Cybergate 2027 - A Baldur's Gate 3 / Cyberpunk 2077 Crossover

VIII

Wyll slowed down the Bentley, letting a tow truck drive past them. It carried a black car with a destroyed front—must've been a nasty collision. With a larger vehicle, by the looks of it. Lae'zel's mind was filled with other troubling thoughts, though. She crossed her arms and sighed.

"It's impossible to demand a breakthrough, and you know that."

"Call me optimistic, Enforcer, but I think that with our minds working together, we'll definitely deliver."

Optimism was usually high when someone was new to a case. It played the same when she was dropped into cases that remained unsolved for years. Now she found herself in the role of the grumpy, tired veteran. How absurd.

"How far are we from Last Light Inn?"

The freelance detective checked the dashboard. "Twenty-one minutes."

Lae'zel glanced at her wristwatch. 2027.01.13, 11:17. Plenty of daytime left, but what would be the best course of action? "I'm averse to pursuing an unrelated case just so Councilman Gortash can have his preferential treatment."

"That mutilated young man needs justice too."

"Yes..." She shook her head. "Yes, of course. Only, our heads will still be hung to dry if we only solve that case in four days."

"Because it doesn't help us catch our killer."

"The Dark Urge, yes."

Wyll hummed and scratched his cybernetic eye. "I can try reaching out to old contacts, people I knew through Mizora."

"That sounds like a bad idea. You reach out to them, and they'll inform her. Next thing you know, she either shuts you out or—worse—calls you."

He chuckled, but for a moment, his other eye shrank in pain. "Do you think she'd do that?"

"I don't know her, but your reaction tells me it's best you leave the past behind." Lae'zel stared at the road outside. The city was alive with motion, and their target could be in any one of those cars, trucks, or riding on a motorbike. High above, an air-taxi could be shuttling her to her next target. She exhaled a frustrated puff of air. "Contacts, though, is a good idea. Got any people who answer only to you?"

"Yeah, sure," Wyll said, smiling. "And yourself?"

"I'll try Marcus. He's good at finding the right person to ask." Before him, Voss was the expert at connecting and networking. She'd followed her partner's lead, happy to provide the muscle, guns, and sharp thinking to each case. Not that she feared interacting with those fleshy-nosed humans, but... well, most weren't too friendly to Githyanki. "He's also more charismatic, which comes in handy."

Wyll seemed to have picked up on her thoughts. "Do people still mistreat you for who you are?"

"There aren't many of us on your Fae-run. It's only been twenty years, after all, since our ship had to land here."

"Githyanki can be, er, proud."

"We've earned that by right!" she said with a growl. "Besides, Drow are just as arrogant and they're accepted."

"It's been centuries since they marched from their underground cities and tried to subjugate the surface." Wyll overtook a slow car that insisted on driving in the leftmost lane. "That old enmity is gone."

Lae'zel snorted. "Then the locals will accept me in just a few centuries! Not that I care—I embrace the challenge!"

"You can let me take the front," the detective said with a wink. "I think I have the face for it."