Michael 'Magos' Sobronov
Ten days had passed since my meeting with the Tyger boss concluded and I almost lost my dear life to one very irritated mother.
Of course I understood her worry more than she'd have probably ever wanted me to, and while she did accept my apology she was still left quite frustrated by my firm stance on continuing on with my work.
The danger may have been greater but I easily earned close to a 100k in one afternoon and I wasn't going to give that up anytime soon.
Thankfully neither of us were of the belief that 'trying' or 'fighting harder' was an acceptable mindset to have when doing mercenary work and so instead of wallowing like the usual gonks seemed to do whenever faced with an issue, we agreed to ensure I had every advantage I could get my hands on.
Like getting my hands on some proper munitions for one.
I will admit I was almost tempted to refrain once I saw the pricing on anything beyond buckshot or full metal jacket but thankfully my experience with the cyberpsycho was enough to stop me from that idiotic line of thinking.
I couldn't spend my money if I was dead.
And so I threw away a good 10k on a large supply of anything between incendiary armor piercing rounds for my assault rifle to a mix of heavy slugs and EMP slugs for my shotgun.
As for my sidearm I settled on hollow points for when I needed to deal with soft targets.
It never hurt to have a tool for every situation and I'd statistically fight unarmored gonks far more often than anyone of any actual worth.
The greatest confusion came when I looked up some modifications and enhancements to my Burya, as replacing the ammo (said ammo being literally just a small bar of tungsten) was rather pointless.
Namely the confusion came from the fact most Buryas were in fact four shot revolvers and not single shot monsters like the one I wielded.
According to both the local gun store owner and the many gun nuts on the net, my Burya was already modified to high hell and back, and packed much more of a punch than the commercial version.
Which meant I had to settle with my admittedly very useful but equally unwieldy hard target response or just buy something larger.
My conundrum did make me consider designing a Projectile Launch System for one of my arms, preferably something with an autoloader and charge rails, but any design I was able to come up with to my satisfaction was bulkier than I preferred and PLS weapons heavily compromised the structural integrity of the limb they were placed in.
Besides, why put a gun inside your hand when you can just hold one like a normal person?
Maybe I should just add more hands then?
That particular image refused to leave me for a while.
Munitions aside, I was referred to a young man working for the Tygers at a hardware store on the lower floors, and he happily modified all of my 'work clothes' with sewn in armor plating and insulation.
I did have to outright buy a heavy biker helmet as that was far simpler than modifying my own but that one was worth every eddie once I saw pistol rounds barely scratch it and even bounce off.
Wearing armor, light as it was, over my already heavily armored form was overkill you say?
I might tolerate pain better than the usual gonk but getting shot still fucking sucked.
The more layers I had between my very few vitals and any projectile aiming to rearrange them the better I say.
This all was almost enough to satisfy my mother, and she all too happily extracted whatever remained by subjecting me to daily ass beatings under the excuse of training.
When she saw me trying out a Training Chip for my new sword she looked as disgusted as I felt.
Unfortunately, thermal sword went brrr, and sacrifices needed to be made.
All of this wasn't just for my benefit, as every day we spent in this relative normalcy seemed to just ever so slightly reduce the perpetual bags under her eyes, and alongside Misty's almost daily visits she had even begun smiling when I wasn't looking.
Rarely, but it did happen, and more than anything that gave me the strength to keep pushing myself further and further.
A push I sorely needed once I started working with my 'partner' in full, while still doing jobs for Regina in tandem, even if nothing came close to the excitement of the psycho gig.
The first evening was relatively... mild, I supposed. And likely by design.
All I had to do while a bunch of old Japanese-looking men were discussing the 'protection' of a number of higher class businesses within H11 was slap away anyone curious enough to peek through the net, and none were quite so dumb as to try twice.
The second evening went much the same.
The real trouble came on the fifth night.
Everything started as usual, I connected to the localnet and set up my overwatch, allowed the far too creative (not) noob who called himself NetShinobi62 to observe, and waited.
Except the instant the heavily tattooed man negotiating with Jugo walked into the garden and was offered tea, we were immediately hit by about a dozen hacking attempts from multiple directions.
Some came from other Tyger Claw netrunners, others from someone I could easily guess was Maelstrom, and most worryingly one contact came from the NCPD.
We fought them off easily enough, and while I was forced to fry the Maelstrommer due to the gonk simply not letting up, I was still left worried about the police attention.
But that wasn't the true source of my distress.
No, what shook me so much was the fact the two gangsters were discussing a deal to traffic 'dolls' into the megabuilding, and going by their words said dolls were not of the professional, or most likely willing, variety either.
For a singular moment I felt the temptation to just let the NCPD probe in so they could record everything... but I quickly clamped down on those emotions.
The Tyger Claws would deal with any legal issues so quickly they would barely notice it happened and I would have made an enemy of the entire five thousand plus gang and ruined almost every future business prospect anywhere north of Heywood.
Part of me felt utterly disgusted with myself, but a much larger one, the one governed cold logic knew I couldn't fight this in any way that was productive and so with grit teeth I memorized the other participant's details and got back to work.
As if to confirm my thoughts, when I warned Jugo of the NCPD attention the man just laughed, gave me some light hearted praise as if he hadn't just sealed a human trafficking deal, and told me not to worry about Night Corp's 'toy soldiers'.
I managed to hide my unease as we were talking over Agent, but just barely.
A feeling that grew only harder as I was cutting into his throat one day later.
As agreed he arrived disguised to find me alone in my home, and after some of his usual overly cheerful banter and mild probing I had him unconscious and bleeding under my hand.
All it would have taken was one. tiny. nick.
And yet my hands did not quiver for even a micrometer.
I would not sully my art even if the world burned for it.
The operation and integration was over within the hour, and while I could have forced things to settle quickly I took the other hour to go through Jugo's software and fix any mistakes, while of course ensuring my blackbox programming was well hidden and wouldn't trigger on accident.
A slight subpercentile decrease in efficiency was worth the price of curious corps not being able to touch my software, even if part of me disdained the idea of making a suboptimal implant.
They would still be able to take some inspiration from the hardware but that was unavoidable and thus not worth thinking about.
Jugo for his part looked like a man reborn once he woke up, spending a good minute and a bit just reveling in the act of breathing.
And that look in his eyes, the easy breath, the sheer wonder...
I shook my head, it was but the effects of my craft, nothing more.
I was most assuredly not feeling for the fucking gangster.
The man then immediately demanded all of the junk food I could get my hands on in the following few minutes and we proceeded to spend the next hour simply gorging on pizza and tacos and reveling in the act.
As I've come to expect by now, once satisfied he turned serious and told me while tapping his new implant "You know, this thing is worth far more than 500k."
"I realized that." It physically hurt to admit but it was the truth "But what is done is done."
Jugo had chuckled at this and made his offer "How about I offer you a full mil and you agree to work exclusively for my contacts?" His eyes were sharper than usual as he said that "For a few years at least."
It didn't take me even a moment to refuse him. We had made a deal and I wasn't going to go back on it just because I was a shit negotiator, I'd just charge him more next time.
Or at least that is how I'd prefer to remember it.
The truth was I was fucking salivating at the idea of a million eurodollars, and it took me a full minute to calm down and reluctantly refuse him.
To which he, of course, just laughed.
Not that my refusal meant I wouldn't offer my work to his contacts, just that it wouldn't be exclusive, and so he left me with the promise of discreetly spreading the word, for a small finder's fee of course.
And then still paid me 800k despite our deal.
By this point I was having so many mixed feelings about the man I had struck a partnership with my mind had gone through the full spectrum of emotion at least thrice.
Or so I liked to pretend.
The bitter truth however was far less pleasant.
After sitting down and truly thinking about everything, both my feelings and what I had seen, I came to a simple yet damning realization.
I knew exactly what the Tyger Claws were, exactly what kind of people I was getting involved with for the simple promise of a fat paycheck and some vague assurance of meat standing between my mother and potential danger.
But I still went with it despite seeing the fates of some victims firsthand.
They were after all just distant, detached numbers on a spreadsheet this time, so very unimportant to my goals...
Fuck.
Luckily for my spiraling mind, I wasn't forced into facing my hangups for a few days after that as Jugo had understandably decided to grab his family and go on a vacation, only a week long one but still, there would be no meetings to watch over for a while.
Which left me sitting oddly idle for the past few days, and I even found myself doing some supply runs for Vik out of sheer need to move around.
And of course the desire to give my freshly upgraded van a spin.
The bucket of rust had officially graduated into a bucket of scrap metal once I replaced its engine and added armor to both the windshield and chassis. It moved faster despite the added weight and actually felt like a proper vehicle now.
It wasn't the tank I desired (yet) but for now it would have to do.
My fellow ripper was thankful for my volunteer work but sadly he was having a slow week himself and needed no extra hands in the clinic.
He did still agree to show me some boxing moves one evening.
He wasn't nearly as good as my mother but that was probably because the man practiced sport and she practiced rapid and involuntary corporal dismantlement.
Heh.
The ten day period culminated with me getting an invite to Lizzie's yesterday and foolishly accepting it-
---
"And then Rita spent the better part of two hours laughing her ass off while I had to fight off the twins." I finished my great lament with a deadpan, business details naturally excluded.
I pretend shivered "Those two are fucking ravenous, I swear to God."
Rebecca wiped her own tears of laughter with one of her overlarge sleeves "Hah! You are too precious, choom." She cackled "Should have just gone for it, those two never put out, ever." She shook her head for emphasis.
"But I am just a naive little boy." I purposefully shifted my voice to a more childish one, paying no mind to the trio of girls sitting at the table next to ours that quickly stood up and walked over to the other end of the locale.
This, of course, made the gun gremlin's spine straighten in instinctive terror as she looked up at me with wide eyes, eyes that quickly narrowed "You do that again, I am shoving Guts up your ass."
"I make no promises." I smirked, pointedly ignoring the ridiculously overtuned shotgun part timing as an insult to all good sense.
That thing was a fucking propellant funnel, not a weapon.
Rebecca half huffed half pouted and plopped back on her seat, grabbing her burger and chowing it down while grumbling something unintelligible and giving me the stink eye.
"Alright, alright." I raised my hands lightly "I'll keep creepy Mike away. For now."
She narrowed her eyes, grumbling some more into her burger before swallowing and saying "You better."
"And what have you been up to?" I asked after chomping down my third burger "Aside from shooting Pilar whenever he opens his mouth that is."
She smirked lightly at the reminder "Fucker has been real quiet recently." The smirk dimmed and her shoulders slumped "Mostly just been doing courier shit here and there, Maine is still being a dick about everything."
"Did you start actually thinking while on the job?" I teased.
She, of course, immediately flipped me off but did grumble out a "Yeah, yeah, I stopped fucking around." She looked away and added "Mostly."
"So just keep at it." I shrugged, teasing smirk still plastered on my face "They'll start to trust you sooner rather than later."
"Not all of us have your confidence." She huffed, refusing to meet my eyes.
"I believe the word you are looking for is patience." I instantly fired back, a smug sheen to my eyes.
Which of course, earned myself a second flipped bird, though this one carried no heat as Rebecca's eyes flashed with amusement even as she tried to give me a look of exasperation.
She frowned for a moment, no doubt thinking about something, and then looked back up at me "We are doing something big tonight. Can't share the details-"
"Obviously." I deadpanned.
She gave me a good natured eyeroll and continued "-But it is probably going to get out on the street big time."
I kept back my reflexive snide comment about gonks and nova deaths in the name of street cred and instead decided to be positive for once "And they are bringing you with?"
"Yeah!" She grinned "Probably going to make me do overwatch but still."
"See. They are already starting to trust you." I said cheerily, making sure it didn't come off as mocking.
"Or they just need the extra guns." She huffed.
"That is kinda the whole purpose of making a team." I point at her blandly.
"Ugh." She slapped my arm away, wincing at the contact "Damn chrome ass. Let me be cynical in peace."
"Hah!" I laughed "No."
She grumbled for a while, staring daggers at me, but I knew it was all for show.
And I was proven right as she huffed "We'll probably be holding some kind of celebration after we get out. You wanna come?"
"Meeting the whole family already?" I smirked "How forward."
I was treated by the sight of her face shifting through multiple colors again, she pouted at me "You going to come or not?"
"Sure, sure." I chuckled, hands raised "I am quite curious about how good your netrunner is."
Rebecca's eyes instantly narrowed.
"Did I say something wrong?" I asked, head tilted slightly.
"Hmmm" She kept narrowing her eyes as if to say 'I am watching you.'
Ten seconds later she seemed satisfied and returned to her usual cheerful self, eyes flashing for a moment before she spoke "I paid for the food. Now you gonna show me how you fixed your ride or what?"
Not really bothered by the fact she paid without asking, I nodded "This way."
We spent the next half hour chilling near my van as I nerded out about all the changes I made and Rebecca (hopefully) not pretending to be interested in what I was saying.
I had just finished explaining the increased carry weight and we were slowly drifting off into a semi-awkward silence where neither of us knew quite how to proceed immediately, and just as I was about to ask when we were going to continue our movie binge, she got a call.
She was obviously excited by whatever this big gig was, but my Optics allowed me to see more than most, and I saw a small flash of trepidation in her eyes.
Thankfully, I had just the thing for that.
My arm reached into the van and I quickly pulled out a rather heavy bundle of clothes.
"What's that?" Rebecca asked, eyes moving in a manner that would imply she was both looking at me and a string of messages on her Agent.
"A little gift." I smirked and unfolded a bulletproof vest far too small to ever fit me but perfect for someone of her size.
She looked at it, and then back up at me, directing me with a look of such intensity it left me momentarily blank "You are lucky I am in a hurry." She practically hissed.
"Try not to die." I smirked as my brain rebooted "And we'll see."
She grinned at the challenge and moved to leave.
I of course pretended to not look after her and only looked after a good ten seconds had passed to find her skipping along the way to her car.
But thankfully I managed not to laugh my ass off.
That would have probably earned me a shell from that canon she was hauling about.
Before I could overthink my every interaction, my Agent decided to light up with a familiar tune, the loudest most stereotypical mariachi one could find on the net.
Truly, this day just kept getting better.
-------
Me demand stone!
The moste terrible locale of the Patreon is possessed of 16 chapters of Sorcerer's Tale and 12 chapters of Shiny and Chrome should you decide to rise above the rabble and eat more than mere soup (at patreon .com/ Rastislav156)
If you want to discuss the story or just meme about join my discord server: https://discord .gg /6nyrX9gE (link should work for a week. refreshed as of 18.9.25)