Chapter 12 — H4 Skyscraper
[Sasha: Adrian, you up?]
[Sasha: Found a place.]
[Sasha: Why aren't you replying? (Cat scissors emoji)]
Adrian blinked at the neon-clock on his comm: ten in the morning, the city still rubbing sleep from its eyes. The container cluster hummed like a sleeping beast. He peeled himself upright; the ache along his shoulders was an un-Godly ledger of last night. Sasha stood in the doorway like a sunlight stain — cat-eared helmet in one hand; a grin that didn't quite reach the tired blue in her eyes. She'd changed out of last night's rig into something that tried, awkwardly, to look casual: a graffiti-splattered denim jacket, a Danger Girl tee, simple black slacks, and pink kicks that knocked rhythm into every step.
"How did you get here with Jianxin?" he asked, voice dry.
She twitched her ears — literal, ridiculous chrome ears clipped to the helmet — and rolled her eyes. "Motorcycle. I live nearby. I texted you; you read it like a stone. Also, I brought breakfast and options. Sit."
She moved like someone whose life had to be curated in short, efficient bursts: hydrate, eat, plan. They'd all learned that in Night City, the most loving thing you could do for your friends was keep the logistics tight.
Adrian accepted the water and an energy bar like someone stealing a birthday. He'd never owned a 'place' beyond a cot and a corner bench. Sasha sat on the edge of the frayed sofa and produced from her bag a small, pink device with cat-ear contours — a Mewtwo viewer, limited edition, Danger Girl collab. It looked absurdly adorable and absurdly expensive.
"You got one?" he said, because that was how conversation started now: with the small jealous thrills.
"Yeah." She tapped the cheek of the device. "Trust me. You don't want to walk into some slum where the bed eats you at night. Riverdale's got a few flats. I scoped four — H4's the sweet spot. I can put in a reservation if you pick one."
Adrian listened. He let the city be a far-off roar. The container smelled of instant soup, old oil, and the faint antiseptic that clung to Sasha's jacket.
"You sure you wanna do the legwork?" he asked. "You're patched up. Shouldn't you rest?"
"Rest?" Sasha snorted. "Rest is for corps with pensions. We move when things are warm. Also, if we don't lock you down quickly, you'll vanish into some corner and never get a roof."
She tapped the Mewtwo and slid the viewer onto his temples with the sure, tender motion of a surgeon stitching a small, perfect wound. Her fingers brushed his skin; a little ember sparked in him that had nothing to do with cyberware.
"Okay, relax," she said. "It's got a multiroom preview. You'll see the units. I flagged four. H4 has utilities included, repair access, base security, just… not luxury. Two thousand two hundred eddies a month if you play it cheap. Factor in equipment fee and Ye-family protection and you're looking at roughly two-five. But insulated, rentable — and Riverdale's safer than the parts where the Tyger Claws and Scav gangs like to argue about turf."
Adrian swallowed. Two-thousand eddies. It sounded obscene and miraculous in the same breath. He'd watched the ledger float above his vision more times than he could count; currency blinked like a next-of-kin notification. Sasha's declaration felt like a gift box.
She keyed a sequence into the Mewtwo. The room went black; then light flooded a rendered apartment across his vision — sunlight streaming through a narrow window, a kitchenette, very corporate-standard laminate, and a thin carpet that had known different shoes. The virtual tour glided, and Sasha's narration folded over it like a media track.
"H4, unit five," she said. "Compact layout, east-facing — so mornings are bright, nights are quieter. Utilities covered: panels, water filtration, base-level security camera. Security's basic: one circuit, a local watch, a Ye-family cut. They'll want weekly 'pop-ins' — in reality, it's extortion dressed as community. But you get a lock, a bed, and importantly, a window that lets you think you aren't trapped."
She flicked to the next render. "H4, unit seven: smaller, cheaper. No storage. It's bright where you don't want it to be. Less privacy, a little more company — if you like overcrowded rooftops and leaning into the sound of the city, this is for you."
A third image bloomed — H4, unit nine. "This one's the sweet spot. Window faces a little pocket of green, a tree someone tried to keep alive. Repairs are included. A neighbor who runs an illegal noodle shop—friendly. 2,500 with protection fees. It's what I'd take myself."
Adrian watched the virtual rooms like a man visiting a temple he'd only read about. The Mewtwo's simulation rendered light in a way that made him ache for something real. He found himself thinking of a single old mattress he'd once slept on under Japantown's flicker of ads and the way Korna would fold her hands and chuck him under the chin like a father.
"This one?" Sasha asked, nodding to unit nine.
He let the question land. He thought of a bed that didn't absorb the damp morning; he thought of his hands not having to pillage for a curtain to stop the light from burning his retinas. Simple wants felt treasonous in the city, as though wanting comfort betrayed survival skills. He shrugged and let her pick.
"You're making decisions for me?" he said, mock-chastising.
"You're bad at decisions. I save choices for people who have the time to overthink," she replied, handing the device back to him like a prize.
He slid the viewer off. The room snapped back to the container — rougher, warmer, alive. When she had him in the Mewtwo's simulated sunlight his chest tightened; it was a little thing, and yet it was a small miracle to imagine a place that didn't smell of other people's sorrow.
"Okay," he said. "Reserve it."
Sasha grinned and tapped a small confirmation. Her thumbs moved like tiny conspirators.
"Two days in the container, then Riverdale," she said. "I'll call some contacts and move funds through Pilar's loop. You sleep there until I sort the deposit."
Adrian felt gratitude like a weight in his pocket. He tried not to think about the trace spiraling in the dark — the Biotech alarms, the corp's noses in the air. Pilar had promised countermeasures. Maine had cut deals and old debts like band-aid solutions wrapped with heavy-duty tape and a prayer. But the trace would reach them — bites of code and human hands would keep scratching.
Outside, somewhere in the skyline that the Mewtwo had rendered so well, a new holo-train slid across a distant tower. Adrian could feel the tug of consequence like a current at his ankles. They'd saved Sasha. They'd burned a bridge into Biotech's nerve center. Now other hands would reach.
"By the way," Sasha said, voice shifting like the beat dropping in a club. "You unlocked something last night."
He checked his HUD without wanting to — a new skill tag pulsed like a tiny red jewel.
> [Skill Unlocked: Potential Overdraft]
Effect: 30s stat surge — Physical +60%, Reflex +50%
Cooldown: 30 minutes
Aftereffect: Overheat (temporary stat penalty)
He felt the thrill and a faint dishonor. The game-like overlay had become more than a comfort; it was a means and a warning. Power came with a price.
"You okay?" she asked, her brows knitting.
"Yeah," he lied easily. "Just thinking."
They left the virtual like stepping out of a dream. Outside the container, the team was already moving: Maine and Dorio leaned over a battered comm map. Pilar put his hands over a jumble of leads and false traces like a wizard arranging bones. Rebecca paced and squealed about trivial nonsense that tasted like normality. Life, even exhausted, surged.
"So what's the play?" Adrian asked.
Maine looked up, eyes tired and alive. "Keep moving. Pilar will reroute traces. Rebecca will make noise to distract the early contractors. Dorio's got the truck ready. We change nests tomorrow at dawn. You get the deposit in; I'll call in a favor and get you a key. Keep your head down."
Sasha stood a little closer than required, her shoulder almost brushing his. "Two days," she repeated. "Then Riverdale. Don't be a ghost."
Adrian made a hollow promise with a smile. He'd learned by now the city demanded more than a smile. It demanded strategy and blood and favors with long tabs.
They spent the rest of the morning doing small merc tasks — a recon call, checking that the 54News upload had actually propagated, Pilar dialing up a dozen fake relays to throw trace dogs off the scent. The leak hummed in the background: a public snippet, a feed that would rot into the nightly news loop before the corporate PR machine smoothed the edges away.
Around noon Maine called a small meeting. "We'll need more people who can disappear a body of data without dying or getting eaten. We recruit. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. But soon. We find a driver who won't look at us like we're salvage. Keep eyes open."
Conversation slid into practicalities. There were always practicalities. Food, ammo, a place to stash a gun. The city felt like a mouth at the edge of a bite — patient.
Before he left for a walk to think, Adrian slid his hand across the counter and took the small, pink Mewtwo headset from Sasha. He found a sticker, a tiny Danger Girl sticker with Renata's face printed on it, and stuck it inside his jacket like contraband treasure.
Sasha snorted. "You like it. Admit it."
He let the smallest laugh out of him. "Maybe."
She bumped his shoulder with hers. "Good. You owe me rent."
He meant to joke back about the debt, about how he'd never been good with numbers that didn't fit in a trigger finger. But the joke died a little in his throat.
Outside, Riverdale's towers cut the sky into serrated teeth, the H4 block anonymous among skyscrapers trying to be gods. Adrian watched the skyline for a long time — thinking in small, sharp motions — and imagined the code of a trace curling through networks, a hungry little parasite moving silently toward them. He tasted metal and felt the new skill hum like a secret.
They were safe for a little while. The city's appetite sleeps sometimes. When it woke, they would have to be sharper.
For now, the crucial thing was a bed that didn't fold him into its springs like regret. For now, Sasha had a plan, and he had a stupid sticker under his leather jacket.
Sometimes that was enough to survive an entire night.
---
System Log — Housing & Aftermath
Action: H4/Unit 9 reserved (pending deposit). Reservation secured by Sasha.
Cost estimate: 2,200–2,500 eddies/month (utilities & protection fees included).
Skill note: Potential Overdraft unlocked (Adrian). Cooldown 30 min; Aftereffect: Overheat.
Immediate status: Corporate trace active — Pilar counter-trace initiated. Recommended: change base at dawn; limit electronic footprint.
Team note: Recruitment drive planned; driver and secondary hacker needed.