Down On Your Luck

[Monster Enthusiast]

"Good Morning Night City! It's seven o'clock, and it's looking the rain has finally gone for good, and in its wake we're getting a whole week of clear blue sunny skies. And with midday temperatures in the high eighties to low nineties it's the perfect time to plan a trip to Pacifica for a day sunbathing on the beach and a dip in the ocean, or the Night City marina for relaxing day on the yacht. Now on to today's news, Mayor Ebunike is definitely feeling the heat today after —,"

Nicolas slapped the top of his alarm clock, silencing it before rolling back onto the bed. He stared straight ahead at the popcorn ceiling of his studio apartment, watching as the ceiling fan went around and around as the last vestiges of whatever dream he was having slipped from his mind. Eventually the call of nature became too much to ignore, and he peeled himself out of bed to start his morning routine.

Spitting out the last of his toothpaste Nick took the opportunity to look himself over in the mirror. Neck length, slightly curly, dirty blond hair still wet from the shower clung to his neck — I'll need to get that cut soon. Arasaka cyberoptics set to a natural blue, while they weren't Kiroshis they still had the low light, anti dazzle, teleoptic, and image enhancement modules he wanted and at half the price. Pale skin marred by small faded scars he'd accumulated over the years covered his tall athletic frame.

One scar in particular stood out, an aggressively red bullet wound on his upper thigh, just below the hip.

He couldn't help but run his finger along the scar as his mind wandered. They had said he was lucky, it was a through-and-through wound, low residual trauma, no shrapnel or debris. If only the others had been so luck—

No, don't think about them, it won't change anything.

In the end all he needed was a pair of stitches and some painkillers before they pushed him out the door. That didn't make the bill any smaller though. Nearly two thousand eurodollars for a nurse to run a scanner over his shoulder, staple his wound together, give him a blood transfusion, and slap a couple of pills into his hand.

That bill had wiped out most of his savings, If that was all he could have dealt with it, but his fixer had stopped answering his phone. Nick didn't know if he'd sold them out, if he'd been taken, or if he'd realised the job was fucked and had cut his losses but whatever the reason his fixer had fallen of the face of the earth.

If there was one thing all edgerunners had in common it was that they love to gossip as much as school girls, and being the sole survivor of a job gone wrong, with minimal injuries, and with the fixer disappearing? Their imaginations ran wild, and they'd even given him nickname.

"Look, that guy over there? That's Lucky, they say he got his whole team flatlined on a job. Walked away without a scratch.", "Hey, Lucky, how much did Biotechnica payout for flipping on your team?", "Oy, Lucky, Did you 'donate' your techie to the body bank yet? She had a piece of chrome im after."

Nick splashed his face with water, shocking his mind from the spiralling ruminations, and started getting dressed.

With no team, no fixer, and a shattered rep Nick had been relegated to whatever no risk no reward gopher random fixers were willing to throw him. Courier jobs, low risk guard work, acting as a middle man for deals, work usually given to rookies, they were all well below his level of experience, and the pay reflected that.

And judging by the stack of letters on his kitchen counter, it wasn't going to be enough.

Now dressed in a plain black T-shirt and surplus fatigue pants Nick moved to the small couch and coffee table in the centre of his apartment and begun the next part of his morning routine, weapon maintenance.

Nick garbed the Arasaka Minami 10 submachine gun that had been left on the table and started stripping it, popping out bolts, undoing screws and field stripping the gun.

The Minami had served him well for most of his career, but recent events had shown that he needed something heaver. If he had the money he'd swap it out for something like a Sternmyer SMG-21, or maybe he'd shell out for an assault rifle, maybe a Militech Ronin, something capable of piercing armour.

Gun parts now cleaned and lubricated, Nick started reassembling the gun, replacing the trigger assembly, reinserting the recoil springs, rehousing the bolt. With the gun reassembled he moved on to the magazines, making sure each of them was fully loaded with caseless ten millimetre rounds.

Weapon maintenance complete, Nick leaned back in the couch and wiped the grease off his hands with a rag. Hands now clean-ish he got up and garbed the shoulder holster that was hanging off the coat hook by the door, next to his leather jacket, and started strapping It on. Holstering the Minimai under his left armpit and the loaded mags under his right Nick was finally able to address the hunger pangs that were steadily growing.

Opening the Cupboard Nick retrieved the half empty box of kibble that had been last nights dinner. He poured himself a bowl, the dry compressed cubes clinking as they hit the plastic bowl. It said "Pizza Flavoured" on the box, but the only way the flavour could be compared to pizza was if you counted the greasy cardboard box it comes in as part of the pizza. But compared to the other flavours on offer the pizza ones stood out, being merely unpalatable rather than revolting.

Of the few luxuries Nick had once enjoyed when the going was good, it's the food he missed the most. He'd never made enough to afford fresh food, but he could regularly afford to get the good prepacks, the ones comparable to something cooked restaurant that contained real — if not necessarily fresh — ingredients, and sometimes he'd splurge and visit an actual restaurant. Curry's, sushi's, noodles, roasts, and all the different kinds of snacks and desserts, every time they'd finish a job he'd be exited, not just because of the money but because it was a new opportunity to try new meals.

He remembered the few times they'd scored particularly profitable jobs, Nick would convince them to splurge on a group feast and hit up a buffet. Harry would always complain, calling it a waste of money, and Alice—

Nick slammed the spoon down in his bowl of kibble, launching a few pellets which clinked on the counter-top and tiled floor. He rubbed hard at his eyes which had started stinging as tears started welling up, and breathed heavily and deeply as he fought to get his breathing under control. Regaining control of his breathing nick looked down at the half empty bowl of "food".

Fuck this, I need to get out of here, get some air.

Abandoning his half-eaten bowl of kibble, he grabbed the jacket that was hanging by the door and roughly pulled it on. With a mix of grief and anger he stormed out of the apartment — just barely refraining from slamming the door behind him — with no particular destination in mind.

The hallway was lined with stained peeling wallpaper between the doors to other apartments. As he walked past the doors Nick was able to hear the sounds of his neighbours lives through the thin doors. A mother arguing with her son about going to school, a TV blaring commercials, Someone strumming riffs on a guitar, a man screaming obscenities and complaining about some kind of service between long pauses — hopefully he's on the phone and not screaming in someone's face.

The elevator was still out of service doors stuck open and hanging off whatever track they usually ran on. Not surprising, it'd been out of action since he'd moved here and given the state of the rest of the building, it'd probably stay that way until well after he moved out. Nick had overheard the story from some other older tenants.

One day one of the tenants comes in with a new set of cyber arms, proud and showing off to anyone that he came across, telling every one how much it'll help his job down at the docks. Overnight day the guy snaps and goes cyberpsycho, rips his door off the hinges screaming about how he "needs to get out". The guy runs to the elevator rips the doors open and turns the unfortunate schmuck using it into mince meat. From there the story changes depending on who's telling it, some said he got hunted down by MaxTac, others say he ran out in to the city never to be seen again.

Whatever the psycho's fate, the elevator remained nonfunctional, and the landlord was in no hurry to fix it.

Descending the staircase that wrapped around the elevator shaft and stepping around a pair of kids sitting on the steps playing with a cyberdeck he reached the lobby. Giving a small nod toward one of the tenants checking his mailbox Nick pushed open the front door and stepped out onto the streets of South Night City.

The sights, sounds, and smell of the city were beyond familiar to Nick, he'd lived here all his life and like old wallpaper it all just blended into the background. But below the humming of car engines and passing conversations he could just make out the distinct staccato of gunfire.

Hmm, couldn't be more than four blocks away. Combat Zone's getting closer again.

The Combat Zone, Night City's own festering wound slash active war zone, with gangs of all kinds fighting each other over territory and resources. And god help you if you find yourself stuck in the middle of it, because the NCPD sure as shit wouldn't set foot in there to help you.

The Zone had a habit of growing as it chewed up its inhabitants and new ones moved in. The buildings long the edge would occasionally catch some bullets or a grenade from a fight spilling over, and the people with the means to do so would leave. Then it would catch a few more bullets, maybe a rocket, and people would exhaust their credit, take out a loan, move in with family, anything to get out, and gangers would start moving in. Then a NCPD rep would call the few reaming people living or working in the building and politely inform them that the NCPD would no longer be servicing their area, and the few people left would pack whatever they could carry and set off into the street, leaving only the gangers.

And the Combat zone would grow a block bigger.

That was the gamble with living on the edge of the CZ. You get the best value for money on rent in the city, but one morning you could wake up with a boostergang as your new landlord, and they don't do late notices.

When Nick first moved into his apartment the CZ had been six blocks away, close enough for the rent to be low and far enough for the risk of some Dorph-fiend throwing a grenade through your window to be minimal. Over the years the closest the CZ had come to his apartment was one block away, when that happened he'd decided to crash with one of his teammates until it shrunk back.

He didn't have that option anymore.

Thankfully, a guardian gang had formed, a group of vigilantes and "concerned citizens" that was able to push the encroaching gang back a couple of blocks, saving him from having to find a new rental.

Over the course of his reminiscing Nick had wandered in front of a restaurant occupying the lower floors of an apartment building. It was Greek, going by the stylised white and blue sign, and the smell was amazing, and reminded him that he'd only had half his breakfast.

Fishing out his wallet he considered the single twenty eurodollar bill that Nick had to his name, and tried to remember the last time he'd eaten something that wasn't kibble or bought from a vending machine.

Screw it, why not.

Twenty minutes later Nick was sat on a bench in a small park, licking the sauce and grease from his wrap off his fingers while watching people pass by. Although calling it a park was being extremely charitable. He'd been to the Lake Park, in the city centre, and that was areal park, large and well tended. The park nick was in now was basically a lot of patchy overgrown grass someone had decided to slap a bench in the middle and wrap with a metal fence. And he didn't know much about trees, but he was pretty sure the park's lone tree shouldn't be bare of leaves in the middle of summer.

Despite the parks lack of quality it still had plenty of traffic. Along the pavement running through the park a stream of people moved up and down, using the park as a shortcut between the two streets the park bordered. Most wore generic chic, Tees, jeans, sometimes a light jacket, but in the sea of people a few stood out. A couple of gangers wearing urban flash, tech jackets embedded with LEDs and shiny eye-catching clothes, some even sported light tattoos. They chatted amongst themselves and passing something between them, probably drugs. A brave — or stupid — corpo wearing some upmarket business wear with a suitcase in one hand and holding his phone to his head with his other and talking loudly, uncaring of the other people around him, even the ones eyeing him the same way a dog eyes a piece of meat.

There was even a poser walking around dressed as a solo, black leather combat boots, camo pants peeking out from under a long leather coat, and a pair of opaque black shades. And he was a poser, you didn't spend years as a solo without having the awareness to notice small details, it was the difference between spotting an ambush or a tripwire before you tripped over them instead of after.

And Nick's discerning eye could tell the man he was looking at was no solo. The coat looked too thin to be armoured and pulled too tight to the body for there to be a vest underneath. The boots were imitation, with a zipper on the side that real combat boots wouldn't have, and they were brand new, not scuffed or worn.

He did have a gun, the protrusion at his hip which his coat draped over gave it away. But judging by the size it couldn't be more than a pocket pistol, maybe a BudgetArms C-13, or a Federated Arms X-22.

The poser walked past him, not even looking at him as he made his way through the park.

Nick leaned back on the bench, sighing. He pulled the sleeve of his jacket down and looked at his wrist, The Skinwatch glowed faintly under his skin showing it was getting close to half past seven. Next to the Skinwatch was his Biomonitor aside from a slightly elevated heart rate everything looked good.

Looks like it's going to be another day of begging for scraps. Maybe I should just bite the bullet and join a corp. Becoming another faceless corporate soldier would mean giving up my freedom, and furthering the interests of whatever fat corpo bastard that gets command over me. But it has to be better than living out of a coffin and doing grunt work for the rest of my life, one failed job away from ending up on the street.

Nick cupped his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm — an old habit that refused to die, even after getting cyberoptics — and started trying to psych himself up for the day ahead. As he was about to get up form the bench when he felt something he rarely felt these days, a vibration emanating from his jacket pocket.

His phone was ringing.

Since he'd lost his team phone calls had been few and far between, most services preferred to contact him through letter, and most edgerunners had the wherewithal to tell him to his face they wanted nothing to do with him.

He flipped the phone open and put it to his ear. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end was unmistakable. Adeola Okonkwo, a small time fixer and one of the more consistent sources of jobs over the last few months. He spoke with a thick west African accent, "th"s became "d"s, "er"s became "ah"s, "ing"s lost their "g"s, and "r"s may as well not have existed.

"Lucky, my friend, you are still looking for a team, yeah?"

That made Nick sit a little straighter. A little flickering ember of hope siring in his chest causing him to overlook Adeola using his nickname, even though he'd told him more than once not to.

"Yeah im still looking. Why, do you know a team needing a solo?"

"No my friend, I've got something better. I'm putting to together a team of my own, for a job that dropped into my lap. And I mean a real job, with real pay, not the Agbero work I got you doing before…"

Nick was standing now.

This could be it, this could get me back on the horse, rebuild my rep, start over with a new team.

"… Anyway, I'm getting everyone together tonight at Club Synapse. We'll go over the details then, save me from telling them more than once. You in?"

I can't afford to miss an opportunity like this.

"Yeah, I'll be there."

---

Author's note:
Thank you for reading!
I've been reading books and fan-fiction most of my life and I've always considered trying my hand at writing my own, but for whatever reason I've never committed to doing so, until now.
This is the first piece of fiction I've ever written, I'm hoping to release a chapter every week so i would greatly appreciate any feedback you may have.

 

[Monster Enthusiast]

Nick had been antsy all day. The prospect of finally getting a real job had left him with a mix of anticipation and apprehension swirling around his gut as he tried to find ways to pass the hours until the meeting.

He'd gone over every piece of his kit, in part as preparation for the job but mostly as away to kill time. He checked his flak vest for wear and tear, he striped his gun down to the bolts and oiled every part, he thumbed through the contents of his first aid kit making sure none of the components had expired.

And after all that, he hadn't even passed an hour.

After what felt like a lifetime of nervous pacing, Half-heartedly watching TV, and impatient clock watching it was finally time to meet with Adeola. A train ride on the Night City Rapid Area Transit into central night city and a short walk to the Upper Eastside found Nick standing in line under the bright glow of Club Synapse's neon signage.

He'd been to the club a few times before — it was Ade's preferred meeting place— but it wasn't the kind of place he'd patronise in his free time. Not that he frequented any club in his free time, the dancing, deafening music, and overpriced alcohol didn't appeal to him.

Clubs were more Alice's thing anyway.

The line had shrunk. Nick could practically feel the thumping of music through the concrete walls and metal doors as the bouncer gave him a once over, eyeing him up and down, before jerking a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing him inside.

Pushing through the doors a wave of sound hit him like a punch to the ear, harsh electronic music drowned out all other sounds. It sounded like the artist had sampled some rhythmic groaning industrial sound, overlaid with a thumping baseline and warbling synth and cranked the volume to eleven. Every synth peak and base kick was like getting hit by a Nauseator, it made him wince to the beat and regret not chipping some cyberaudio and level dampers when he had the chance.

A lowered dance floor dominated the centre of the ground floor the floor, it was warped with a line of standing tables and a railing separating the tables from the dancers. Small groups and couples leaned against the tables and railing usually with a drink in had as they chatted with each other and rested between rounds on the dancefloor. The dance floor was full to capacity with dancing patrons dressed in clothes that were equally trendy as they were scanty. A stage ran against the far wall, hosting most of the lights and lasers which pulsed and swayed with the beat of the music, as well as the DJ working his equipment. Occasionally the DJ would lean down and interact with some of the closest dancers who were vying for his attention.

The wall opposite the stage hosted a bar serving out drinks to the thirsty dancers. A pair of bartenders efficiently served their clientele, even as one of the patrons futilely tried to chat up one of the female bartenders. next to the bar a bouncer stood menacingly next to a staircase cordoned off wit ha red velvet rope. Occasionally a server would duck behind the bar before emerging with a bottle and acceding the staircase and up to the VIP area after being let in by the bouncer.

Nick walked over to the staircase stoping before the bouncer.

"I'm here to see Adeola, he's expecting me."

The bouncer nodded and unhooked the velvet rope and Nick scaled the steps. The pounding music mercifully dimmed slightly as he reached the upper level, whatever speaker arrangement they had on the first floor no longer blasting him directly. The VIP was much like the area that wrapped around the dance floor, a 'U' shaped walkway running along the wall allowing people to lean over and watch the dancers below. Instead of standing tables below the wall was lined with cushioned, private booths, one of which Nick could see Ade sitting in with his arms stretched along the top of the booth's seat.

Squeezing past a couple leaning on the railing and weaving past a server he walked up to the booth, Adeola turned his head at Nick's approach and grinned, his stark white teeth contrasting heavily with his obsidian black skin. He wore a black business suit with a white dress shirt poking out of his sleeves and between his lapels. Shoulder-length straight black hair spilled over the shoulders of his suit, it held back from covering his face by a pair of yellow tinted aviator glasses, the only piece of colour on the man.

If it wasn't for his accent it'd be easy to think he was a born and bred Night City corpo.

"Lucky, my friend! Abeg, sit, sit. The others are still on their way."

Nick slid into the seat across form Ade.

"I've told you before not to call me that."

"Why not? It's a good nickname. You should hear some of the things other edgerunners have been stuck with." he pointed at nick with a finger, hand still resting on the booth, "I bet you they would kill to get a nickname as good as yours."

Nick crossed his arms and leaned back in the seat.

"If they want it they can have it. I'd be much happier going through life without being reminded of my greatest fuckup."

Ade scoffed, waving with one of his hands.

"Bah, you care too much what those aproko say. And so what if you fuck up a job? It's not like they are perfect either, ey? Ah, but where are my manners, do you want something to drink?"

Unconsciously, Nick became aware of the inside of his mouth, maybe he had become unused to conversation but whatever the reason his mouth was particularly dry.

"It matters when those 'aproko' are the ones deciding if I get to work or not. And yeah, just a water."

Ade leaned out of the booth and whistled for a server while snapping his fingers. Nick fought back a grimace. If Ade's dress was just a facsimile of a corpo then his personality was the genuine article. He dealt in anything that could make him money. Drugs, guns, data, if you were willing to pay for it, Ade would charge you a twenty percent markup, hire someone else to take the risk getting it and pocket the remaining. He was rude to anyone who he thought owed him, and that extended from business partners to waiters and servers. But if he owed you, or you had something he wanted? It was all Hand shakes, pats on the back, and "my friends."







It was easy to tell that the guy had an ego, and considered himself above everyone else. But Nick wasn't about to risk a source of work by telling him that.

The server walked off with their order and Ade returned position stretched across the booth.

"Eh, if they don't want you than it is their loss. We," he waved a finger between himself and Nick, "will make big money, so much those other runners kick themselves for not taking a chance on you."

God, I hope so.

Before either of them could continue the conversation a man appeared at the mouth of the booth.

"Excuse me, Mr Okonkwo?"

Nick turned to look at the man. He was Asian, young blemish free skin, a bit below average height, wearing a collared T-shirt and slacks — designer, if the logos strategically placed on the clothes was anything to go by —, and had a set of short, neatly styled tech hair currently softly glowing blue.

Ade Grinned.

"Ah Mister Shen, come in, come in, Nicolas make room… "

Nick scooted further down the booth as Ade waved him across, and Wei slid into the spot he had been sitting before.

"… Wei, this is Nicolas Mckenzie, my favourite solo. Nick, this Is Wei Shen. He is a techie who has worked for me in the past. And now he will be working with you."

Nick leaned over and extended a hand.

"Nice to meet you."

Wei reciprocated with a neutral expression.

"Likewise."

Letting go of the handshake Nick leaned back. "It's always good to have a techie on the team.What kind of jobs do you usually run?"

Wei rested his hands on the table with fingers interlocked. "I possess a comprehensive technical understanding and specialise in producing bespoke tactical equipment. I've successfully delivered numerous pieces of equipment meeting the complex and varied operational needs of edgerunner teams."

Nick raised an eyebrow, caught of guard by how corporate Wei sounded, and had to take a moment to parse the corpo-speak. "… yeah, your good with tech, I'd figure most techies are. But I meant jobs as in what kind of field work you've done. B&E's, surveillance, heists, that kind of thing."

The expression on Wei's face didn't change, but he did adjust his position on the seat. "This is the first contract I've taken which has required my skills in a hands-on capacity."

Excuse me?

Nick couldn't help the incredulous expression that overtook him. He shot a look at Ade who didn't look at all surprised at the revelation.

Nick looked back at Wei, who hadn't moved and inch.

"You've never been in the field before, seriously?"

Wei nodded.

"Correct."

Nick leaned forward.

"Do you even have a gun? Or armour? Have you ever been shot at before?"

"I'm adequately equipped with —

"Could you drop the corpo-speak?" Nick interrupted. "This isn't an intervew for a position at Arasaka."

Wei closed his eyes and took a deep inhale before opening his eyes again.

"Yes, I have a gun and armour and know how to use them. No, ive not been shot at before. I'm aware of the danger of this line of work, and im prepared to face it."

"If you've never even been shot at before then you have no idea what It's like on a job. You're going to freeze up at the first brush with death, and you're teammates are going to pay the price."

Ade cut in before Wei could respond.

"Nick, quit trying to scare away your teammate. I am confident that Wei —"

A server appeared at the mouth of the booth, placing a glass of whiskey in front of Ade and a large pitcher of water with a few empty glasses in the centre of the table. Nick gave a small thank you to the server and filled a glass for himself, while Ade continued talking.

"— is more than capable of participating in our line of work. Besides, if all goes well there won't be any bullets flying on this job."

Nick finished his glass and turned to Ade.

"Are you finally going to tell me what the job actually is?"

Ade took a sip of his drink.

"Nah, we're still waiting on our last member."

"Wh— You want to run a job with just three people? With one of them being a rookie, still wet behind the ears? What are we doing, walking old ladies across the street? Why —"

"Shit, Sorry im late, I got a bit lost."

Nick, diatribe disrupted, looked to the interrupting woman who was already sliding into the booth, pushing Wei shoulder to shoulder with Nick.

She had Short messy brunette hair and Bronze skin covered in freckles with an "A+" tattoed above her right eye. She was about an inch taller than Wei, at least while they were sitting. She was dressed in a red leather motorcycle jacket — which she was in the process of shucking, revealing a white singlet underneath —, dessert camo pants, with worn and scuffed leather boots. The most striking part of her though, was revealed as she freed her arms from the jacket. Her Right arm was a cyberarm, Embedded at the shoulder, dark faintly green cords of myomar wound under and around metal plates, down to the fingertips. White plastic plates covered large sections of the arm and the back of the hand, doing little to hide the bare metal underneath.

As she made herself comfortable in the seat, Ade introduced us.

"Ah, Miss Cruz, Glad you could make it. Nick, Wei this is Camilla Cruz, Camilla these are Nick Mckenzie and Wei Shen."

She shook hands with Wei, then extended a hand to Nick which he took.

"Please tell me you've been in combat before, or you know how to use a gun at least."

Camilla looked at him oddly.

"Of course I have, hard to live as a nomad without getting into a couple of shootouts."

Nick let out a breath as they broke the handshake.

"So you're skilled?"

Camilla smirked smugly as she leaned back into the seat.

"I like to think so. I spent most of my time with the family as a scout, riding ahead making sure routs were clear, holding overwatches, that kind of thing. I'm a pretty decent shot, and im a beast behind the wheel."

Wei chimed in.

"What family are you from?"

"The Soldiers."

"Never heard of them."

Camilla looked put out by that. She was about to reply when Ade clapped his hands together.

"Now that we are all introduced, I can share the details of your job."

Finally.

They all focused on Ade.

"The client has info on a shipment of chrome which is due to pass through Night City, and they want a piece. They've provided the rout the shipment is taking down to which container the chrome is in and lucky for us it will be vulnerable for a brief window after it lands in the city. All you have to do go and pick it up, easy money."

They were silent as they digested the information, but one thought ran through Nick's mind.

Nothing's ever that easy, if it was, they wouldn't bother hiring us. There has to be a catch.

"This 'vulnerability', what is it?"

Ade smirked.

"The chrome is arriving by ship, a whole container full. Our client has arranged a netrunner to drop the containers shipping priority to the bottom of their list, meaning the container will be siting in the San Morro Bay Port for days, defended only by the port's security."

Ah, there it is.

"I'm out."

For the first time this meeting Ade had and expressions besides happy or smug, he looked surprised and confused at Nick as he started shimmying over Wei, trying to get out of the booth.

"What? A couple of rent-a-guards got the big bad solo shaking?"

Nick shot Ade a hard look, pausing between Wei and Camilla.

"The guards aren't the problem, It's the Harbour Police. You know, the only cops in this city that give a shit about doing their job, the borderline combat gang with government backing. If we get caught out they'll drop on us like a ton of bricks. If I wanted to get flatlined by trigger-happy lawmen I'd— "

"Twenty-five hundred eddies… "

Nick paused, and Ade's smirk returned.

"… Each. That's how much you'll get for this job, not counting any other pieces of chrome you lift from the container. Now sit back down Nick and stop being such a worrier."

Nick contemplated walking away anyway. His misgiving about messing with the harbour police hadn't gone away, and doing so with a team of three, one being fresh off the tit, only made it worse. But could he afford to pass this up?

Twenty-five hundred would easily clear up all the payments ive missed with enough left over for most of the month. Not to mention the future jobs pulling off something like this would net me. Damn it, I can't afford to pass on this.

Nick sat back down between Camilla and Wei, and Ade's smirk grew wider, he knew he had them.

"Now, the shipment is due to arrive in two days in a container marked 'RM-9413' aboard the cargo ship 'Zhuigan', so there should be plenty of time to recon the port and put a plan together. Our client's netrunner can only guarantee that their meddling will keep the container for another two days. I'll leave the details of whatever plan you come up with up to you. Once you have picked up the chrome you'll bring it to the Stallion Slough Shipyard where one of my men will let you onto the dock where we will make the handover. Any Questions?"

Wei rased a hand getting Ade's attention.

"Can we expect this netrunner to provide any other assistance?"

"No. The client isn't willing to lend their netrunner for any further support."

Camilla cut in.

"What kind of cyberware are we stealing?"

"The client didn't say."

"So what if there's more than one kind in the container?"

"Take one of each, whatever the client doesn't want you can keep. I'll even help find a buyer for a small cut."

The frown on Nick's face grew with every question.

"This client really cagey, Huh?"

Nick couldn't see it through his glasses, but he was sure Ade was rolling his eyes

"That's not a question Nick. And with what they are paying they can have their privacy. Anything else?"

When no one raised another question Ade went back to his neglected drink and waved them away.

"Good, you've got a lot of work ahead of you so commot for hia."

Nick, Wei, and Camilla shuffled out of the booth while Ade remained behind. A jaunt through the tinnitus inducing music of the ground floor and the three were outside, after exchanging numbers and planing to meet near the docks early tomorrow for some reconnaissance they went their separate ways. Camilla sped off on a Heavily modified Motorbike covered in hard containers, while Wei followed Nick to the NCART station and took a train headed the opposite direction as nick further into the city while Nick travelled back to South Night City.

As Nick rode the NCART, squeezed between half-awake corpos and street kids loudly conversing, he couldn't help the sense of impending doom slowly forming in his gut.

 

[Monster Enthusiast]

They were gathered around a round table draped in a thin plastic sheet with red and white checkering, the kind you see people setting up for picnics in movies and advertisements. The worn plastic chairs wobbled with the slightest movement and the shade cloth overhead did little to mitigate the Californian heat.

Harry, with moustache, beer belly, and combover on full display now that he was out of his police uniform or combat armour. Alice, camera still mounted on her shoulder, dressed in clothes that were composed mostly of straps, the party girl having a different concept of casual wear than the others at the table. Herman, their newest member, stoic as ever and built like a brick shit-house dressed in the same Long leather trench coat he wore during their missions. Even Rei, face mostly covered by her messy long black hair, leisure ware hanging off her uncomfortably thin frame, had manged overcome her agoraphobia to join them, although she was still fiddling with her braindance wreath.

A delectable scent was carried on the wind, a mix of spices and seasonings that made the mouth water and stomach growl, but for the life of him Nick couldn't discern the exact food that was being cooked.

They were all discussing their upcoming job, knocking over a biotechnica convoy.

Harry leaned back as he finished rebutting a question asked by Alice, his chair groaning in response

"— and I told you before, the highways are jurisdiction of the NorCal Highway Rangers. I couldn't get a road block or detour on one of them even if I was the chief. Best I can do is borrowing some spike strips, But that doesn't address the real problem."

Herman grunted, german accent clinging to each word.

"Alice, don't you have a source in Biotechnica? Could they re-rout the shipment?"

Before Alice could reply, Harry chuffed.

"Sources? Please, they're just club rats telling her what she wants to hear so they can get in her pants."

Alice slapped the able and pointed at Harry, barely restraining herself from standing up and knocking over her chair

"Fuck you, you fat pig, I'll have you know they are legitimate sources and once I find Biotechnica's skeleton closet im going to blow it wide open."

She sat back in her chair, arms crossed defensively over her chest.

"But no, Herman. I don't have anyone in their logistics division. Yet."

Silence descended over the table as each of the people sat around it turned the conundrum over in their head. The problem was that the convoy was only passing through Night City. Sticking only to the highways which ran through corporate suburbs like Heywood and North Oak. If they tried to make move on the highway it would be a coin flip if the corporate security employed in the surrounding neighbourhood would decide to help out and crash their job. Not to mention a response from Biotechnicas regional office in the city.

"W-what if we ambushed them outside the city, out in the badlands."

Everyone looked surprised at Rei's suggestion, normally it was difficult to get out of her apartment, even if they let the medtech stay in the car while the rest of the team did the job. Hearing her suggest leaving the city entirely was unheard of.

Harry rubbed his chin.

"Hmm, it would definitely lower the risk of party crashers. And with the spike strips we'd have a good shot at disabling the truck. There's not a lot of cover out there though, if the truck has escorts we could end up in a rough position. What do you think, Nick?"

Everyone turned to Nick, his calm and cautious demeanour and made him the natural choice as leader when he, Harry, and Alice had joined up to start taking on jobs.

He was about to reply, when a low whining noise cut through the air.

As the noise grew and grew, wind was kicking with it, the plastic table covering flapping wildly and the shade cloth over head loudly yanking at the chains holding it to the restaurant.

The wind and noise grew and the others around the table gave no reaction, it was like they were frozen in time, still staring at him. He had no idea what was happening, Nick's heart started beating quicker as his teammates stared ahead at nick still waiting for a reply he was unable to give, as the wind and noise became deafening.

The wind grew so strong it ripped the shade cloth from its mooring, and revealed the source of the sound and wind.

It was the downwash of an AV.

Black, almost pill shaped with four thrust vectoring nozzles poking out of the side of its belly, the silhouette of the pilots visible through the polarised glass of the cockpit.

And under that cockpit hung a turret mounted twenty millimetre Gatling gun.

The fear that had gripped Nick turned to terror. He tried to get up, tried to scream, but his body below the neck refused to obey and no matter how hard he tried to scream no noise came out, he was stuck. The AV activated a searchlight, its black pill shaped fuselage was hidden behind a blinding light which cast his still frozen teammates in shadow.

Nick tried again, to move, to scream, to call out to the silhouettes his still teammates and warn them or get them to move, to do anything. But his body was as still as his teammates.

He heard the Gatling gun stat to spin, and —

Nick let out a scream, which reduced to a laboured breathing as he realised he was sitting upright in his bed, and not about to be turned into hamburger meat by an AV. He slumped forward as the adrenaline fled him, on his arm he could see the spike in heart rate on his biomoniter's readout whish was slowly returning to baseline. Looking at his Skinwatch he saw the time wasn't even six, a glance over at the alarm clock confirmed it. Above him, he could hear the sound of his upstairs neighbour running a vacuum.

Asshole, what kind of psycho vacuums this early in the morning.

The prospect of getting back to sleep seemed unlikely with the noise emanating through the floor boards. Nick pulled himself out of bed and began his morning routine, getting ready for the day and dressing in another set of camos and his usual leather jacket. After killing a couple of hours in front of the TV trying to follow some serial drama that that was mid-season, he called Wei and Camilla and arranged a meeting to discuss their next steps.

■

Nick leaned on the Data Term opposite the front of a small diner on the edge of the light industrial sprawl that surrounded the port. He watched as cars and trucks of all different shapes and sizes passed the intersection, all the rumbling engines, squealing breaks, and honking horns blending into the usual cacophony of city life. If he had the money to spare he'd be inside enjoying a meal while waiting the rest of his new team to show, instead he'd have to watch his ten eddies carefully if he wanted to be able to take the NCART back home. So he waited outside with this morning's kibble sitting heavy in his stomach.

Nick checked his Skinwatch again, nearly seven-thirty, they should be here any minute now. Nick turned his head, looking down the street and, speak of the devil, there was Wei, with his bright blue hair and dressed in track pants and a compression top, walking down the street.

As he approached Nick pushed off the Data Term and waved to Wei, who waved back.

"Morning Wei, We're still waiting on Camilla. Once she gets here we'll go over the plan for reconning the port."

Wei nodded.

"Do you believe we'll have much trouble with the recon?, I can't imagine they'll just let us stand across the street, watching as the guards go about their patrols."

Nick waved of his concern as they took a sat at one of the diners outdoor tables.

"I doubt we'll get into any gunfights today, if that's what you're worried about. I would have told you over the phone if that was the case. And we won't be just sitting across the street from the port. We want somewhere with elevation so we can get the best vantage point, and far enough away they don't notice us and call the Harbour Police. Also, have you had breakfast yet?"

Wei cocked an eyebrow at that.

"Yes, why?"

"Because they'll probably kick us out of here if we don't order something."

"Why don't you order something?"

"Because im broke."

Wei huffed, and walked into the establishment. Nick checked his Skinwatch again, seven thirty-four. As he was looking at his watch he heard the rumble of a motorcycle. Looking over his shoulder he saw Camilla pulling up on her bike dressed in the same leathers as yesterday, she stopped at the intersection and her helmeted head looked around.

Nick waved, and her helmet locked on to him. She walked the motorcycle onto the sidewalk and kicked down the kickstand. She dismounted the bike and hung her helmet off one of the handle bars.

"Sorry im late, im still getting used to the city and the Data Terms are useless."

Nick shrugged his shoulders.

"It's fine, Wei's inside getting something, once he's done well go over the plan for today. Also, mind if I bum an eddie?"

Camilla acquiesced, and with eurodollar in had, Nick walked back to the Data Term. He thumbed through the clunky interface to the map section and with the eddie deposited the Data Term clunked and whirred as it printed out a sheet of paper with a map of the port and its surrounds.

Returning to the table, Nick saw Wei had returned and was now sipping at a can of energy drink. He slapped the map down on the table as he retook his seat.

"Alright, heres the deal. We need to accomplish two objectives with our reconnaissance. One, we need to get a lay of the land, guard rotations, the layout of the containers, entries and egresses, that sort of thing. And two, once we've got the skeleton of a plan we need to work out an around the clock surveillance so we can catch the ship as it enters port. And once it does, we'll want all eyes on to catch where they end up putting our container."

Nick paused giving a chance for questions, when none materialised he continued.

"First things first, we need to find a good vantage point. It needs to be somewhere high enough for a good view of the port and where they unload the containers, but it also needs to be private enough that we can come and go without risking getting caught by security or getting the NCPD called on us by bystanders."

Nick pushed the paper map into the centre of the table.

"So, let's get to work."

Over the next half an hour or so the team whittled down the buildings against a number of criteria. The recon location needed to be tall, so they could get a good vantage point, it needed to be far enough from the port to avoid scrutiny. And it needed to be free of traffic or with occupants who wouldn't mind them squatting on top of it.

With a shortlist devised, they decided to spit up to check the places, Nick and Wei, being on foot would check the closer locations, and Camilla with her motorcycle would check the locations further out. Their objectives decided they split up, Camilla remounting her bike and joining the traffic, while Nick and Wei set off into the streets.

The first location, a multi-storey office building, was a bust. Too busy, workers coming and going frequently from the ground floor lobby, and with no external access to the roof every time they would have pass the front desk and workers every time they rotated the person doing the surveillance.

The second building was also no good, an old, supposedly abandoned, industrial building with attached smoke stack. The plan had been to post up on one of the cat walks wrapping around the smoke stack. That plan was foiled by the very obviously still operational security systems surrounding the building.

The pattern continued for the next few locations they checked, each one having some quirk or quality that precluded them from being chosen.

They were on the way to their next potential location when Nicks phone rang. He flipped it open and saw it was Camilla's number, he held it to his head and blocked out the sounds of the street with his other hand.

"What's up Camilla?"

"Nick, I think I've found a winner. Meet me on the intersection of 38th​ and Wayland."

Nick face scrunched in confusion earning a raised eyebrow from Wei.

"I don't remember any suitable buildings in that area."

"I know, I know, but trust me nick this place is perfect, you'll see when you get here."

Camilla hung up the call. Another twenty minutes of walking along the crowded streets they reached the intersection. Their position was just on the edge of the light industry ringing the port, the warehouses, and logistics hubs starting to give way to more residential focused businesses. An elevated part of the interstate highway loomed overhead casting the street in shadow. As they rounded the corner of street they found Camilla leaning against the wall of a convenience store.

Nick looked around, but he couldn't see any building that would match their criteria. The surrounding buildings were all squat, two storeys at most, and were business that saw frequent traffic, like convenience stores and laundromats. Camilla pushed off the wall and waved them over.

"Camilla, I don't see your 'perfect' spot."

Camilla rolled her eyes

"Well if you'd hold your horses I'd have had a chance to show it to you. Now follow me."

Camilla a led them over to the chain link fence adjacent to the convenience store. She lifted a loose section of the fence, scurried under, and held it open for nick and Wei who followed after her.

They followed Camilla further, down an alley running parallel to the street they had entered from. The alley was interspersed with supports for the highway running overhead. Camilla eventually led them to a tall metal pylon adjacent to the highway. The pylon was surrounded by another chain link fence, Camilla's bike rested against the fence and a broken padlock lay on the ground in front of the chain link fence's gate.

Nick looked up following the pylon, up and up. And at the top of the pylon, half peeking out above the highway an advertisement was playing over a massive electronic billboard.

Camilla turned to face them as they reached the pylon. She stuck out her hands gesturing at the pylon.

"Ta-da! Come on let me show you around."

Camilla ducked behind the pylon, Nick and Wei followed and found her already ascending the ladder leading up to the billboard. When Nick and Wei reached the top they looked. The "walls" were covered in wires running from the panels forming the billboard and running over the grated floor and down the pylon. While nick and Wei were looking around Camilla had launched in to an explanation on the benefits of the location.

"Obviously there no security or traffic for the billboard, and because it exits into the alley the only time we'd need to be careful about witnesses is when we duck into the alley. The ladder up here is opposite the direction of traffic on the highway so unless someone on the street decides to look up no one should see us coming and going. Since the billboard's electronic our techie here should be able to draw some power for a couple of creature comforts and If you cast your eyes over yonder you'll see that the gap in the boards points directly at the port."

Nick looked out the gap in the opening and activated his teleoptics and sure enough they had a nearly completely unobstructed view of the port.

Nick turned back to Camilla who was wearing a smug grin of self-satisfaction.

"So, pretty good, huh?"