The next day, I handed Tine some food and grabbed the hunting rifle before heading out.
My first stop was Yuriko's van to pick up some motion sensors. There she was, yawning into her coffee mug, her hair in disarray.
"Good morning, Yuriko. Do you happen to have any spare motion sensors lying around? They can be broken too, if you tell me how to repair them," I called out from behind her.
She coughed into her mug, and it took a while before she stopped.
"Hell, it's 7 a.m.! You can't just suddenly appear behind someone when they're having their first coffee of the day with a rifle in your arms! What are you even doing up this early? Your mother had to drag you out of bed to get you moving at this hour," she scolded me once her coughing subsided.
"Yes, I have some spare motion sensors. Why do you want them? You wouldn't happen to be thinking about moving into the abandoned metal factory."
"You got it. Yeah, I am. I can't stray too far from the camp, so it's pretty much the only place I can go. Plus, I can tinker there with all the tools I find. And I get a bit of space and solitude. It's honestly nice here, but it still feels… strange to be here," I replied with a touch of amusement.
Honestly, I can't really say it feels like a very nice prison.
She sighed, straightening her posture. "The motion sensors are in Wade's workshop because they're not finished yet. But promise me you'll come here every day for breakfast and dinner. Because if you don't… well, let's just say you'll regret it."
Just thinking about Jessica's and Cathrin's angry glares—yeah, there are better ways to keep the peace than provoking them by disappearing.
"But you're not planning to go there with your camper, are you?" she asked afterward.
"Honestly, maybe. I want to be able to move around a bit, or at least not have to carry everything like a mule. Is there something wrong with that?"
"No, there isn't. But if you go there regularly, then it's better to trap some of the factory's entrances. We aren't exactly alone out here," she emphasized, her tone laced with caution at the word 'alone.'
Well, when are we ever truly alone?
"Thanks, and sorry for startling you." I nodded politely, then turned to head toward Erik's container.
There, I found him standing outside, engrossed in assembling something out of mostly pipes and two bottles. It resembled a flamethrower, but without the trigger or igniter.
Making enough noise to get his attention, I approached him and greeted softly. "Erik, do you know how to modify a rifle like this? I want to make it a bit more modern—nothing excessive. Just swap out the wooden parts and the trigger. Maybe add a muzzle or something for better accuracy."
I held out the rifle for him to see. He turned towards me, and for a moment, I swear I saw stars flicker in his eyes as he stared at it with fascination.
"Where did you find this beauty? If I'm right, it's an elephant gun from the early twentieth century. They were made mostly for royalty. If someone tried to sell it these days... let's just say people have been killed over much less. Hold on—did you say you want to modify this treasure?" His voice shot up in outrage at the last.
I shouldn't have mentioned the gun.
"How dare you even think about it! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT KIND OF RARITY THIS BEAUTY IS!?! It is a sacrilege to even load her without oiling her! And you want to modify her with plastic?! Is there even anything left in your head?"
I raised my hands in surrender, silently pleading for him to stop before he checked if it was loaded.
He went silent, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "You will not modify her. That's my plea. Give me the rifle, and I'll craft you a modern version—one with whatever features you want, like a scope, silencer, or even some 577 caliber barrels. Just don't be careless with her."
A true Gun Nut. And someone who could kill me in a heartbeat if I put as much as a scratch on the gun. Or better said he would make me wish I was dead for a while as punishment.
A new gun, tailored to my specifications, or an old masterpiece worth millions, that if I were to sell her I would probably get hunted down before I even saw a sliver of the money. This choice is easy.
"Here's the gun. I'm sure she's better with you than with me." I handed him the weapon along with the original ammunition.
He accepted her with trembling hands, tears streaking down his face. He lingered in his container for a moment, then returned—without her—and a wide smile stretching across his face.
"Just tell me what you want in the new one. And if you ever find another old weapon, come to me," he said, his eyes suddenly glowing blue. Before I could ask why he was calling someone, I received a notification—thirty thousand euro-dollars transferred into my account.
"Here's your finder's reward." Without further ado, he turned back to his nearly finished flamethrower.
Gun Nuts …. Why do I even try to understand them?
Shaking my head, I headed toward Wade's workshop before I did something I'd regret around Erik.
It was empty—no one, not even the Behemoth Wade was tinkering with. I scanned the area, but still, no sign of anyone.
"What do I do now? Search for Hans? Like I said, I've been lucky so far," I muttered, moving closer to the fence.
Wade said, 'Hans finds you.' Let's see if that's. And some jogging never hurt anyone—directly or indirectly.
As I jogged along the fence, I greeted everyone I crossed paths with.
If I were a crazy, paranoid madman—where would I go after driving around with my tank yesterday?
There where he drove his tank through a factory door. Hopefully, he's there—or he's gone to strengthen Betty's armor there.
"What's left to lose except some time, stuck in the camp?" I paused, then jogged toward the gate.
"50 Athletics exp gained."
"Stop right there, Kassandra," Jessica's voice suddenly cut through the quiet.
I glanced around, only spotting a white camper larger than mine and a few tents scattering the area.
"Up here. The window," she called out again.
Raising my head, I saw her standing inside the camper through the open window. "Good day?" I asked.
"Where are you headed so early?" she inquired.
"To the factory—looking for Hans. Or Wade, who's probably trying to beat up Hans," I replied.
"You won't find Wade there. He's testing the behemoth through a minefield to see if the underarmor holds. And no, he's not driving it himself. He'll be back tomorrow, so if you need anything, just give him a call. As for Hans, he's not at the factory either. He went out for a while, so he's gone for a week or two. By the way, catch." She tossed a shard case my way as she finished. "Mom told Hans to give you some armor blueprints—thought you might want to familiarize yourself with the design," she added, turning and slipping inside the camper.
As usual, plans are destined to go awry.
Shaking my head, I turned back toward Wade's workshop while dialing his number.
"Yes, Kassy, what can I do for you?" Wade's voice sounded tired, connected on the other end.
"Could you tell me where you put the spare motion sensors for Yuriko?" I asked.
"They're in a black box under the second workbench on the left side from the entrance—at least, that's where they should be. If not, good luck searching," he responded, and the line went dead.
Mentally bracing myself for a tedious search, I approached the benches. Peering beneath the first, then the second, I saw a cluttered array of boxes, but no black one.
After checking every bench on the left, I came up empty.
Unless he meant from the inside, on the left.
Turning my gaze, I spotted a lone black box sticking out from beneath the second bench—plain as day, sitting there in plain sight.
Sighing, I grabbed the box and headed toward my camper.
Once inside, I dumped the box into the living space and moved to the driver's side.
Sitting there before the wheel, I raised my hand to turn the key— only to find my hand passing right through the empty space where the key should be.
I looked around for a switch, a button, even an old-fashioned turn counter—anything.
Hold on, stop thinking like someone from the early twenty-first century. In this world in nine years someone has the ability to print his brain into another's skull to take control of their body.
A shard. You need a shard to drive one of these cars. Better said, they start themselves as you step inside.
The problem is, I don't have any shards. Only her stash contains some shard cases.
After returning with all the shard cases I could find—including the ones hidden away—I settled back into the driver's seat.
Laying them side by side, I noticed an emblem on one that looked exactly like the one on the camper.
Taking the shard, I carefully placed it into the slot on my neck. It was a strange and delicate task.
But the moment it snapped into place, the camper's engine roared to life.
I miss the old days—when cars still had actual keys.
Shaking my head, I shifted into forward gear and slowly drove out of the camp.
Suddenly, the world darkened as I drove toward the factory.
Looking up at the sky, I saw a colossal airship laden with containers. It moved swiftly past my position, heading in the direction of the factory.
I halted, observing it as it hovered overhead, gradually slowing and beginning to turn.
I watched in stunned silence as the containers slid free from the airship, dropping down and crashing onto the dump site below.
Hold on. We're near Night City—where they toss everything away, even a fire truck.
Why buy new when you can just scavenge what's survived the fall?
Snapped from my thoughts by the sight of something massive colliding with a building, I waited until the last of the cargo had fallen. Once the airship sped up to leave, I gunned the engine and drove through the open entrance of the factory.
"50 Driving exp gained."
Parking the vehicle inside, I step out of the driver's seat only to suddenly remember I left Tine in the camper.
Moving inside, I grab the box, causing Tine to blink in bewilderment, and step back out to place her gently on the floor. I carefully set down the food and Tine outside the box.
"I'm pretty sure you don't want to be inside the camper all day, so here you can explore a bit," I say to her.
Apparently, my words are unnecessary. Before I finish speaking, she vanishes into a corner with the food in her mouth, crumbs trailing behind her.
Why do I bother talking to her? Am I going crazy?
Anyway, I head deeper into the factory, looking to see if something has broken through the roof. I hope it has—anything to prevent me from being squashed as I walk beneath it.
Walking through the storage hall, I cross it and reach another corridor leading into another building. This whole complex is strange, as far as I can see. I mean, someone builds a factory hall in one place, then constructs another two hundred meters away, and yet another a hundred meters further. It's like they're scattered randomly.
At the end of the corridor, I stand before another set of steel doors. Unlike the last, these lack a handle on this side—there's only a keyhole.
To the side, I notice hooks on a board with about ten keys hanging.
Nice. No need to look for lockpicks.
I grab all of them and try each one until, at the eighth key, the doors swing open.
Stepping inside, I find myself in a large hall divided into five work areas, all connected by a central corridor. Each area is sealed with chains, locking the entrances, except for one—nearest the broken open container that breached the roof.
I can't help but grin as I see what's inside the container. At the far end lies a massive package, bigger than me. In front of it are several others, partially stacked on each other. On the ground, there's a sleek 3D printer next to a shardcase.
Yes! I know they throw everything out, but this feels wasteful.
Crouching, I pick up the shard and slot it into the printer.
Reading through it, I couldn't help myself and started laughing.
"Stealing a top-of-the-line 3D printer and the necessary materials in NC, hauling it out of the city to a side outside Seattle, only to end up in some NC dump," I muttered to myself after finally calming down.
"Either they were lucky to lift the printer, or they got incredibly unlucky loading it onto the wrong airship." Shaking my head, I moved away from the container and unlocked all the sections.
Honestly, they had it pretty well organized—one area for each type of metal.
When I reached and unlocked the work zone at the end of the hall, I noticed two doors embedded in the wall and headed over to see what was behind them.
The first revealed a storage room brimming with spare parts for the machinery in the other areas.
The second door opened to an empty room, with another door on the far side.
"Really? Why not just put whatever you're storing in the first room?" I muttered in frustration, unlocking that door.
The moment I swung it open, I immediately covered my nose—the stink coming out was suffocating.
Fuck. Did something die in there?
The room was dark, illuminated only by the emergency light overhead. Still, it was enough for me to see inside.
Lying face down on the floor were three skeletons, and a fourth sat slumped against a machine, leaning heavily. The one slumped against the machine had a revolver resting beside him. The others on the floor weren't armed—except one, who had a knife.
Stepping back out to let the foul air escape, I waited a while before going back in. I sifted through the belongings of the dead, thankful to find their wallets still intact amidst the decay.
"Family quarrels, a falling-out over a collapsing business, leading to a fight—four dead. But if all of them died, who had locked the doors? Were there five in that room when the fight erupted, or was the fifth late to arrive and just locked it from the outside? Why here and not in the office? There's nothing but that machine in this room." I wondered as I examined it.
If I was correct, it should be an emergency generator.
Seventy years old—would it still start? If it does, great. If not, maybe I could fix it. Might be a decent exp grinding.
Fortunately, the generator was old-school technology, operated by a simple key switch. Twisting the key caused it to rattle for a moment before settling into a quiet, steady hum.
The display light flickered on, showing the generator's parameters. I mainly checked the fuel level and the hours logged.
When I glanced at the working hours counter, I couldn't help but laugh. "Zero hours. It never ran. It's practically brand new."
Then I paused, realizing why it never ran. "Shit. They bought the generator with most of their liquid assets when the crash of 94' hit. Then they shut down the factory, sent everyone home after barricading the complex, and retreated into this room to discuss the situation—which led to a fight. Now I feel bad for laughing."
I'm glad I'll never have to run a business in my life.
Anyway, the fuel tank was full, so I switched the factory's power supply on. Instantly, light flooded the room—and probably the whole area.
I stepped out, locked the door behind me, and returned to the main hall. Surveying the surroundings, I spotted a handcart and grabbed it immediately.
Back at the container, I loaded the cart with as much as I could fit and made my way back to the camper in the machinery hall.
There, I took a knife and began opening some packages. Afterward, I set up the printer and headed out to fetch the remaining parcels, leaving only the largest one at the back of the container.
Trying to move it proved futile—better said, it didn't even shift an inch. I grabbed the knife and started slicing through its wrapping.
Inside was simply a larger version of the printer on the floor, with more component chambers.
It's good to have, I suppose, but how am I supposed to move it? Do I even need it right now?
Anything I need to print can be handled by the smaller machine. Shaking my head, I turned back. As I did, I caught sight of a label on one of the component chambers.
It read, "Titanium-Alloy for Chrome Use," in a technical dialect I didn't quite understand.
If this thing can really print chrome parts—then maybe, just maybe, if I could get a proxy implant into a full skeleton made out of chrome. Could I build myself a complete moving robot body? It might be worth the effort, especially if I could figure out the software and build an AI to control the body.
Just imagine it—sitting in my room, completely safe, while the robot does all the work. But no, I'd need a year or more just to build that from scratch—and probably just as long to program it.
I headed back to the storage hall, looking around. Climbing the stairs to the first floor, I faced two wooden doors—likely the secretaries' offices.
I tried the keys I'd found—no surprise, none of them fit. So I used the universal key, my foot to kick in the wooden doors.
Inside, I found nothing but old computers, writing utensils, and faded documents. Most of them were barely legible, but at least I could make out some of the words.
An inventory list of the factory: two fork stackers, three ceiling cranes, three bending machines, four cutting machines, an industrial forge, and a list of gas bottles—most of them scheduled for replacement, unsurprisingly, since they were empty. Alongside the stored materials and a list of smaller tools.
"Hold on, only two stackers? With the size of this place, that's honestly very little considering the size of the complex." I muttered to myself, puzzled.
Where's the second stacker anyway? I couldn't find it so far. If I search for it now, I probably won't find it anytime soon. I'll likely come across it when I'm not looking, or perhaps the rats have already eaten it.
Shaking away the thought I stepped down the stairs and headed to the printer to check the settings. Scanning function with material analyzer, extended printing module, and electronic printing if I have a working blueprint.
I stopped fiddling with the printer and started contemplating what to do during a month of being grounded. If I keep tinkering around in the halls, I'll probably turn into a mad scientist within a month.
Who cares about a bit of madness? The entire world's mad anyway.
Nodding to myself I climbed into the camper, pulled out the laptop and the quiver to grab an arrow for the printer to scan it.
If I'm going to be a merc or a nomad, I need to be able to reinforce my position to my advantage.
Once the scan was complete, I inserted the drawing shard into the laptop and loaded the file into the editing program.
Luckily, some blueprints were saved in the system: mini cameras, small motors, tiny computer parts—all essential for building gear with a 3D printer.
Configuring an arrow with a turnable camera inside the shaft was surprisingly straightforward with the small parts saved.
I loaded the material chambers into the printer. As the machine whirred to life, I contemplated another idea—an arrow equipped with enough computing power to perform a single quick hack regularly.
It could work if I managed to extend the processors along the shaft, using the shaft itself as an antenna and adding some openings to prevent overheating. A cyberdeck isn't exactly bulky, so it should be feasible. The main concern would be cost efficiency though—if they don't get destroyed, I can just reuse them.
An arrow with an empty shaft—if it hits something—either shatters or ignites the substance inside. I could fill it with CHOOH2 or liquid nitrogen, if I had any. Or embed a remote detonation for use as a grenade or mine.
Armor, huh? What would it take to craft power armor? All the parts are already around, just waiting for minor modifications. They call it a Linear frame here, without the armor plates.
I took the amulet from around my neck, holding it in my hand, contemplating it for a moment.
The metal might be worth scanning. I refuse to believe they used ordinary steel in For Honor.
The same goes for weapons. The only weapon I really want is the Rasetsu from Phantom Liberty—maybe a sword for close quarters. Mid-range is the bow—silent and deadly if you know how to use it. And when everything goes to shit, a HMG.
My only real hurdle is Netrunning. I've never quite grasped the principles; I only know that everything in the cyber world is made of numbers. But I have no idea how to actually use it.
"Wait, didn't Yuriko give me a shard with a programming guide on it?" I exclaimed, rummaging through my pockets.
I found the shard case labeled "Rache Bartmoss Guide to the Net, finished by Spider Murphy."
It's old, but crafted by someone who survived his physical body's death and continued to live on the net, until Arasaka destroyed his netrunning cave where his conscience was stored.
The only person to walk the grey zones between two cyberspace regions, witnessing the raw chaos of data swirling between them—and lived to tell the tale.
"Choices. I've never been good with choices," I murmured under my breath as I paced the hall.
"Why are you pacing the hall?" Yuriko's voice cut suddenly from behind me.
Quickly turning around, I saw her strolling past the camper, right next to my makeshift 3D printing station.
"Where did you find that new Militech 3D printer? It's not even on the market yet," she asked as soon as her eyes landed on it.
"You wouldn't believe it. Someone stole it—put it on an airship, intending to drop it in Seattle. So they don't need to drive it there. But either they put it on the wrong airship, or the ship had a malfunction," I chuckled, recalling the mess.
"They're still reprogramming airship GPS systems? I thought the challenge of joining a netrunner crew changed after ten years. Maybe I remember wrong. But if they stole it, expect the owner—or the thief—to come back for it," Yuriko said, with nostalgia flickering in her voice, shifting to warning.
"So—why are you here?"
"Well, when the lights flickered on here, someone thought it was a good idea to check on you. An electric shock can be deadly if left unattended. Plus, I figured I'd take a look at that generator you found—see if it's a better model than ours," she explained.
I pocketed the key and tossed it to her. She caught it effortlessly, eyeing me with suspicion.
"It's the key to the generator room. Don't stumble over the skeletons in there," I said, then paused. "By the way—do you have any Proxy software lying around?"
She looked at me suspiciously before answering. "I've got some parts of a Proxy Implant software. What do you want to use it on?"
Thinking over my words, I responded carefully. "I want to build a robot I can theoretically pilot through a proxy, via my personal link. I've got at least a month without being able to leave the camp—I might as well use it."
"Honestly, I never considered that, but it should work—if you find a strong enough power source and enough computing capacity. But before you start, talk to Cathrin, Hans, and Wade. They could help if you let them," she said as she moved deeper into the factory, then suddenly stopped and looked back. "Don't spend a month tinkering here solely on a walking robot. There's more to life than insecurity."
I watched her vanish around a corner, mulling over what she'd said.