21.8

January 4, 2070, at 0122
Metro, Glen South Line, Car #2

Barely scraping by the 01:30 mark, Crystal finally skidded into her appointment with Jackie Welles, brushing off the remnants of a handful of inconveniences that were now nursing shattered egos and broken noses. Just as she shot past Megabuilding H2, her brain vibrated with the arrival of a packet of compressed data, adorned with the imposing logo of a fire-breathing chicken.

During her mad dash to the Metro, she hadn't had a second to spare to peruse the contents. But now, safely ensconced in the car that Jackie had pinged as his ride, she quickly scanned the data. It corroborated their intel: there was indeed a scavenger's nest in MB-H2.

She made a mental note of the location on a map that her trusty sidekick Fluff had sent over, then flicked her full attention over to Jackie. Mama Welles' prodigal son was decked out in cybernetic augmentations so pricey they'd make a corpo blush. His build suggested a penchant for close-quarters combat, although his weapons of choice were a lethal pair of Nue known as La Chingona Dorado. Crystal wasn't one for guns, but hey, it wasn't her pulling the trigger.

With a gleeful smirk, she initiated a call and watched as the line auto-encrypted. Damn, her chicken Netrunner knew their stuff! "Hail the great one, anointed by the divine power above through his ever-faithful servant, the holy Padre…" Crystal drawled, watching with delight as Jackie's face scrunched up in amusement. "You pulling my leg, hermanita?" Jackie retorted, his features a mask of faux annoyance.

"Nah, just messing with ya, J." Crystal shot back, her grin wide and impish. It was clear that the poor guy didn't recognize her. Jackie shot back, “Alright then, what's the play? Mama didn't spill the beans, just told me to be here.”

“Right, verification first,” Crystal rattled off a lengthy alphanumeric code that the Padre had shared with her. As soon as Jackie mirrored the gesture, tension visibly bled from their shoulders.

“We're going on a little recon mission. I should be able to handle it, but just in case I need some muscle, that's where you come in.” Crystal shot Jackie a wicked grin. “That’s because I can’t see you?” Jackie quipped, catching on pretty quickly.

“Bingo, most tech can’t spot me. But not every ganger in the VB’s has their eyes wired up. Got to rely on the good old-fashioned art of sneaking too,” Crystal replied, opting not to mention that once she hit Level Ten, that wouldn't be an issue. Her 'One with the Shadows' ability would render her detectable by electronics, except, well, she wasn't. It was the kind of combo players would label ‘overpowered’ in a game. But this wasn't a game; it was her life, and she'd leverage every unfair advantage she could get her hands on.

“This job, the priest hooked us up?” Jackie asked, his eyes widening as he connected the dots. “Exactly. Big war's brewing. Heard about the psycho who went postal with his Mantis at Parque Del Mar Plaza? Word is that it's the last straw. The powers that be want to wipe the AI-worshipping loonies off the grid. Rumor has it, NUSA's been trying to breach the Blackwall. Looks like it's spring-cleaning time.” Crystal linked together bits of info she'd picked up during her shopping spree and from Channel 54.

“War?” Jackie blinked. Crystal rolled her eyes and retorted, “Yes. War. Explosions, gunfights, the works. Is that ringing any bells for you, J?”

The young man shrugged nonchalantly and said, “Guess it beats signing up. Mama probably called in a favor from the priest to boost my street cred.”

“Sounds about right to me.” Crystal agreed, her gaze drifting over the metro car’s occupants.

The metro car of Noir City on the South Line was a cacophony of characters. From the slick cyborg businessman with a metal arm and a glowing blue eye to the band of street kids sporting neon tattoos and LED-lit jackets. A nomad sat in stark contrast with her dusty attire and worn boots, a tale of harsh environments etched into her face. The embodiment of corporate ambition sat nearby, eyes hidden behind high-tech glasses, flickering with holographic data streams. A mobile vending machine, the VendorBot, roamed the aisle, advertising its wares with a flickering neon sign. And finally, a Mox, a punk-military hybrid stood tall, a rhythmic pulse from her temple implant adding a quiet beat to the car's symphony. Noting her presence, Crystal couldn't help but wonder about Judy's whereabouts since her sudden vanishing act.

Sweeping her attention back to the call with Jackie, she caught his question just in time. “How are we going to waltz through Pacifica? The VB’s have eyes in every goddamn corner.” Crystal retorted, with a smirk in her voice, “Well darling, I can blend into a crowd like vodka in tonic. But you, my friend, stand out like a damn snowflake on a coal heap. Ever considered a new fashion statement? Something a tad less conspicuous perhaps?"

“Disguise myself?” Jackie looked flabbergasted. Crystal rolled her eyes, exasperation seeping into her tone, “Yes, oh brilliant one. Dial up a drone, hit the shops, do whatever tickles your fancy. Just do something about that ‘I-have-more-money-than-sense’ look you got going on. Trust me, those augmentations of yours, they’d make a Scav salivate.”

Her words seemed to finally penetrate his thick skull, and he looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. Taking advantage of Mama Welles's generous credit line, they stepped out of the South Line station and right into an expensive Delmain cab that whisked them off to the Metro Stadium parking lot.

In no time at all, Jackie had switched from his pricey gear to something that screamed 'just-another-joe' more than 'hey-look-I-am-loaded'. His old clothes now looked like a makeshift sleeping roll. “Now remember," Crystal warned him, the smirk back in her voice, "try not to tail me like a lovesick puppy. We don’t need any gorilla gonzo shenanigans making us look like Corpo schmucks on a day trip."

Pacifica was originally designed to be a glitzy playground for the obscenely wealthy. But now, Crystal could see it crumbling faster than a stale cookie. With whispers of NUSA's plans to unify the Free Cities, the Corpos who'd dreamed up this paradise had taken flight, leaving behind their half-baked projects, the vagrants, and barely functioning landmarks - a silent testament to their misadventures.

Credit where credit was due, the Voodoo Boys gang showed a spark of intelligence. Pacifica was a ripe fruit ready to be plucked, especially given its limited access points. Two bridge closures and you'd have a mini dystopia humming along nicely. Crystal moved through the district with a predator's grace, sticking to the shadows, and using a rather simple yet effective method to categorize the area.

Power usage, tracked courtesy of Fluff winging it in the Net.

Netrunning gobbled electricity like a fat kid in a candy store. So, any buildings with abnormal power use were either home to Netrunners, or casino dens. There really wasn’t any third option. Crystal slinked around the district, staying to the shadows and alleyways, and laughing internally at the antics of Pacifica, the supposed wonderland turned perfect backdrop for a gritty apocalyptic adventure.

The once glittering resort district now reincarnated as a dystopian graveyard, was a twisted maze of forgotten opulence and creeping peril. It was the perfect devil's playground for the Voodoo Boys, their stronghold a proverbial needle in the grimy haystack of decaying beachfront dreams.

The task of surveying Pacifica for a raid was anything but a carefree saunter through a park. It was a high-stakes game of stealth, endurance, and street-smarts. Crystal finally launched her mission from the district's throbbing heart, the Combat Cab garage, a notorious congregation spot for local gangbangers. Neon lights buzzed futilely against the echoing symphony of distant gunfire. With her Body attribute dialed up, her eyes flickered like predatory animals as they scanned the grime-ridden streets. Data streamed from her brain, facilitated by her spirit animal, Sgt. Fluffyfeathers. It was a digital recon masterpiece, immune to hacking as it lacked an electronic signature.

Her next port of call was the carcass of the Grand Imperial Mall, a decaying shell of its former glory, its graffiti-marred walls standing as silent, eerie sentinels in the silence, punctuated only by the occasional clanging of loose metal. Gliding like a wraith through the vast structure, she registered a slew of automated security systems, drones, and booby traps — the unmistakable fingerprint of a Voodoo Boys stronghold. Trusty Fluff left digital Easter eggs within the system, ready to spring on the unsuspecting crews.

With measured caution, she infiltrated the crumbling Pacifica Pier. Once a vibrant hub of tourists and laughter, it was now morphing under the weight of ramshackle structures stitched together from scavenged scraps. Here, she picked up the faint hum of encrypted communication signals — the hushed whispers of the Voodoo Boys. Her Rune Eyes sliced through their codes like a hot knife through butter, paving the way for the Valentinos' ears to listen in.

Leveraging her Unseen Terror ability, Crystal mapped out patrol routines, potential choke points, and soft spots in the Voodoo Boys' defenses. Like a digital phantom, she slipped through the shadows, her steps swallowed by the sorrowful song of the wind and the rhythmic lullaby of distant waves.

Her final haunt was the ghostly amusement park, with its rusting Ferris wheel reaching for the smog-choked heavens, a melancholy reminder of the district's brighter past. Here, she discovered the densest cluster of the Voodoo Boys, their luminescent cybernetics flickering like spectral fireflies in the murky gloom.

She meticulously recorded the gathered intel, channeled it through her spiritual connection for Sgt. Fluffyfeathers' decryption and analysis, then funneled it to the Valentinos via Padre. Crystal’s surveillance was far more than idle observation; it was a dance of understanding patterns, predicting movements, and weaving a tight-knit strategy for a deadly execution.

As soon as her meticulous recon was complete, she and Jackie slinked back toward the desolate Metro Stadium Parking. Just before she could regroup with Jackie and hail another automated cab, a soft click interrupted the silence - an open channel. The harsh patois of the Voodoo Boys snarled over the line. “Seems we got us a little vagabond ready for bedtime, eh, chooms?”

With a resigned sigh, she rolled her eyes skyward. If Mama Welles' precious boy bit the dust tonight, her life in Valentino territory would be as fun as a dance with cyberpsychos. Slipping like a phantom through the inky darkness, she wove the Shadow Armor around her form and conjured her sleek darkblade rapier.

Thanks to a defunct taxi offering a dim reflection, she managed to spy the sizeable gang of Voodoo Boys, about twenty-strong. Clearly, they sensed a change in the wind, as the patrol was double the size of others she'd spotted earlier. “Jackie, they're about to have a sudden case of night blindness. When that happens, hightail it out of their line of fire and take cover behind the cab to your six. Shiver like a scared rabbit if you get me.”

Jackie's trembling figure communicated an eloquent message of fear that the Voodoo Boys lapped up like sharks circling fresh blood. That is, until Crystal pulled the darkness down on them like a shroud. Unleashing the Dark World, she plunged them into a sensory void.

As the engulfing darkness swallowed their vision, she vaulted over the taxi, her rapier lancing towards the leader’s heart. Simultaneously, she neutralized the two biggest threats with the swift justice of Angel’s Executioner and the lethal allure of Succubus’s Kiss. With the missile-launching threats neutralized, her blade, honed to a monomolecular edge, danced a ballet of death.

This rapier wasn't designed for hacking and slashing; it was a precision instrument. It punctured. Throats, eyes, guts, the blade pirouetted through vulnerabilities, using the dying as her shield against counterattacks. By the time the Dark World dissipated, only eight of the original twenty remained standing around Jackie.

And that's when Mama Welles' boy regained his sight. From behind her, the explosive retort of two custom Nues rang out, and Jackie finally joined the dance.

Despite her distaste for firearms, Crystal couldn't deny their brutal efficiency in executing death. In a mere blink, the remaining eight adversaries were halved, and she dispatched the rest in a rapid, deadly dance. Her blade dissolved into thin air as she stepped away from the body of the last Voodoo Boy, and the Shadow Armor melted back into her clothes like fog dissipating in sunlight.

Jackie scrutinized her, his gaze sweeping over the twenty lifeless bodies - only four of which were his doing. “Hermanita, you’re one terrifying lady,” he finally admitted. A wicked grin unfurled on Crystal’s face as she countered, “You offed sixteen, and I took care of four. Impressive work.” She watched as he fumbled momentarily before expertly unloading the spent cartridges and stashing away the unused rounds. Reloading fresh magazines, he conceded, “If you’re not claiming the credit, I’ll gladly take it.”

Nodding, Crystal observed a plump rat waddle over. As he looked down at the small creature, she commented, “I’ve assembled a rather unique clean-up crew. Any chance their gear is worth salvaging?” Jackie was about to reply when he saw a horde of rats swarm the bodies. His complexion turned an alarming shade of green as he managed, “Can’t say for certain, hermanita. You’d need a techie or a ripperdoc to make that call.”

Crystal mused over his words before agreeing, “Makes sense.” They both stayed silent, tacitly ignoring the grotesque spectacle unfolding. Once the rodents had picked clean most of the organic matter, Crystal's eyes sparkled with a wickedly clever plan. “Go hail us a cab, J.” As he turned away, Crystal surveyed the metallic remains littered on the ground and claimed them. With a monumental exertion of willpower, she transported them to the same storage space her ShellShield currently occupied. It was the perfect cover-up. She could later 'discover' them in the Scav den in MB-H2, and nobody would be any wiser. Of course, there was a risk of losing them to dungeon damage, but if not, it was pure profit.

As a Delmain cab glided into view, Crystal activated the Clean cantrip, erasing any remaining trace of their presence. The missing Voodoo Boys would no doubt put the rest of the gang on high alert. However, in the absence of any tangible evidence, it would seem more likely that they had fled rather than met their demise.

Level Up!

5 Attribute Points gained!

5 Skill Points gained!

Warlock Level Gained!

Additional Eldritch Invocation available!

As Crystal climbed into the cab, her gaze fell on the newly glowing number: 1390/6880, the luminous red digits painting a stark picture of her accomplishments. It seemed gang members provided a bigger challenge than mere vagrants. For a moment, she considered assisting the assault teams directly but quickly discarded the thought. Exposing her presence to Julio in such a blatant manner would be unwise. Instead, she resolved to utilize the diversion of the assault to clean up the Scav Den in Megabuilding H2. With Sgt. Fluffyfeathers' aid, she might even be able to track other locations or pinpoint a central collection point. After all, the scavengers must be funneling their ill-gotten chrome somewhere.

The transition back into Valentino territory brought a palpable release of tension from their shoulders. While it didn’t offer absolute safety, it was a comforting bastion compared to the uncertainties of Pacifica. As they exited the Delmain cab, Crystal received a notification of a deposit from Padre. A smooth twenty-five grand had nestled itself into her account, accompanied by a message indicating Campo Orta's high regard for her skills. Bidding farewell to Jackie, she boarded the Metro, heading back towards Parque Del Mar Plaza.

Bypassing the NCPD blockade, she checked in with Lewis, who, despite his displeasure with the previous night's disturbances, expressed gratification over the substantial reduction in vagrancy. The neutralization of the Animal arena had significantly enhanced the Plaza's appeal for Corpo rentals. He'd even managed to earmark funds for a security system upgrade, a fact that caused Crystal's eyes to narrow slightly when she recognized the eddies were flowing through a Valentino money laundering operation.

A quiet suspicion began to take root in her mind. She suspected that both Padre and Orta wouldn’t want her residing in a location lacking adequate protection, especially not after she'd handed them a strategic blueprint to obliterate the Voodoo Boys.

As Crystal keyed into her apartment #317, manipulating the lock with a deft use of her On/Off ability, a new message flickered to life on her screen. The missive was from Padre, asking her to recon 6th Street, ostensibly as a favor for the Tyger Claws. She offered a nonchalant shrug in response to the digital request. Clearly, this was a chess move in the city's intricate power dynamics, but it was a game she was more than willing to play, particularly if it presented an opportunity to check on Judy.

Accompanied by her trusty Sgt. Fluffyfeathers, she felt certain she could evade any potential fallout. After all, who could possibly resist the captivating charm of a feathered companion? It was a rare soul indeed who could withstand the avian allure of her spirit-linked poultry.