Edgerunners2077

David: 6

NIGHT CITY

District: Santo Domingo, Arroyo

After Lucy ditched us, heated and upset, the gang splits up. Kiwi leaves to return home and cool down before doing a deep dive in some poor gonk's neuro net. Falco had a race to attend in Westbrook, said he'd promise some bartender he'd drive her wheels while she manned the turret. That just leaves me and Rebecca, the danger duo. Somehow, we always manage to find trouble or trouble always managed to find us.

This time we were the ones looking for trouble.

We head towards Arroyo. There was a scheduled fight at the Animals' Club going down tonight, and since we can't show our faces in Watson or Heywood it was a good way to kill some time. Can't be in Watson cause of our recent heist gone slightly wrong and can't be in Heywood cause of V. 

Half of Night City is off limits! 

Part of me felt cornered like a mouse in a maze. One maze lane was a straight shot to the cheese. The guap. The eddies. But this path had an easy bullet to the back of the skull from either Arasaka or Miltech. If I chose another path I am left with a warped ill version of reality. Cyberpsychosis, from the Sandevistan ending in loads of bullets from MaxTac. Last pathway had a snake at the end ready to flatline us all. Guess who?  V. No matter which way I turn, every option ends with gunfire. 

The sun was starting to set on Arroyo, the warm toasty blaze sending an orange cast over the city. Streetlights and neon bar signs flicker on, returning Night City to its' prime once more.

The line for the Fight Club was out the door, wrapped around half the building almost to the street corner. Bets were being dealt; wages were being placed. Watching two gonks beat the shit out of each other was a bigger sport in NC than football. 

 However, Becca and I didn't come here to gamble, at least not cold hard cash. The only gamble we're making tonight is for a partnership. A tag-team, if you will. A onetime co-op operation. Edgerunners and the meatheads known as The Animals.

"You think they'll work with us? Cause I hear these gonks are all Immuno-Blockers and no brain." Becca asks, clearly skeptical. She wore her oversized black bomber just long enough to cover her ass half zipped down exposing the red ink tatted on her neck. She had a fair number of implants and a few body modifications including those undeniably worrisome red and green eyes of hers. Over the year I've gotten to know her, the more she looked at me with those sad, sad eyes. I want to see them sparkle again and see her smile, the way she does when she makes shit explode.

"I'm sure they've been begging for a chance like this!" I smirk. Our problems both began and ended with the same letter of the alphabet, V. They'd have to be nose deep in Maxdoc inhalers to not partake in this golden opportunity. Who could resist getting their enemies handed to them on a silver platter?  No way they'd refuse evening the score!

"Hey David, choomba... I gotta ask you something." Her face is hidden, and her voice was distant, as if she were searching for the missing pieces to a puzzle.

"Yeah, go ahead, shoot." The line starts to move in front of us, impatient bodies shoving and pushing others to get inside.

"Didn't you say The Animals were the ones who caused the accident that killed your mom?" 

"Yeah... they are." I can see where she was going with this, and truthfully Lucy would have done the same. Actually, she probably would have dismissed my idea to work with The Animals entirely. Becca at least hears me out, and with little resistance goes along with my crazy plans. 

As for The Animals... I never said I was particularly fond of the idea of working alongside them. I actually am loathing every second I have to be near this place. It reeks of sell-out. The Animals typically were employed by Corpo flunkies as bodyguards or additional muscle. They help keep the big leagues rich and whatever defiant 'scrap metal' is targeted gets quietly swept under the rug. As if the Corpos didn't view them as disposable meat like everyone else. That's what we are to them. WALKING TALKING IMPLANTED BAGS OF MEAT.