The soft tap of rain on my window woke me up. It was cold, almost freezing. But being wrapped in my blanket made it feel just like a comfortable coolness of the morning of a sunny day in spring break.
I yawned, turning to my side.
The pillow and mattress suddenly had the suction force of a black hole.
I could see my alarm clock from here, on the bed. It's 6h30 in the morning, later than the usual time I woke up by about 30 minutes. Give or take.
My lips quirked into a smile and I let myself bask in the rebelliousness for a moment. Maybe a bit more, if I were being honest.
The alarm didn't ring today, like it normally would. And I wouldn't be exercising today either, unlike usual.
It was my cheat day, one Vik forced me to go on himself.
Today I get to eat, drink, relax all I want.
It was my cheat day.
My hand inexplicably clenched, all the tired and grogginess suddenly expelled out of my body.
It was weird, why did I feel guilty?
That ugly coiling feeling in my gut.
Guilty like I'm not doing enough, not enough money, power or gear.
I let out a sigh, getting up. The blanket sliding down my body, leaving me in the biting cold of the rain that managed to pierce through the windows and walls of the apartment.
My feet touched the ground to feel a lance of freezing temperature shooting through it, before I managed to find my slippers.
"Hah..." I sighed, standing up.
I took my time in the toilet, took a hot shower, washed my face, brushed my teeth. All the shebang.
I stopped a bit to look at my reflection in the mirror. It was angular, sharp. My hair was a deep shade of red that cascades down my back, it's wetness making it cling to my skin.
I took a towel and wiped it off.
My clothing never changed, mostly because I'm not fashion savvy enough to style any piece of clothing for the life of me.
But what I do know, is making coffee. A lifelong companion.
I indulged a little today, making a smooth latte. The creamy and sweet liquid slid down my throat with a smoothness black coffee never had.
It soothed my nerves, however effective it was.
I only stepped through the door when it's somewhere closer to 7h30, much later than I usually do, with a protein bar in my hand.
It was kinda late at this time, and I don't actually what to do with my time.
Maybe I'll go catch up with Jackie?
I chuckled ruefully, knowing full well how that would go.
"Scarlet? You're a bit later than usual, is it?" a boyish voice asked.
It was David. Gloria was behind him, locking up their apartment with the same practiced flick she always used, she didn't trust the locks of this place much, nor ever will she.
I offered him a lazy half-smile, taking another bite of the protein bar that was already starting to flake in my fingers.
"Morning, kid. I overslept. You know, living the dream."
He looked skeptical, the way only a teenager can. He'd understand in a few years, when even 8 hours isn't enough.
"Well, you still good to drop me off at Vik's?" he asked, adjusting the strap on his bag. "I mean—I can take the metro if you're busy or whatever."
"Metro's full of creeps this early," I said, already tugging the key fob from my pocket. "Come on. Let's go."
He followed, quick steps behind me. The rain was teetering off at this point, only an ever so slightly drizzle is felt. It's annoying. The dampness makes everything feels heavy and sluggish.
We walked in silence toward the garage.
Butterflies was in my stomach. Butterflies I could safely identify as longing.
It made me smile a little. I liked that feeling. It was painful, to let it go unfulfilled yet. But it makes me feel whole, not less.
When we got there, I handed him the helmet. He took it without a word, fastening the straps.
He was more confident these days. Less bumbling around trying to fit in. He felt like he belongs in Night City now. Not some rural place as the only doctor in town.
I slid onto the bike first and waited for him to climb on behind me.
"You eat yet?" I asked.
"No." He replied, a little impatient.
"Typical."
He didn't respond. Just wrapped his arms around me like he always did.
The ride to Vik's was uneventful. That part of the city still felt asleep. The area was quiet. Such was Vik's place i guess.
You surround yourself with more of your own.
I kind of liked it like this. Still. Muted.
I didn't take the direct route. Maybe on purpose.
David didn't seem to mind. He leaned into the curves like he was learning them. There was a moment—brief—where I felt a twinge in my chest. Not pain exactly, but something close. A kind of pressure.
Maybe pride. Maybe regret.
I don't know. It passed.
When we finally pulled up to Vik's, the gaye was already slightly ajar. Warm yellow light spilling out into the alley like a promise.
David hopped off and handed the helmet back with a "Thanks," and a smile before heading inside.
I didn't follow.
Just sat there again, one foot down, turning off the engine and watching.
He disappeared behind the clinic gate, and a second later I saw Vik's silhouette moving toward him, already gesturing with one hand like he was explaining something. Probably some lecture about patience, or caution. A lot of his lessons are about those anyways. That's Vik for you.
My mouth twitched into a smile that didn't quite last.
I waited until the gate shut behind them before I peeled off.
———————
El Coyote Cojo wasn't packed yet.
It was early still, and most people in this city don't start drinking until they've convinced themselves they earned it. Jackie, of course, had no such hang-ups.
He was already leaning against the bar, elbow planted like it was glued there, a half-finished beer in front of him. Mama Welles nodded at me as I walked in, already reaching for the soda I usually ordered when I wasn't in the mood to get buzzed.
"Look who the cat dragged in," Jackie said, smirking without turning.
I slid onto the stool next to him, returning his smirk. "Pretty sure you're the cat in this metaphor."
He laughed. "Maybe. But you look like you just woke up from a coma."
I shrugged, sipping my drink. "Vik made me take a break. Told me I was working myself stupid."
"He's not wrong." He shrugged.
"I know."
We didn't say anything for a while. Just watched the bar slowly populate—an older couple finding a booth, a solo tech with a cracked lens ordering noodles at the side window, someone mopping up a suspiciously colored puddle near the bathrooms.
Jackie finally broke the silence again. "You ever think about quitting?"
That caught me off guard.
I turned to him, narrowing one eye. "What, like merc work?"
"Yeah. Or like... the hustle. The job. Whatever it is you're doing when you're not beer with your mate at seven in the morning."
I stared at the glass in my hand. The condensation was already dripping down my fingers. I wiped it on my jeans.
"Never crossed my mind," I said quietly, pursing my lips.
Jackie looked over, but I didn't give him anything more. He already knew the meaning.
Because it wasn't true. I thought about quitting all the time. About burning the plan, deleting the data, ditching the Company's mission altogether. About leaving everything behind.
But thinking about something and acting on it are two very different beasts.
"You'd miss the adrenaline," he said eventually. "Even if you got out."
"Maybe." I nodded.
"Definitely."
I didn't argue, because he wasn't wrong.
There was a flyer tacked to the wall behind him. Another Corpo ad—some empty promise about building the future, being more than your block, cashing in your loyalty for status and upgrades.
I stared at it longer than I meant to.
"You're even more into this business than me, chica." His chuckle woke me up. He was downing his beer when I turned to him.
I let out a snort at his words, taking a sip at my soda.
"You're the one who've never been serious in the first place."
He fake recoiled, holding his chest. "What?! What are you accusing me of, Scar?! That's slander!"
I laughed, throwing my head back.
He smirked, turning away. There was a certain satisfaction in him seeing me laugh.
I let the conversation lull into a comfortable silence. Allowing me to dive into my own thoughts.
This was fun, it was. It's the better part of life for anyone, I guess, but not for me. Not yet.
There it was again, that ugly pressure in my chest.
The one that said you could stop. You could stop and no one would blame you.
But they wouldn't remember you either.
I was still just a recruit, I could still leave.
I looked down at my coat pocket. Felt the shape of the datachip still tucked inside.
All it would take was slipping it into the right port. One message, one keystroke, and the board would tilt.
I could stop it, still.
Heh, I could settle down, like Vik always told me about.
But I made my choice long ago, when I started this. The ball has been pushed down the slope.
I couldn't stop it if I wanted to.
But to dream small was to settle. To compromise.
But a good compromise never left anyone happy, does it?