Chapter 7: Judy's Choice
POV: Judy
The silence in Betty stretched like pulled wire, tension crackling between them as Judy navigated Watson's late-night streets. In the passenger seat, Tom sat motionless except for the subtle glow of chrome beneath his skin—patterns that pulsed with his heartbeat, visible even through his clothing. Three weeks ago, she'd thought he was just another street kid with decent tech skills and suspicious behavior. Now she'd watched him move like liquid lightning, absorb bullets like they were raindrops, and demonstrate abilities that belonged in corporate black sites rather than Kabuki dive bars.
"What the hell have I gotten myself into?"
Judy's hands tightened on the steering wheel as she processed what she'd witnessed. The security footage was unambiguous—Tom had moved faster than humanly possible, struck with force that exceeded his apparent mass, and demonstrated combat capabilities that suggested military-grade augmentation. But military chrome didn't adapt in real-time. It didn't heal wounds or evolve new defensive configurations based on damage patterns.
Tom was something else entirely.
The question was whether that something else was compatible with continued existence in Night City, or if she was sitting next to a walking disaster that would eventually consume everyone around it.
"He saved those people in the bar. Could have fled, but he helped when the gangers got aggressive. That has to count for something."
Judy pulled Betty into an abandoned parking structure in Northside, where broken lights created pockets of shadow deep enough to hide conversations from surveillance networks. Tom hadn't spoken since they'd left the bar, but she could feel his anxiety like a physical presence—chrome augmentations humming with nervous energy, optical implants flickering as he processed stress responses.
"Alright," Judy said, cutting the engine and turning to face him directly. "Time for truth. All of it."
Tom's reflection in the windshield showed chrome tracery covering forty percent of his visible skin, patterns that seemed almost decorative except for their obvious functionality. His eyes held a metallic sheen that caught ambient light and threw it back in geometric patterns.
"You've got chrome that adapts, you hack tech by touching it, and you just moved like a Sandevistan that costs more than most people's apartments," Judy continued, her voice carrying the particular edge of someone demanding answers. "So either you're a corpo experiment that escaped the lab, or you're something I don't have words for."
Tom was quiet for a moment, chrome patterns shifting as his augmented nervous system processed options. "I can't explain how I got here. How I became this. I woke up in an alley three weeks ago with chrome I'd never seen before, abilities I'd never learned, and memories that don't make complete sense."
"Memories that don't make sense how?"
"Like watching someone else's life through a window. I know things I shouldn't know, understand technology I never studied, have skills I never practiced." Tom gestured at his arms, where chrome created intricate geometric designs beneath synthetic skin. "This isn't standard cyberware. It learns. Adapts. Evolves based on threats and damage. And I have no idea how or why."
Judy studied his face, looking for tells that would indicate deception. Tom's expression carried the particular exhaustion of someone who'd been carrying impossible secrets, but his stress responses seemed genuine rather than calculated.
"What about the speed? The time dilation?"
"Sandevistan. Except I never installed one. Never even had basic reflexware." Tom's chrome flared with frustrated energy. "My body activates it automatically during combat stress, but I have no conscious control over the system. It just... happens."
"And the tech control?"
"Techno-Sovereignty. I can interface directly with electronic systems through touch, convince them to obey my will rather than their programming. No cyberdeck, no ICE breaking, just... direct neural command." Tom looked down at his hands. "I'm becoming something that shouldn't exist. And I'm terrified of what I'm turning into."
POV: Judy
"He's scared. Actually, genuinely terrified. Not of external threats—of himself."
Judy had spent years in Night City learning to read people, distinguishing between predators and victims, identifying who could be trusted and who would sell you to corpos for pocket change. Tom registered as neither predator nor victim—he was something caught between human and machine, struggling to maintain his identity while his body evolved beyond baseline parameters.
"Evelyn warned me about getting involved with people who couldn't be saved. Said it was a waste of energy, waste of emotion. But Tom isn't trying to drag anyone down with him. He's trying to protect people despite what's happening to him."
The memory of Evelyn's cynicism stung, but Judy pushed it aside. Evelyn had been brilliant, beautiful, and ultimately consumed by Night City's grinder. Tom was different—damaged but not broken, changed but not lost.
"You know what you sound like?" Judy said finally.
"A cyberpsycho waiting to happen?"
"A ghost story. The kind of urban legend netrunners whisper about—someone who evolved past baseline human, became something new." Judy gestured at Tom's chrome-covered arms. "Except you're sitting right here, breathing hard and looking like you're about to throw up from stress."
Tom managed a weak smile. "I might."
"Don't. I just cleaned Betty's upholstery." Judy's expression softened as she made her decision. "Look, I don't know what happened to you, and I sure as hell don't know what you're becoming. But you put yourself between me and bullets back there. You could have run, should have run, but you stayed to help people you barely knew."
"Seemed like the right thing to do."
"In Night City, the right thing usually gets you killed. The fact that you're still trying to do it means something." Judy reached over and took Tom's chrome-covered hand, noting how cold the metal felt against her skin. "Fuck it. Everyone's got secrets in Night City. Yours are just weirder than most."
The relief that flooded Tom's face was immediate and overwhelming—like watching someone who'd been holding their breath for weeks finally allowed to exhale.
"You're not running?"
"Where would I run? Night City's full of monsters. At least you're a monster who's trying to stay human."
POV: Tom
"She's staying. Actually staying. Judy Alvarez—brilliant, independent, capable Judy—is choosing to trust me despite everything she's witnessed."
Tom felt something fundamental shift in his chest, a warmth that had nothing to do with chrome augmentations or technological enhancement. For three weeks, he'd been surviving on game knowledge and desperate improvisation, treating everyone around him like characters rather than people. But Judy's decision to trust him transformed her from convenient ally to someone genuinely worth protecting.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
"Thank me when we figure out what you are and how to keep you alive long enough to enjoy it." Judy settled back into the driver's seat. "Tell me about before. Whatever you remember from your previous life."
Tom shared carefully edited memories—growing up in a small city, working in technology, living a life that seemed impossibly peaceful compared to Night City's constant violence. He talked about missing simple things like reliable electricity and food that didn't come from vending machines, about remembering a world where corporate warfare was metaphorical rather than literal.
Judy talked about her own past—her relationship with Evelyn, the constant struggle against corporate oppression, dreams of escaping Night City that never quite materialized into actionable plans. She spoke about her work at Clouds, the manipulation and exploitation disguised as entertainment, the way the city consumed people who couldn't fight back.
"I stayed because someone had to protect the people who couldn't protect themselves," Judy said. "Evelyn thought that was naive. Maybe she was right."
"Evelyn was wrong," Tom said with surprising conviction. "Someone has to give a shit about other people, or this place becomes pure hell instead of mostly hell."
Judy laughed—the first genuine laughter Tom had heard from her. "Mostly hell. That's Night City's tourism slogan right there."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching neon light play across Betty's windshield. For the first time since arriving in this impossible world, Tom felt like he wasn't completely alone.
"What happens now?" he asked.
"Now we figure out how to keep you human while your body turns into experimental technology," Judy replied. "We learn to control your abilities instead of letting them control you. And we try not to get killed by whatever corporate interests are probably already hunting you."
"That's a lot of challenges."
"Yeah, well. I've always been ambitious." Judy touched his chrome-covered hand again. "We'll figure this out together. Whatever you are, whatever's happening to you—you don't have to face it alone."
Tom looked at their joined hands—her warm human skin against his cold chrome enhancement—and felt something he'd thought lost forever in this neon dystopia. Hope. Actual, genuine hope that he might survive this transformation with his humanity intact.
"I care about you," he said suddenly, the words escaping before he could analyze them. "Not because of game know—not because of what I expected, but because of who you actually are. You're brilliant and brave and you choose to help people even when it costs you. You're... real."
Judy's expression shifted from surprise to something warmer. "You're real too, Tom. Chrome and all."
She leaned over and kissed his cheek—a gentle gesture that somehow carried more intimacy than any of the dramatic romantic moments Tom had imagined. Her lips were warm against his skin, and for a moment, the chrome beneath felt less like foreign technology and more like part of himself.
"Don't do anything stupid without me, okay?" Judy said as she pulled back.
"I'll try."
"That's all any of us can do in this place."
Tom watched Judy walk back toward Lizzie's Bar, her figure disappearing into Watson's maze of neon and shadow. For the first time since waking in this world, he felt like he had something worth fighting for beyond mere survival.
He was falling for Judy Alvarez—not the character from his transplanted memories, but the real woman who'd chosen to trust him despite every rational reason to run. The woman who saw his chrome evolution as a challenge to overcome rather than a reason to abandon him.
"I want to stay," Tom realized with startling clarity. "Not just survive until I find a way home. Actually stay. Build something here. With her."
The thought should have terrified him. Instead, it felt like the first genuinely human decision he'd made since arriving in Night City.
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