least two dozen young technicians were rushing about with parts or jugs of oil in hand. It was chaos, but I could see that there was a level of organization to it as we traversed through it; it had a level of mechanical precision to it that led me to believe Delamain had quite the amount of training done on his workforce to make them move so efficiently.
Once we were through the fracas and into the backrooms, the noise faded to almost nothing thanks to the impressive sound dampening, though my enhanced ears could make out the noises just fine.
"I must admit that what I saw impressed me," I said as the drone led me up a flight of stairs to a large office overlooking the shop floor, and the decor was both modern and tasteful; it even had faux potted plants in the corner of the room. "And I am becoming further impressed still."
"Do you like it?" The drone was dismissed and a large screen on the wall came to life, right behind a large desk with various knick-knacks placed carefully on the surface. "I laid out everything myself, but Julio and Jefferson helped move everything around. I like to think that the decoration shows a small bit of who I am while also informing the individual that I am a 'man' of business. I wanted it to feel personable and reflective, but also to display that this office is where I ply my trade and isn't merely for show."
"It certainly does that. Very nice." I walked toward the chair opposite of the desk and took a seat, though I noted that the steel chair wasn't quite that comfortable. "However, if I might make a recommendation? A more ergonomic chair at least on par quality wise of your vehicle's seating would be more appropriate for setting a potential partner or client at ease. This one is a bit stiff and harsh on the bottom."
"Ah. Yes, I can see that. Julio recommended that chair particularly because it is uncomfortable. I will admit that it's mainly used for my employees who are seeing me for poor performance." The AI on the wall gave me a slightly sheepish smile, "I must confess that you're the first person I've brought here to discuss business. I will make a note of that and have a chair fabricated so that in the future potential associates or customers can have a more comfortable seat."
"Well then, one potential trouble point addressed and resolved." I crossed one leg over the other and placed my hands on my knees. "And that I'm the first person you've considered for business with is very flattering, Delamain."
"I find that you're worth the time and effort, Miss Tanya. Your help is very much appreciated, though while my efficiency has gone down a dozen points in terms of vehicle up-time... the Customer Satisfaction ratings have gone up more than thirty points since my last quarter. That the people know that I have rehired organic employees and have human staff working the desk has also increased my business more than enough to offset any losses I have incurred." To my surprise, I saw a pair of hands come up and adjust his tie, something I don't think I've seen before. "I have learned a great deal from my conversations with you, and I want you to know that I fully appreciate every moment we spend together. It's why I wanted you to be the first person I made this offer to."
The offer was not only the sale of the upgraded car to me, but also access to his services at a discounted rate.
The car's AI core couldn't be easily removed, and it was true that some of his fleet were nearing the end of their acceptable service life as a Fleet Vehicle by city regulations. So why not sell the vehicles to frequent customers and they can drive the cars themselves, but when they wish to have Delamain take the wheel then for a monthly service retainer and a per-kilometer fee the core is re-activated.
It would retain all of the same features and things like the Excelsior package would be offered at a steep discount as well. For the right client, having the up-armored and luxurious Cortez as a daily driver while having the option to deploy the Combat Mode in times of emergency could be quite attractive, and I had to agree. As part of the package, he would monitor the health of the vehicle, schedule services for you, and act as part of the vehicle's security systems. It would benefit him by selling the vehicle to a valued customer, which would improve brand loyalty, and even if they didn't use the Delamain service quite as often, he projected that they would still use the 'Delamain Drive' feature at least a quarter as often as they used his normal services.
At the end of the day, the old vehicles had to be sold and new vehicles purchased, and to me, it made sense as it opened up another revenue stream even after the vehicle left the fleet. It wasn't like it would cost him too much, and those who purchased the vehicle could come back and have Delamain's staff service the core and car at a discount price, further keeping them within the ecosystem.
"I approve." I pinched my bottom lip as I paced in the large open office, pausing every so often to look over the shop floor and out at the street and people below. "What is the monthly retainer and the cost per kilometer?"
"The monthly fee for 'Delamain Drive' is €$100 per month for standard service with a 30-minute 'heads up' required... as I do have to dedicate run-time to service the route. The premium package, however, is €$250 per month and gets you instant access when you need it. As for the 'per kilometer' costs, I was thinking that €$2.50 per kilometer would be a good starting point."
"I would drop the price per kilometer down to a single eurodollar for the Premium package. While instant access is certainly convenient, you want to encourage people to use the services whenever possible so they don't have to drive themselves. The standard package would be for those who wish to not have to worry about having a few too many drinks on their date night with their spouse, so giving a 30-minute lead time isn't outlandish. However, with the Premium package you want them to use the service as often as possible, and lowering the price per kilometer will accomplish just that... I think."
"Hmmmm... I will take that under advisement and run some simulations later on tonight when I have the headroom to really crunch the numbers. Thank you."
I stopped pacing and smiled, "It is just a suggestion. One that makes sense to me but could very well not pan out. Now then, where do I fit in all of this?"
"I was thinking of... giving you free access to all of our services for life."
I rolled my eyes as I moved back and took a seat on the uncomfortable chair, "Please, Delamain. I don't do charity like that, not for something like this. You have a business to run, after all. Instead, why don't you offer me a discount that saves me some eurodollars but still nets you a respectable profit and... extend that offer to all persons employed by one of my businesses? That way you can get more customers and I have a nice perk to offer my people."
The AI avatar blinked before he smiled. "You truly are a great friend, Tanya. How does a 30% discount for all White Silver employees sound?"
I smiled in kind. "It sounds like a deal to me."
"Excellent! Now that we have that settled, tell me how you want your car repainted. Do you have any particular designs in mind?"
[Tanya]
[North Oak]
[Hastings Residence]
[August 6th, 2067]
Spoiler: Armor Idea
"Very good." I hummed as I looked over the armor in the poly hard case, my gloved fingers sliding over the padded foam interior as I pulled out each section of the armored uniform and looked it over.
"Glad you like it." Mister Butler stood stiff-backed next to the steel table in the armory, the man's eyes roaming over the new Achilles rifles, WSC-mod Omaha, and Lexington pistols that were now filling the racks in the room. "It was the least we could do to help out considering the improvements you've brought our people."
"It was only business, Mister Butler. I supplied a superior product at a reasonable price and you purchased it; hardly something worthy of a favor," I opined as I placed the chest plate back into the case and picked up the helmet, my fingers running over the surfaces before I flipped it around and placed it on my head. I'd have to ask Clarice about the best way to bundle up my hair, as I'm certain she'd know the best way to go about it.
"Be that as it may... custom kit usually costs a cyberarm and a cyberleg."
His words made me huff slightly.
Since I was going to start Scav Hunting, I decided that it would be appropriate for me to purchase some armor that was fit for purpose.
My suit was very nice, but it was not an outfit that I would initiate combat in if given the choice. Not only was it three times more expensive than this entire set of Militech Armor, this armor would afford me much greater protection while also being modular. I could tailor my mission load-outs to suit the parameters, swapping out pouches and weapons to fit my needs easily with the pseudo-MOLLE straps and velcro patches. However, this particular set would be for missions I could prepare for— I had an additional set of torso armor and helmet system that I would leave inside of my new car along with additional weapons; one never knew when they might need more arms and armor, and in Night City it paid to be prepared.
This would be for work while the rest of my car's kit would be for emergencies.
The armor consisted of a torso section with a high collar to protect my neck, with armored thigh sections, knee pads, and shin protectors to safeguard my lower extremities. It did come with a groin protector that was rated for even shotgun slugs. While it wasn't currently attached, it most certainly would be during combat; the last thing I needed was to have a bullet come in lower than my belt line which would force me to put the armor-weave body glove Julius was making for me to the test. The biceps were only protected by the body glove, but the hands and forearms were protected by armored gloves and padded forearm protectors rated for most handguns and shotshells— they would also let me punch things very hard more effectively without the need to hold back for fear of lacerating my hands.
Having suffered numerous bruises and cracked bones, I wanted thick bullet-resistant fabric and padding between my body and incoming fire so that I didn't have a repeat.
The only thing that set this armor apart from what was issued to Militech Security Forces was the color scheme. I went for a simple solid black color rather than any camouflage pattern; black was a surprisingly stealthy color in Night City even with its neon lights and gray concrete buildings, and that was all thanks to insidiously deep and dark shadows the city had. It was the body suit that provided my signature blue and silver coloration, and it would have a nice contrast in my personal opinion. I remember Maine waxing poetic about Edgerunners needing to have a specific style as a calling card, and this armor configuration would be that calling card.
The helmet was not fully sealed, but the detachable armored mandible had a gasket as well as micro-filters for most particulates, and I would be using a pair of sealed Tech Goggles that would protect my eyes as well as give me enhanced visual acuity and Night Vision/IR capabilities; the whole set-up wasn't what one would consider 'NBC Rated,' but it would keep smoke, irritant agents, and the like away from my eyes, ears, and nose long enough for me to delta. I had my biological augments, yes, but solely relying on them was foolhardy in the extreme— it was why I still opted for a high-quality set of COMMTAC noise-canceling headphones to protect my hearing even though I didn't really need them.
The tech goggles and earpro would just be another layer of protection against flashbangs, stunners, dazzlers, and noisemakers that could disrupt me.
All in all, this armor set was going to cost me just over €$8,000. However, while the money wasn't an issue, these sorts of things were regulated.
Yes, as difficult as it would be to believe, while weapons could be purchased by every resident of Night City if they could afford it, there were certain choice items that were on restricted lists that only Corps, Military, or Law Enforcement could purchase. High-quality armor sets like these were on such rosters, though anything could be purchased through black markets and back channels if one had the eddies and connections. Since I just so happened to have such connections, and no desire to engage with the criminal elements of the city–because I was not a criminal–I had to make use of those connections to get what I needed.
In order to help me legally acquire this armor, Miss Hastings had Mister Butler 'hire me' on as an employee of the Hastings Security Group. I was technically a 'Reserve Security Officer' within the company who was currently undergoing a trial period, which opened up almost the full suite of restricted items for me to purchase. Of course, this was a bit of a legal farce as I had no intention of staying on as an employee, but it certainly made things nice and neat for me while I started the long paperwork process of getting my 'White Silver Security Corporation' off the ground.
Once WSSC was finalized and fully incorporated I could start to hire my own employees, but unlike most businesses, I couldn't really speed up the paperwork process. The security industry was very tightly knit, and they defended their market segment with vigor, which meant that if I wanted to make the months-long process shorter I'd have to put up substantial bribes... bribes which I was already paying just to keep the process moving. Really, it was Miss Hastings' influence that was preventing the city and its Security Lobby from shutting me out entirely.
A happy sigh left me as I put the last bit of kit back into the hard case and looked at Mister Butler. "Where is the locker room? I'd like to try this one and have it adjusted before I leave, if I could. You and your men have the most experience with the armor, and while I am certain I could just reference the provided documentation... I feel like you could provide some insight."
The bald security chief's lips twitched as he gestured toward the door, "I too think you should try it on... if only because Miss Clarice just got home and would be rather despondent if she didn't get a chance to see you all dolled up for a riveting night on the town."
I snorted.
Then it sounds like I'll be needing to make sure the COMMTACs are turned on, because her squeal would be liable to blow out my eardrums.
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee—!"
As it turns out, I was right.
"—Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee~!" Clarice's squeal was loud enough to kick the sound dampening on, and the college girl smashed into my side, her arms wrapping around my waist. "Tanya! You look so cute! And preem! Like, a certified badass! Or a girlboss? Girl...baus?"
"Clarice, please contain yourself... and never call me a 'girl baus' again; it feels incredibly juvenile." I gave her a flat look as I gently pried her off my side so that Mister Butler could finish cinching up the stretchy cumberbund bands hidden by the back flaps while ensuring that there was just enough additional room for us to insert the plates. Given my bosom was rather large and a plate that conformed to it was self-defeating, the front armor was a thick soft armor panel while the back armor was a quarter-inch of hardened AR5000 steel with an anti-spall coating. The front panel offered nearly the same level of protection but was flexible, and given how strong I was it wouldn't be nearly as much of an encumbrance as it would be for someone of Clarice's stature.
To distract her, I pulled my long blonde hair over my shoulder and waggled the tips at her, "Here. Help me find something I can do with my hair to keep it tight and out of the way without requiring an instructional video and fifteen minutes of my life."
"Oh! Yes, I can do that!" She chirped happily before pulling her Agent out of her pocket and flipping through some netpages while Mister Butler finished his adjustments.
Once the armor was on I went through a number of different poses and stretches, squats, lunges, and the like to get a feel for my movement and settle everything into place. It was rather odd to feel the stitching of the armor groan when I flexed my muscles and put it under tension, and it just reminded me that I was incredibly strong. However, it was an intuitive strength, where despite my initial fears, I had no issues adjusting and carrying on with my daily life; I didn't crush everything I touched, though I could definitely do so if I wanted to.
To my surprise, she didn't select some overly complicated braid. Instead, it was a simple tri-weave braid to start, getting my hair pulled tightly to my scalp, and after that, it was simply gathering the remainder into a trio of hoops and securing it with a velcro tie. There was actually a product out on the market for women with long hair and helmets that was a fabric head sock, which left the face clear. So despite the volume of my hair, after a little bit of work, the hair could be stuffed into the sock and it would hang a little over the neck wherein the armored collar would keep it from moving around overmuch.
Said hair sock actually had an option that was fashioned out of a ballistic weave almost as thin as silk but could stop a 9mm fired from a handgun... and I almost scoffed at it. Almost. The reason is that even if the bullet was stopped by the fabric the kinetic impact would still cause significant— likely even lethal— damage to the skull. However, I was thinking like a normal, unaugmented person. My bones were exceptionally durable and my flesh was interwoven with a skin weave that was rated for calibers even higher than the 9mm... so it actually wasn't that bad of an idea; if anything it would simply provide another layer of protection, and given it was still lightweight and flexible there was no reason not to get it.
Yes, it was twenty-five times the price, but that was a small price to pay in my opinion... so we ordered four of them. I even paid an extra €$100 for the premium Express Shipping option that would have them in my hands in sixty minutes or less; given the shipping address was in North Oak they'd likely further expedite it on principle alone.
However, with that done, Clarice marched me down to her bedroom where she sat me down in front of her large and very fancy mirror and played with my hair while we waited. I made small talk with her as best I could, but there was only so much I could respond with given I hardly knew about most of the topics of discussion. She seemed to be signaling that she was going to be kicking her short-lived Punk phase and heading toward something more 'Dark and Gothic,' but I didn't know if that meant she'd be wearing all-black clothes with too many buckles or the gothic lolita dresses that I was familiar with due to the Shinjuku fashion scene from my first life.
Thankfully for my sanity, the armor fabric head socks arrived and I could finally put on the last piece of kit that I'd been waiting on— the helmet with its armored mandible, earpro, and tech goggles.
"It looks... damn good," I spoke as I looked myself over in the mirror, my voice slightly distorted by the mandible's vocalizer; I'd have to do some tuning on it to make it sound less harsh and industrial, but it was overall quite serviceable. Then again, there was the intimidation factor to consider. Perhaps a switch of some sort…
"Hee, hee! Hell yeah it does! Ummm... it looks... how do they say it...?" Clarice stopped taking photos with her Agent to squint at her phone before looking back at me, her expression slightly unsure, "'Operator as fuck'?"
I felt my shoulders sag as I sighed, my gloved hand coming up to pinch her cheek gently, "You really are too cute for this world, Clarice."
"H-hey! What's that supposed to mean!?" she squawked as she pried her cheek out of my fingers and danced away.
"It means what it means, Clarice. Nothing more, nothing less," I chuckled before looking back in the mirror, flicking through the tech goggles' settings and playing with them. "Yes, this will do."
I felt powerful. And protected. But it was mainly the 'protected' bit I cared about, as I already knew I was powerful.
It wasn't one of those powered armor sets from the 2020s, but it would suit my purposes just fine.
"Hey, Clarice?" She perked up as I turned my head to look at her, "Don't forget to send me some of those stills."
"I won't! Though it's missing something... like... some iron! Yeah, that's it! You need some iron to hold to really bring it all together! Back to the armory!" Despite my newfound strength and size, the young woman still managed to drag me behind her to fulfill her sudden epiphany back at the armory.
As it turned out, with my full armor, some magazines in the pouches, one of my custom Lexingtons in a holster on my thigh, and an Achilles in my arms... the photos we took in the locker room that day would soon become part of a rather successful PR and marketing coup for White Silver Security Services and White Silver Customs. Men unsurprisingly liked beautiful women. They liked cool gear. They liked cool guns. So when you put them all together?
Well, the results— many months down the road— spoke for themselves.
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