Misty ultimately didn't dare ask Faelan for help.
No—more precisely, she realized her idea was somewhat excessive.
Ask Night City's Druid to deal with an abusive drunk?
It was like asking the pilot of a Basilisk to open a beer bottle with a single shot—the outcome was guaranteed, but perhaps with too much success and by far too extravagant a method.
So she took a step back and tried to be more practical, which led her to this moment and place.
Kiwi tilted her head to look at Misty from her lounge chair—the druid-in-training who had nearly blown Dorio up with a potato last week.
"I see…" Misty's summary of the situation gave her the context. "Then why me?" she asked curiously, her optics flickering with light, betraying that she was multitasking while they spoke. "If you just want to fry some guy's cyberware, Sasha would be happy to help."
It wasn't that Kiwi didn't want to help her boyfriend's apprentice—she had simply been carrying out intensive studies with Cynta's assistance. She didn't know how long Arasaka's netrunner would be willing to help her and Sasha, so she was trying to learn as much and as fast as possible.
More importantly, she had been reviewing her fundamentals, filling in the gaps caused by self-study.
"I thought it could be a good opportunity to test Hollow," Misty admitted.
Of course, frying Raúl would have been easy for Kiwi, Sasha, or any netrunner willing to take the time, but instead of simply asking for a favor, she felt more comfortable if she could turn it into something useful for the other party as well.
She knew Kiwi had been looking for an "excuse" to test the combat doll her partner had made, so…
"Ah, of course he'd show it to you," Kiwi said, pressing a hand to her forehead.
She only hoped that when he did, this time Hollow would still be wearing the clothes they had put on her.
As far as she knew (from Sasha), Galina was currently undergoing surgery to receive some bio-implants made by Faelan, with Viktor very interestedly assisting.
And while incinerating that guy's chrome would be easy and very quick with a basic daemon, leaving no trace…
In truth, Kiwi wanted to test Hollow.
Raúl fit the profile of a perfect test dummy—he'd be even better if he fell into cyberpsychosis during the fight.
As for Hollow being recognized and hunted by the Valentinos, what did it matter?
She was literally built from bio-implants—her boyfriend could change her face and alter her outward features with ease.
"When?"
"Tonight." Misty sent her a data file. "I found his usual patterns. Every Thursday night he goes to the same bar, places online bets, and ends up drunk and furious on his way home."
Who he took that anger out on didn't need to be said…
No wonder the bar hadn't fixed those cracks and small issues in years—the money simply wasn't going where it should.
"You're learning well from Fae," Kiwi nodded in approval.
A drunk and angry man—wasn't it normal for him to bump into someone and start a fight?
With any luck, it would attract a few shady types and turn into a proper brawl.
…
Raúl was not happy.
The price of liquor had gone up again for the third time this month, and he was still convinced the bartender watered down his shots—it was impossible not to notice.
The "tips" Billy gave him yesterday for betting were a complete scam, and he'd lost his money for the night. He couldn't even afford a cab and had to walk all the way home again.
Again.
"I need to get more," he thought about how that woman had restricted his money so many times, even after he'd "taught her a lesson" to put her in her place. "How am I supposed to make money if I don't have enough to bet?!"
It was common sense—how could she not understand his effort?
Always the same excuses: rent, food, meds for his chrome, the bar…
Useless things!
Even that brat cost him money just by breathing…
Just thinking about all that wasted money—money he could have used to bet, win a fortune, and fix everything—made him angrier and angrier.
Damn it, had it started raining?
Raúl was tall for the area, standing at 1.9 meters, but due to his habits, he was the classic example of being big and weak at the same time. Add in the Valentinos tattoos, his unkempt beard, and his dark expression…
Pedestrians were intimidated enough to step out of his way. Thugs knew he had nothing worth stealing—and that very disdain only made him angrier!
Even scavengers thought they were too good to gut him?!
Tonight he would double—no, triple—the "lesson" for his family.
Only when he was beating them could he feel that sense of superiority, that power he deserved but the useless people around him couldn't understand.
His thoughts were interrupted when he bumped into someone, causing him to fall onto his backside.
"What the hell?!" He didn't even take a moment to think—he went straight to shouting. "Why don't you watch where you're going?!"
His vision focused enough to see who had blocked his path.
A woman with long black hair, fluorescent cyan pupils, and a tight figure accentuated by the rain in a strange suit…
Raúl licked his lips—he was going to need some "compensation" for all the damage he'd suffered.
It was also a great way to blow off some steam.
He had barely stood up when he noticed the woman staring straight at him.
That look… why did it seem like she had no soul? No humanity?
No—he noticed something even stranger. Her eyes didn't look like optics, but real organic eyes—and yet, not entirely.
After all, it was impossible for anyone to naturally have that eye color… right?
The woman raised her hands, and Raúl's gaze dropped to them instinctively.
When had she drawn those daggers?
The alcohol finally receded enough for a possibility to cross his mind…
"Wait, it was my fault, there's no—" he tried to apologize, driven by self-preservation.
The world filled with cyan lines.
By the time he realized, he was lying on the street again. The water beneath him felt warm and sticky. Only now did his mind register the pain.
"AAAHH!"
From the knee down, nothing remained of Raúl's left leg.
Everything on his left side, from navel to armpit, was torn apart into a mess of flesh, metallic synthetic bone, and his arm had been reduced to little more than a stump.
She stood three meters behind him, without a single stain of blood on her body, and the few drops on her daggers were washed away by the rain.
"Tch, he moved at the last moment and twisted the strike," the woman clicked her tongue, her voice not matching her appearance—too young. "He should've been cut in half. I need more time to adapt."
The men and women with questionable intentions retreated back into the darkness of the alleys, their gazes flickering between Raúl—screaming and vomiting blood in agony—and the woman who looked like she had stepped out of a tactical ops squad.
Cyberpsycho?
Revenge?
That move just now wasn't a Sandevistan, but it wasn't far off.
They didn't care—they weren't getting involved in that shit!
"Great." The woman sheathed the daggers at her lower back and looked down at Raúl with disdain, who was already starting to lose consciousness. "Your performance cost me more practice dummies."
The people who had retreated hadn't gone far and still heard her despite the growing rain—they ran even faster.
"Why…?" Raúl didn't understand.
He doubted someone like him had managed to anger someone with such an elite air.
For the past six years, he'd lived between drinks and back alleys—he hadn't even done "jobs" for the gang!
He was sure he had never seen her in his life!
So she killed him just for an accidental collision?
Even his death would be meaningless?
The woman rolled her eyes and walked away without bothering to answer, preparing to extract along the planned route to disappear.
…
"That was disappointing," Kiwi snorted, annoyed that the situation hadn't been very useful.
In front of her, a screen displayed what had happened on the street.
The only thing she could confirm was that the latency was perfect, and due to the difference in Hollow's body proportions, her balance wasn't yet well controlled from lack of familiarity—that's why she "missed" her strike.
"Was it really necessary for me to see this?" Misty asked from beside her, grimacing at the state of Jackie's father.
How could such small daggers cause that much damage?
It looked like the left half of the man had been hit by a truck at full speed!
"You wanted him dead—it's only fair you witness his death and your decision," Kiwi said as she remotely controlled Hollow.
Misty still needed to see these things—you could say it was Kiwi's way of helping toughen her up.
"He's not completely dead… What if he survives that?"
Misty's question had merit.
In a city where organs, bones, and limbs could be replaced with chrome, Raúl's condition was extremely dangerous—but not necessarily fatal.
"The daggers were also made by Fae, remember?"
"The… daggers?" Misty only needed a second to understand. "Oh!"
What had Faelan explained when he showed her Hollow?
Mmm...
Something about necrotic poison and carnivorous microorganisms?
As Hollow reached the corner, Kiwi made her glance back at Raúl—and Misty understood.
The man was definitely dead.
Half of his flesh had turned a shriveled gray-black, as if mummified, while the other half… had vanished, its edges still receding, exposing more cables and synthetic bone.
So clean that if scavengers knew about those microorganisms, it might become their new favorite way to "recycle" chrome.
"Wouldn't it be dangerous if someone touched the body?" she asked hesitantly.
Misty was already imagining an apocalyptic scenario…
"Only if someone's stupid enough to touch a body like that," Kiwi shrugged while continuing to control Hollow. "Soon enough, the flesh will be completely consumed—and with it, the poison. With no flesh left to eat, the microorganisms will die as well."
In scientific terms, a full human corpse would be reduced to bones in six minutes with just one deep cut from one of those daggers.
Even if someone took samples in time, the poison would decompose on its own within fifteen minutes, and the carnivorous microorganisms would completely die within half an hour, since they don't reproduce—they only consume.
More cuts or stabs? Less time needed to clean up the evidence.