Chapter Text
So, get away
Another way to feel what you didn't want yourself to know
And let yourself go
You know you didn't lose your self-control
Let's start at the rainbow
Milk run, they said. Easy money, they said. Damn gonkbrains!
A lone edgerunner was covering behind a bullet-ridden crate, trying not to get zeroed by a stray shot. A body of his comrade in arms lying just a few feet away - his time ran out. But Crow will not let it end like that.
The Biomon sent a message to his optics - Kerenzikov ready. Time to do some damage - at least he will go out with fireworks.
Another stream of adrenaline entered his veins, sending the implant in motion. Time slowed down around him, along with his movements, but it was enough to catch some heads sticking out of cover. Two shots from his Malorian Overture revolver - two dead Animals gangsters on the ground. But there was still at least five he caught on his peripheral vision, and they were closing in. Last magazine went into his rifle - suppressive fire to stop their advancement. But Crow had to think fast - or he's dead meat.
He was never a religious man, and this detail about him was sticking out like a sore thumb, considering he mainly ran with Valentinos. His mom tried to get him to the side of Christ, and Padre himself - on rare occasions that Crow saw the fixer - preached to him about the Savior and Santa Madre. All their prayers for his misguided soul fell on deaf ears - but he'll be damned if he did not thank God when he heard gunshots and screams of dying gangoons in the distance.
A few moments later he found the courage to get his head out of the cover without the advantage of his Kerenzikov - for the sounds of bullets flying above his head stopped, and there were some people talking in the distance about a job well done.
"Got a live one there!" - He heard almost immediately after getting from behind the crate.
"Yo, chill, chill! Not an Animal - fuckers tried to kill me!"
Crow hastily explained himself to a guy wearing a yellow EMT jacket. Beside him stood another man, a hulking figure of flesh and metal, wearing distinctive red glasses.
"And who the fuck are you?"
The big man asked, aiming his tech shotgun at Crow. He wasn't tense or anything, but he could definitely work on his trigger discipline, considering the twitching metal finger hanging dangerously close to the trigger.
"Name's Crow. I am - was - on a job with these guys." - Edgerunner, with his hands in the air, nodded his head at a corpse next to him. - "They got zeroed by Animals. I was next on the line - thanks for that, by the way."
"I don't run no charity, choom. What were you doing here?" - The bigger merk asked without skipping a beat.
"Come on, Maine, he's just trying to buy himself some time. Let's zero him and get going!" - The younger one said, turning his head to his friend.
"Chill, dawg. Can't make hasty decisions in our line of work." - Guess he was more experienced too. Not a surprise - the guy in the yellow jacket might as well be his son by the look of them - "You - keep talkin'."
"A gig from Padre. Clep some shit from Animals and delta - well, turns out there was more than just a couple of guards."
"Shit, we were here for a cleanup." - The merk said, a lopsided grin aimed at his protege - "You work for Padre, Valentino boy?"
"I'm an edgerunner, choom. Not a gangster."
Crow was a little offended by being called a Valentino. Despite growing up in Heywood, he never actually joined the gang. Not even his friends from the 'hood managed to convince him, and his determination was made even stronger after they got zeroed one by one in stupid turf wars. Now, edgerunners - that's someone people respect and fear, and he always wanted to be one. Make a name for himself, get enough eddies to leave the slums behind. And to become a Legend, of course.
"Yeah, sure, whatever. Like I said - don't do charity work, and by the looks of things we saved your ass. How much for your gig?"
"10 large each." - Crow said, already knowing what will come next without asking - "Guessing you want a cut?
"Clever guy. What's your target?"
"A van with stolen goods from Valentinos. Should be right around the corner." - Crow finally relaxed, seeing the big merk lower his shotgun, and let his arms drop - but not without pointing beind his back first. 'Around the corner' was more of a figure of speech - his group didn't manage to spot the van before getting ambushed.
"A'ight then. You deliver your shit and meet us here" - Merk's eyes glowed blue, transmitting Crow a set of coordinates - "Turbo's. If you don't - we'll find you. So don't try to play us, dawg."
"Sure thing, uh... Maine, right?"
"Yeah. This kid here's David." - Maine slightly nodded his head towards his protege.
"Yo." - The kid raised his hand for a second, before putting it back into the pocket of his jacket. - "So, we gonna delta or no?"
"Yeah, yeah. Go get inside the car." - Said the merk, patting David on the shoulder, but he could not just leave without getting the last word in.
"Turbo's. We'll be waiting."
"Welcome, my son. I trust there were no problems on the job?"
Padre, the biggest fixer in Heywood, not to mention Glen. Getting through to him took time and rep - he left deals with small fry to his contacts in the Valentinos, or the 'regulars' in the multitude of Heywood bars. And even if Padre was more open to dealing with mercs personally, meeting a big-name Fixer face to face indicated that your name meant something on the streets. Padre's chauffeur opened the back door of the black Villefort Cortes, the fixer himself inviting Crow inside with a slight sideways nod.
"Van with the merchandise is in the garage, like we agreed." - Crow sat down on the backseat, the door closing behind him. He decided to begin with the good news to soften the blow of what comes next. - "The Valentinos that went with me though... All dead. I'm sorry."
The fixer solemnly looked out the window of his car. Another batch of young souls swallowed up by this damned city, guided by their greed. Still, it was he who marked their path. Padre, the ever-religious man that he is, said a silent prayer for them, noticeable only by the movement of his lips.
"Don't be. I'm sure you did all you could. Still, the job is done - and considering their fates, I'll transfer all the money to you."
"Wait." - Edgerunner interrupted the Fixer. Crow wasn't big on community service but growing up in Heywood left its mark. After all, people like him had to stick together, and after a while, you start thinking of your neighbors as extended family. People from here could put a bullet through your head any day - just like the rest of Night City - but if you were a Heywood native, they were just as likely to extend a helping hand. You help them, they help you - the only way to survive for the 'less fortunate' of NC.
"Send it to their families. I owe them that at least."
Padre slightly nodded his head in acknowledgement - perhaps you could even see a slight glint in his eyes, indicating that he was glad about Crow's decision.
"Alright. Here's your cut" - Padre's eyes glowed blue, sending money to the merk - "And a little extra, from me."
"Thank you, Padre." - Crow nodded, ready to leave, but he was stopped when the fixer called his name.
"You have a good soul, my son. Go with God."
The car's door closed behind him, and the wheels began slowly spinning, taking Padre away, leaving Crow behind.
Fuck. Gig's done, but still got a shitty taste in my mouth.
The job wasn't a complete fuckup, but the Edgerunner had a feeling that the Valentinos will not be ready to send another batch of young and naive to help Crow in exchange for a cut any time soon. And that left him a Solo - a job that he was not ready for. Not enough gear, not enough chrome to take on solo gigs, and it's not like he had rep for anyone to give him one.
And he still got a debt to pay.
Arriving at Turbo's took some time, his piece of shit Chevillon Thrax barely dragging its weighty body across the streets of Night City. The Edgerunner got the car on the cheap after another one of his friends bit the bullet and his family needed money - so it was far from 'mint' condition. Still, no matter how painful it was to drive, the thing looked imposing, and looks matter. Style over substance is the name of the game.
Looking around, Crow noticed a bunch of people on the parking lot that double-timed as an outside seating area. There was some weird long-armed dude with a visor for eyes doing tricks, a big blonde chick cracking jokes with him, and... Hm, there he is.
"Maine." - Crow said, taking the merc's attention.
"Huh, you actually came." - He sounded surprised - "Saves us the trouble, I guess."
"Here's the money." - The Edgerunner's eyes lit up blue, sending the eddies to the account of the man in front of him - "Seven thousand."
"Said you'll get ten, dawg. Something doesn't add up." - Fucking shit. Did he want all ten?
"Gave you more than a half. What, want all of it? Ain't happening." - Crow tried to keep his voice cold.
"Nah. Just surprised." - Maine shrugged, taking another sip of his beer.
Crow wanted to leave, but after looking around, noticing how Maine looked at the people near the bar, his curiosity got the better of him.
"That your crew?" - The Edgerunner asked, turning to face the commotion the long-armed guy caused.
"What, you a badge or somethin'?"
"Just curious."
"Hm." - Maine took a few seconds to process what to say but decided to indulge the unlucky Edgerunner - "Yeah. Those gonks at the table."
Shit, they seem okay - at the first sight at least. Maybe it was worth a shot. Not like he had a crew of his own, or any dependable people for that matter. Not the kind who could pull his ass out of the fire when the bullets start flying, anyway. Here goes nothing.
"You accept applications?"