Michael 'Magos' Sobronov
We were already halfway to our destination by the time the other 'big name' netrunners managed to get off their lazy asses and join the call.
And not a minute later I was already feeling a headache coming.
[TheGreatYokoSama: You only call me when you want something, Maggy-chan. Your poor sensei is heartbroken!]
[Magos: No.]
[TheGreatYokoSama: ;-;]
[8ug8ear: Why did you call us, Magos?]
[Magos: Hands responded, got a point of contact in Pacifica. Heading there now.]
[B@D: Took his sweet ass time.]
[Nix: Less than Rogue expected him to.]
[Magos: He was convinced to prioritize.]
[TheGreatYokoSama: So capable!]
[Magos: Why are you here again?]
[TheGreatYokoSama: I was bored.]
[Magos: Well go be bored elsewhere.]
[Magos has kicked TheGreatYokoSama from the call.]
[B@D: XD]
[Magos: Now that that has been dealt with. @Nix @8ug8ear, how did things go on your end?]
[8ug8ear: Wakako decided to wait and see.]
Of course she did. Why not just let others do all the work?
Well, she wasn't getting shit if we found anything valuable.
[Nix: Rogue got into contact with Netwatch, they sent a rep to NC around a week back.]
The van shuddered as it suddenly roughed its way across a large pothole, making me shoot an annoyed look at the gremlin currently hogging the driver's seat.
Naturally, all I got in response was a laugh.
Rebecca had gleefully accepted the chance to torture my poor ride's engine while I was 'distracted', and was now zooming across the dusty streets of the lawless city zone without a care in the world.
Another message distracted me from my grumbling.
[Nix: She's already negotiated an information exchange, and whatever the VB has been doing has lit a fire under Netwatch's ass so getting them to help should be easy.]
[Magos: The real question is should we even accept it.]
Added attention meant added complications.
[Nix: I get what you mean but in situations like this its best not to fuck around, especially if they already managed to let something slip through the Blackwall.]
[Magos: Got it. I'll go meet with Hands' contact and you see what you can scrounge up from our new 'chooms'.]
He sent me a thumbs up.
[Magos: @B@D.]
[B@D: ?]
[Magos: Help Nix set things up with Netwatch, in case they try and fuck us over.]
[B@D: ...Do I have to?]
[Magos: You could always stop being a waste of space and come in person?]
[B@D: Why did I agree to this again?]
[Magos: Because you weren't a nerd like me, apparently.]
[B@D: Previous me is such a bitch.]
'Previous?'
[B@D: Don't say it.]
Heh.
[Nix: Alright. I'll set up the connection.]
[8ug8ear: I'll get out of your hair then.]
[Magos: You sure, bug?]
[8ug8ear: Can't stay on if I'm not contributing. Its a bad look.]
[Nix: Thanks. We'll keep you updated.]
[8ug8ear: Sure thing.]
She disconnected.
[Magos: I'll leave you two to it. Call you when I'm done in fleshspace.]
B@D and Nix sent their acknowledgements and I disconnected as well.
"Done with your 'runner chooms?" Rebecca asked, making me realize the van had stopped.
"Didn't even take that long." I said and then noticed a slight frown on her face "Something happen?"
"Just Pilar being a dickhead again." She said, waving it off "Found us a nice spot while you were yapping."
I observed the secluded alley before nodding in satisfaction "Good. The contact should be a few minutes away. Best if we kept out of sight for now."
"Got it." She saluted playfully and pulled a hood over her head, while I hid my own metallic face between a properly tinted biker helmet for once, completely obscuring my more inhuman features.
We armed ourselves and began skulking down the less traversed corners of northwestern Pacifica's more cramped layout, an already cheap corporate tenement turned somewhat livable slum.
Most of the rest of Pacifica tended to be pretty open, covered by abandoned shopping centers and coastal hotels, as the goal had been to replace the city's notorious Combat Zone with a prosperous tourism district.
Anyone with even a hint of intuition could guess just how well that went.
The corpo investors employed many from the city itself but also a massive number of Haitian refugees fleeing the environmental disaster that destroyed their home island. It was great PR for them, even if it probably annoyed the shit out of the locals for losing the work opportunities.
But the lure of cheap laborers, morally indebted to you, and dependent on you for everything from base necessities to housing was a lure too great to miss for the investors, and so they oh so 'generously' helped the unfortunates.
Not that any of it actually mattered in the end as the New United States of America decided to give their 'glorious' Reunification War a shot, completely killing all momentum in the district's development and leaving the entire project unfinished, and filled to the brim with thousands of desperate people suddenly lacking a job and in many cases a home.
With direct access to the NC small arms market.
Needless to say, things turned to shit pretty quickly after that.
To the point Night City proper simply washed its hands off the entire area, with the spineless coward that was our Mayor Rhyne declaring Pacifica to be an 'independent administrative zone.' effectively cutting off all but the most basic of services from the locals.
To say the place turned into a warzone would be an understatement, and unlike Dogtown there was no Hansen with his spec ops to reestablish a semblance of order, which just meant Night City quickly got its Combat Zone back.
At least for a while.
Now the place was just destitute, occupied mostly by the poor, Scavs, and the Haitian diaspora, a diaspora defended by a small but skilled cult of netrunning voodoo cosplayers.
And it seemed like they did a respectable job of it, judging by the somewhat relaxed air around the locals we skulked by, and the fact they didn't look completely down on their luck.
It made me double check my concealment hacks just in case.
It was also why I couldn't just stroll into the place and start asking around for directions to their base of operations. The Voodoo boys were respected around these parts, and more often than not the Haitians simply outright refused to speak to outsiders.
And that was if you had a Creole language model installed in the first place.
I kept mine and Rebecca's presence on the net minimal as we skulked deeper into the area, and while I noticed a few groups of VB members patrolling about, they were too relaxed among their own to notice our passage without literally bumping into us.
Our destination was a relatively secluded corner of the sub-district, nestled between a small but noisy open air market and what looked to be a hand sewn clothes store, the curio shop was practically covered in scrap-made wind chimes, every single rustle of air making the dangling pieces of metal produce a small melody.
And that melody turned pretty chaotic as a tall Haitian man stormed out of the place, turning back and spitting out in rapid-fire oof brand French "Non ou p'ap pwoteje ou pou tout tan, vye granmoun!"
I stopped myself from reaching for my gun as he turned on his heels and marched off, unaware aware of our presence.
'Logos'
[Affirmitive.]
The tracker daemon landed without alerting him and I allowed myself to relax, signaling an all clear as Rebecca and I walked up to the curio shop.
Before I could so much as touch the dangling chimes that served as the curtain door, an old, almost ancient voice came from within "Come in, zanmim. I have been waiting for you."
Keeping a hold of my apprehension I pushed my way inside, revealing a dimly lit room covered top to bottom in what looked to be antique machinery, anything from weapons to 'ware, up to and including a god damn microwave.
And in an ancient leather armchair sat a man who looked just as old as it, head covered in white grey dreadlocks, and face hidden behind a long and semi-unkempt beard.
He was busy tinkering with what looked to be a Gen 1 eye implant with a simple screwdriver while singing what sounded like a lullaby to it.
He whispered something to the implant and reverently placed it on a metal shelf before turning the chair and slowly looking up to me "It is an old spirit, tired and in need of healing." He 'explained'.
Absently I noticed a string with a trio of bleached bird skulls hanging just under his beard.
Weird.
Still, I did give the eye a curious look "That thing looks more desiccated than old at this point."
Gen 1 more often than not was outperformed by healthy meat, but such were the advantages of iteration.
"Perhaps." The old man didn't seem offended as he hummed.
"You Món?" I asked.
"That is what they call me." He nodded and waved for us to come closer "And you are Magos." He looked me over with distant eyes, one of which looked to be a lovingly cared for upgrade of the one he was tinkering with earlier "Touched by the spirits, just as I thought you'd be."
'Oh great. More kung fu bullshit.' I thought but instead kept my tone neutral and said "If you say so."
"Oh there is no need to indulge an old man by pretending." He said but I noted a hint of disappointment in his voice "You are here for a reason, are you not?"
"I was told you could provide information about the Voodoo Boys activities, yes." I nodded "Whatever they are doing has been felt by the rest of the city, and we suspect they are playing with things they really shouldn't be."
"Brigite always was ambitious." The collector shook his head sadly in confirmation.
"That the leader's name?" I asked.
"Maman Brigite." He smiled crookedly "Is what she calls herself these days."
'A title, or a nickname?' I thought briefly "Sounds like you have history."
"We are a community." He sidestepped the question "The VB as you know them were protectors once, but some grew hungry for the power of the spirits, and a split occurred between those who would dance with death, and those who thought it too dangerous."
"And it just so happens the power hungry ones were the side to actually stay." I noted dryly.
"And so it does." Món agreed "But even then, they play with things better left alone."
"What exactly are they doing?" I pressed.
"Peace." He raised a hand "They wish to breach the wall of spirits. And to control what lay beyond."
"Bunch of gonks." Rebecca scoffed.
The collector said nothing but his sole organic eye did briefly display amused agreement.
"So you agree they need dealing with?" I asked.
He frowned "And what happens to my people if they are 'dealt with' as you say?"
"That-" I paused, frowning "Hm. I suppose they will simply have to find less suicidal protectors."
"Callous to throw so many lives away." He noted.
And I barely kept myself from rolling my eyes "And how many will die if they rip an AI from the old net?"
"Far too many." He agreed with a raspy chuckle "Very well, I will help you find them."
"And what will your help cost me?" I asked.
Here, his expression turned calculative "A cache of small arms, enough to arm two hundred, delivered to me within three days after you finish what you came for."
"That's... doable." I said slowly.
"And." He added "You will remove only those you find at the base. The rest will not follow."
Here I paused "While I have no intention of hunting them down to the last gangoon, how do I know they won't just try the same thing after a while?"
"It will be dealt with." The old man assured.
And then it clicked. He was already planning to replace the VB himself.
[A valid course of action.] Logos agreed.
'Perfectly understandable, yes.' "Fine."
"Good." He hummed "I will provide you with a guide when you are ready. He will take you to their base of operations."
"I'll need to fetch some extra help first." I raised a hand to forestall him "Just in case."
"It will make things easier for me as well." He nodded "Do not waste too much time though."
"Merely an hour or two, I assure you." I waved his concern off "And now that our main business is concluded, do you actually sell these, or just collect them?" I asked, looking over the man's gathering of well kept knicknacks.
"Your companion spirits sing your praises." He smiled widely, revealing a fully metallic set of dentures "I would be happy to give more to your care, for a price."
And then we got to haggling.
-
"You know, out of all things I never expected this to turn into a shopping trip." I quipped as I dragged the antique Biopod and a set of war frame grade metal musculature with me "But I'm satisfied with what I found."
Even if I had to listen to the techno cultist yap about the 'sinews of a great war beast' in an attempt to make me pay out of my nose for what was at the end of the day just a piece of scrap.
Scrap that was infinitely useful to me, but he didn't need to know that.
"You listening to me?" I asked as I looked down.
But Rebecca was still too busy staring at her purchase with literal stars in her eyes.
"Oi." I flicked her lightly.
"Its a fucking AK!" She squeaked "An actual AK 47!"
"Alright." I nodded "And?"
"Have some respect for the classics!"
"It was like the most sold weapon in the world for five whole decades." I pointed out "It is by definition a dime a dozen."
She hugged her weapon close and kept muttering about my lack of taste and giving me the stink eye the whole rest of the way back to the van, said vehicle blessedly free of gonks trying to cut their way in.
Which might have something to do with the fresh paint of red on the nearby alley wall, but it wasn't my fault people didn't look where they were walking.
Some spraying to wash away the bits later, and we were driving away.
[Magos: Got us an in. Somewhat time sensitive.]
[Nix: Good, was starting to get worried when you went quiet.]
[Magos: Took some negotiating.]
[B@D: Finally! Do you have any idea how boring this Netwatch gonk is?]
[Magos: Have you tried pestering him harder?]
[B@D: Yes!... It didn't work.]
[Magos: Will wonders ever cease? Anyway, you manage to arrange anything?]
[Nix: The agent requested a personal before you go in. Sending you the cords now.]
I uploaded them to the van's autopilot.
[Magos: What do you think he wants?]
[Nix: He's only come in a week ago, so I'm guessing he wants the situation dealt with immediately before he gets bogged down in NC.]
[Magos: But he still wants the credit?]
[Nix: Definitely. Sending you his deets now.]
[Magos: Got it, almost at the meetup now.]
The call trailed off as we reached the entrance of a large abandoned shopping mall, and I immediately felt a number of probes poking at my defenses from the net.
'Logos, hide and do nothing.'
[Why?]
'Just do it, I'll explain later.'
There was no way in hell I'm drawing Netwatch's eyes with an onboard AI.
[...Affirmative.]
Dismantling the agent's probes without retaliating promised to be an exercise in tedium but then I felt a familiar signal flare up from the 'nearby' netspace and the probes were simply shredded to bits.
Looks like B@D hadn't been completely idle.
Even if they just had to wait for me to show off.
Wisely, the Netwatch rat didn't try it a second time.
Before long, an armored SUV drove out of a nearby garage spot and I had to hold myself back from popping my autocannon out as a display of annoyance at the posturing.
But I held back "You see something wrong, you light them up."
"Got it." 'Becca chirped and made herself comfortable with the autocannon's controller.
Satisfied, I stepped out of the van, and stopped as I saw a duo of MaxTac operatives stepping out of the car.
The movements of the 'reformed' cyberpsychos were just as twitchy as you'd expect from someone like that, but my accelerated perception stopped me from immediately showering them in bullets.
Didn't stop me from salivating at the idea of getting my hands on one of them and finding out just how Night Corp 'tamed' their attack dogs.
A minute ticked by before finally, as the two took slightly more relaxed positions, the Netwatch agent stepped out from the driver's seat, suited up like he was just about to go to Arasaka's tower for some coffee and not like he was in the middle of one of Night City's most dangerous areas.
He adjusted his cravat, and spoke up in a tense but professional tone "Apologies for them. My loaned aides from the Mayor are... rather insistent in doing their jobs."
"I see." I said neutrally, not showing my irritation at the obvious intimidation attempt.
"Agent Mosley. Netwatch." He introduced himself as he approached me and offered a hand "My superiors were quite surprised to find out the locals were already on top of the problem."
Awfully bold to come into grabbing distance.
But I didn't voice that as I returned the gesture "And yet here you are."
"Trust but verify." He agreed, and reached for his breast pocket.
He made the movement dramatically slow, and I accepted it as the courtesy it was as he pulled out an advanced looking data shard.
"And what's this?" I asked.
"Insurance." He said "Our mutual contacts-" He kept good control of his face, but failed to hide the microtwitches indicating irritation from showing "-Assure me you have found a way into the terrorists' home base. This should be able to repair any damage they cause to the wider net during their extermination."
"Useful." I said "And let me guess, it also leaves some sort of marker so your bosses and their allies believe it was you who dealt with the situation by your own power?"
And is probably a trap.
Again, his facial control remained superb, but not perfect, and I saw him go briefly still.
"That, Agent Mosley, will cost you." I said.
His eyes turned hard "We are helping each other here."
"You are dealing with NC's cream of the crop, Agent." I informed him "We do not need your help, even if it is useful." I raised a hand to stop him from immediately responding "But. I can see the use of having a rising star contact in Netwatch, which is what you will be once news of your 'success' spread."
He went to speak but I preempted him again.
"And in return, once I'm done scouring their data banks, I will activate your little chip no matter what." I said.
I will give it to him, he didn't hesitate even a second "Deal."
"Pleasure doing business, Agent." I smiled, immediately regretting hiding my face "Now, I have an assault to plan."
"Of course." He nodded and stepped back "I will prepare contingencies."
"You do that." I dismissed him.
[Magos: I trust there won't be any problems with me taking the owed favors?]
[Nix: You are the one taking point, up to you.]
Rogue already got her cut then.
[Magos: Correct.]
[B@D: And what about little old me?]
[Magos: You get to participate without bringing anything to the table.]
[B@D: Ouch.]
The truth was often painful.
-------
You know what else is painful?
Not paying your taxes.
Gimme.
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