The stench of grease, metal, and desperation hit Starr like a wave the moment she stepped into The Red Market. It wasn't a place you stumbled into by accident—this hidden bazaar of cybernetic parts, illegal weapons, and half-baked tech mods was tucked beneath the surface of Night City, deep in the underbelly where corps dared not tread. The air was thick with smoke, the dim lights casting long shadows over rows of stalls where shady dealers hawked everything from experimental chrome to stolen netrunner gear. Here, everyone was looking for an edge, a way to survive, no matter the cost.
Starr blended into the chaos, her leather jacket slick with rain and her eyes scanning the crowd. She was here for a reason. After the fallout with Rafa and the warning from Reaver, she needed to arm herself with the best gear money could buy—and maybe pick up on some new intel along the way. If Militech was coming after her, she needed to stay one step ahead.
The Red Market was the place where you could get things no corpo storefront would sell you. People didn't come here for the clean stuff. They came for the dangerous, the experimental, and the downright illegal.
She passed a stall where a ripperdoc was attaching a new chrome arm to some lowlife's stump, the man's face contorted in pain as sparks flew from the half-finished mod. The doc's hands moved with mechanical precision, barely looking up from his work as he barked orders at his assistant. The assistant, a scrawny kid no older than seventeen, scrambled to pass tools and chrome parts.
Starr kept walking, her boots clanging softly against the metal floor as she wove her way deeper into the market. Her contact should be here soon—Jarek, a dealer she'd worked with before. He had the kind of tech that could get her through the next few weeks without ending up in a body bag, and she was going to need it. Blackclaw's payment from the Rafa hit had come through, but it wouldn't be enough if Militech truly came knocking.
As she passed a row of holo-screens displaying illegal braindances, Starr's comms crackled to life. Byte's voice filtered through, sounding distant but present.
"Starr, you at the market?" Byte asked, her tone professional but tinged with concern.
"Yeah," Starr muttered, keeping her voice low as she scanned her surroundings. "Just arrived. I'm looking for Jarek. He should have the hardware I need."
"I don't like this," Byte said, her voice more serious now. "The Red Market isn't exactly known for its hospitality. You sure it's worth the risk?"
Starr smirked. "If I wanted hospitality, I'd be sipping cocktails in Westbrook. I'll be fine. Stay close in case things go sideways."
Byte didn't respond right away, but Starr could hear the faint sound of her fingers tapping on a keyboard, likely running security scans and surveillance in the background.
"Just be careful," Byte finally replied. "This place… it's crawling with people looking for an excuse to shoot. You'll have a target on your back the second they recognize you."
"Let them try," Starr said, her tone sharp.
She rounded a corner, entering a section of the market that was a little less chaotic but no less dangerous. It was quieter here, the stalls more specialized, dealing in the kind of tech you didn't advertise on the street level. The dealers eyed her as she passed, sizing her up with quick, calculating glances. Some nodded, recognizing her as a player in the city's mercenary world, but others seemed wary, unsure of whether she was friend or foe.
Finally, she spotted Jarek at his stall, hunched over a display case filled with advanced optics and neural links. His face was illuminated by the soft glow of the tech in front of him, his dark eyes scanning the intricate wiring of a new cyberdeck. He looked up when Starr approached, a sly smile creeping across his face.
"Well, well," Jarek drawled, leaning back in his chair. "If it isn't the infamous Starr Layne. Heard you've been making waves. Militech breathing down your neck yet?"
"Not yet," Starr said, her voice flat. "But I'm preparing for when they do."
Jarek chuckled softly, his hands moving to adjust the lenses of his optical implants. "Smart. You always were a survivor, Layne. What can I do for you today? Need something flashy or something lethal?"
"Both," Starr replied, her eyes narrowing on the cyberware in his display. "I need gear that'll keep me alive when Militech's elite squads come knocking. And I need it fast."
Jarek raised an eyebrow. "You expecting a visit from the big boys?"
"Something like that," Starr muttered, her mind still on Rafa's cryptic grin and Reaver's warning. "Just show me what you've got."
Jarek stood, motioning her over to the side of his stall where a series of weapon mods and cyberware were laid out, gleaming under the soft neon lights. He began picking up various pieces, explaining their features with a salesman's flair.
"This here is a G-12 neural processor—top of the line," Jarek said, holding up a small, intricate chip. "Enhances reaction time, makes your synapses fire faster than any standard issue. Perfect for close combat. And this," he pointed to a sleek-looking set of optical implants, "lets you see in five different spectrums, including heat signatures. Good for spotting anyone who's trying to hide from you."
Starr examined the hardware, her fingers grazing over the cold metal. "I'll take both."
Jarek smiled, clearly pleased with the sale. "Good choice. You'll be untouchable with these. I can install the neural processor here, but I'd suggest you get the optics done with someone you trust. This kind of tech requires precision."
Starr nodded, already planning to visit her usual ripperdoc after the deal was done. She wasn't about to let just anyone mess with her eyes. Not in Night City.
As Jarek began prepping the gear for installation, Starr's comms crackled again, but this time, Byte's voice was urgent. "Starr, we've got a problem."
"What kind of problem?" Starr asked, her hand instinctively moving to the hilt of her blade.
"Militech's enforcers just entered the market," Byte said, her voice tight with concern. "They're looking for someone, and I'm betting it's you."
Starr's pulse quickened. She knew coming here was a risk, but she hadn't expected Militech to catch up with her so soon. "How many?"
"Five," Byte replied, her fingers tapping away in the background. "All heavily augmented. They're scanning every stall, moving in your direction. You need to move. Now."
"Jarek," Starr said, her voice low as she turned to face him. "We've got company. Militech's after me."
Jarek's eyes widened for a brief second before he quickly masked his reaction with a smirk. "Always bringing trouble, aren't you?"
"Just get the neural processor installed," Starr snapped, her patience wearing thin. "We don't have much time."
Jarek nodded, his hands moving swiftly as he set up the necessary tools for the installation. "It'll take a minute. Can you hold them off?"
Starr's grip tightened on her Kenshin blade. "I'll do what I have to."
She moved to the edge of the stall, her eyes scanning the shadows of the market for signs of the approaching enforcers. The Red Market was a maze of narrow walkways and hidden corners—good for a quick escape, but also good for an ambush. The hum of the neon lights above seemed to pulse in sync with her heartbeat as she waited, her senses heightened.
"Starr," Byte's voice came through again, more urgent now. "They're close. Just ten meters away."
Starr's fingers flexed around the handle of her blade as she took a slow, steady breath. She was no stranger to being hunted, but Militech enforcers weren't street-level punks. These were elite operatives, trained to track and eliminate targets with cold precision.
The sound of boots on metal grates reached her ears, growing louder with each passing second. The first enforcer appeared at the far end of the market aisle, his augmented eyes scanning the stalls with ruthless efficiency. Behind him, four more operatives followed, each one bristling with chrome and weapons.
"Jarek," Starr hissed over her shoulder. "How much longer?"
"Almost there," Jarek muttered, his hands working frantically. "Just keep them busy."
Starr narrowed her eyes as the enforcers moved closer, her heart pounding in her chest. The Red Market was about to become a war zone, and if she didn't act fast, she'd be dead before the gear was even installed.
She wasn't about to let that happen.