Faraday would never be a problem for them again.
He had no idea what Galina had done to him or what Tasogare methods she'd used… and he wasn't going to ask. But when she finished "exchanging opinions" with Faraday and walked out of there with far less stress and anger, he was still alive.
His mind and heart were still functioning—the rest, not so much.
Would Sasha learn anything from this?
He doubted it. A little too dark for her personality.
Faelan had no qualms about ending Faraday's life; in fact, he made sure to give him the kind of death one couldn't miraculously come back from. As for the underground facility, since stealth was no longer necessary, he simply collapsed it once they were outside, burying the rest of the bodies and any trace of their presence.
In just a few seconds, the place was flooded with seawater.
"I guess I'm going to have to look for more volunteers," Faelan sighed, glancing at the now-empty suitcase.
Turns out corpses don't respond much to potions—except for one known as the Portable Swamp, which was used to dispose of unwanted objects by turning the ground into a swamp and swallowing the item in question, reverting to normal once it was no longer visible.
Of course, that one was meant to be thrown at the ground, not ingested.
When Faelan got into the car, he saw Galina checking herself over.
"...We're making a quick stop to buy me new clothes," Galina said, pointing to her bullet-riddled outfit. She had so many holes that she'd need to replace every piece she was wearing.
Faelan had the decency to look away after estimating the damage.
It wasn't just a couple of bullets in the shoulders or pants—Galina had been thoroughly riddled across her entire body.
"You didn't answer my question earlier," Faelan said as Galina started the car and began driving toward the nearest decent clothing store she knew.
Galina remembered the question.
What's it like to die?
"If we'd had these straw dolls in Tasogare, Silvia and Bruno would still be alive," she thought distractedly about other original Tasogare members—those who couldn't keep up.
But there's no use crying over spilled milk.
"I think I'd rather avoid death as much as possible," Galina finally answered after a few minutes of reflection and memories drifting through her mind. "Do you feel the pain when it happens to you, too?"
Faelan grimaced.
"Yeah… that's my least favorite part," he admitted. "Ah—once we get your clothes and make a round through the armories, let's stop by my place so I can swap out that used straw doll."
Better to have a spare and not forget.
"How many of those things do you have?"
"How much scum is there in Night City?"
Oh, right—she'd forgotten the mechanism he'd explained: life for a life. She'd been thinking only of her own condition at the moment.
Which meant that somewhere in the city, some lowlife had just received her injuries out of nowhere… and if they'd had people around them, those people probably got quite the scare.
But the shock of knowing she could have stayed there and never gone back to Sasha…
"Do we really need to go there?" she asked. "I mean, could you make another one right now, or do you need some kind of material for them?"
"Well, I already have several ready at home. But if it makes you feel better, I could make another one now," Faelan said, fully understanding the fear Galina had felt for that moment—after all, he had died once himself. "We just need to find a suitable substitute."
"What kind of criteria do you use?"
Any conversation was good right now to keep distracted, though her eyes remained on the road.
"In general terms, as long as it's 'bad people,' I don't feel any moral burden using them," Faelan explained while looking out the window.
"That's a pretty blurry line in this city," Galina remarked with sarcasm—though she didn't entirely mean it.
"Even among those people, I try to be a little selective and set priorities. For example, if there's a junkie lying on the roadside, he's not a good candidate—it's more likely he'd die first from an overdose and the straw doll would vanish. I also avoid, if possible, people from the night crowd, since many of them have families depending on the money they earn." Faelan gestured toward a few women standing under a half-broken but still functioning neon sign, touching up their makeup or trying to lure in "clients" with their implants. "I prefer to pick people like the Maelstrom or Faraday types, if you get my meaning—violent, low morals, scavengers, black-market dealers, indifferent to 'collateral damage,' and so on."
Galina translated it in her mind: Faelan preferred to use people who wouldn't die in the short term and who were dangerous to themselves or others.
"Not a bad set of criteria," Galina said, turning the wheel to take a curve. "We're near the docks, so I don't think it'll take you long to find someone… How about that one?" She pointed toward an alley on her right.
Faelan turned his head, spotting a group of five people huddled together, smoking in the shade.
"What do they have?"
They just looked like another random gang in the city—there were hundreds like them on any corner or alley.
"The two in the back are part of the Voodoo Boys," Galina said as she subtly slowed down. "But I know the one with the tattoo under his left eye—he likes to take money from older people or those who've managed to retire. I don't know how many families he's robbed, but I can assure you he did it without a shred of guilt."
Faelan located the man she'd mentioned.
"Yeah, he'll do."
Faelan's eyes lit up behind his sunglasses, and Galina watched in astonishment as the son of Motoko's arm opened like parting straw, dropping a straw doll from within onto his lap.
The Voodoo Boy member shuddered and smacked an implant on his head, as if he'd felt static for a moment—visibly annoyed.
Faelan took the new straw doll and, after holding it in his hand, inserted it into Galina's body as if he were dipping his hand into water, pulling his hand out empty a moment later.
"Done."
Galina touched the spot where Faelan had just placed his hand inside her body, making an uncomfortable face.
"It's amazing that it doesn't hurt, but it still feels really weird to do that," she commented, not really complaining.
The car continued toward their first destination, the clothing store.
"This, this, and… maybe this?" Galina immediately went into shopping mode as she picked out several garments. "Hey, why don't you help me pick an outfit? It'll be fun."
Faelan looked around; the entire store was only women's clothing, including, not-so-discreetly, sections like lingerie, footwear, and an area for more specific tastes.
"Anything to get us out of this place faster!"
If there had been just normal clothes around, he wouldn't have cared, but… the clerk's stunned, fixed gaze on his horns made him uncomfortable. He knew this would be inevitable once he decided to stop wearing his hood, but it still wasn't easy to ignore.
Without overthinking it, he grabbed a black shirt, some boots, pants, and a jacket, handing the set to Galina.
"This looks good, let's head to the register and then check out the armories," he said as he walked toward the exit.
"Whoa, slow down, champ," Galina stopped Faelan by grabbing the collar of his shirt. "I need to try on the outfit and see how it fits; otherwise, it's just wasted money."
Not to mention she wasn't even sure she knew her sizes…
Faelan suppressed a sigh and patiently sat by the fitting rooms.
Galina looked at the outfit and, at first glance, it didn't seem bad—the synthetic leather was pretty good quality, a rare find—so she put on all the clothes before turning to the mirror and looking at herself.
"What the hell?!" she thought, startled, believing she saw someone else in the mirror.
Black short-sleeved undershirt, red high-heeled boots with a front zipper, pants and red leather jacket zipped barely up to her navel.
Galina stared dazedly at her reflection for a long moment because, unknowingly to Faelan, he had given her nothing less than the exact same outfit Motoko wore in Ghost in the Shell: Arise. It just so happened to be her usual outfit when not wearing the Tasogare uniform, which explained Galina's reaction.
"All I'd need now is to cut my hair to neck length…" Galina thought, holding a strand of hair between her fingers, then shook her head. "What am I thinking? I'm not the boss."
She turned her head to look at the fitting room door and beyond, directly at Faelan.
"Just like her son, I suppose?" she chuckled quietly. "Seems like they have similar tastes."
Motoko would have strangled her if she dared wear the same outfit as her!
She posed several times in front of the mirror.
"Honestly, it doesn't look bad on me, although the red might be a bit too flashy for my taste," she looked herself up and down. "And I'm not really a high heels person."
…
Faelan tapped his foot impatiently, staring at the fitting room.
"How can it take so long to try on just one outfit?" he wondered. "She's been in there for like twenty minutes."
No sooner had he thought that than Galina finally came out—but instead of keeping the clothes, she asked for the same outfit in a bluish-purple color and different shoes. The clerk returned a few minutes later with the order, and once Galina changed, she came out wearing the new outfit and paid at the register.
"How do I look?"
"I think it suits you pretty well," Faelan replied, though for some reason he thought since they were at it, Galina could get a haircut to complete the makeover—but he said nothing in case it bothered her.
What would he know about fashion?
Galina nodded satisfied, both with the compliment and his quick thinking.
"It's not the same color, boss, so technically it's not the same outfit," she thought apologetically. "Besides, I'm not even wearing high heels!"
That made it completely different, right?
He couldn't get mad at her for that!
Then followed multiple trips to armories around the city, which was much more tolerable than being in a women's clothing store.
In one afternoon, Galina managed to get some pieces that the owner mistakenly categorized but that, according to her, were little treasures waiting to be restored. They also got some not-so-good weapons, but which had the necessary parts to be dismantled and transferred onto real weapons.
It turns out some parts are more expensive individually than the weapon itself, which is crazy.
"You want me to fix them, right?" Faelan looked at the half-dozen weapons in the trunk, all in cases with black foam conforming to their shapes. "I'll need the plans. And I'm not going to start anytime soon, you know that."
"Yes, yes, you still have to take Hanako-sama's call, I haven't forgotten," Galina assured, caressing a specific weapon. "You know, I used a similar model in Tasogare. Better, of course, but if you're going to start with a weapon, let it be this one."
Faelan examined the weapon.
"A Kishigata GV-350?" he confirmed, giving her a strange look. "Was your role in Tasogare, besides being the vice-captain, the explosives expert?"
The Kishigata GV-350 might have looked like a slightly elongated assault rifle with an enlarged barrel, but its appearance was deceptive. While an enemy might think they were about to be riddled with a pile of low-caliber bullets, this thing fired special rounds that could reduce a tank to rubble in less than three shots. The preferred ammunition was filled with a compound called SFH-77, which gave it considerable explosive power.
The downside to such a beauty was that it had an explosive temperament. If the weapon's magazine was damaged, there was a high probability that the entire ammunition would detonate at once, and not even ashes of its wielder would remain.
"Don't worry, the model I used had a special coating on the magazine to avoid the bigger problem, although it made it heavier and slower to aim," Galina waved her hand, dismissing the matter.
As a young woman, she once heard, "Art is an explosion!"