Post by Admin on Aug 21, 2022 3:29:28 GMT
The Afterlife
Night City, California, NUSA
“Are you fucking kidding me, Rogue?!”
Victoria sat across from the Fixer Queen of Night City, looking almost amused at the ire on Vee’s face. Rogue was responsible for reuniting her with her body (that Veronica had made sure would be there if Victoria had been able to come back from the other side of the Black Wall). She liked to hold that fact over Victoria’s head but of course, Rogue has never backed that truth of it being because of Veronica, for only reasons she knows.
Right now, anyways…
“Honey, don’t get yer panties all up in a twist. It’s a gig; you took it, did it well like you always have, and got paid. What’s the issue, choom?” the veteran ex-mercenary turned fixer says, leaning back and crossing her synth-denim-clad legs, that smug smirk irritating the hell out of Vee every time she saw it.
“The issue is, choom, that NetWatch is turning specific individuals into cyberpsychos, for god knows what, and guaranteed they know I know now,” she says through her gritted teeth. “You normally know I wouldn’t give a shit if they did or not, but something like this? I am guaranteed to be flatlined now, all thanks to you.”
Rogue’s raspy laughter fills the air, and all Victoria can do is sigh loudly.
“You worry too much, sweetheart. Those fools know better than to touch one of my mercs, and most of all, they know better than to cross me.”
“You say that because it’s us gonks,” Victoria replies while motioning around the club to the other mercenaries, “that are out there in a city where a stray bullet is more likely to kill you than old age. Pretty convenient if anyone meets the business end of an Agent’s iron.”
Rogue holds up her left hand, snapping her fingers, catching the bartender's attention, Claire, who nods back at the Fixer Queen. She smirks at Victoria.
“I have always loved the set of balls ya have on ya. You got that passion these other gonks lack. You take pride in your work. You don’t take the jobs that make your skin crawl from the slime buckets. That’s why I got you on this particular contract.”
Victoria’s brow scrunches up with a quizzical look when Claire appears, tray in hand with Centzon Tequila on it with two small rock glasses. The booze is placed on the table in Rogue’s private booth. Sliding a glass to Victoria, they cheers one another before Rogue uploads her next mission’s specs.
Badlands
Ratatatatatatatata
Bullets fly over top of Victoria's head as she ducks, avoiding catching one the best she can.
“Fuck, I am pinned down.”
“Come on out, Strader! We just wanna talk to ya.”
Victoria shakes her head and scoffs.
“Yeah, sure. Maybe over a cup of tea?”
Binggggggg.
The sound of an EMP grenade starting up fills the air, and Victoria hucks it over and up in the air towards NetWatch Agents. One of them tries to shoot it out of the air, but it’s too late as it detonates near them.
Bwongggggggg!!!!
The electricity in the area of the abandoned factory in the badlands flickers off, and the NetWatch agents' guns flicker off, but only for a minute. Victoria sees her chance as she eyes her Quadra Type-66 150m away, far enough from the blast radius that is shouldn't be affected.
“Ok, Vee. Let’s move.”
Using her cyberware-powered legs, Victoria squats and shoots up in the air; she starts running in the air before hitting the sand and hightails it towards her wheels.
“YOU ARE A MARKED WOMAN, STRADER!”
“When am I not a marked woman?”
Victoria pulls out her Malorian revolver, turns around, and starts firing rounds toward the agent. Squatting again, she leaps up and over the locked gate and somersaults when she hits the ground. Sliding across the hood of her wheels like 70s-era cop shows, she is inside quickly, and the sand kicks into the night air, almost burning out with the RPMs riding high. Once she feels she is a safe enough distance away and her scanners don’t show any unwanted followers, she pulls a datashard out of her jacket’s inside pocket, slotting it in behind her ear. The info appears in front of her eyes, almost like it was displayed on the Quadra's windshield, but it was only in her sight.
“Some serious ICE on this thing. They definitely don’t want me to get through whatever it is here. Maybe Brooklyn can help me with this….”
Victoria calls Brooklyn on her Holo. After a few rings, she is greeted by the redhead seen with her at the last couple of Massacres. Vee can’t help but smile every time she sees her.
“Brook, babe, glad you are still up.”
“You know me, Vee. I never sleep. What’s up? You look rattled… everything shimra?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I have a datashard with me that’s got so many layers of ICE that I am surprised there is room for data on it. It’s a way too advanced for my skillset and –”
“-- you were wondering if I could get through it?” the redhead asks, finishing her question.
“Yeah… whatever it is, I know it’s important, and maybe I am crazy, but I feel like whatever info is on this thing, that it affects me and my sister's input, Christian,” her voice trails off slightly, the internal struggle within herself about how she feels regarding Veronica and Outcast. The hate was overwhelming, but it was beginning to feel… unnatural.
“Want me to meet you at your apartment? Is your mom still there?”
“No, I took her home yesterday. As much as I loved seeing her pain-free, she said she needed to be near my little sister and brother for a bit. It was really hard watching the instantaneous change. I wish I could figure out a way that it didn’t revert back.”
Brooklyn sees the pain in her output’s heart and does her best to comfort her.
“I’ll delta over with some cheesecake from Pie Z, and we can figure out what’s on that shard; how’s that sound?”
Vee smiles, ever so thankful to have found this connection… to feel love again.
“That sounds nova, babe. I’m coming up on the city; see you soon.”
They say their temporary goodbyes, and Victoria closes off the holo. The city illuminates her face as she rolls under the street lights and neon digital signs that litter the skyline. A loud sigh escapes from within.
“Something doesn’t feel right. Twice now, NetWatch has barely put in an effort to stop me from escaping with their information. No attempted hacks, no tails… nothing.”
She does one last scan of the datashard. She notices something she has heard Outcast mutter before but hasn’t connected it to him yet: Armada.
“Armada… why does that sound… familiar?”
Questions, more questions, and answers that only add to the confusion of it all. Since Ronnie and I fell into that PORTAL POTTY at Luck of the Violent in March, there have been more questions than answers, and honestly?
It’s driving me fucking mad.
Like, how does it even exist? Sure, it was somewhat explained half coherently by Gregory Poblano in his lifelong quest for glory and to screw Mike Zybala out of winning the OCW Championship. We know it exists because of the Owl Goddess Ragana and that Alice Knight was a pawn in the former owner's plan of wealth and possible immortality. But why did Ronnie and I cross paths with it?
Maybe it’s a coincidence, maybe there is a reason, but whatever the answer is, it just adds on another question of why us? Why did Outcast decide to take a drunken piss in the thing and join me in the mystifying act of time and dimension jumping?
Why is it all happening to us?
I’m not sure I want to know the answer. Will it make me sad or mad? Or enlighten me in a way that no one ever could?
I know my “twin” is with the man I tried to kill when he appeared suddenly in the badlands on the outskirts of Night City. I have a pretty good idea of what they are up to, and it might even make Thaddeus Duke and Sahara blush. I have to take that knowledge and bury it for the moment because I have an OCW Hall of Famer and legend in front of me in the form of Bob Grenier.
Bobby, Bobby, Bobby… it’s been a minute, hasn’t it? Back on the island, we got to dance, but there was that third wheel in the form of Kelson Hewitt (but the victory was still mine)… speaking of which, where did he run off to? I mean, this guy was main eventing right and was looking like a force to be reckoned with, but after Ronnie and I put him down for the count, he stumbled with BRIM, and from what I understand, he fell off the golden path.
That’s something we can relate to, Bobby. You were touted as a legend, a former OCW champion, the Hall, and all of these fantastic accolades, but no one has stumbled quite like you have. Sure, you beat Gideon Cross, but who hasn’t?
You let the vanished upstart in Kelson pin you in a chapel match because you thought taking him lightly was a good idea. You got yourself a ridiculous contract that only hurt the company you claim to love. You backed two racist peckerheads in The Lockwood Party in a bid to get them the OCW tag titles, and they couldn’t get it done.
For whatever reason, The Lost Soul saw something in you and brought you into his rag-tag group with the indoctrinated cult mentality of OCW weaved throughout it. You started to find some success now, though, haven’t you? Riding the coattails of Mike Zybala’s first championship win in the tag titles with a successful defence against my cousin's proteges, but was left looking like the fool two weeks in a row, falling to a DQ against Outcast and then letting those HOW fools get one up on ya. How did you let that happen, Bobby?
The same could be asked of me, and it should. I have what very few in this industry or life in general do: accountability. I let my anger blind me last Monday when Outcast and I went to war. Like you, the old bastard got a DQ win over me.
On Tuesday Night Equality (instead of Monday Night Massacre, where we belong), you and I get to answer some questions the OCW faithful have been asking. Like, can Bob Grenier turn his career around? Can I carve my own legacy like Veronica and my aunt have? Will you realize showing up on HOW programming only hurts you and no one else? Will I be able to get my hands on Outcast and make him pay for what he put me through so he could be with Ronnie?
Only time will, Bobby. The only question that will be answered for sure on Tuesday is this: stepping toe to toe, who will win between Bob Grenier and Victoria Strader? I am 87.2% sure that you will do the same thing you always do and that you will make a fool of yourself in the ring where you once stood so Strong and Proud. However, there is a 12.8% chance you’ll do the opposite and the one thing in the PORTAL POTTY that is life that has taught me?
To be prepared for that possibility.
So many questions, too few answers.
But I will leave you with two questions to which everyone knows the answers around here: Does God forgive?
And do I?
See ya Tuesday, Bobby.
