The rumble of the Night City Metro was a low, resonant hum, a constant vibration that thrummed through the synth steel floor and up the handrails Teo gripped. It had been a few days since the Wakako gig, the memory of shattered chrome and splintered bone still a faint echo in his mind.
He was coming back from Santo Domingo, a quick, dirty gig commissioned by a group of 6th Street gangers. Maelstrom, holed up in some forgotten chop shop in the district's grimy underbelly, had been the target.
Teo had no particular quarrel with the 6th Street military fetishists, even if their border with the Valentinos was a constant source of friction. He was a merc, not a gangbanger, and while his ties to the Valentinos in Heywood ran deep enough to secure him good gigs from padre, he had no hate boner for the fuckers.
He sighed, the stale, recycled air of the metro thick in his lungs. "I really need a vehicle," he muttered to himself, watching the endless stream of data flow across his emerald optics. "Maybe a bike like Jack's." He was a solo, after all, a ghost in the machine, and the metro felt like a cage.
He sighed cracking his neck with an audible POP.
His gaze drifted to the window, watching the city blur by. Suddenly, the squalid urban sprawl gave way to a breathtaking vista. The distant City Center skyline, a jagged crown of glass and chrome, pierced the perpetually hazy sky, its impossibly tall corporate towers glittering like artificial constellations against the pale, bruised daylight. Arasaka, Militech, Kang Tao their logos burned bright, monuments to power and profit, indifferent to the squalor below.
"Alright, that 8,000 was good eddies," he mumbled, a slight, almost imperceptible giggle escaping him. He watched his internal credit balance tick upwards, a satisfying climb: $23,000. He could always use new chrome. Even if he had no quarrel with the 6th Street military chooms, he didn't have to like the trigger happy bastards. It was so funny seeing their faces when he high balled the fuck out of them. He didn't think he was getting anymore gigs from them.
Then he felt it. A small, insidious tug at his cyberware. A cold prickle, like a spider crawling directly on his neural network. His Biotechnica Mnemonics Processor flared, demanding attention.
'The fuck?' he thought, his internal alarms blaring.
He quickly upped his newly developed ICE, his Intrusion Countermeasures. A visual representation, born from his SpecterNet Optics, materialized, a sleek, crimson eyed crow, appearing silently on his shoulder like a watchful, predatory guardian.
This was Cipher, his custom developed defensive ICE. Unlike typical static firewalls, Cipher was an adaptive, defense daemon, constantly shifting its protocols and encrypting its own architecture. It wasn't just a shield, it was a digital hunter, designed to actively trace and engage any unauthorized intrusion into his system, leaving no data trail unturned.
Teo turned, his movements swift and deceptively smooth. He felt a light presence, a fleeting whisper of another netrunner, probing at his defenses. He moved instinctively, shoving his forearm, hard and precise, into the chest of a slight individual standing a few feet away, slamming them against the grimy metro wall.
People glanced, registered the scene, then quickly averted their eyes, just another Tuesday in Night City. Not their problem. His Kenshin, pulled from its holster in a blink, was already pressed into the individual's throat, the cold muzzle a stark contrast to their pale skin. His glowing Optics stared dead into their eyes, emerald fire meeting wide, startled blue.
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Lucy had been on her average metro run, a routine hack and snatch. Nothing personal, just lifting a few chips from corp suits who wouldn't even notice the missing data. After snagging a mid level exec's quarterly reports, she'd set her eyes on her next target, a rather tall guy with dark crimson hair, staring out the window, completely lost in thought. His faint chrome signature was intriguing, but his systems seemed deceptively open.
'Easy,' she'd thought with a smirk.
She sent her daemon, a silent probe designed to slip past rudimentary defenses, standing a short distance away, completely unnoticed in the metro's gentle sway. She started to walk, perfectly timing her approach to appear nonchalant, her eyes fixed on his back. As she crept closer, about three feet away, a flash of emerald light flared in her peripheral vision. Then, a crimson eyed bird, sharp and predatory, materialized on his shoulder.
Her optics screamed, registering the sudden, overwhelming presence of advanced ICE counter measures. It was unlike anything she'd encountered on the streets. Its glowing, crimson eyes stared into her soul, a silent, digital roar that froze her mid stride, her own daemon crumbling to ashes in the face of such raw, defensive power.
She didn't even have time to think. She was swung around, slammed against the cold, hard wall, the impact rattling her teeth. A frigid piece of metal pressed against her throat, followed by the chilling gleam of emerald optics staring into her wide, terrified eyes.
"Hey, choom. Looks like you plugged into the wrong deck," Teo said, his voice flat, devoid of any real malice, just simple statement of fact. The gun clicked, a terrifyingly precise sound against her windpipe.
Lucy swallowed hard, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her usual bravado evaporated. "Whoa, whoa, easy now. Just a little peek. No harm, no foul, right?" Her voice was thin, strained, betraying the sudden surge of fear. She could feel the hard muzzle of the Kenshin pressing into her skin, a constant, undeniable threat.
"No harm, no foul? The fuck?" Teo echoed, a slight, almost imperceptible tilt of his head. "You just tried to jack my deck, choom. That's a pretty big foul, mujer." His kenshin twisted against her throat, just enough to make her gasp.
"Your ICE… it's… what is that?" Lucy stammered, her gaze flickering to the emerald crow still perched silently on his shoulder, its eyes burning into hers. The sheer sophistication of his defense was unnerving.
"Name'd it Cipher," Teo said, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Custom build. Designed to catch rats like you before they even gnaw at the wires. He a beauty isn't he." He leaned in closer, his glowing optics unblinking. "So, you got a name netrunner? You can see him, defiantly a netrunner."
"Lucy," she managed, trying to keep her voice steady. "Look, I made a mistake, alright? My bad. Just let me go, we can forget this ever happened." She was already racking her brain, trying to calculate escape routes, but the gun was right there.
Teo chuckled, a low, easy sound that still carried a hint of warning. "Forget? Nah. Night City doesn't work like that. Everything's got a price. Especially when you try to jack another merc's systems." He paused, letting the silence stretch, the Metro's hum filling the void. "You poked my systems. My time's valuable. My tech's valuable. Your lesson, chica, comes with a fee."
Lucy's eyes narrowed. "A fee? For what? A little bump in the Net? You didn't even lose anything!"
"Loss ain't just data, chica. It's the principle. It's the threat, you know. It's me having to waste my valuable time shoving my Kenshin in your throat instead of enjoying my time not shooting people." He shifted the Kenshin slightly, the cold steel digging in a fraction deeper. "Two thousand eddies. That's the price for touching my systems. Consider it a steep lesson in cyber etiquette. A netrunner like you should know this."
Her eyes widened in disbelief. "Two thousand?! Are you gonk?! I don't just carry that kind of scratch on me!" She felt a fresh wave of panic. That was her next month's rent!
"Then you'll transfer it, or Bon Bon goes off in your throat, your choice," Teo said, his voice flat. His tone implied no threat, just consequence, a simple statement of undesirable facts. The cold steel making her nervous. Thats right he named his Kenshin Bon Bon, deal with it.
Lucy hesitated, her mind racing. This guy was no joke. His ICE was top tier, his reflexes razor sharp, and that Kenshin looked like it could punch through a tank. She could feel the residue of Cipher's counter intrusion still buzzing in her head, a phantom ache. She was caught, badly.
"Fine," she spat, defeated, the word tasting like ash. "Two thousand. Transferring it now, you chrome plated asshole." She pulled up her own comm, her fingers trembling slightly as she initiated the transfer.
Teo watched, his glowing optics tracking the transaction data stream, confirming the transfer to his secure account. He felt the notification of the incoming eddies.
"Smart choom, pleasure doing biz with you." he said, and with a final, firm push, he released her, letting her stumble away from the wall. The Kenshin slid back into its holster with a soft click.
"Now, how about you try not to bump into any more 'ghosty boys' in the Net, huh?" He turned his back, already dismissing her, as if she were nothing more than another piece of Night City's endless, annoying static.
Lucy rubbed her neck, glaring at his retreating form, but said nothing. She had learned a very expensive, very painful lesson. 'ghost huh, nah no way.' she thought as she made her way towards another train car.
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Teo watched the city lights smear into neon blurs, a kaleidoscope of corporate glow and street level grime.
"The fuck's wrong with chooms nowadays? I don't look that easy to flatline, right?" he muttered to the empty air, adjusting the hang of his Kenshin, Bon Bon, secured snugly in its holster. He was still feeling the prickle of Lucy's attempted hack, a phantom itch on his neural network. Some gonks really thought they owned the Net.
The train hissed to a stop at the Heywood platform, the doors sighing open. He stepped out, breathing in the shit choked air, a familiar blend of exhaust fumes, stale synth food, and the distant tang of burning trash. The hot sun beat down, a brutal assault, reminding him of Mama Welles and the time Jackie shattered her favorite pre Collapse vase.
His stomach rumbled, a protesting growl. Mmh, me hungry, he thought like a caveman, rubbing his little tum tum with a grimace. He needed sustenance, and he knew just the spot. He navigated the crowded sidewalk, past vendors hawking questionable chrome and back alley braindances, until he reached the familiar noodle booth he'd visited before. The flaps parted, revealing the greasy warmth within. He plopped down on a worn stool at the counter.
"Hey Gale," he called out to the portly Asian man behind the counter, whose apron was stained with years of noodle slop. "One Synth Sichuan Sauce Slam for me, please."
"Comin' right up, suh!" Gale's voice was a jovial rumble as he set to work, grabbing a handful of shimmering synth noodles and tossing them into a steaming vat.
Teo pulled out a small tablet from his back pocket, its screen flickering to life. He opened up a custom autotrader page, scrolling through listings for pre-owned motorcycles. His finger hovered over a sleek, black Yaiba Kusanagi CT-3X. 'Yeah, definitely need a ride. Being a solo on the metro is preem for stealth, but bad for the soul.'
A flickering holo screen above the counter blared the Night City news. "Hello, Night City! Breaking updates on the BioDyne Corp's utter freefall from the corporate ladder this past week and a half! Analysts are calling it the fastest plummet in market history, with stock prices hitting rock bottom faster than a scav diving for eddies in a sewer pipe! Meanwhile, traffic jams are expected in Watson due to a sudden increase in NCPD patrols, no, chooms, they're not after your ride, just another gang squabble. And finally, catch the hottest new BD this evening, 'Preem Dreams: The Final Symphony' a re release of Harmonix's cult classic, now with enhanced sensory feedback!"
Teo scoffed at the BioDyne news. The corp he fucked was eating itself alive. Good. Less plastic plated bastards in suits to deal with. His eyes lingered on the Harmonix re release. Preem Dreams? More like 'Preem Nightmare' if you know what I know, chooms. He almost chuckled, a cold, dry sound.
Gale placed the steaming bowl of fresh synth noodles in front of him, the rich, spicy aroma instantly making Teo's mouth water. "Here you go-"
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
The sharp reports of high caliber rounds tore through the air, deafening and immediate. Gale's body convulsed, suddenly riddled with stray bullets. Blood, thick and coppery, exploded outwards, spraying across the counter, across Teo, and splattering in grotesque crimson dollops all over his untouched bowl of Synth Sichuan Sauce Slam. Gale crumpled to the floor, a bloody, lifeless heap.
"Nah...no... fucking... way," Teo said, his voice flat, frozen, caked in fresh gore. He stared at the ruined noodles, the perfect swirl of the broth now marred by visceral red. "MY FOOD!"
A pure, primal rage, unhinged and disproportionate, seeped through him. Who the fuck shot Gale? Who ruined his goddamn meal?! He stood up, slowly, deliberately, his hand aggressively snatching Bon Bon, his Kenshin, from its holster. He pushed through the flimsy plastic flaps of the noodle booth, stepping out into the chaotic roar of the street.
Outside, the block had erupted into a brutal street war. Valentinos and 6th Street gangers, their chrome glinting under the pale sun, were tearing each other apart. Yells of "For the Cross!" mixed with "Six o'clock, motherfuckers!" as bodies clashed in a blur of violence.
Teo's Optics flared, painting the battlefield in a deadly emerald overlay, highlighting targets. He spotted a 6th Street goon, a bulky chromer, locked in a blade fight with a lean Valentino armed with a machete. He took aim, not at any vital part of the Valentino, but at the 6th Street punk.
CRACK!
The Kenshin barked, a lightning bolt of sound. The tungsten tipped round slammed through the 6th Street goon's head, exploding through the back of his skull in a wet, crimson spray. His body crumpled, dead before it hit the pavement. Before the Valentino could react, Teo fired again. CRACK! The second round tore through the Valentino's thigh, not cleanly, but with savage force, blowing his leg completely off at the knee. Bone fragments, torn muscle, and bubbling synth-blood splattered across the grimy street. The Valentino screamed, collapsing in a heap, clutching his bleeding stump.
"MY FUCKING FOOD!" Teo bellowed, the rage a red haze in his vision.
A Valentino nearby, a burly enforcer with a faded gang tattoo on his neck, spun, surprised by the sudden, brutal third party. He looked from his friend, screaming on the ground, to Teo, a blood soaked figure, his face contorted in an expression of pure, unadulterated fury. The man's eyes widened. Teo, covered in fresh gore, suddenly reminded him of Jackie Welles on a bad day, a force of nature when crossed.
"Who the hell is this gonk?!" the Valentino yelled, aiming his custom shotgun.
Teo didn't acknowledge him. His optics locked onto another 6th Street heavy, this one wielding a reinforced baseball bat, currently about to cave in a Valentino's skull. CRACK! Teo's shot blew out the 6th Street goon's elbow, sending the bat clattering uselessly to the ground as a geyser of black synth blood erupted. The 6th Street goon screamed, clutching the mangled ruin of his arm. He fell and Teo aimed his gun at his crumpled form, Firing to shots into the fuckers body.
Another 6th Street grunt, running towards the fight, suddenly stumbled. Teo had unleashed a Short Circuit quickhack, frying the optical implants of the running man. He fell, screaming, firing his rifle wildly into the air. Teo ignored him, his eyes scanning for more 6th Street targets.
A Valentino screamed, his arm ripped off by a 6th Street berserker with a mantis blade. CRACK! Teo put a round directly through the berserker's knee, shattering it, sending him face first into the asphalt. He wasn't really tring to to kill, not the Valentinos anyway. Just to punish, to disable in the most brutal, limb shattering way possible. This wasn't about tactics are you serious?
The lead Valentino, the Fat man, finally managed to get his shotgun up, aiming at Teo. "You wanna play, Fucker! I'll put you in the ground!"
Teo ignored the threat. His optics locked onto another 6th Street soldier trying to flank him, their cyber optic flashing. CRACK! Teo fired a round through their throat, tearing a gaping hole and decapitating the head. He was moving, a blur of motion between gunshots, dodging stray rounds and plasma bursts. He wasn't fighting like a netrunner, or even a merc, he was fighting like a man whose lunch had been ruined.
The 6th Street forces, caught between the Valentinos and this unhinged, blood soaked phantom, started to break. Their comms were jammed by the sheer digital noise of Teo's Cyberdeck now, a storm of quickhacks making their chrome glitch and their optics smoke.
He deployed another Overload on a heavily chromed 6th Street leader, watching his internal systems seize and his body convulse in a shower of sparks before he dropped like a sack of synth shit.
In minutes, the 6th Street side was a butchered mess of mangled limbs, smoking chrome, and screaming, dead chooms, and incapacitated gonks. The Valentinos, battered but now victorious, looked on in stunned silence, their eyes wide as they stared at Teo, still covered in Gale's blood and noodle broth.
Teo walked over to the lead Valentino, the one who'd shouted at him. The man, a burly figure named Rico with a scarred face, lowered his shotgun slowly, his eyes still wide.
Teo stopped, his face inches from Rico's, his emerald optics burning. "Your crew," he began, his voice surprisingly calm, almost conversational, but laced with a barely contained tremor of fury, "your chooms... they started a firefight, right outside Gale's booth." He gestured vaguely back at the ruined noodle stand. "And they got my food. My goddamn Synth Sichuan Sauce Slam!"
Rico blinked, confused, then glanced at the carnage, then back at Teo's blood-soaked form, a grim realization dawning. "Your... your food?"
"Yeah, my food!" Teo snapped, his voice rising, a crack in his composure. "You know how hard it is to find a good, authentic Synth Sichuan Sauce Slam in Heywood? Gale makes the best! And your gonks, your fucking trigger happy gangoons, ruined it!" He stepped closer, Bon Bon's muzzle nudging Rico's sternum. "So, you owe me, choom. Big time. Compensation for my ruined damn noodles."
Rico stared, a mix of fear and utter bewilderment on his face. This guy had just almost single handedly crippled half a 6th Street contingent for a bowl of noodles. Then he squinted his at the bloody face of the kid, he looked like a Welles, Fuck.
"Comp... compensation?" Rico stammered.
"Yeah. Think about it, Rico," Teo said, his voice dropping back to a dangerously level tone. "Or next time, it won't just be a leg for your choom. I'll tell Padre, or even Jackie, my hermano don't fuck around, gonk. Now, what's it gonna be?"
Rico's surprise deepened, his brow furrowing beneath his scars. "What do you even want, choom?"
"Five thousand five hundred eddies, deposited pronto," Teo responded, his Optics glowing, piercing through the street grime. "Or I tell Padre you fucked with a Welles. The Coyote's a safe spot for a reason, you dig?"
Rico's face contorted. "Fuck, I don't have that kind of scratch!"
"Then you better find it," Teo said, completely unconcerned. "I'll give you two days, or else." He tapped the comm link on his temple. "You can find me at The Coyote." Without another word, he turned and began walking away, leaving Rico amidst the chaos.
The Valentino leader stared at Teo's retreating form, a mix of disbelief and resignation washing over him. 'Had to be a fuckin' Welles, huh? Fuck!' he thought, before angrily kicking a loose limb on the ground.
A/N: Quick lil shake down chapter, Gonna make lucy and Teo rivals that just dislike each other, that would be pretty funny. Teo finna tell on rico. Alr Im finna head to bed, thanks for readin, leave your suggestions and a review if u want.