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Son of Sasquatch Chapter 6
🕑 Added 2023-02-26 14:35:53 +0000 UTC“It’s been relatively quiet, considering just how much the balance of power in Night City’s underworld has changed in the last couple of hours. Relatively in this case meaning we’re pretty much on the verge of a city-wide gang war, so it’s not fuckin’ quiet at all. NCPD called all hands on deck as we’re trying to contain the situation.”
“Which actually means you’re just trying to keep it from spilling into Corpo Plaza where it might spoil some poor corpo cunt’s perfect view.”
“… which means we’re ordered to try and keep it from spilling into Corpo Plaza, yes.”
“Which of course explains why you’re chasing down some low-level gangoon out in the ass-end of Heywood.”
“Heywood borders on City Centre, doesn’t it? Makes perfect sense: I’m just being pro-active.”
“Wait, top brass actually bought that?”
“I dunno, I’ll let you know after I tell ‘em.”
My laugh rings out across the grease-stained seating area of Chubby Buffalo BBQ, the age-old diner that serves cop and merc alike. There are very few truly ‘neutral’ places out here in NC (even the Afterlife is only a peaceful-ish meeting place for different crews due to the threat of what Rogue would have Emeric do to you), but as far as any true-blooded NC gonk was concerned, this place was fucking Switzerland.
It got shot up once, a long time before me or even Ma was born. Nobody even remembers the gang that did it, or why, but the aftermath still serves as a ghost story among even the toughest gangoons. Turns out life can go to shit real fast if both the NCPD and NC’s merc-crowd come for your head for shooting up their buddies and their food-supplier.
Nobody’s touched this place since and it’s become a melting pot of sorts, kinda like the infamous big one in the diner’s kitchen that’s always simmering away. It’s near-legendary at this point after so many years ‘cause it always produces the same sauce they put on everything (even some of the drinks) no matter what ingredients you try putting in it. Chubby Buffalo is where the shady parts of the law meet the organized parts of crime to make sure Night City doesn’t tear itself apart overnight and so far, it’s worked like a charm.
As such, it’s also become the standard meeting place for me and River, though technically I’m not really allowed here on much the same reason as I’m only barely tolerated in the Afterlife: I’m a gangoon. An exceptionally well-trained and equipped one, but still a gangoon and not a merc.
Not that anyone’s been overly keen on pointing this out to me for some particular reason, so here we sat in the early morning, River having his breakfast of cheap coffee and ever cheaper cigarettes and me on my breakfast of whatever meat was thawed out, greased up and ready to serve.
River hates meeting here: says seeing me eat has put him off food forever. Not even sure if he’s joking or not, I’ve only ever seen him smoke or chug coffee. After taking another sip of the stuff, River continues relaying what he’s figured out so far.
“This ‘Faraday’ guy is definitely dead. Rumours are rapidly spreading from fixer to gangoon to edgerunner that Faraday had a bad run in with none other than Mr. Smasher himself.” River explains, eyes on his coffee as across from him in our booth, I’m downing my third burger in ten minutes.
What? I had a busy day yesterday and a shitty night’s sleep. Plus, I need the calories. Can’t have muscles like these without plenty of fuel after all.
“Didn’t know you had your ear to the ground that much Detective. This is stuff I’d expect from a fixer, not someone in Homicides.” I say between mouthfuls of synth-meat and buckets worth of sauce and salt.
River merely shakes his head, calmly taking a sip of his coffee instead.
“Usually don’t, but shitshow like that, so close to City Centre? Not to mention Arasaka’s Butcher himself showing up to zero someone? I may not know what went down exactly, or why, but it’s sent the underworld all abuzz. Which means the NCPD is listening.”
River’s confidence in Faraday’s death isn’t misplaced and it sets my own mind at ease as well. I hadn’t expected Tanaka to be worthy of a Smasher-extraction, but it worked out very well for me if Faraday ended up in the big fucker’s crosshairs.
You don’t meet the full-borg and just… lie low.
The four-eyed freak was deader than dead and thus no longer my problem. He turned into many other people’s problems instead as River explained.
“Whatever it was that got Faraday on the Butcher’s shit-list, apparently every other gang in town is dying to get their hands on whatever scraps are left. Well, not literally, they send mercs to die for them instead, and those bodies that end up dropping land on my desk eventually. Which makes it my biz as well.” The detective says, exhaustion clear in his voice as he motions for a refill from a nearby serving girl.
Her eyes are solely trained on me though as she approaches, staying at literal arms-length away from our table, or more specifically me. Not an easy feat all things considering, as I take up the entire couch on my side of the booth and am still large enough one of my enormous steel-tipped boots is poking out in the aisle. Walking around me with a wide arc (I tend to have that effect on civvies, some gangoons too come to think of it), she sticks close to River’s side of the booth as she tries to pour his coffee, though the pot is shaking like a mouse on cocaine. Predictably, the coffee sloshes everywhere but River’s extended mug, though the detective was merely mildly annoyed as the liquid spilled over his cybernetic hand instead of his ‘ganic hand.
With a gentle gesture and the clearing of his throat, River takes the large pot from the girl’s hands, giving her a thin smile, his ‘borg eye lighting up as he wires her a couple of ennies.
“Thank you, I’ll take it from here.”
She gives him an embarrassed but thankful look and quickly scampers away from our booth. It’s early hours, so the place is still practically empty and the little scene hasn’t drawn much (if any) attention, but I can still tell that River is annoyed with me.
Then again, he always seems annoyed with me. Probably because of all the murdering I’ve been up to over the past decade. Yeah, that’s probably it. That or my eating habits, it could be either one really.
“You know, sharing a meal out in a very public place kind of beats the point of being my CI. Confidential Informant? Meaning secret? Any of that ring a bell?” River says in a long-suffering tone as he pours himself a proper coffee, but I wave his worries away, scattering a few leaves of grease-drenched salad over our table.
“Eh, this place is practically deserted this time of days anyways. ‘Sides, we’re not ‘sharing a meal’, ‘cause you ain’t eating.”
As if to demonstrate, I take another huge bite out the mixture of synth-meat and various fats that only the very charitable (or the very blind) would call a proper burger.
“Also, whoever said anything ‘bout me bein’ your CI? Maybe you’re mine instead, huh?” I say once I’ve properly chewed and swallowed (yes I’m an Animal, but I’m not an animal).
“Not how it works.”
“Potato, tomato.”
“Look, either way, this only works if we both bring something to the table-“
“Well then order some proper fuckin’ food for once, you’re lookin’ thin there Detective.”
“- and I’ve held up my end. Now then, anything you can tell me about the shitstorm that’s rolled into NC as of last night? Why are so many bodies dropping and most importantly, how do I stop it?” River pushes through, ignoring my joke and showing he’s serious about this.
Meh, he’s always serious about this. It’s why he an’ Jess don’t talk no more. With a sigh I polish off the remainder of my ‘burger’ and I start thinking on what I can share with the man as I begin wiping down my thick fingers, taking care not to rip the napkin on my razor-sharp claws.
“Why’d you think I know any more than you?”
“That was your crew yesterday on the bridge between Santo Domingo and Heywood. High-end gig too, specialized gear, outside the usual scope for your gang. Attacked an Arasaka target: they may be keeping it quiet, but running a plate isn’t that hard. That very same night, high-end fixer eats the dirt courtesy of Adam Smasher himself? You really gonna play the innocent card? On this?” River asks with some incredulity, but I just shrug my massive spoilers in return.
“Dunno what to tell ya Detective. Smash-and-grab for Faraday went smooth, he went his way, I went mine and now I hear he went and got himself dead overnight. Just makes me glad I managed to drop off the package with the client and not hold onto it myself: seems like it’s bad for your health.” I reply easily.
“You’re not going to tell me what the ‘package’ really was, are you?”
“No can do, Detective. Client confidentiality, I’m afraid.”
“You client is dead.”
“Still, it’s the principle of the thing.”
“Oh you’re impossible.” River explodes with a sigh as he sinks back further into the couch on his side of the booth.
For a moment, he just stares out the muddied glass towards the light traffic on the street outside Chubby Buffalo, before shaking his head as he finishes the rest of his cigarette, ‘ganic and ‘borg eye trained on me with intensity.
“Give me something then Mr. Rose. If you won’t clue me in on Faraday’s biz, fine, but at least tell me why the rest of Night City’s overweight underbelly seems to want a cut as well.”
“Look, fixers come and go and yes, usually that means some… reshuffling of the pecking order is needed. Things have been stable for a while, top fixers keeping to their turfs, not interfering in each other’s biz too much and treading real careful-like between the corporats and the gangs. Even Wakako doesn’t give preferential treatment to her Tyger Claw boys. Same goes for Padre and the Valentinos. He’d have the Orta brothers in the back of a trunk by morning if the eddies were right.”
I wasn’t even exaggerating considering V would be tasked with exactly that in less than two years’ time, all because big-shot Gustavo couldn’t keep his dick outta 6th Street pants.
“But?”
“But Faraday upset the balance. Too deep in a corpo’s pocket, began playing sides. Badly. Drew too many eyes to biz that really shouldn’t be public and now people are getting antsy.”
“They want in on his turf?”
“Nah. I mean, kinda, I know for a fact a fixer is eyeing Pacifica right now, but they got the Voodoo Boys there and ain’t exactly waiting for a new boss. ‘Sides, Pacifica was Faraday’s only in name, he couldn’t give two shits about those ruins. No, reason why bodies keep piling up on your desk is ‘cause the other fixers want his intel.”
“Divvying up the loot.”
“Basically. Think vultures and a fresh corpse clean for the picking. They wanna raze everything that made Faraday’s op one of the biggest in town and get fat on his prize.”
“… sorta glad I didn’t order food now.”
“Hey, if the metaphor works, it works.”
“Yes, yes, very… vivid. Still, this seems extreme, even for NC.”
I shrug, swiftly swiping River’s mug against his protesting shout. Before I can drain it, the barrel of Crash is pressed firmly against my nostril, the slowly strengthening rays of the dawn shining in through the grimy windows dancing along the cool metal of the Malorian Arms Iconic revolver.
Got damn, but is the Overture a sexy gun, even when it’s aimed at your head. Note to self: see if I can’t convince old man Eren Malour to come out of retirement and fashion a gun for me like he did Johnny.
“Seriously?” I question with a raised eyebrow, but River’s face remains cool and collected, staring right back.
“Don’t mess with a cop’s coffee Mr. Rose. Seriously.”
“Aight, aight, fine, jeez.” I say in exasperation as I place the mug back in his hand.
I swipe the coffee pot instead, which basically looks like it’s mug-sized in my enormous paw anyways.
Returning Crash to its holster with a shake of his head, River picks up the conversation again.
“Look, I kinda figured that Faraday being flatlined means others will be looking to take over. My question is why are things so…”
“Chaotic?” I fill in for him, getting a frustrated nod.
“Look, fixers are usually middlemen: people come to them with biz, they find the people that can pull off the biz, they get paid out of the client’s pocket minus what the fixer takes and so everyone gets what they want in the end. But that’s not really how Faraday did things. Mercs barely ever knew anything ‘bout the gig save for where to be and who to shoot, huscle was frequently rotated out, eddies came in by the bucketload, but nobody knew from where or how it was laundered.”
“He sounds paranoid.” River spoke up, but I just snorted in disgust.
“He sounds like an ass. He’s the worst parts of fixers personified. Or, well, was I guess. He liked to think of himself like a spider in the middle of a web, the lynchpin to the whole fucking thing, that one block in a Jenga tower you just can’t remove or it all comes crashing down. All ‘cause he thought he could never be beat anyways.”
“Until he was.”
“Until he was.” I repeat with a grim smile.
Hey, to be fair to the four-eyed fucker, you can’t exactly plan around Adam fuckin’ Smasher himself. Or me, as it turned out. Feeling my grin widen even further (causing River to take a hurried drag of a fresh cig) I continue.
“On the one hand, this means that his organization immediately died with him, as there was no second in command to take over in his wake. On the other hand, it’s also left quite a large number of huscle with unfulfilled paychecks and nobody to control them and they’re pretty eager to get their fair (and unfair) share of the boss’ loot. ‘cept there’s a problem with that.”
“He kept things too close to the chest. The others don’t know where to start.” River quickly picks up.
“Everyone on that rooftop got flatlined, so they won’t tell. Everyone else in Faraday’s network likely wasn’t even aware biz had gone down. So now there’s unfinished biz, biz important enough Arasaka send out their fucking Butcher to crash the party, and a lot of eddies to be made or stashed somewhere waiting to be found. ‘cept nobody knows where it all is.”
“… fuck.” River says after a long pause, a deep frown marring his face, before he glances up at me in a mixture of frustration and resignation.
“I can’t stop this, can I?”
For a moment, I remain silent as well, my earlier teasing attitude gone as I look at what’s perhaps the most honest cop in all of Night City.
“Sorry River.” I say and I’m somewhat surprised to find that I mean it too.
Seeing him shake his head in defeat, I continue in a soft voice (by my standards at least), trying to give him what little comfort I can. It was the same situation with Sasha when she realized how little a dent her desperate attack on Biotechnica resulted in. People who wanted so badly to change the world, only to be confronted by the fact said world was barely even aware they existed in the first place.
“This is bigger than you.” I state firmly, trying to keep the noble detective from running head-first into the world of the Edge and eating a bullet to the other eye for his troubles.
“It shouldn’t be.” The detective mutters, angrily staring in his now empty coffee mug.
“Plenty of shit in this city that should or shouldn’t be River. You can’t change NC. Not on your own.”
“Seems like people have been saying that to me ever since I got my badge.” River says bitterly, before shaking his head.
“If that’s true… then why the fuck give me one in the first place? Better yet: why the fuck did I take it?”
“You took it ‘cause you’re a good guy, detective Ward. ‘cause, even if you can’t change this city, that doesn’t mean you can’t make a difference. You might not be able to change NC, but maybe you can change the NCPD.” I implore, somewhat surprised at how we got from discussing Faraday’s fall-out to me giving the worn-out detective a fucking peptalk.
Evidently River is surprised as well, as he sits straighter in his chair, shaking his head in dismissal.
“Change the NCPD? I’ve seen how that ended up for… for Sheen. No, my boots belong on the streets of Night City, not stuck somewhere in an office constantly begging corpos for back-up and the mayor for funding. If every gonk with a gun wants to try and cash in on Faraday’s death, I’ll just keep at it and arrest the lot of ‘em.” The detective says with conviction, strength returning to his voice.
I merely chuckle, pleased to see the man shaken from his funk as he gets a small smile on his face.
“Maybe I ought to take this thing head-on? March into the Afterlife and arrest Ms. Amendiares right on the spot.”
That draws a full-blown belly laugh from me as I try and picture the scene.
“Man, you ever feel like dyin’ that way, count me in as your huscle. You wouldn’t even have to pay me: the look on Rogue’s face alone would be worth it.” I chuckle, the mood in our booth turning from sombre and serious to more light-hearted peacefulness.
Which of course means the moment is quickly interrupted by an older voice speaking up from somewhere behind me. I swear, can’t have shit in NC.
“I see you fellas chuckling it up in here again. Somethin’ funny?” Harold Han, NCPD vet, lazily calls out as he steps into view, though he makes very sure to keep out of my range.
Or what he thinks is my range anyways.
“Not anymore.” I mutter wearily, getting a warning look from River.
“Well, what was it then? Laughing about the two cops you landed in the hospital yesterday?” detective Han says with venom in his voice as he glares daggers at me, though I try to ignore him at first.
“It was just a couple cannisters of compressed Choo against a modified Archer. Your Hellas are fireproof, those cops are fine.”
“Masters was hanging out the fucking window!”
“Like I said, he’s fine. He didn’t die, right?” I dismiss, before pausing and shooting River a look.
“He didn’t, right?” I question, getting an exasperated nod from the detective.
“See: fine. What did I tell ya?”
“His face got turned into one big third-degree burn!”
“Just slap some synth-skin on there and he’ll be as preem as the day he signed up for gunning after gangoons just minding their own biz.”
“His eyes are gone!”
“Good on him: I’ve heard that Kiroshi’s are having a sale on some of their older models. Would be a good time for him to get some upgrades.”
That sends Han into such a fit of rage he almost swallows his cig whole as he turns about as red in the face as the unfortunate (but apparently still alive, yay restraint!) officer Masters.
“Easy. We’re just swapping intel. Havin’ a talk with my CI.” The detective says as he tries to intervene in our argument, pushing an empty cup in his partner’s hand and motioning the same serving girl over for another refill.
“Strange place to meet with an informant.” Han eventually manages after he’s had a couple sips and had calmed down somewhat.
“Not that strange. It’s a safe location and still early enough not to be overheard.” River explains to my surprise.
I swear I can see him fighting back a smirk!
Han grumbles a bit as he takes a seat at the bar, eyes fixed on my enormous form hogging my side of the booth.
“Well, got anything useful to tell us? Anything worth enough for me to not clap you in iron and sent you to an iso-box for the next 6 years?” the aged cop asks confrontationally, and I can feel my blood rising as I slowly turn to face him.
“Ya got cuffs on your skinny ass big enough to take me in, old man?”
“You’re right, I don’t have the iron to take you in actually, but my other iron is big enough to take you down instead if ya want.”
“Bold claim for a man old enough to knock on death’s door. You want me to answer it?”
My growl is deep enough it rattles the cutlery on the table, before River slams his chrome hand down on the tabletop.
“Enough!”
Han and I keep our gazes locked, but his hand moves away from where it had been creeping towards his holster and I gently extract my claws from where I had unwittingly extended them into the aged wood of the table.
“We’re discussing the rise in inter-gang and merc-on-merc homicides Harold. Sooner we get to the bottom of the cause, the sooner bodies stop getting dumped on our desks and we can all quit working triple shifts.” River tries to explain diplomatically.
“The cause? Same shit as always in this city. Too many fools with more ammo than common sense. It’s gangoons killing gangoons out there, with a couple of edgerunners thrown in the mix for good measure: the fuck do we care?” Han says with a sharp look my way as he leans back against the bar, lighting a cigarette.
“We care because it’s our job.” River tries, and finally Han’s eyes leave mine to settle on his partner with some incredulity instead.
“Caring? In our job? Good way to get yourself killed River. You should know that better than anyone after what happened to Sheen-“
“Don’t.” my growl halts the aged cop in his tracks as he shoots me a dark look.
“Don’t go there.” I simply state and once again Han locks gazes with me, before eventually glancing away with a shrug of his slim shoulders.
“Fine. Forget I said anything. What did the brute here have to say about our growing pile of bodies?”
“Fixer died. Other fixers are fighting over the guy’s loot and sending out crews to get their cut. Dead fixer in question didn’t make it easy for ‘em by consolidating his entire powerstructure into himself and keeping the flow of intel constrained: some of his men still don’t even know he’s dead. As a result, there’s a lot of infighting and that has set the gangs on edge as well.” River explains succinctly and in an even tone despite the sore point his partner just raised.
That’s a level of self-control I’m not sure I would’ve displayed were I in his shoes, which is exactly why I sought to have him as an ally. Han isn’t impressed though, not even noticing as he just shrugs again.
“Sounds like the guy at least knew his opsec. Can’t be sharing too much with the wrong kind of people after all.” He said sagely, shooting me a look which showed exactly just who he thought of as ‘the wrong kind of people’.
“Either way, it’s a mess that we need to get on asap before it starts hurting innocents as well.” River states firmly, rising from his seat and approaching his partner, deliberately placing himself between the two of us.
“Eh, that’s the job of the beat cops. We’re detectives Ward. We concern us only with the whodunnit part of a dead body. If this is all because of some dead fixer, then all we need to do is find out who flatlined the guy-“
“That’d be Adam fuckin’ Smasher.” I speak up from over River’s head.
“… well then, there ya go. Case closed.” Han says after a brief pause, even a hardened cop like him taking a moments pause when Arasaka’s Butcher gets involved.
“What, you wanna arrest Adam Smasher?” River asks incredulously, completely ignoring my correction of ‘Adam fuckin’ Smasher’ in the background.
“What the- arrest Adam Smasher?! Ha! Fuck no! Which means: case closed.” Han says simply, putting out his cig and despite my dislike of the geezer, I can’t exactly fault the man for it.
River obviously disagrees.
“Adam Smasher himself takes out one of Night City’s top fixers and you’re not the least bit curious as to why?”
“Nope! I like being alive.” His partner cheerfully responds.
“Harold, Smasher hasn’t even been seen in years, now he shows up out of nowhere, goes after one of the most prolific targets in NC’s underworld and apparently half the city’s edgerunners are trying to take advantage of the aftermath? We need to work this angle-“
“No. No we don’t need to work this angle, because if we do work this angle, that’ll lead us to meeting Smasher and if, if, we survive that little encounter, that means we’ll end up on Arasaka’s shitlist too. I’ve got neither the eddies or the deathwish to step into that ring and you know you don’t either.”
Our area in the diner is silent for a long moment as the cops stare each other down, before finally River backs away, though he doesn’t give up.
“Faraday went after something, or probably a someone considering Trauma Team got involved. Someone important enough ‘Saka put Adam Smasher into the field. I won’t pursue Smasher, but I will find out what it was that Faraday took. Fixers are always middlemen: I find the target, it’ll lead me to the client.”
“Which will lead you to Arasaka and you can see how that’s worse than meeting Smasher in a dark alley, right? You can see how that’s worse, right?”
River merely stared back in defiance, causing Han to throw his hands up in the air, looking so exasperated that, for a moment, he forgets he hates my guts as he gestures towards me with an annoyed flapping of his hand.
“You talk some sense into him!”
For a moment, the three of us are silent as River turns to me with a raised brow. Seeing his earnest look at me gnaws at my conscious (oh hey look, apparently I still got one! Neat!) and eventually I gave with a frustrated groan.
“Look, River. You’re right: Faraday did steal a ‘Saka corpo, congratulations, you figured out the ‘what’. But you need to start thinking more about the ‘why’. Why take the risk of pissing off ‘Saka? Why did ‘Saka care enough about their missing rat they’d send their Butcher?”
Slowly, I slide out the booth and rise to my full height, towering over the two detectives, my wild mane of hair nearly brushing the sealing as I loom towards River.
“This is bigger than you. Like I told you: Faraday was deep in corpo pockets. The fall-out you’re dealing with is just edgerunners and the odd gangoon, but the biz Faraday himself was involved in? That’s between corpo and corpo and you don’t want to get involved with those kind of animals.” I caution him.
“So, it was intel he was after and ‘Saka went to get back. Well, you’re the one who got Faraday his prize yesterday, why don’t you tell us what it was?” Han idly asks, but I just shoot him an unamused glare.
“What makes you think I would even if I knew? I got hired to bag some fat cat. Dunno why, dunno what for, we don’t ask that type of questions, we just ask ‘how much?’. Clearly, whatever the guy told Faraday, it’s worth ‘Saka siccing Adam fuckin’ Smasher on your head and I don’t want none of that smoke. I like livin’.”
“Fine, fine, can’t fault you for that. Handling delicate intel ain’t exactly your type of gig anyways. Figure if you were tasked with getting someone to talk, you’d start with ripping out their tongue.” Han says in an insulting and dismissive tone, before River’s ‘borg hand clamps down on his forearm in warning.
Shooting me an apologetic look, the detective asks one last question.
“You at least have an ID for us? Who did you bag?”
For a moment, I stare back before shaking my head ruefully.
“I plead the fifth. Let it go River. Don’t go looking for the guy, it’s not your biz.”
“You know I can’t do that Simba.”
“… name for a name then.”
Seeing River’s eyebrow rise in question, Han tries to intervene again.
“Look we just discussed opsec, you can’t share intel with whoever you want. Isn’t he your CI? He’s supposed to be the one giving you intel!”
“Eh, apparently the jury’s still out on that one.” River says easily as he brushes off Han’s complaints, before glancing back up at me with determination.
“What do you need?”
“List of deceased on that rooftop. Bodies dropped: I want an ID on all of ‘em. Nothin’ fancy. A name or description will do.”
“Oh, if it’s just that-!”
“Shut up Harold.” River finally cuts his partner off, the older detective throwing his hands up in exasperation.
Turning back to me, River gives me a firm nod.
“Done. Someone you’re looking for?”
“A netrunner. Like your dear colleague said, I ain’t too good with getting intel. Which means Faraday brought in someone else. Wanna know who.”
“What do you care? Thought you said your biz was finished.” Han butts in as he fishes a new pack of cigarettes from his old coat.
“I don’t like loose strings. You put me in connection with the biz that led to that shoot-out. If Faraday hired a solo, then that’s fine, but if they were part of another crew, then chances are good they’ll make the same connection. I want to get ahead of that.”
“Fine. We got a deal: I’ll get you your list. Now, the ID of the corpo you grabbed.” River states firmly and for a moment I’m silent, Han’s demanding gaze boring into my side.
“Tanaka. Tetsuo Tanaka. He’s got a kid enrolled in ‘Saka Academy.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake!”
There. Won’t be long now ‘til I finally know what happened to the old sadistic fuck, either from Sasha or from River once he tracks the corpo down. Turning my back on the satisfied detective and his irate older partner, I toss a casual wave over my broad shoulder as I begin leaving Chunky Buffalo BBQ.
“See ya around Detective River. Don’t get yourself killed now. Say high to Jess and the kids and tell Randy I’ll have his meds waiting for him in a week or two. Detective Han… drop dead.”
“Fuck you too.”
“See ya round Simba.”
The double-doors fall shut behind me as I move to my car, before I’m halted in my tracks when I get a call from Sasha. I pick up the call as I settle in my modified Quaddra Avenger.
“Hey you. What’s going on?”
“Still working the Trauma Team angle, but I actually got some other intel for this. Uhm… not sure how to tell you this, but…” Sasha quickly trails off, uncertainty in her voice.
Ice begins to pool in my stomach as my enormous paws clench around my reinforced steering wheel.
“What is it?” I rumble in a low voice.
“So, I looked into this Gloria Martinez woman? … I got a hit, Sim. She’s been taken to a clinic on Sequoia Street in Rancho Coronado. Hang on, I have the name somewhere here-“
“The Night City Center for Psychiatric Health…” I interrupt my netrunner, that cold pit of ice in my stomach now spreading throughout every vein in my body.
I ignore Sasha’s question about how I know that, I ignore River’s cry from inside the diner that I haven’t paid my part of the bill, I ignore the horns of oncoming traffic as the street gets drowned in the rumbling roar of my Avenger.
All that matters is that my boot slams the gas pedal to the floor, my eyes wide and my knuckles white as I race towards the bridge leading to Santo. Even as I burn rubber and run traffic lights, the wind screaming along the blocky outlines of my musclecar, one question keeps rattling around my brain.
‘How the fuck did that happen?!’
//
Fun Fact: Kerry Eurodyne and Harold Han are both voiced by Matthew Yang King.
AN: Dun-dun-duuuuunnn!
Comments
I was very surprised when the Wiki said that she died at the clinic, but that started up a nice little plotbunny in my brain. It never made sense to me that she went from bleeding out in the street to being stable then to dying 'cause she was tired. But if she got stabilized and then sent to a clinic notorious for their unethical human trials.... as to why she still ended up needing medical attention, that's something Simba will find out in the next chapter
Javidom
fck i wanna know how/why gloria got carted to center for psychiatric health? did she slot the sandy herself?
