The Man Emperor
Lord Wyron
Ezekiel
Plank Sinatra
Chronic
Americore
ThatLostDude
Kaithe Dame
Estylwen
IzurichThe Road Goes Ever Onward...
It was early morning as the sun struck the glittering buildings of Night City as the part time merc, full time cowboy, and NC’s least known smuggler tapped on the steering wheel. Waiting for the light to change, as he watched the local joy toys and one nightstand crowd do the walk of shame heels in hand from Japantown. Dusty and Sora had gotten into a routine, he’d swing by and take her round for morning errands and small talk, then off to the office. Where he’d tinker and make calls while she did her business, it had stayed like this for two months. Sora seemed to have an infinite supply of money and for some reason valued his thoughts, why she needed an up jumped farm hand with a sweet rider for other than to let the other suits know she had more money to throw around than they did, he’d never know.
Somedays she’d ask for a new restaurant or bar to visit, other’s shrines or quiet spots to get away from it all. The fact the pair of them were avid smokers helped too, pretty sure the Clydesdale had more smokes in it than some of the shops in NC. The pay was outstanding and Sora seemed for whatever reason to like the Nomad in her life... Even if she did scare him shitless some days. As the light turned green he let the engine roar as shot down the road, with a quick turn in he pulled five minutes early and decided to roll another cigarette. Turning up the music as he took a moment to look out at the view. Sometimes, just sometimes Night City looked pretty enough to want to live here for good.
Shutting his eyes, as he leaned back in his seat turning up the volume as he waited for the familiar sound of Sora’s approach. She usually gave him the common courtesy of not just spooking the shit out of the nomad, though he was certainly aware she enjoyed the occasional joke with him as the punch line.
He’d gotten an apartment not far from the Afterlife, occasional get away or pick up gigs on nights Sora wished to be left alone. But two months later she still wanted him around. He'd work on the gall to ask her directly eventually but for now, it suited him playing chauffeur to Sora and even Emily on occasion. Sora’s dainty little assistant certainly seemed more chatty than she was, especially if her boss wasn’t around. Always curious about what the cameras and Arasaka spooks couldn’t dig up on people who didn’t live their lives where they could be tracked.
Sora was halfway through a cigarette when she pulled open the car door, tossed the katana in the back, and slid into the passenger seat. She was typically dressed; slim-fit suit, shoes, no socks, her jet-black hair impossibly straight and long. There was no makeup on the woman, but there never was. Without looking over she offered an open hand to Dusty, her black leather and silver-trimmed cigarette case snapping open in offer a cigarette inside. From time-to-time she would offer a random kindness, though her face was a pure shroud of nothingness when it came to possible emotional state, or motivation.
But her cigarettes were true tobacco, not synth-tobacco, so the offer was at least made.
Her early morning was over. There were two meetings, and an Arasaka counter-intelligence operative that had veered off the rails that she had dealt with. The meetings had been short, the rogue Arasaka agent even shorter. She’d simply blown their internal cyberware, the internals of their processor and brain blowing through the back of their skull, painting the wall of the motel room behind them that they’d been hiding out in.
Sora would give them credit: they didn’t try to bargain or beg. They’d gone straight for their sidearm. As if they were fast enough, but they likely didn’t know that, and Sora preferred that conclusion to begging and bargaining. Her eyes danced along the glitter of the light of the morning star that illuminated the corner of Japantown they currently haunted, scanning people and faces off Arasaka’s databases.
She’d been bored since Eddie and her band of merry-men were dealt with, no amount of additional corporate responsibility gave her any comfort from the dread of lacking a real, true, interesting target to hunt. She was a super-predator without prey…and she was discovering it to be a fate worse than death.
At least in death she wouldn’t have been bored.
“You have people trying to call you,” she informed him flatly, not beginning to explain how she knew that before he did.
“My clan probably.” He answered as drew out the custom engraved lighter he kept. “Probably asking about when I can come home to work fields or other such stuff. Ma, always hates when I'm away.” He spoke as clicked a button and picked up an earpiece. He knew Sora could listen if she wanted to, but he tried to pretend he could have a private life.
As it rang he continued to talk. “Found a new place, serves real fried chicken. Nomad joint but the guy said I'm welcome to bring a guest. If you wanna have lunch today. I know you hate staying in that office all day.” He stopped, a loud and panicked voice entered the earbud as Dusty slowed down at a light.
“Daryl. Buddy. Slow down, what do you mean Mila's convoy got jumped?” He frowned as the Nomad fixer started to explain. Dusty cursing under his breath as he kept talking. He gripped the wheel tighter and his left foot began to bounce. Signs he was tense and ready for a fight, ones Sora had learned easily. “Okay... Are you sure it's him? Hit Meta's and Aldercado's too... Shit he's serious about finding me huh.” He grumbled as his eyes darted along the lit up interior. “Okay. I'll talk with my boss.” He clicked off the earpiece taking a deep breath. A quiet, “fuck” escaped before he pulled them over.
“Sora I might need a little... Vacation time? I got a family matter, I mean actual family matter I gotta deal with.” He was clearly tense as he took a breath trying not to let the anger consume him.
“Fried chicken another day, hmm?”, was the living weapon’s only response, and she gave it in a dull casual sarcasm that carried with it hints of boredom. Her eyes never went near him, she just clicked her cigarette case shut and pocketed it away inside the interior pocket of her slim-fit designer blazer. If she had listened in, there was no sign. The surveillance on him was simply a matter of protection: protection of Arasaka, and protection of herself—too many analysts had dubbed Dusty the greatest ‘soft spot’ in her armor, the most likely way for someone to get to her, for it to simply be ignored.
So, he was watched, and far more than he knew.
“You must do what is necessary. I will stay in the car.”
Simple, yet impossibly vague language for someone in her position. Would she stay in the car as he dealt with family drama? Would she stay in the car until he dropped her at the office? She said nothing of intent, just tossed the butt of her finished cigarette from the window and retrieved another from the case in her blazer, before putting the case back, and lighting a new cigarette, exhaling with a deep sigh that accompanied her body relaxing into the seat, her head rolling against the headrest as she stared out of the window.
Dusty sighed, checking his mirrors a moment as they merged up onto the highway heading towards the edge of tone. “Nomad Convoys are getting hit hard. A cousin of mine, Mila, was on a run. Her and some others. New Raffen Shiv, not Wraiths turned up... Had a fucking AV and Kang Tao weapons, high end stuff that didn’t just hall off the truck. Big guns and bigger balls, someone saw my brother leading them.” He spoke taking a long puff on the cigarette she had given him before letting the window down enough to chuck it out. Armor plating coming up as they picked up speed, blowing past some NCPD cops who knew well enough to chase a fucking Nomad rig.
“I’m the closest and they think the Raffen are hauling up survivors for the slave market. So go find my people, any Aldercado’s, or any Meta’s they got bring’em out. Second part... Beat on any Shiv bitch I can get my hands on who might know something.” He explained as realized how fast he was going weaving between cars, slowly he lifted his foot.
“You sure you wanna come? You ain’t a danger girl any more, I can drop you off anywhere you want and be back in a couple hours. Unless you really wanna sit in here and smoke?” He asked, releasing the tension in his hands as pushed the cowboy hat on his head back a bit. “Just... My brother’s a sore spot... He killed fiance in a stunt to try and become the next head of the Jodes.” Ah, Dusty had finally mentioned something interesting: he was related to the founder of the Jodes clan after all, it wasn’t just a name and interfamily rival over succession, oh that was something else she probably knew better than Dusty, Arasaka was full of it.
“Family is always a…’sore spot’, as you say.”
Sora may have spoken the words in relation to his current circumstances, but there was something about the hard aloofness of her tone that suggested the words might have been a blade that cut both ways…his family, her family, the Arasaka family, only Sora knew exactly the meaning, and her’s was still a face that gave little to nothing even to the perceptive.
Finally, she sighed again, the only real hints at any emotional response from the woman. “Do not let off the accelerator; I was beginning to enjoy myself.”
It was a request; anything to do with his rig was a request, she understood the boundaries that the man had established, and she largely respected them. His rig was one of the few, it was an easy thing to understand, given his nature as a Nomad.
They nearly out of the city by the time she finally rolled her head against the headrest so that her face was pointed at him, her nearly black eyes blank as she spoke, her tone as understated as she was dangerous, “Oh, no…the ‘Saka Ninja will accompany me on this most dangerous and righteous undertaking. How terrrrrrrible.”
Finally, her eyes held a glint of something: sarcasm, light mocking mimicry, and the hint of amusement. The kind of amusement that allowed her a faint chuckle, before she closed her eyes and faced forward, eyes on the road ahead briefly before she simply closed them and enjoyed the last of her second cigarette of the day.
“Just drive, Dusty…continue blathering on about your familial drama, especially if it provides meaningful context and intelligence: What clans are these? Last I heard there were only Aldecaldos in the area. What are their current postures and attitudes towards each other? Why should I care? You know, basics.”
“Aldercado’s and Jodes get along... Well now. Jodes are the first nomads, oldest Nomads... And we don’t much care for statics, cities, or politics. We’ve been focused on farm work, animals, plant health, guns, and our rides. Made us tight knit with Metacorp, one of the big players in the seven nations. Meta and us have been working on new projects to bring some greenery further south, that’s what in those transports... Seed vaults, growth data, soil rejuvenation kits... Shit to make California pretty again.” He explained as to why they were moving things around. “But LA and NC are mostly Aldercado territory, we had to get them to sign off before we start trucking in stuff from our two nations.”
“Long and short of it. Expensive stuff to grow real food and plants has been stolen by people who would as soon enslave, rape, and betray everyone they know for eddies. We're heading out to meet a couple others from my clan, some Meta’s, and an Aldercado’s who were first on the scene. Meta’s tracking the stuff, Aldercado’s more worried about the people. My family is more worried about the fact that Wraith went quiet than this happens. We might have new players on the roads.” Dusty spoke, as Dusty moved them over to the VIP lane of the border security who scanned via drone... And with Sora onboard they just dropped the barricade and Dusty gunned it.
Out past the city, the armor panels came up and the windows were now view screens displaying the outside. Dusty pressed a button underneath the steering wheel as the engine whined and two more tubo’s cranked on as they flew through the wastes, burned out wrecks and small towns vanishing like dots. “Well, good news... Lunch will be better than fried chicken.” He tried to crack a joke. “As for more intel, my brother’s a snake who wanted to make his way into ruling one of the seven nations. So... Think everything I’m not ambitious, subtle, and borged to hell... You know I don’t much trust cyberware.”
“Who’s naïve enough to trust cyberware? You just hang around enough cyberware to launch a small Japanese woman into space all day. Totally don’t trust it. Who would trust that stuff? Psht. Nerds.”
With the armor up and no real windows to speak of, Sora just pressed the dying cigarette between her thumb and index finger until the flame died. There was no wince of pain, there was no sign that she felt anything at all, instead placing the dead butt into the retrieved cigarette case before making it disappear again inside her blazer.
“Trust was gone in my life the moment someone asked me to wear bunny ears.” Then, turning to Dusty with the most earnest, serious, expression she had ever dared to show him, she admitted, “I killed that person with a stylus without hesitation. Bunny ears, Dusty. That’s my boundary. Never cross it,” she finished, muttering, crossing her arms over chest, looking at the projection of the wastes.
“Gotcha. Never ask the lady who signs my paychecks to wear bunny ears.” He added almost sarcastically this power dynamic only went one way and he knew it. Setting the cruise control he took a breath leaning back. “I got an ashtray if you want.” The Nomad clicked it out from the center console, as he flicked his eyes back into the rearview. “So... When we get there try to... Not to piss them off? They already have plenty of dead and captured family and will be on edge. Not to mention angry I brought an outsider in on this... It's a bit like if you brought me to a board meeting in Tokyo and I started complaining about the lack of a good burger.” He added a bit nervously.
“But, I did grab my kit bag this morning... Wakako was talking about lining me up with a gig to some sharp shooting on some Russian mob guys doing a deal.” He spoke, the speed started to wind down, as he frowned monitors showing nothing outside of them save for more damaged vehicles. “Weird... They’d post outriders a few miles out.” He placed a hand down where he kept his shotgun.
“I smell a trap... Good news, I am driving a far greater danger.” He looked towards Sora for a second, winking at her. “You see something that looks suspect, you do what you gotta.” As they rolled onwards, they found it slightly off the road. Five or six big transports were rammed and damaged, all of them with Metacorp logos on them. Around them Jodes and Aldercado’s vehicles burned in wreckage, blood and coolant splattered... What came next was worse, Jodes' outriders and those they were supposed to meet have been flayed and blood eagled with cyberware and drugs having been used to keep them alive through the whole thing.
Scrawled on a far wall was a simple message. ‘The eighth nation rises.’ On the side of the Netrunner RV that had been providing mobile hacking security. “Fuck... This is bad. At least ten more dead... These guys are worse than Wraiths.” He spoke, pulling over, frowning. “You wanna take a look around, you're the detective here after all?”
She sighed, closing her eyes again with a tiny yawn she spoke through, “First, Tokyo has amazing burgers you uncultured swine. Second, don’t ever fucking wink at me again. Third...go, my little Dustbunny, spread your ‘kit’ wings and fly. I’ll try to make sure I notice if you’re about to die.”
“Gee thanks mom.” He rolled his eyes as he put it in park and got out and began to walk towards the RV’s getting a look at some of the corpses of the attackers. “Fuck... They really went all out. Guys have phoenixes and shit all over them... But not a lot of bodies for a convoy this big.” He frowned as crouched down, examining the blood trails. “A lot of blood splatters and too few bodies. A lot of captives...” He muttered to himself, as he raised his head, as looked up the glowing red eyes of borged out Shiv stared back, decloaking.
“Hello little bug, the spider wants to play, he said you’d come... Said you’d taste like him too.” She spoke as launched a barbed tongue at him and Dusty jumped back firing his shotgun hitting her dermal plating as he scrambled back impacting her armor with a second round before she vanished again. “...God fucking damn it.” He stood up and readied himself again.
He listened to her stalking, the sound of her metallic body leaping from one wreckage to another, as he held his urge to fire in check. Ducking clear as she turned visible and leaped in trying to swing her arm blades at him, as he leveled the shotgun at her chest and knocked her back with the blast of buckshot. Flipping the lever action again to ready it, as drew his magnum and fired two rounds into her head, level blood and other fluids splattered along the wall as she hissed and bolted behind cover. “Oh you scared creepy crawly bitch!” He yelled, trying to draw her back into the fight, she seemed all chromed out and halfway to Cyberpyscho.
“Little bug has more bite than I thought. Boss said you’d be tough but I will peel you as I did-” Her voice echoed but like the speakers had a source, so he and fired a revolver round knocking her off the burning wrecked of a car stuck in the ground, as she writhed on the floor he walked over placed the shotgun against her jaw. “Please bug... I will take a message... I will be good. I don’t wanna die...” She sniveled her red eyes darting between the gun and him.
“You will be the message.” He pulled back and as he looked away, suddenly her scream came as blew off an arm, then with a flick of the lever he took the next. Then he took each of her legs, leaving her with the wobbly little tail she’d added as grabbed her by and dragged the nugget of a Raffen back towards the wreckage, throwing her into the biggest crater as wiggled and screamed in the hot sun of the wastes, maybe they’d come for her... Maybe they would leave her, but the message was clear: mercy was out and now it would be who could do worse to the other first.
He needed information but for now... Leaving her in that hole should be fine, he could question her if he had too. He went back to looking through the wreckage, noting the directions of the tires... The fire from the AV and how they’d tried to circle up for a defense, it wasn’t a clean attack, the dead were maybe thirty bodies including those meant to meet them. Meaning they probably had near a hundred or so as captives. The Aldercado’s had claimed attacks before this one and Meta had claimed someone was ambushing them on the coast too. Standing up he moved back towards the car to get on the radio, they’d need hands to bury the dead... And he figured out the direction the prisoners and merchandise had gone.
The goods were headed back into Night City, while the prisoners? Further into the badlands probably a Raffen tent city or underground hideout. He’d heard rumors they’d taken over cave networks or mined their own out to stay hidden. He was clear on one thing, his people would be sold and sent to the coast if they didn’t hurry. However, if they didn’t get the seeds back before they were sold and moved... They could kiss a greener California and a decade of work goodbye, he wanted to save the people, but would that be enough when they may lose everything they spent their days working for.
“—Greentech. MetaCorp…yes, I’ll wait.”
She was on the phone when he approached the car, her crystalline, wafer-thin handheld tossed in his direction with the accuracy of a marksman who could drop a dime in a thimble during a hurricane, and the casualness of a lazy Sunday. On the device were images, “You can scroll,” she added, towards Dusty. Suddenly in his hands he had images with the watermark of Arasaka, six images in total. Satellite images of the very location they were at, and the surrounding grid. He was welcomed to see what useful information he could get from it, both the slaughter caught in still images, and two aftermath images that showed departure.
“I sent you a sat-pic of the truck leaving the area…that sounds like a personal problem, Jin,” her tone was colder, harsher to the man on the other end of the signal than it had been to Dusty just moments ago. It was either just the hard mask of Sora the ‘Saka Ninja, or she genuinely held a distaste for this ‘Jin.’
Her eyes rolled, hard—it was most definitely the latter.
“Very well. Find the truck…what?” Her face twisted in irritation, unlike her, but she hated stupid above all else. “Why does Arasaka Security have the imagination of a gun-barrel?...no, Jin, listen to me very carefully: Find the truck. Find out everything about the people driving the truck. Find the buyers. Use our endless proxies in Night City to make those buyers no longer want to buy. Use another of our endless proxies to buy the goods ourselves, make sure Reqresuitions oversees the negotiation—yes, Jin, because throwing too much money would spook them.” Her eyes rolled so far into the back of her head, she might have been looking for what remained of her patience in the back of her mind. “Drive it to R&D, they have twenty-four hours to make their scans, minimal invasive. Leave the truck at Badlands-Z579. Nothing marked, no traces.”
She killed the line with a thought and exited the car to close the distance between herself and the Nomad merc, holding out her hand for the return of her handheld, her eyes katanas in a defensive posture as they locked with his own, “You get your precious greenery, we screw over MetaCorp diversification without them knowing—win/win. Now focus on people. I’m not doing that for you.”
“Understood... They're probably going to be in a Raffen Camp... Ain’t gonna be pleasant what we find, like less than Night City pleasant.” He explained as moved to climb back in the car. “We’ll follow the tracks and figure out where they are... But it’ll take a solid plan to get them out. It’ll be crawling with these new Raffen.” He explained looking back towards the one in the hole. “And it looks like they are way more chromed out.
Climbing back into the car he got it started and moved on, getting the Clydesdale into four wheel drive as they moved with speed over the rough terrain. The ride however was no worse than Night City potholes and city maintenance works. “...You know that cost Saka a fortune, I don’t think you really want a green Cali that much. Pretty sure you’d rather be back in Japan. So either you want to help or part of you cares about this place more than you let on.”
When he talked about where she wanted to really be, Sora thought of Eddie, and the thought turned to dust in the hands of her memory, as the only images that remained to her was Eddie, milk-white, and dying fast in her arms. It no longer mattered what feelings were real, and what feelings weren’t real.
Maybe it never did.
A soft sigh of irritation escaped her, as if she were talking to a child like Jin all over again, “You underestimate just how much Arasaka enjoys denying other corporations’ diversity of revenue, and you underestimate just how much I enjoy making Arasaka pay out fortunes.”
Sora twisted in her seat and reached back, long black hair shining as it moved behind her reaching shoulder and arm as her hand grabbed the katana and brought it to rest between her and the passenger door, her eyes once more locked onto the horizon, with little interest in anything else.
“I am the plan, Dusty. Get me there and try not to die.”
It was nothing he’d ever hear in the inflection of her tone, but he’d no doubt by now learned if she mentioned committing violen
ce, at all, that she was in the state of mind to hurt people. And when she was in the state of mind to hurt people…precious little on Earth could hope to stop her. That would have been it, the end of it until their arrival, but something happened after prolonged minutes of silence. Maybe five, maybe ten—it was hard to tell with the empty stretch of Badlands and silence. But then, just then, she did something he had never witnessed before.
She said something personal.
“I don’t miss Japan. I don’t like it here,” her voice was hardened steel, until she paused, and said the most revealing thing she’d said since her arrival to Night city: “I don’t like it anywhere.”
“...You sound like a Nomad.” He answered, not joking or cruel, just honest. Most Nomad’s didn’t like one place they moved. Maybe stay on a farm a few months or few weeks on the road. They were never still, never placate with where they were always on to something next.
“Well, I do my best to try and make whatever you have to put up with easier... By the way, how was Emily today? Last I saw her she was panicking and running towards the office a couple days ago like she’d forgotten to order your cigarettes again.” He added as they drove, Dusty came from a hard life full of violence and Sora was violence the only normal person the two interacted with was her little Corpo secretary which Dusty still wasn’t sure if Sora sleeping with or not, she definitely watched the way the girl moved more like art than as a predator... Then again he knew enough that kind of prey would bore her.
“Surprised you wanna get in the fight... Must be one of those days. I’ll take the ridge with the big rifle from the trunk. Pick off watch posts and the like while you do your ninja thing, throwing knives you had me store are in the case in the bag seat along with your spare outfit and carton of cigs.” He added, he’d make a space onboard for Sora’s things she wanted kept in his car in case something happened, it hadn’t since Eddie and those days, but nonetheless he made sure she had them here.
“Save the bag for after.”
The moment the car stopped, and it was clear they were near, Sora pulled the handle to the passenger door and stepped out. The shockwave from her next movement was enough to shake the car on its shocks and nearly crack one of the imagery displays. She, apparently, did not wait for him to get set up on the high ground. The perimeter was dealt with stealth, just dead bodies falling silently, the only hint something was amiss the sudden breezes kicking up dirt.
“Dust storm might be comin’,” observed one Shiv as he looked up from his beer and fire roasted sausage. He never really did see where the fix that exploded through his chest came from, unless you count when his head was ripped straight off his body from behind, leaving the head tumbling to the dirt, not even touching ground before she was three other murders in. She stopped in front of one, who blinked at her, and opened their mouth to shout.
It was hard to do when Sora ripped their jaw from the rest of their skull, crushing their brain to mush within their skill with two bullet-time fast strikes from her fists. Despite the starting of other shouts from around the surface camp, the dirt “storm” just kept kicking up more and more Badlands dirt. She stopped for half a minute, enough time to catch her breath and let her internal components recharge, close enough to another Raffen Shiv that they rose their assault rifle, only for the katana to finally flash in the sunlit camp—half the gun slid off slowly in a diagonal slice, leaving the Shiv gawking before their head came off with a second flash of katana in the sunlight.
The concussive sound of a small sonic boom came again as she darted off once more, resuming the dust storm. Bodies began to fall after sprays of blood and white cybernetic fluid, sliced through at the waist as she went in zig-zagged lines throughout the camp. What was left were non-combatants, or those hiding in corners of tents or backseats of dirt covered rigs. Dusty could clean them up from afar, she decided, as she headed for the caverns.
The sheer volume of dirt that flew via dust cloud into the face of the cavern’s checkpoint left those on sentry all but blinded and swallowing dirt particles. By the time anyone was able to look up, the very first sentry’s head exploded, her katana pushed straight through his face to her forearm as the tip of the blade embedded itself into the brain of the biggest borg she’d seen yet. The first sentry’s neck was goo as she rounded her shoulder and removed the head of the big borg to ensure that was that.
Her pistol finally came out, as a crowd of ten were shot, forehead shots dead centered for each. That’s when the real screaming began. In the caverns she could be even more dangerous, sending walls and vehicles flying at people like a rampaging cybernetic bull on parade, fists and kicks enough to send their shitty little prefabs flying like projectiles in a hurricane wind. When the pistol was out, the katana finished the work. The biggest of the borged out cyberpsychos got the blade embedded into its reinforced skull, so Sora simply started ripping out throats and every bit of fleshy bits available. Throats, necks, balls, tits, uncybered limbs, one random cybernetic arm became a club to bludgeon and crush the faces of others in her hands.
It was plastered in blood and bits of flesh, bone, and brains that Sora finally staggered out of the caverns. She took one awkward step, and fell backwards onto her ass in the dirt, against the mouth of the cavern, the sandstone. In one hand the Katana was resheathed, and allowed to fall to the ground beside her. In the other hand…a large bottle of whiskey, clutched by the neck of the bottle, bottomed up as she took as thirsty a drink as she could recall, her body still save for the heavy, labored, breathing of her chest, head leaned back against the rock, eyes to the sky, but firmly shut.
The only communication from her was then, a text message to Dusty that simply read:
I don’t want to frighten them, you rescue your trapped people.
Dusty had gotten his gear, though in truth he mostly just watched Sora work; it was sort of like watching a natural disaster and wild animal all at once. She was as brutal as she was efficient, however he was aware of something others were not. She could still get worn down and tired, her amazing displays and feats came not just from her parts but training and practice. She wasn’t full borg nor did he think she wanted to be, she was that good and modified enough to do the job well. When the work was done, it seemed anyone who had survived fled or hidden deep enough that Sora’s advanced systems couldn’t find them, which meant several meters of stone between them.
He crouched down and carefully sat a warm clean towel, a very big bottle of water, and lastly her bag with a spare outfit, tossing her the key to the Clydesdale. “Clean up however you like, I’ll get them out... You rest up, probably most you’ve gotten to do in two months.”
Last time she’d gone this all out had been awhile, a hand on his revolver as he descended down towards the pens. Occasionally diverting away towards crying or whimpering, this was a place for Shiv of all clans to come and trade in goods and people... Or make use of services normal Nomads would shoot them for, making places like Clouds almost seem tame. Uncuffing men and women who were tied down for the pleasure of their captors, finding some who had expensive cyberware ripped from them now as little more than pieces of scrap with a pulse he had others help them as he finally found the pens below. The Aldercado’s and Jodes within had kept their bravado, the Meta’s were far more scared of these Shiv, a life with the biggest guns protecting ripped away can do that.
“Alright, grab weapons, gear, anything you need from the Shiv they won’t need it anymore. After that we are stealing every single working vehicle we can get... And we're taking the others with us... Jodes will take them in or get them home.” Aldercado’s and Meta’s grumbling about Jodes usual willingness to allow strangers to join the Nomads.
Meanwhile outside, a tractor trailer bristling with guns rammed through the front gate, following it a couple of Militech tanks and she was fairly certain some of the weapons on the supporting trucks were from Arasaka transports that went missing. An older woman kicked open the door barking orders, the Jodes name written across her shirt told her exactly which clan was leading the charge. What came out of the back next was a netrunner, not like any she had seen before one the mythical savants the Jodes stayed in contact with, a Technomancer. Not a piece of that gear was made by a corporation, all of its custom hardware backed up with a serious fire power from Aldercado’s infamous Los Lobos. Seems the shiv had kicked the nest hard enough to see the trillions in the Nomad economy actually put to work in going after them.
The older woman rushed over to be kneeling down by Sora. “So you’re the one my nephew has been working for... Gotta say you are a hard woman to miss.” She spoke giving a smile that reminded her of Dusty's. The old woman reached a hand down to help her up. “Guess we owe you for this mess? Dusty’s never so... Clean about his fights.” She added, shaking her head.
Sora sighed deeply, she left the half empty bottle on the dirt beside her, standing up and taking only the towel, bag, water, and katana with her as she wordlessly and without meeting the gaze of the older Nomad woman walked off towards what remained of the camp. She found a water tank and a hose, utilizing one of their camp showers, aware of the trembling woman in the corner of the communal shower stall, trying not to move or breathe as if there were monsters on the loose.
“Go,” the living weapon said, gently. The woman paused, briefly, before running out of the shower hiding spot and left Sora alone. Given how straight and flawlessly groomed her hair was, it didn’t take so long to comb her fingers through it to get out all the gore. Hair, face, before she removed her shirt, one button at a time, her fingers trembling as she did so, her eyes clinching closed as memory invaded her cleaning.
That man dying as she twisted her blade inside him, in that lonely, shadowy, lunar hallway. The look of shock and horror on Eddie’s face as she finally realized just what Sora was capable of when she was angry and hurt. The look of her father as his eyes were blank with rage, hitting her again, and again.
The look of the child that saw her near the captives in the caverns, white with fear at the sight of their crimson splattered savior. Sora froze, turned around in the cavern, and retrieved her lodged katana before exiting and texting Dusty during a short rest. The memory of the moments played out hazy, sun bleached, and pixelated in her mind, a song she’d heard on the radio the other day playing in her mind as her eyes stared into space,
‘You don’t know what love is,’ the Chet Baker blues song sang, sadly, in her memory.
The pants and shoes came off next, and it was a small blessing that even as a Nomad army gathered just outside and within the camp, not a single soul came near her shower. She was still half damp when she tied her hair into a long ponytail high on her head, her lithe frame clothed in light brown shorts that fell to upper thigh, a black tank that was hidden under a dark brown hooded sweater adorned with cherry blossom blooms here and there, it’s gray-white hood folded down behind her head and mostly hidden by her long, still damp, hair. Faded black work boots that she didn’t bother to tie, only fold into the boot, were all she had on her feet as she emerged from the communal shower, slipping on a pair of silver framed, dark brown aviators over her eyes as she found a fire and burned her bloodied clothes and shoes. Katana slung over her shoulder, along with the near empty bag, she finally approached the car, her eyes scanning the area for what was happening, and who was paying attention to her.
Slowly Dusty emerged, a young woman leaning against him her auburn hair matching his own as the older woman's face fell she bolted towards the younger girl. Grabbing her in a tight hug, Sora would get the impression that it was Dusty’s cousin as the young man moved away from the crowd. She’d note the Aldercado’s and Jodes seemed friendly but clearly there was tension as Dusty moved away a very loud and angry voice filled the air.
“Rhodes! You mother fucker!” It came from a very angry Meta who seemed to be in charge of their group. “You dragged an outsider into all our clan's business! And come to find out it’s your brother who is riling up the Shiv.” He angrily spat upon the ground. “Living in the city, working for a Corpo... You're not fit to be a Nomad!” The tension got worse, as Jodes moved to stand behind Duston, Meta’s moved to stand behind their compatriot who knew an awful lot about Dusty.
“You say that again I’ll fill you full of holes. I’d give my life for anyone else out here and nearly have a dozen times over.” Dusty answered with a gravel and anger that Sora had never coaxed him. “Only reason I’m not beating your skull is common decency and because you would have been kin if she was still alive, Bart.” He growled pointing a finger as the two men drew closer. “Now fuck off and go count your numbers.” He raised his voice and jammed a finger into the smaller man’s chest. “Or they can be counted without you among them.”
Before it could go further, Duston and Bart separated the older from before parting them. “Enough! Children. I am the only one here who can speak for a nation and you will both, shut the fuck up before I beat both your asses and drag you across the badlands ass first.” She growled, clearly the woman was a serious power as even the Aldercado’s backed up a bit. “We will all return to our camps, count our losses and we will convene the Nations. Shiv had dozens of boltholes and plenty more camps out here... It’s high time we started clearing them.” She was talking about taking the Nomad nations to war.
As Dusty stepped away she saw several Nomads hugging him or clapping his back Meta’s and Aldercado’s too. A few people mentioned a thing called the Battle of the Brothers, it was clear whatever was happening she’d get to spend a night around Dusty’s clan as the midday sun started to set.
She appeared like a ghost, without sound to betray her approach, so quickly that it was closer to appearing as if by magic than magic itself. Just…there and staring at the man others were calling ‘Bart’. Where there had been scrum, where there had been bodies, all Sora seemed to be aware of existing was herself, and Bart, her eyes fixated through dark brown lenses, her body encircling the man like a predator debating the kill. Someone stepped in her path, and her shoulder rolled forward, flipping the katana forward in the air until her left hand snatched it, mid-air, near the middle of the sheath, her head tilted dangerously at Bart.
Was she still in bloodlust? Did she simply not like the way this man looked? Were they heartbeats away from a new torrent of blood?
Her voice came hard, harsh, and loud, “Talk to me like that.”
If the tone wasn’t enough, if the words weren’t threatening on their own, if the very way she moved wasn’t a proclamation of lethal danger for everyone within sight, the very slow spread of the grin across her lips was the black sun drawing across the horizon, an omen of utter and complete destruction.
“Draw a weapon,” she whispered to the man. Her black eyes hadn’t seen another soul, they had fixated, a killer narrowing in on the kill as the delicate fingers of her right hand slowly, purposefully, coiled around the hilt of the katana.
A single wrong breath by any party near her would be all it took in this steel trap of a moment.
Bart trembled, his hands hardly moving as he took a backstep, he knew about who Dusty was working with but didn’t think she’d be the one he brought in person. However, it was Dusty who stepped forward. “Leave him... He’s ex-fiances brother, a pencil pusher and big mouth... But he’s not worth the bloodletting boss.” Her Nomad spoke as slowly walked up behind her, Bart’s eyes darting from Sora to him, as if to beg for help.
“Then again... If she wants your blood I can’t do nothing about it. She’s a good boss... Looks after her people real well and treats us better than most.” He spoke as reached over, taking out a cigarette and his lighter. “Bart. You fucked up. Now make it right.”
“Fuck... I’m sorry Duston I just... Fuck I’m sorry!” He spoke, looking back into his reflection in Sora’s sunglasses as the fear in eyes and the thumping of his heart increased. Duston for his part looked towards Sora for a moment. The wreck of man’s lip trembled as he swallowed and then shut his eyes waiting for what he thought was coming.
“You wanna get something to eat? Diner up the road has good burgers.”
Blood was hardening in the sand in the heat of the sun above, the metallic scent of death and burnt electronics filling the air of the killing field she had personally planted, one death at a time, in the matter of mere minutes.
Never did her eyes do anything but stare at the man.
“I remember how we used to justify it all…and we knew better. We told ourselves it didn’t matter, anymore—we CHOSE to continue,” her voice rose like the haunt of a devil in the dark, her right hand knuckles turning white as her grip became possessed by demons Dusty had never seen before, yet the silence that followed the rise in volume was immediately shadowed by a fall to whisper, “Shame on us,” she barely breathed the words, her eyes finally snapping away, to the bodies, to the death all around them like a fog of war, “Shame on all of us.”
Without another word Sora Hayami swung the katana back over her shoulder, retreated to the entrance of the cavern…and picked up the bottle of whiskey still covered in her own bloody handprint. Muted, without a hint of emotion, she stared back at Dusty, “You owe me fried chicken.”
She took a long drink as she turned her back on the crowd, and walked back towards the car.
It was early morning as the sun struck the glittering buildings of Night City as the part time merc, full time cowboy, and NC’s least known smuggler tapped on the steering wheel. Waiting for the light to change, as he watched the local joy toys and one nightstand crowd do the walk of shame heels in hand from Japantown. Dusty and Sora had gotten into a routine, he’d swing by and take her round for morning errands and small talk, then off to the office. Where he’d tinker and make calls while she did her business, it had stayed like this for two months. Sora seemed to have an infinite supply of money and for some reason valued his thoughts, why she needed an up jumped farm hand with a sweet rider for other than to let the other suits know she had more money to throw around than they did, he’d never know.
Somedays she’d ask for a new restaurant or bar to visit, other’s shrines or quiet spots to get away from it all. The fact the pair of them were avid smokers helped too, pretty sure the Clydesdale had more smokes in it than some of the shops in NC. The pay was outstanding and Sora seemed for whatever reason to like the Nomad in her life... Even if she did scare him shitless some days. As the light turned green he let the engine roar as shot down the road, with a quick turn in he pulled five minutes early and decided to roll another cigarette. Turning up the music as he took a moment to look out at the view. Sometimes, just sometimes Night City looked pretty enough to want to live here for good.
Shutting his eyes, as he leaned back in his seat turning up the volume as he waited for the familiar sound of Sora’s approach. She usually gave him the common courtesy of not just spooking the shit out of the nomad, though he was certainly aware she enjoyed the occasional joke with him as the punch line.
He’d gotten an apartment not far from the Afterlife, occasional get away or pick up gigs on nights Sora wished to be left alone. But two months later she still wanted him around. He'd work on the gall to ask her directly eventually but for now, it suited him playing chauffeur to Sora and even Emily on occasion. Sora’s dainty little assistant certainly seemed more chatty than she was, especially if her boss wasn’t around. Always curious about what the cameras and Arasaka spooks couldn’t dig up on people who didn’t live their lives where they could be tracked.
Sora was halfway through a cigarette when she pulled open the car door, tossed the katana in the back, and slid into the passenger seat. She was typically dressed; slim-fit suit, shoes, no socks, her jet-black hair impossibly straight and long. There was no makeup on the woman, but there never was. Without looking over she offered an open hand to Dusty, her black leather and silver-trimmed cigarette case snapping open in offer a cigarette inside. From time-to-time she would offer a random kindness, though her face was a pure shroud of nothingness when it came to possible emotional state, or motivation.
But her cigarettes were true tobacco, not synth-tobacco, so the offer was at least made.
Her early morning was over. There were two meetings, and an Arasaka counter-intelligence operative that had veered off the rails that she had dealt with. The meetings had been short, the rogue Arasaka agent even shorter. She’d simply blown their internal cyberware, the internals of their processor and brain blowing through the back of their skull, painting the wall of the motel room behind them that they’d been hiding out in.
Sora would give them credit: they didn’t try to bargain or beg. They’d gone straight for their sidearm. As if they were fast enough, but they likely didn’t know that, and Sora preferred that conclusion to begging and bargaining. Her eyes danced along the glitter of the light of the morning star that illuminated the corner of Japantown they currently haunted, scanning people and faces off Arasaka’s databases.
She’d been bored since Eddie and her band of merry-men were dealt with, no amount of additional corporate responsibility gave her any comfort from the dread of lacking a real, true, interesting target to hunt. She was a super-predator without prey…and she was discovering it to be a fate worse than death.
At least in death she wouldn’t have been bored.
“You have people trying to call you,” she informed him flatly, not beginning to explain how she knew that before he did.
“My clan probably.” He answered as drew out the custom engraved lighter he kept. “Probably asking about when I can come home to work fields or other such stuff. Ma, always hates when I'm away.” He spoke as clicked a button and picked up an earpiece. He knew Sora could listen if she wanted to, but he tried to pretend he could have a private life.
As it rang he continued to talk. “Found a new place, serves real fried chicken. Nomad joint but the guy said I'm welcome to bring a guest. If you wanna have lunch today. I know you hate staying in that office all day.” He stopped, a loud and panicked voice entered the earbud as Dusty slowed down at a light.
“Daryl. Buddy. Slow down, what do you mean Mila's convoy got jumped?” He frowned as the Nomad fixer started to explain. Dusty cursing under his breath as he kept talking. He gripped the wheel tighter and his left foot began to bounce. Signs he was tense and ready for a fight, ones Sora had learned easily. “Okay... Are you sure it's him? Hit Meta's and Aldercado's too... Shit he's serious about finding me huh.” He grumbled as his eyes darted along the lit up interior. “Okay. I'll talk with my boss.” He clicked off the earpiece taking a deep breath. A quiet, “fuck” escaped before he pulled them over.
“Sora I might need a little... Vacation time? I got a family matter, I mean actual family matter I gotta deal with.” He was clearly tense as he took a breath trying not to let the anger consume him.
“Fried chicken another day, hmm?”, was the living weapon’s only response, and she gave it in a dull casual sarcasm that carried with it hints of boredom. Her eyes never went near him, she just clicked her cigarette case shut and pocketed it away inside the interior pocket of her slim-fit designer blazer. If she had listened in, there was no sign. The surveillance on him was simply a matter of protection: protection of Arasaka, and protection of herself—too many analysts had dubbed Dusty the greatest ‘soft spot’ in her armor, the most likely way for someone to get to her, for it to simply be ignored.
So, he was watched, and far more than he knew.
“You must do what is necessary. I will stay in the car.”
Simple, yet impossibly vague language for someone in her position. Would she stay in the car as he dealt with family drama? Would she stay in the car until he dropped her at the office? She said nothing of intent, just tossed the butt of her finished cigarette from the window and retrieved another from the case in her blazer, before putting the case back, and lighting a new cigarette, exhaling with a deep sigh that accompanied her body relaxing into the seat, her head rolling against the headrest as she stared out of the window.
Dusty sighed, checking his mirrors a moment as they merged up onto the highway heading towards the edge of tone. “Nomad Convoys are getting hit hard. A cousin of mine, Mila, was on a run. Her and some others. New Raffen Shiv, not Wraiths turned up... Had a fucking AV and Kang Tao weapons, high end stuff that didn’t just hall off the truck. Big guns and bigger balls, someone saw my brother leading them.” He spoke taking a long puff on the cigarette she had given him before letting the window down enough to chuck it out. Armor plating coming up as they picked up speed, blowing past some NCPD cops who knew well enough to chase a fucking Nomad rig.
“I’m the closest and they think the Raffen are hauling up survivors for the slave market. So go find my people, any Aldercado’s, or any Meta’s they got bring’em out. Second part... Beat on any Shiv bitch I can get my hands on who might know something.” He explained as realized how fast he was going weaving between cars, slowly he lifted his foot.
“You sure you wanna come? You ain’t a danger girl any more, I can drop you off anywhere you want and be back in a couple hours. Unless you really wanna sit in here and smoke?” He asked, releasing the tension in his hands as pushed the cowboy hat on his head back a bit. “Just... My brother’s a sore spot... He killed fiance in a stunt to try and become the next head of the Jodes.” Ah, Dusty had finally mentioned something interesting: he was related to the founder of the Jodes clan after all, it wasn’t just a name and interfamily rival over succession, oh that was something else she probably knew better than Dusty, Arasaka was full of it.
“Family is always a…’sore spot’, as you say.”
Sora may have spoken the words in relation to his current circumstances, but there was something about the hard aloofness of her tone that suggested the words might have been a blade that cut both ways…his family, her family, the Arasaka family, only Sora knew exactly the meaning, and her’s was still a face that gave little to nothing even to the perceptive.
Finally, she sighed again, the only real hints at any emotional response from the woman. “Do not let off the accelerator; I was beginning to enjoy myself.”
It was a request; anything to do with his rig was a request, she understood the boundaries that the man had established, and she largely respected them. His rig was one of the few, it was an easy thing to understand, given his nature as a Nomad.
They nearly out of the city by the time she finally rolled her head against the headrest so that her face was pointed at him, her nearly black eyes blank as she spoke, her tone as understated as she was dangerous, “Oh, no…the ‘Saka Ninja will accompany me on this most dangerous and righteous undertaking. How terrrrrrrible.”
Finally, her eyes held a glint of something: sarcasm, light mocking mimicry, and the hint of amusement. The kind of amusement that allowed her a faint chuckle, before she closed her eyes and faced forward, eyes on the road ahead briefly before she simply closed them and enjoyed the last of her second cigarette of the day.
“Just drive, Dusty…continue blathering on about your familial drama, especially if it provides meaningful context and intelligence: What clans are these? Last I heard there were only Aldecaldos in the area. What are their current postures and attitudes towards each other? Why should I care? You know, basics.”
“Aldercado’s and Jodes get along... Well now. Jodes are the first nomads, oldest Nomads... And we don’t much care for statics, cities, or politics. We’ve been focused on farm work, animals, plant health, guns, and our rides. Made us tight knit with Metacorp, one of the big players in the seven nations. Meta and us have been working on new projects to bring some greenery further south, that’s what in those transports... Seed vaults, growth data, soil rejuvenation kits... Shit to make California pretty again.” He explained as to why they were moving things around. “But LA and NC are mostly Aldercado territory, we had to get them to sign off before we start trucking in stuff from our two nations.”
“Long and short of it. Expensive stuff to grow real food and plants has been stolen by people who would as soon enslave, rape, and betray everyone they know for eddies. We're heading out to meet a couple others from my clan, some Meta’s, and an Aldercado’s who were first on the scene. Meta’s tracking the stuff, Aldercado’s more worried about the people. My family is more worried about the fact that Wraith went quiet than this happens. We might have new players on the roads.” Dusty spoke, as Dusty moved them over to the VIP lane of the border security who scanned via drone... And with Sora onboard they just dropped the barricade and Dusty gunned it.
Out past the city, the armor panels came up and the windows were now view screens displaying the outside. Dusty pressed a button underneath the steering wheel as the engine whined and two more tubo’s cranked on as they flew through the wastes, burned out wrecks and small towns vanishing like dots. “Well, good news... Lunch will be better than fried chicken.” He tried to crack a joke. “As for more intel, my brother’s a snake who wanted to make his way into ruling one of the seven nations. So... Think everything I’m not ambitious, subtle, and borged to hell... You know I don’t much trust cyberware.”
“Who’s naïve enough to trust cyberware? You just hang around enough cyberware to launch a small Japanese woman into space all day. Totally don’t trust it. Who would trust that stuff? Psht. Nerds.”
With the armor up and no real windows to speak of, Sora just pressed the dying cigarette between her thumb and index finger until the flame died. There was no wince of pain, there was no sign that she felt anything at all, instead placing the dead butt into the retrieved cigarette case before making it disappear again inside her blazer.
“Trust was gone in my life the moment someone asked me to wear bunny ears.” Then, turning to Dusty with the most earnest, serious, expression she had ever dared to show him, she admitted, “I killed that person with a stylus without hesitation. Bunny ears, Dusty. That’s my boundary. Never cross it,” she finished, muttering, crossing her arms over chest, looking at the projection of the wastes.
“Gotcha. Never ask the lady who signs my paychecks to wear bunny ears.” He added almost sarcastically this power dynamic only went one way and he knew it. Setting the cruise control he took a breath leaning back. “I got an ashtray if you want.” The Nomad clicked it out from the center console, as he flicked his eyes back into the rearview. “So... When we get there try to... Not to piss them off? They already have plenty of dead and captured family and will be on edge. Not to mention angry I brought an outsider in on this... It's a bit like if you brought me to a board meeting in Tokyo and I started complaining about the lack of a good burger.” He added a bit nervously.
“But, I did grab my kit bag this morning... Wakako was talking about lining me up with a gig to some sharp shooting on some Russian mob guys doing a deal.” He spoke, the speed started to wind down, as he frowned monitors showing nothing outside of them save for more damaged vehicles. “Weird... They’d post outriders a few miles out.” He placed a hand down where he kept his shotgun.
“I smell a trap... Good news, I am driving a far greater danger.” He looked towards Sora for a second, winking at her. “You see something that looks suspect, you do what you gotta.” As they rolled onwards, they found it slightly off the road. Five or six big transports were rammed and damaged, all of them with Metacorp logos on them. Around them Jodes and Aldercado’s vehicles burned in wreckage, blood and coolant splattered... What came next was worse, Jodes' outriders and those they were supposed to meet have been flayed and blood eagled with cyberware and drugs having been used to keep them alive through the whole thing.
Scrawled on a far wall was a simple message. ‘The eighth nation rises.’ On the side of the Netrunner RV that had been providing mobile hacking security. “Fuck... This is bad. At least ten more dead... These guys are worse than Wraiths.” He spoke, pulling over, frowning. “You wanna take a look around, you're the detective here after all?”
She sighed, closing her eyes again with a tiny yawn she spoke through, “First, Tokyo has amazing burgers you uncultured swine. Second, don’t ever fucking wink at me again. Third...go, my little Dustbunny, spread your ‘kit’ wings and fly. I’ll try to make sure I notice if you’re about to die.”
“Gee thanks mom.” He rolled his eyes as he put it in park and got out and began to walk towards the RV’s getting a look at some of the corpses of the attackers. “Fuck... They really went all out. Guys have phoenixes and shit all over them... But not a lot of bodies for a convoy this big.” He frowned as crouched down, examining the blood trails. “A lot of blood splatters and too few bodies. A lot of captives...” He muttered to himself, as he raised his head, as looked up the glowing red eyes of borged out Shiv stared back, decloaking.
“Hello little bug, the spider wants to play, he said you’d come... Said you’d taste like him too.” She spoke as launched a barbed tongue at him and Dusty jumped back firing his shotgun hitting her dermal plating as he scrambled back impacting her armor with a second round before she vanished again. “...God fucking damn it.” He stood up and readied himself again.
He listened to her stalking, the sound of her metallic body leaping from one wreckage to another, as he held his urge to fire in check. Ducking clear as she turned visible and leaped in trying to swing her arm blades at him, as he leveled the shotgun at her chest and knocked her back with the blast of buckshot. Flipping the lever action again to ready it, as drew his magnum and fired two rounds into her head, level blood and other fluids splattered along the wall as she hissed and bolted behind cover. “Oh you scared creepy crawly bitch!” He yelled, trying to draw her back into the fight, she seemed all chromed out and halfway to Cyberpyscho.
“Little bug has more bite than I thought. Boss said you’d be tough but I will peel you as I did-” Her voice echoed but like the speakers had a source, so he and fired a revolver round knocking her off the burning wrecked of a car stuck in the ground, as she writhed on the floor he walked over placed the shotgun against her jaw. “Please bug... I will take a message... I will be good. I don’t wanna die...” She sniveled her red eyes darting between the gun and him.
“You will be the message.” He pulled back and as he looked away, suddenly her scream came as blew off an arm, then with a flick of the lever he took the next. Then he took each of her legs, leaving her with the wobbly little tail she’d added as grabbed her by and dragged the nugget of a Raffen back towards the wreckage, throwing her into the biggest crater as wiggled and screamed in the hot sun of the wastes, maybe they’d come for her... Maybe they would leave her, but the message was clear: mercy was out and now it would be who could do worse to the other first.
He needed information but for now... Leaving her in that hole should be fine, he could question her if he had too. He went back to looking through the wreckage, noting the directions of the tires... The fire from the AV and how they’d tried to circle up for a defense, it wasn’t a clean attack, the dead were maybe thirty bodies including those meant to meet them. Meaning they probably had near a hundred or so as captives. The Aldercado’s had claimed attacks before this one and Meta had claimed someone was ambushing them on the coast too. Standing up he moved back towards the car to get on the radio, they’d need hands to bury the dead... And he figured out the direction the prisoners and merchandise had gone.
The goods were headed back into Night City, while the prisoners? Further into the badlands probably a Raffen tent city or underground hideout. He’d heard rumors they’d taken over cave networks or mined their own out to stay hidden. He was clear on one thing, his people would be sold and sent to the coast if they didn’t hurry. However, if they didn’t get the seeds back before they were sold and moved... They could kiss a greener California and a decade of work goodbye, he wanted to save the people, but would that be enough when they may lose everything they spent their days working for.
“—Greentech. MetaCorp…yes, I’ll wait.”
She was on the phone when he approached the car, her crystalline, wafer-thin handheld tossed in his direction with the accuracy of a marksman who could drop a dime in a thimble during a hurricane, and the casualness of a lazy Sunday. On the device were images, “You can scroll,” she added, towards Dusty. Suddenly in his hands he had images with the watermark of Arasaka, six images in total. Satellite images of the very location they were at, and the surrounding grid. He was welcomed to see what useful information he could get from it, both the slaughter caught in still images, and two aftermath images that showed departure.
“I sent you a sat-pic of the truck leaving the area…that sounds like a personal problem, Jin,” her tone was colder, harsher to the man on the other end of the signal than it had been to Dusty just moments ago. It was either just the hard mask of Sora the ‘Saka Ninja, or she genuinely held a distaste for this ‘Jin.’
Her eyes rolled, hard—it was most definitely the latter.
“Very well. Find the truck…what?” Her face twisted in irritation, unlike her, but she hated stupid above all else. “Why does Arasaka Security have the imagination of a gun-barrel?...no, Jin, listen to me very carefully: Find the truck. Find out everything about the people driving the truck. Find the buyers. Use our endless proxies in Night City to make those buyers no longer want to buy. Use another of our endless proxies to buy the goods ourselves, make sure Reqresuitions oversees the negotiation—yes, Jin, because throwing too much money would spook them.” Her eyes rolled so far into the back of her head, she might have been looking for what remained of her patience in the back of her mind. “Drive it to R&D, they have twenty-four hours to make their scans, minimal invasive. Leave the truck at Badlands-Z579. Nothing marked, no traces.”
She killed the line with a thought and exited the car to close the distance between herself and the Nomad merc, holding out her hand for the return of her handheld, her eyes katanas in a defensive posture as they locked with his own, “You get your precious greenery, we screw over MetaCorp diversification without them knowing—win/win. Now focus on people. I’m not doing that for you.”
“Understood... They're probably going to be in a Raffen Camp... Ain’t gonna be pleasant what we find, like less than Night City pleasant.” He explained as moved to climb back in the car. “We’ll follow the tracks and figure out where they are... But it’ll take a solid plan to get them out. It’ll be crawling with these new Raffen.” He explained looking back towards the one in the hole. “And it looks like they are way more chromed out.
Climbing back into the car he got it started and moved on, getting the Clydesdale into four wheel drive as they moved with speed over the rough terrain. The ride however was no worse than Night City potholes and city maintenance works. “...You know that cost Saka a fortune, I don’t think you really want a green Cali that much. Pretty sure you’d rather be back in Japan. So either you want to help or part of you cares about this place more than you let on.”
When he talked about where she wanted to really be, Sora thought of Eddie, and the thought turned to dust in the hands of her memory, as the only images that remained to her was Eddie, milk-white, and dying fast in her arms. It no longer mattered what feelings were real, and what feelings weren’t real.
Maybe it never did.
A soft sigh of irritation escaped her, as if she were talking to a child like Jin all over again, “You underestimate just how much Arasaka enjoys denying other corporations’ diversity of revenue, and you underestimate just how much I enjoy making Arasaka pay out fortunes.”
Sora twisted in her seat and reached back, long black hair shining as it moved behind her reaching shoulder and arm as her hand grabbed the katana and brought it to rest between her and the passenger door, her eyes once more locked onto the horizon, with little interest in anything else.
“I am the plan, Dusty. Get me there and try not to die.”
It was nothing he’d ever hear in the inflection of her tone, but he’d no doubt by now learned if she mentioned committing violen
ce, at all, that she was in the state of mind to hurt people. And when she was in the state of mind to hurt people…precious little on Earth could hope to stop her. That would have been it, the end of it until their arrival, but something happened after prolonged minutes of silence. Maybe five, maybe ten—it was hard to tell with the empty stretch of Badlands and silence. But then, just then, she did something he had never witnessed before.
She said something personal.
“I don’t miss Japan. I don’t like it here,” her voice was hardened steel, until she paused, and said the most revealing thing she’d said since her arrival to Night city: “I don’t like it anywhere.”
“...You sound like a Nomad.” He answered, not joking or cruel, just honest. Most Nomad’s didn’t like one place they moved. Maybe stay on a farm a few months or few weeks on the road. They were never still, never placate with where they were always on to something next.
“Well, I do my best to try and make whatever you have to put up with easier... By the way, how was Emily today? Last I saw her she was panicking and running towards the office a couple days ago like she’d forgotten to order your cigarettes again.” He added as they drove, Dusty came from a hard life full of violence and Sora was violence the only normal person the two interacted with was her little Corpo secretary which Dusty still wasn’t sure if Sora sleeping with or not, she definitely watched the way the girl moved more like art than as a predator... Then again he knew enough that kind of prey would bore her.
“Surprised you wanna get in the fight... Must be one of those days. I’ll take the ridge with the big rifle from the trunk. Pick off watch posts and the like while you do your ninja thing, throwing knives you had me store are in the case in the bag seat along with your spare outfit and carton of cigs.” He added, he’d make a space onboard for Sora’s things she wanted kept in his car in case something happened, it hadn’t since Eddie and those days, but nonetheless he made sure she had them here.
“Save the bag for after.”
The moment the car stopped, and it was clear they were near, Sora pulled the handle to the passenger door and stepped out. The shockwave from her next movement was enough to shake the car on its shocks and nearly crack one of the imagery displays. She, apparently, did not wait for him to get set up on the high ground. The perimeter was dealt with stealth, just dead bodies falling silently, the only hint something was amiss the sudden breezes kicking up dirt.
“Dust storm might be comin’,” observed one Shiv as he looked up from his beer and fire roasted sausage. He never really did see where the fix that exploded through his chest came from, unless you count when his head was ripped straight off his body from behind, leaving the head tumbling to the dirt, not even touching ground before she was three other murders in. She stopped in front of one, who blinked at her, and opened their mouth to shout.
It was hard to do when Sora ripped their jaw from the rest of their skull, crushing their brain to mush within their skill with two bullet-time fast strikes from her fists. Despite the starting of other shouts from around the surface camp, the dirt “storm” just kept kicking up more and more Badlands dirt. She stopped for half a minute, enough time to catch her breath and let her internal components recharge, close enough to another Raffen Shiv that they rose their assault rifle, only for the katana to finally flash in the sunlit camp—half the gun slid off slowly in a diagonal slice, leaving the Shiv gawking before their head came off with a second flash of katana in the sunlight.
The concussive sound of a small sonic boom came again as she darted off once more, resuming the dust storm. Bodies began to fall after sprays of blood and white cybernetic fluid, sliced through at the waist as she went in zig-zagged lines throughout the camp. What was left were non-combatants, or those hiding in corners of tents or backseats of dirt covered rigs. Dusty could clean them up from afar, she decided, as she headed for the caverns.
The sheer volume of dirt that flew via dust cloud into the face of the cavern’s checkpoint left those on sentry all but blinded and swallowing dirt particles. By the time anyone was able to look up, the very first sentry’s head exploded, her katana pushed straight through his face to her forearm as the tip of the blade embedded itself into the brain of the biggest borg she’d seen yet. The first sentry’s neck was goo as she rounded her shoulder and removed the head of the big borg to ensure that was that.
Her pistol finally came out, as a crowd of ten were shot, forehead shots dead centered for each. That’s when the real screaming began. In the caverns she could be even more dangerous, sending walls and vehicles flying at people like a rampaging cybernetic bull on parade, fists and kicks enough to send their shitty little prefabs flying like projectiles in a hurricane wind. When the pistol was out, the katana finished the work. The biggest of the borged out cyberpsychos got the blade embedded into its reinforced skull, so Sora simply started ripping out throats and every bit of fleshy bits available. Throats, necks, balls, tits, uncybered limbs, one random cybernetic arm became a club to bludgeon and crush the faces of others in her hands.
It was plastered in blood and bits of flesh, bone, and brains that Sora finally staggered out of the caverns. She took one awkward step, and fell backwards onto her ass in the dirt, against the mouth of the cavern, the sandstone. In one hand the Katana was resheathed, and allowed to fall to the ground beside her. In the other hand…a large bottle of whiskey, clutched by the neck of the bottle, bottomed up as she took as thirsty a drink as she could recall, her body still save for the heavy, labored, breathing of her chest, head leaned back against the rock, eyes to the sky, but firmly shut.
The only communication from her was then, a text message to Dusty that simply read:
I don’t want to frighten them, you rescue your trapped people.
Dusty had gotten his gear, though in truth he mostly just watched Sora work; it was sort of like watching a natural disaster and wild animal all at once. She was as brutal as she was efficient, however he was aware of something others were not. She could still get worn down and tired, her amazing displays and feats came not just from her parts but training and practice. She wasn’t full borg nor did he think she wanted to be, she was that good and modified enough to do the job well. When the work was done, it seemed anyone who had survived fled or hidden deep enough that Sora’s advanced systems couldn’t find them, which meant several meters of stone between them.
He crouched down and carefully sat a warm clean towel, a very big bottle of water, and lastly her bag with a spare outfit, tossing her the key to the Clydesdale. “Clean up however you like, I’ll get them out... You rest up, probably most you’ve gotten to do in two months.”
Last time she’d gone this all out had been awhile, a hand on his revolver as he descended down towards the pens. Occasionally diverting away towards crying or whimpering, this was a place for Shiv of all clans to come and trade in goods and people... Or make use of services normal Nomads would shoot them for, making places like Clouds almost seem tame. Uncuffing men and women who were tied down for the pleasure of their captors, finding some who had expensive cyberware ripped from them now as little more than pieces of scrap with a pulse he had others help them as he finally found the pens below. The Aldercado’s and Jodes within had kept their bravado, the Meta’s were far more scared of these Shiv, a life with the biggest guns protecting ripped away can do that.
“Alright, grab weapons, gear, anything you need from the Shiv they won’t need it anymore. After that we are stealing every single working vehicle we can get... And we're taking the others with us... Jodes will take them in or get them home.” Aldercado’s and Meta’s grumbling about Jodes usual willingness to allow strangers to join the Nomads.
Meanwhile outside, a tractor trailer bristling with guns rammed through the front gate, following it a couple of Militech tanks and she was fairly certain some of the weapons on the supporting trucks were from Arasaka transports that went missing. An older woman kicked open the door barking orders, the Jodes name written across her shirt told her exactly which clan was leading the charge. What came out of the back next was a netrunner, not like any she had seen before one the mythical savants the Jodes stayed in contact with, a Technomancer. Not a piece of that gear was made by a corporation, all of its custom hardware backed up with a serious fire power from Aldercado’s infamous Los Lobos. Seems the shiv had kicked the nest hard enough to see the trillions in the Nomad economy actually put to work in going after them.
The older woman rushed over to be kneeling down by Sora. “So you’re the one my nephew has been working for... Gotta say you are a hard woman to miss.” She spoke giving a smile that reminded her of Dusty's. The old woman reached a hand down to help her up. “Guess we owe you for this mess? Dusty’s never so... Clean about his fights.” She added, shaking her head.
Sora sighed deeply, she left the half empty bottle on the dirt beside her, standing up and taking only the towel, bag, water, and katana with her as she wordlessly and without meeting the gaze of the older Nomad woman walked off towards what remained of the camp. She found a water tank and a hose, utilizing one of their camp showers, aware of the trembling woman in the corner of the communal shower stall, trying not to move or breathe as if there were monsters on the loose.
“Go,” the living weapon said, gently. The woman paused, briefly, before running out of the shower hiding spot and left Sora alone. Given how straight and flawlessly groomed her hair was, it didn’t take so long to comb her fingers through it to get out all the gore. Hair, face, before she removed her shirt, one button at a time, her fingers trembling as she did so, her eyes clinching closed as memory invaded her cleaning.
That man dying as she twisted her blade inside him, in that lonely, shadowy, lunar hallway. The look of shock and horror on Eddie’s face as she finally realized just what Sora was capable of when she was angry and hurt. The look of her father as his eyes were blank with rage, hitting her again, and again.
The look of the child that saw her near the captives in the caverns, white with fear at the sight of their crimson splattered savior. Sora froze, turned around in the cavern, and retrieved her lodged katana before exiting and texting Dusty during a short rest. The memory of the moments played out hazy, sun bleached, and pixelated in her mind, a song she’d heard on the radio the other day playing in her mind as her eyes stared into space,
‘You don’t know what love is,’ the Chet Baker blues song sang, sadly, in her memory.
The pants and shoes came off next, and it was a small blessing that even as a Nomad army gathered just outside and within the camp, not a single soul came near her shower. She was still half damp when she tied her hair into a long ponytail high on her head, her lithe frame clothed in light brown shorts that fell to upper thigh, a black tank that was hidden under a dark brown hooded sweater adorned with cherry blossom blooms here and there, it’s gray-white hood folded down behind her head and mostly hidden by her long, still damp, hair. Faded black work boots that she didn’t bother to tie, only fold into the boot, were all she had on her feet as she emerged from the communal shower, slipping on a pair of silver framed, dark brown aviators over her eyes as she found a fire and burned her bloodied clothes and shoes. Katana slung over her shoulder, along with the near empty bag, she finally approached the car, her eyes scanning the area for what was happening, and who was paying attention to her.
Slowly Dusty emerged, a young woman leaning against him her auburn hair matching his own as the older woman's face fell she bolted towards the younger girl. Grabbing her in a tight hug, Sora would get the impression that it was Dusty’s cousin as the young man moved away from the crowd. She’d note the Aldercado’s and Jodes seemed friendly but clearly there was tension as Dusty moved away a very loud and angry voice filled the air.
“Rhodes! You mother fucker!” It came from a very angry Meta who seemed to be in charge of their group. “You dragged an outsider into all our clan's business! And come to find out it’s your brother who is riling up the Shiv.” He angrily spat upon the ground. “Living in the city, working for a Corpo... You're not fit to be a Nomad!” The tension got worse, as Jodes moved to stand behind Duston, Meta’s moved to stand behind their compatriot who knew an awful lot about Dusty.
“You say that again I’ll fill you full of holes. I’d give my life for anyone else out here and nearly have a dozen times over.” Dusty answered with a gravel and anger that Sora had never coaxed him. “Only reason I’m not beating your skull is common decency and because you would have been kin if she was still alive, Bart.” He growled pointing a finger as the two men drew closer. “Now fuck off and go count your numbers.” He raised his voice and jammed a finger into the smaller man’s chest. “Or they can be counted without you among them.”
Before it could go further, Duston and Bart separated the older from before parting them. “Enough! Children. I am the only one here who can speak for a nation and you will both, shut the fuck up before I beat both your asses and drag you across the badlands ass first.” She growled, clearly the woman was a serious power as even the Aldercado’s backed up a bit. “We will all return to our camps, count our losses and we will convene the Nations. Shiv had dozens of boltholes and plenty more camps out here... It’s high time we started clearing them.” She was talking about taking the Nomad nations to war.
As Dusty stepped away she saw several Nomads hugging him or clapping his back Meta’s and Aldercado’s too. A few people mentioned a thing called the Battle of the Brothers, it was clear whatever was happening she’d get to spend a night around Dusty’s clan as the midday sun started to set.
She appeared like a ghost, without sound to betray her approach, so quickly that it was closer to appearing as if by magic than magic itself. Just…there and staring at the man others were calling ‘Bart’. Where there had been scrum, where there had been bodies, all Sora seemed to be aware of existing was herself, and Bart, her eyes fixated through dark brown lenses, her body encircling the man like a predator debating the kill. Someone stepped in her path, and her shoulder rolled forward, flipping the katana forward in the air until her left hand snatched it, mid-air, near the middle of the sheath, her head tilted dangerously at Bart.
Was she still in bloodlust? Did she simply not like the way this man looked? Were they heartbeats away from a new torrent of blood?
Her voice came hard, harsh, and loud, “Talk to me like that.”
If the tone wasn’t enough, if the words weren’t threatening on their own, if the very way she moved wasn’t a proclamation of lethal danger for everyone within sight, the very slow spread of the grin across her lips was the black sun drawing across the horizon, an omen of utter and complete destruction.
“Draw a weapon,” she whispered to the man. Her black eyes hadn’t seen another soul, they had fixated, a killer narrowing in on the kill as the delicate fingers of her right hand slowly, purposefully, coiled around the hilt of the katana.
A single wrong breath by any party near her would be all it took in this steel trap of a moment.
Bart trembled, his hands hardly moving as he took a backstep, he knew about who Dusty was working with but didn’t think she’d be the one he brought in person. However, it was Dusty who stepped forward. “Leave him... He’s ex-fiances brother, a pencil pusher and big mouth... But he’s not worth the bloodletting boss.” Her Nomad spoke as slowly walked up behind her, Bart’s eyes darting from Sora to him, as if to beg for help.
“Then again... If she wants your blood I can’t do nothing about it. She’s a good boss... Looks after her people real well and treats us better than most.” He spoke as reached over, taking out a cigarette and his lighter. “Bart. You fucked up. Now make it right.”
“Fuck... I’m sorry Duston I just... Fuck I’m sorry!” He spoke, looking back into his reflection in Sora’s sunglasses as the fear in eyes and the thumping of his heart increased. Duston for his part looked towards Sora for a moment. The wreck of man’s lip trembled as he swallowed and then shut his eyes waiting for what he thought was coming.
“You wanna get something to eat? Diner up the road has good burgers.”
Blood was hardening in the sand in the heat of the sun above, the metallic scent of death and burnt electronics filling the air of the killing field she had personally planted, one death at a time, in the matter of mere minutes.
Never did her eyes do anything but stare at the man.
“I remember how we used to justify it all…and we knew better. We told ourselves it didn’t matter, anymore—we CHOSE to continue,” her voice rose like the haunt of a devil in the dark, her right hand knuckles turning white as her grip became possessed by demons Dusty had never seen before, yet the silence that followed the rise in volume was immediately shadowed by a fall to whisper, “Shame on us,” she barely breathed the words, her eyes finally snapping away, to the bodies, to the death all around them like a fog of war, “Shame on all of us.”
Without another word Sora Hayami swung the katana back over her shoulder, retreated to the entrance of the cavern…and picked up the bottle of whiskey still covered in her own bloody handprint. Muted, without a hint of emotion, she stared back at Dusty, “You owe me fried chicken.”
She took a long drink as she turned her back on the crowd, and walked back towards the car.
