Strong Enough 4.2

Shot Caller 4.2

“Scarleeeeeet.” Sasha smirks at Taylor from her bed. “I didn’t know you named yourself after your old spark.”

Taylor slaps the door shut with a groan. “Becca got to you. And she’s my old nemesis.”

“Mrrow.” Sasha smiled, catlike and satisfied. “Friends to enemies to lovers?”

“If you’re just gonna make fun of me, I can go,” Taylor says.

“And leave me alone for another three months?” Sasha leans back on the bed, an arm thrown dramatically over her face.

Taylor sees a hint of something real and painful beneath the façade. She sighs. “Sorry. I should have come checked on you when you got out of the hospital. It’s just been…”

“Mm. I’ve heard.” Sasha shifts into a more comfortable position. “New crew, new boss. Wakako’s new favorites.”

They’re in Sasha’s new apartment. Different location: smaller, but with a last gen hospital bed that Sasha is sleeping on. It’s crazy that Sasha is still recovering a few months on, but getting her replacement organs to play nice has been a fight. She refuses to use anything from Biotechnica, and the waitlist for cloned organs is only now opening up.

The prices stay high even as the demand starts to wane. That’s the problem with Night City. It takes and takes and never thinks more than a day ahead.

“Take a seat, take a seat.” Sasha waves at her comfy computer chair by the desk. If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed, it’s her setup. Her razor thin screen-PC with pink running lights sits on the desk next to another pair of monitors, but there’s dust on the mouse and keyboard.

Taylor sinks into the chair. “It’s been exhausting.”

“I bet. Tell me about it?”

Taylor shakes her head. “Here to check on you.”

Sasha shrugs. “I’m improving. Had to downgrade my deck though.” She runs her fingers over the back of her neck. “The neural regenerative treatments…” She gives a wry laugh. “Ugh they suck so bad. But everything’s finally nova, up here.” She taps her head. “The rest of me though…”

Taylor nods. Sasha wouldn’t have bought a fancy hospital bed to help her sit up if she wasn’t still having problems. “Do you need anything? Still have enough scratch?”

Sasha looks to the side, lips pursing guiltily.

“What?” Taylor askes.

“I was gonna try to guilt trip you into helping me out, and then you went and offered right away.” Sasha pouts deeper. “Now I feel bad.”

“You’re part of the crew,” Taylor says. “I’m the reason you’re injured.”

“You’re also the reason I had a fat stack of eddies.” Sasha’s blue-pink eyes dart up to the ceiling. “The money should have been enough, ‘specially cause I had a bit saved up but…”

“What happened?” Taylor asks.

“S’nothing.” Sasha waved her hands. “Don’t want to guilt you. You’re too nice.”

“I’m asking.” Taylor stands, walking over to the bed. “I thought you’d be back on your feet by now, too. It’s kinda crazy that you’re not. Do I need to shove a gun down your doctor’s throat?”

Sasha grumbles. “If you could find me a real doctor, it’d be a start.”

Taylor frowns. “What do you mean.”

“Wasn’t how I wanted to do this at all.” Sasha shakes her head. “It’s not important—just, get comfy? It’s a little complicated.

Taylor settles onto the bed next to Sasha’s feet.

“There were two maelstrom runners,” Sasha says. “It wasn’t a big deal at the time; I got ‘em both. But the second one surprised me. Fight turned…dirty.”

Taylor doesn’t know what it’s like to brawl in netspace. She’s done some simulations at the Academy: safe sandboxes to understand the basics of utilizing a network and fending off malware packages. But netrunners go deeper than she’s ever been, to the point where soul and script start to blur together; where the fragile neurons in the brain go to war in shells of code that can fry you out even if you win.

“The dweller wasn’t ready for me. I knifed him quick, got into his rig, locked him out,” Sasha says. “Then she jumped me just as I was getting settled. She dropped some black ice back along my entrance point, locked us both in the network. She was better than the first guy, I think she was expecting to do the same thing to me that I’d done to him.”

“But you were even better,” Taylor says.

Sasha smirks. “I am even better. She realized that quick, too. Don’t lock a girl in a room unless you wanna see what color her claws are. But…when she realized that she started pulling out all the stops. Crazy, ram-eating ICE picks and some wild daemons that I’ve never seen before. It felt like she was willing to burn herself alive to get me. In the end, I think that’s what did it.”

“The heat?” Taylor asks. “You think she fried her brain.”

“She fried something,” Sasha replies. “Got weird at the end, trippy, she kept slipping me in the network in ways that didn’t make sense. And in the end…” Sasha shrugs. “Dunno. Some kinda suicide hack, she took a bunch of malware wrapped in scrapcode and blasted it into the network on every protocol she could access. It shouldn’t have done anything. Hell, it shouldn’t have even been able to access my system, but it did. I was already running hot, so it burned me half to death too, y’know?” Sasha shudders.

“And that’s when we needed the way out.”

“Yeah.” Sasha nods. “With the delays, I was kinda going through a teensy bit of total organ failure by the time the ambulances picked me up. It was honestly way worse than I made it out to you.”

“At the hospital.” Taylor frowns. “You lied?”

“Babes, you were halfway to organ failure yourself.” Sasha gives her a wry smirk. “Dorio was dead, you and Beccs didn’t look much better. I had the money for my treatment and I knew I was going to get better.” The smirk fades. “I was almost right about that last bit.”

“What’s wrong?”

She sighs. “Implant rejection. Getting burned like that? Turns out my body really hated it. First doctor just kept upping my immunosuppressants until I almost died from a cold. The next two rotated me through some different regimes, but I still needed new organs, you know? My body really didn’t like the chrome.”

Taylor pulls a face. “That’s why you chipped down.”

“Yeah…” Sasha looks down at her fingers, and Taylor realizes they’re a different color. Before, the tips of her fingers were a sleek black chrome, holding mono-edged claws. Now they look completely ‘ganic.

“Clone fingers?” Taylor asks.

“My immune system really, really hates chrome right now. But cloned organs are pricy and I already paid for one full set of replacements, plus the hospital stay while they got pulled out and swapped for ‘ganics. So…it took me a while to get kinda stable.”

“And now?” Taylor asks.

“I’m good enough that I fired my last doctor cause he wouldn’t get me on the fucking meds I need.” Sasha rolls her eyes. “But yeah, I’m not…dying, y’know, actively.”

“Reassuring.” Taylor grumbles.

“Hey now.” Sasha glares at her playfully. “I’m not the one who almost got my leg chopped off. Or went into business with my best friend turned worst enemy turned…” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“It’s not like that.” Taylor crosses her arms. “Jobs are dangerous, you know that.”

“Becca told you me you’ve taken a few jobs from the Mox without a fixer?”

Taylor nods, running a hand through her hair. “I know it’s a bad idea. But we need the income. Wakako only has specific jobs for us.”

“Have you worked with other fixers?” Sasha asks. “No, wait, just give me the rundown. I got the basics from Becca but you’re the one running things.”

“We’ve gotten a few gigs from Regina Jones. Busy work type shit. Padre, out in Valentino turf, won’t talk to a bunch of ‘young ladies,’ or however he dresses it up.” Taylor sighs. Slowly, she lays out the basics of their situation. Wakako’s jobs pay well, even split five ways, but they come rarely. They take other jobs to make up the difference. Working directly for the Mox is dangerous; there’s no fixer to go to if the gang stiffs them, but Emma’s proven up to the task of negotiating with Suzie.

All that said, money is still a problem. Night City takes.

David has a parent, they live in a megabuilding, so his need for money comes mostly from the sense of not wanting his mom to work so hard. Taylor can sympathize through the envy. He needs eddies the least. Becca can fall back on Pilar to make up rent sometimes, but sometimes she needs to cover his half. Lucy is tight lipped about her own finances, so Taylor could think she was doing well…except she shows up for every gig no matter how little it pays.

As for Emma and Taylor? Stable. Alan comes through with money occasionally, but not regularly enough to do more than cover a month or two of rent. Taylor needs to get enough money to make next year’s tuition again. She and Emma need to pay off the chrome and maintenance from Kikiyo, but they’re in the least danger after David.

Taylor is just the one juggling everyone else’s finances as well. Everyone gets an even cut, and the crew looks out for each other.

“And now there’s you.” Taylor shrugs. “We’ll make it work. Gigs have been getting better. Just a bit longer before our rep ticks over and people stop looking at us like we’re a bunch of kids.”

“You’re too good for me, Scar.” She flashes Taylor a grateful smile. “I won’t take your money for free, though! I’ve decided.”

“You won’t take money…for free?” Taylor shakes her head.

“Yep. I can’t be your on-the-ground runner anymore.” Sasha shrugs. “But as much as I loved to party, I was always best in a chair. Gimme a nice little server or some specific programs you want put together, and I’m your girl.”

“You don’t have to,” Taylor says.

“Scar, Autoimmune disorders…they’re the new cancer.” Sasha shrugs. “I’m still looking for a treatment. Crazy lucky that I found some older netdeck that’s coated in non-reactive polymers that I can use. It’s gonna take a lot of time and money for me to recover. And I can’t cut corners, not after…” she lets that thought trail off, before shaking her head.

“The point,” Sasha continues. “Is that I can’t leech off the crew. Specially not with how you’re barely holding them all up.” She makes a determined face. “Plus, it sounds like Lucy could use some help.”

“Could she?”

“I bet she doesn’t really write her own quick-hacks,” Sasha says. “You said she’s good an infiltration, especially ‘Saka tech? It’s a different skill set.”

“I wouldn’t be able to ask her for programming anyway.” Taylor pulls a face. “She hates everything Saka.”

“Hmmm.” Sasha hums thoughtfully. “Anyway, like I said. If you’re gonna help me, I’m gonna help you.”

Taylor laughs once. “It’ll be easier to sell to David and Lucy. Do you need an ‘advance’?”

Sasha shifts again. “I mean…how’s a girl supposed to say no to money?”

Taylor hides a frown. If Sasha’s acting like this, she must already be running on credit. “We could use new ICE.”

“Oh?” Sasha’s smile turns a bit more genuine. “My specialty!”

Taylor nods. “I just need an update. There’s a new exploit with my eyes. Not sure about Becca.”

“Probably the same.” Sasha shrugs. “What can I say, I do good work.”

“So, we’ll need three new sets of ICE. For Emma, David, and maybe Lucy.”

“If she’s anything like you or Beccs say, Lucy probably won’t take anything from me.” Sasha shrugs. “We’ve all got our pride, y’know?”

“Yeah but…” Taylor pulls a face.

“What?” Sasha asks.

“I think her ICE might be shit,” Taylor says. “She gets into knife fights way too often; direct counter-hacking. And sure, she always wins them, but.”

“If she had better ICE she wouldn’t have to do things that way, you’re right.” Sasha leans back in her bed. “Weird. Usually the runners that survive are the ones who make sure their defenses are solid. So what, you think every time she gets quick-hacked she just takes out the other runner faster?”

“Or takes their head off with a monowire,” Taylor replies.

“Heh. A girl after my heart.” Sasha flexes her fingers where her own claws used to sit. “I can put something together for her. Lay out the code.” She giggles. “I write really clean code, y’know. She’ll be so jealous.”

“I’ll take a picture of her reaction.”

“Please!” Then Sasha paused. “You know, even if I write something different for her, an in depth look at my style will make it easier for her to crack my ICE. Especially if she’s a real pickaxe.”

“Pickaxe?” Taylor raises an eyebrow.

“Duh, ICE Pick, Pickaxe?” Sasha rolls her eyes. “Someone who breaks in. It’s an art.”

“Sure.” She sighs. “As for Lucy, I…The crew, all of you, were good to me when no one else was. Even if things ended the way they did, I want to do the same.”

“Heh. Not a bad way to think about it.” Sasha nods. “Trust has to start somewhere.”

Taylor jolts, but when Sasha looks over at her again, she just shakes her head.

“How much for the ICE?” Taylor asks.

“For this? 1.5.” Sasha pulls a face. “I really can’t go lower.”

Good ICE isn’t cheap. One and a half large is a lot of money, but Taylor doesn’t let it show on her face. She’s set money aside to outfit the crew, and better that money go to someone on their side over a faceless corpo.

“I’ll transfer you the money after our next gig,” Taylor says. “And I’ll let everyone else know the score.”

Sasha nods. “Anything else I can help with?”

“David’s been working on some project.” Taylor thinks he’s working on something trinket for her, but she isn’t sure. “He’s been having some trouble with some DRM or something.”

“Your cute little creampuff?” Sasha giggles again, relaxing into the bed. “Send me his deets.”

“Careful,” Taylor says. “I think Becca has dibs.”

“He’s too young.” Sasha waves her off. “Very cute though. I wanna put him in a tutu.”

Taylor rolls her eyes. She’s still half thinking about what Sasha said earlier.

“Hey,” Sasha says.

Taylor looks back over.

“Thanks for coming. And for the help. I promise I’ll be worth every ennie.” Sasha smiles. “And…not to kick you out or anything, but that’s about all my energy for the day. You can stick around if you want but…”

Taylor blinks. Now that she’s looking for it, she can see the clear lines of exhaustion pulling at the edges of Sasha’s eyes. Taylor stands immediately. “No, no. I’ll delta. Ping you later with the info.”

Sasha smiles, reaching out to squeeze Taylor’s hand once.

Taylor makes sure the door to the apartment is locked on her way out. She pauses in the hallway, hands in the pockets of her coat. There’s a new stitch in the sleeve where the mantis blade cut through. Emma did it, found a place that would repair it with sleek white thread that would preserve Annette’s lab coat.

‘Trust has to start somewhere,’ Sasha said.

Start, not end. Trust doesn’t have to be given unconditionally, or immediately. But it does have to start.

Taylor walks back to the N-CART station.

Emma’s trying; anyone could see that. She’s showing her emotions, her decisions, she’s being considerate. If they were just two people living together, Taylor would trust her much more.

They’re not just two people.

Emma is a master manipulator. She took back control of their year at the Academy in weeks, after being left almost completely destitute. The best manipulations are those that are entirely true. Emma could be showing her honest emotions, her honest self, and later that self might change. Just like it did last time.

Could be, could be, could be.

It could be time for Taylor do something of her own, instead of skittering away every time Emma tries to reach out.

The thought twists deep in the pit of her stomach, not just with anxiety but also with…yearning. There’s a space next to hear heart where Emma used to sit.

She makes it back home with that yearning pulsing in her chest.

Emma’s there. She glances up at Taylor, giving a little smile before looking away, not wanting to pressure Taylor with her attention. Despite that, Taylor can see how Emma wants to grin at her, she’s happy. She wants to share it, but she knows Taylor won’t let her.

Taylor swallows.

She gives Emma a curt nod, before walking into their bathroom. From the corner of her eye she can see Emma’s expression crumple slightly, before it straightens. It’s easier to leave things like this. Close, but not too close. Easier to not reach, because then nothing can slip out of her grasp.

But trust has to start somewhere.

Taylor picks up one thing and marches back into the main part of the studio. She sits on the edge of their little loft bed, staring at Emma until the other woman meets her eyes.

“Uh. You want something?” Emma asks.

“Will you…” Taylor swallows. “Would you brush my hair.” She holds out the brush, real wooden handle worn smooth by generations of hands. It's her mother’s and her grandmother’s.

Emma jolts, but unlike Taylor, she doesn’t hesitate. Emma never has—she reaches out and she takes what she wants. In a moment, she’s across the room, slipping the handle from Taylor’s fingers, sliding in next to her in their little alcove.

“I’d love to.”

Taylor turns, leaning forward as Emma takes a seat behind her. They both pretend Taylor doesn’t stiffen when Emma takes hold of her hair and begins to gently, tenderly brush it.

“You’re starting to get split ends,” Emma murmurs.

“Wanna…do a hair day?” Taylor asks.

“…Yes.”

Taylor swallows. “What’s got you so excited.” Emma snorts, Taylor rolls her eyes. “Other than me…not freezing you out again.”

“Can I ask?”

“Later. Just.” Taylor sighs as the brush scrapes the top of her hair just the right way, pulling tension out of her as it pulls down her long tresses. “Just keep doing that, and tell me what you wanted to tell me earlier.”

“Okay, okay.” Emma went back to the brush with practiced grace. “Just hooked us up with a new job from Regina. Real work this time, she wants info.”

Taylor sighs in relief, and not just from the news. “Excellent.” She tilts her head back. “We’re gonna be bringing Sasha in house.”

“Another split?”

Taylor can hear Emma rolling her eyes. “Not for free. She’s designing new ICE for everyone. Plus didn’t you want someone to check Lucy’s work?”

“I have ICE,” Emma says.

“From the company.”

The brush pauses briefly. “You know what? Fair.” Emma returns to her task, and Taylor does her best not to melt into a puddle.

She’s almost asleep, dozing upright, when Emma asks. “Do my hair after?”

It’s quiet, so quiet that Taylor could pretend she didn’t hear. They’ve been doing a lot of pretending, recently. Taylor doesn’t want to do anymore.

“Okay,” she says.

And if all this ends with a dagger in someone’s back, Taylor won’t be the one who put it there.