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21:30 | Harmony Church | Little China | Watson District :::: ]
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“If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been here?”
There was a pause from the older woman, who placed a gentle hand on the head of the little girl curled up fast asleep next to her on the dusty and scuffed hardwood floor. Judging by the momentary twitching of her petite frame, most likely dreaming of a much better place than their current setting.
“Too long.” She sighed, glancing over the disheveled interior of the old church from their vantage point at the foot of the altar. The woman, pushing close to forty, dark lines under tired eyes, and wearing layers of second-hand clothing to keep out the chill that loomed in the air like an apparition, stared blankly across the expanse of the dimly lit inner sanctuary before reeling her thoughts in. Shoulder-length brown hair covered part of her face where she’d tried to hide a bruised cheek. “But it’s all we have for now.” She swallowed, her throat parched from the dry, stale air. “It’s just a shame the city had to come to this. Bastards roam the streets, the rich get richer, and everyone else…well they wither away to be forgotten.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” The younger of the two women nodded, her voice was kept low enough to combat the immense acoustics of the open room, not wanting the exchange of words between the two to carry any further than needed. “You and your daughter shouldn’t be living like this.” She shook her head. “No one should have to live in filth.”
“Look miss, I appreciate your stance on the matter-” The older one broke eye contact briefly to check on her slumbering offspring, running fingers through the girl’s dark, wavy hair. “But please don’t feel like we need to be your charity case either. We can manage. I only want what’s best for this one.”
“Of course. And please, call me ‘Q’.” The other nodded, allowing a warm smile to stretch across her lips. “And I don’t see you and your daughter as some ‘charity case’, but rather hope for the future of this city. It was a dream that Bug had, and I hope to carry that dream for her as long as I can, with the tools and resources I have at my disposal.”
The older woman cracked a smile and nodded, wiping a tear that welled up before making its way down a single cheek. As if by impulse, she reached to take the hand of the younger woman in her own, only to be reminded too quickly that there was no skin-to-skin purchase, but rather the momentary disruption of the holographic projection emanating from the podium just above their heads. Her appearance, however, shrouded in the guise of a hooded figure dressed head-to-toe in simple and unremarkable black and dark grays; the upper half of her visage obscured by the dense shadow of the hood. Q simply cocked her head, the woman’s gesture more significant than she expected.
“I’m sor-” She choked on the words momentarily, trying to hold back her own emotions. “I’m sorry I can’t be there in person.”
“It’s fine.” The woman retracted her hands, seeming a bit embarrassed. “T-Bug was a good friend to the cause, and we really do appreciate what you’re doing to help, as well as keeping her precious spirit alive.”
And
alive was exactly what Qiara had hoped for after so much time had passed since her friend T-Bug was zeroed while on a job for the fixer, Dex. And while the man’s own death didn’t bring her friend back, at least there seemed some poetic justice, as karma was a bitch no matter who you were.
One of the lesser known things about Bug was that she had a heart for Night City’s less fortunate -especially women and children- and did what she could for various shelters and programs that facilitated the fight against poverty, domestic violence, and the failing foster care system. A cause that really hit home for Qiara, and a fight she hoped to continue on; for her city and for her friend.
“Look, I gotta go.” Q sighed as proximity alerts were sending flares from various unauthorized transmission packets. “This network isn’t as secure as it once was and I’d rather not push our luck.”
“Understood. Thank you again.”
And with that, Qiara jacked out of the network, allowing her consciousness to slowly return to where she had physically been the whole time: her Heywood apartment. As she had done a million times prior, the girl keyed in the correct protocols to back out of the system so as to not fry her brain in the process of disconnecting from such complex systems. And when things settled enough, she lifted the HUD visor from her head, and removed a few of the multicolored insulated connectors from small serial port holes just behind her ear and neck. This process was about as old and stale as any routine could get, but better to play it safe than be a cocky and (eventually) dead runner, assuming that you’re impervious to the unpredictabilities of the Net.
No one is. T-Bug knew that.
It had only been a few days, and being on medical leave from her position at NightCorp sucked, mainly because she really had no idea how long the term would last. Was it up to her when it ended, or merely a thumbprint from her physician, clearing her for active duty once again with the corporation? Sure, her position, salary, and corporate access would be kept secured until her reinstatement, but she felt a void deep down, as though she needed to be needed.
Somewhere. Although, she was at least relieved her medical benefits and Trauma Team privileges were kept intact, something of which was paramount in her ongoing condition regarding cyberware rejection. An irony really, having to maintain a certain lifestyle and career choice using technology that could just as easily end her life, or send her mind over the edge where many in her line of work don’t return.
The nature of the game.However, no matter where she spent her
Net time, by the end of the day, Qiara was mentally exhausted, and only wished to crawl into a warm, bubbly tub for the rest of the evening. And so a routine it was, to keep herself at the top of the game each day, jacking in and out of various datapools and fortresses, updating and rewriting programs, and continuing her search for her grandmother’s missing data, all while having very little in the way of a social life. But why? She didn’t need the company of strangers to occupy her mind when she had the virtual world as a sufficient -and frankly, safer- alternative to dealing with people face-to-face. Friends she had, maybe more than expected, but most were also just as introverted as she, and used the Net as not only an escape from the emotional drain of the real world, but a social platform as well, meeting like-minded others for a night out on the town, or perhaps to feed a particular sexual need that would never surface in the physical realm.
Either way, she was ready to end her day as she slowly stood up from the powered wheelchair, a piece of equipment she’d been mostly confined to since the accident years ago. The cybernetic implants fused and networked to the nerves, bones, and muscles of her lower extremities did most of the work, allowing her to use her legs for a few hours at a time as any normal person would before the need for anti-rejection medication was needed. A huge drawback due to a very rare genetic makeup, but a life she had no choice but to adjust to if she wanted to continue on.
Taking a few steps toward the window, she opened the blinds only to realize that it was raining, something that was tough to hear with the entire building itself being very well insulated from noise and the elements. Qiara loved the rain though, her eyes flicking from the countless droplets running down the glass to the neon cityscape engulfed in a shroud of wet and cold. Perhaps the rain was good for NightCity, as it washed away the waste from moments prior, even if only for a little while.
Lord Wyron,
Morgin,
Lu,
Izurich,
Heat,
Cerces22,
Melissa,
Lord Wraith,
Hoekage,
Mixtape Ghost N
