Chapter 31: I knew you were into that weird shit!
The drive back to the city in the Type-66 was very interesting and, dare I say it, fun. The inside of the vehicle looked like an airplane's cockpit or spacecraft, and I almost had to get the Nomad boy's assistance in just starting the engine until I realised there was an actual checklist printed out and placarded onto the middle console, apparently for forgetful Wraiths. It was a multi-step process that included starting the fuel boost pumps first with a little old-fashioned switch before starting the engine.
The CrystalDome system was pretty amazing too, but on the drive over, I found out that the engine had been replaced by an even beefier modified motor that had a max power of over nine hundred horsepower. I would be lucky if I got a hundred kilometres for every twenty-five litres of CHOO2. This was going to be expensive to fill up at the pump, but the speed was amazing, even on the dirt roads of the Badlands.
The NCPD forced me to get a temporary registration before letting me back into the city but didn't hassle me other than that, which I found surprising. However, the law with regard to Nomads was not very good from the perspective of the Nomads. Everything they had was presumed to be stolen goods. And since there was usually no way to know who it precisely belonged to originally, it was perfectly legal to keep it yourself.
I didn't think that sounded in keeping with their civil rights, but it worked for me in this instance, and it also explained why nomad families reportedly travelled in incredibly well-armed convoys and packs, even law-abiding ones like the three I had saved at the compound. They were basically outlaws, but in the old feudal sense of the word, namely, they were outside the protection of the law, at least here in Night City.
"Hmm... looks like just over twenty-nine hundred kilos. We'll call it twenty-five, though, considering fuel and cargo weight. That's good enough for government work," the bored cop said to me, tapping away on a tablet absently. Apparently, my car was considered customised enough that it needed to be weighed. I was quite thankful that they didn't insist I unload all of my loot from the vehicle as they weighed it, especially since some of that loot was severed heads and limbs of the Wraiths. Although, they might have already detected them when they scanned the car for "security threats" and just not commented on it.
Twenty-nine hundred kilograms on a two-seat car was immensely heavy, and I started to believe that the CrystalDome system they installed really was using armoured plates instead of just thin steel. The idea of "bulletproof" was really more of an ideal or something to aspire to rather than a guarantee, but I would say without reservation that this massive beast was, at the very least, impact resistant. I think people would need to bring out anti-material weapons to stop it head-on, and perhaps that was worth the increased fuel consumption.
I thanked the copper before clearing customs and getting back on the road. Customs was set a few kilometres away from the actual city centre, and it seemed like every three or four years, they pushed it further towards the Badlands whenever Biotechnica built more farms in the Flats, and each time they did so, the NUSA complained heartily and made threats.
The very fact that Night City called the entry a customs checkpoint infuriated the NUSA government, which considered Night City nothing more than a semi-autonomous zone in its own country. Honestly, I was sure that was why they called it that.
Even now, this part of the border was more of a temporary construction featuring a lot of semi-mobile cement blocks, chainlink fencing, sensors and automated weapons than an actual wall built into the ground. It'd stop civilian vehicles like mine for sure, but not an Armoured Battalion, so I thought Night City needlessly taunting the NUSA government was kind of stupid if they didn't have any way to stop the former from rolling across like Night City was Poland.
My lead foot was kind of coming back to bite me in the ass, as when I stepped onto the accelerator when I got onto the highway, I nearly lost control and almost collided with a poor bastard in a MaiMai who looked on at the armoured bulk of my "sports car" coming to crush him like he was a Nicola can in abject terror. As I passed him, the terror shifted to outrage, and he laid on his dinky little horn at me, but his engine could barely keep him at the minimum of seventy-five kilometres an hour that you needed to maintain to stay on the highway, much less catch up with me.
It was kind of nice; a lot of cars just changed lanes when they saw me approach from their rear to let me pass. It kind of felt like what I imagined having one of those giant pit bull dogs would be like if you ever walked it on a leash. Even the Merchants would have given me a wide berth if I did that back in the Bay.
Pulling into my Megabuilding's parking garage, I parked in my space. It took three trips for me to bring everything back with me to my apartment. I needed to visit the building's management office, but they wouldn't be open for another six hours, so instead, I doffed everything I was wearing, carefully setting my form-fitting suit aside.
Looking in the mirror, I had three good-sized welts on my chest. It looked like the rounds penetrated my outer vest but not the armoured bodysuit. That was pretty close, then, as the outer vest was the most armoured of the two.
I had already dug the rounds out before I ever got back to the city, but thinking about it now, I grabbed the submachine gun that had been used to shoot me and ejected the magazine. There were only a few rounds left, but they were of a steel-core armour-piercing variety. Rather an unusual load-out for a nine-millimetre sub-gun, I thought, but it wasn't like I was a grizzled veteran at this mercenary business.
I was lucky; even AP ammo in nine millimetres wasn't super effective due to the geometry of the projectile. There were other submachine guns, like my Kang Tao, that fired a smaller, faster, pointy spitzer-type projectile that had significantly better armour-piercing capability, to say nothing about carbines or full-sized rifles.
Sighing, I just shook my head and stood under my hot shower for some time, thinking about it while composing a brief message to Wakako telling her the details of the gig, including both the information about the Nomad family as well as my personal intelligence about the contaminants in Laguna Bend.
As for my own personal performance, I wasn't going to beat myself up over it. Perhaps it would have been safer if I didn't involve myself, but honestly, I felt that I had done a good thing.
I didn't know anything about the culture of Nomads, and the three seemed to suggest that those Wraiths might not have killed them, but I was learning there were a lot worse things than death. Besides, I was still convinced they probably would have received the ransom payment and killed them anyway if their family didn't have some way to ensure they didn't do that. A scorpion would always be a scorpion.
After I put on my pyjamas, I sat at my workbench and absently removed cybernetics from the body parts I had brought home with me. I had about three sets of limbs and as many cybernetic eyes of middling to decent quality. It was something I could do on automatic while I mentally reviewed everything I did. Some of the mistakes were obvious, like assuming my Ping would uncover all enemies. But there were a lot of little things I could improve on as well.
Although some might have said my preparations exceeded those that were necessary for a simple observation job, at the same time, they kind of fell short too. If I had several more magazines for the rifle, then I might have been able to stay back and pick off more of the enemies from a range, although perhaps not. Another way to scale chainlink-type fencing would be useful, too.
I could jump a lot higher than one would think just looking at me; my muscle and bone lace had significantly increased the strength of my legs. However, I'd never tried the complicated acrobatics necessary to jump, climb up half a fence and then leap in an arc over the barbed wire on top.
I didn't even know how I would practice that. How did corporate ninjas get the uncanny agility and grace that I saw on fictional TV shows? It couldn't all be made up. Maybe they took gymnastics classes? However, there were other options. There was an extremely tear-resistant lightweight fabric based on monolayer graphene that I could buy. They were used as tarps in applications where weight was a consideration, like aviation and in cargo spacecraft, and while a little bit pricey, I could keep one in my car. They could then easily be tossed over barbed wire to make it simple to climb over safely.
Past that, the only problem I could see was that I was alone for what should have been a team mission, but there was not a lot I could do on that front.
I could make all the plans in the world, and while it was great to have some backup, things could go wrong even on routine jobs. Things could go wildly wrong just driving to work or going out to the store in this city! The only thing I could do was stop accepting to do any solo jobs as it was possible any of them could turn into a cockup, but that wasn't something I was willing to do.
Using the multiple tools on the ripperdoc's glove, I finished extracting the last cybernetic eye out of the previous owner's skull, humming softly as I did so. Placing it into a small cryogenic storage cylinder along with the other of the pair, I loaded them into the stock-keeping system. After that, it was just fifteen minutes of cleanup, disposing of all of the "medical waste" in speciality red biohazard bags, cleaning up my work area with chemicals, and tossing the disposable nitrile gloves in with the stack of heads.
Tying the bags closed, I set them aside to dispose of later this morning. Then, instead of getting into bed, I just sat in my comfortable chair and put the sleep inducer on my head, rolling the dial all the way to a full three-hour cycle and pressing the activation key.
I added a three-second delay to the device so that I could place my hands in my lap before I---
---xxxxxx---
"You found it?" asked the building manager, unbelievingly, looking at the obvious painted-over Nomad gang markings that you could still somewhat see on his garage security system.
I nodded, "Yes, I found it." I then smiled and continued, "I'll need to rent a second parking space for at least a few months. I may keep both vehicles, but I might get rid of one of them." There were a lot of reasons to get rid of the Type-66. Truly, filling up the tank of CHOO2 once was already quite painful. It was no wonder the Wraiths were pirates; you'd need to steal an oil tanker on the high seas to not be bothered by the fuel prices when driving it. The aftermarket engine was an even worse fuel hog than the normal Quadra. However, I really liked it, so perhaps I would just keep both vehicles.
Although, I'd check to see if Gloria wanted to buy my old car today. She was rolling around in a Galena that looked as old as I did.
The Japanese man stared at me for a few more seconds while I continued to smile in a friendly way. Finally, he just sighed and shrugged, "Alright. A second parking spot will be fifty eurodollars a month." That was twice as much as the first one, but I supposed that made sense as few people actually had two cars, so it was a luxury price point. There weren't empty parking spaces next to my current one either, so I elected to select two new places so that they could be right next to each other, even if they were slightly farther from the door.
As I left the office and started to head back upstairs, I got a call from someone I hadn't spoken to in a few weeks. I picked up and said, "Hello?"
The cheery voice of the young doll greeted me, "Hello, Taylor! How are you doing?"
"Uhh... I'm good! Is something the matter?" I asked her, thinking that perhaps someone needed urgent medical care; however, I was wrong.
She moued prettily, with a towel wrapped around her head. It looked like she had just gotten out of the shower. Then she shook her head, "No! I just wanted to talk and maybe invite you to get some breakfast. It's been a while since we've hung out, and it's important to keep up with friendships. Otherwise, people drift apart!"
Wait, were we friends? I thought about it for a while. Although I'd been here for almost two years now, I was still defaulting to the idea that I didn't have any friends. I distrusted people who were too friendly to me, as it had been a common practice for Emma to get someone to pretend to be my friend for a week or so and then later say or do something horrible to me. Still, at least I realised how silly that was.
Still, it was a difficult thing to be so utterly betrayed by your best friend. Especially at the age it happened to me. It might not have been as bad if I was a boy, as I felt that a best friend-style relationship with young boys was shallower than it was with young girls.
It could be that that was just my impression from looking at boys' friendships from the outside, but it was my opinion that a real "best friend forever" relationship between two young girls was as close as being just shy of romance. You shared everything together, and there were things I had told Emma that I had not even told my parents, and she used all of it to utterly destroy me.
I internally shook myself out of my reverie, as I didn't like thinking about that part of my life too much anymore, "Hmm... okay. I could eat, I suppose. What's the plan?" I asked her, fidgeting with my hands out of the video pickup range.
She grinned, "A bunch of us are going to Hotcake Heaven for breakfast. If you want to come with us, meet me at my place in Clouds in less than a half hour. I gotta go!" With that, she disconnected the call.
I hummed, nodded, and picked up my pace to return to my apartment. I wanted to change clothes, although I wasn't entirely sure what was appropriate to wear for a "breakfast with friends." The Hotcake Heaven was a pretty popular breakfast place downtown, and it was similar to the Waffle Wagon or the International Pancake Pit from my old world.
However, it was a slightly higher class here because, to some extent, pancakes had to be comprised of at least some "real food" in terms of refined and processed cereal crops. I was sure all the eggs, bacon and sausage I might eat was likely to be scop, and I doubted very much any maple syrup originated from a tree, but that had stopped bothering me ages ago.
Stepping into my apartment, I rushed to my private area and frowned at my clothes options. Whatever I wore, I would stand out in the company of dolls who were selected almost exclusively for their physical beauty. If I was going to be the black swan, I may as well lean into it a little bit.
I quickly doffed the casual clothes I had on and changed into what I privately called my "librarian outfit." It featured a dark, charcoal grey pencil skirt, mirror-shine black pumps, dark pantyhose, a white blouse and a complimentary casual dark open-front jacket.
It was dressier than business casual, but not by a lot. The casualness of the open-front jacket and simple white blouse made it much more approachable compared to the version of the outfit I could wear with a full-on skirt-suit.
After I selected the outfit and put it on, I stepped over to where I kept my accessories and frowned in consideration. This wasn't an outfit where you wore an out-and-out holster like I usually did these days, so I would have to leave my Omaha at home. I think it would have to be the subcompact Lexington today. Furthermore, the tight pencil skirt wasn't realistic in using a stocking holster, and I didn't really like wearing those anyway.
Although eight out of ten times, this type of holster would be used for the femme fatale character in some of the BDs I liked to watch, the truth was it was quite a pain to get at your weapon. Honestly, I didn't know why I bought a holster of this type anyway, as I have not left the house in a full-on dress, ever.
Nodding, I selected a simple concealed holster that I could wear at the small of my back. The back of the jacket I was wearing would hide it. Wearing a pistol at the small of your back wasn't the best either in terms of how quickly you could pull it out, but I had practised the move a fair bit, and I was very quick, to begin with.
With my main accessory decided, I settled on a pair of simple studs as earrings and an understated lady's watch, the latter of which was almost entirely a piece of jewellery in Night City. Nobody that had a watch would need to look at the watch to determine the time. However, there were still a lot of watches on the used market -- selling your parent's stuff after they died and the like, so they were still relatively common to find at both pawn stores and used clothing stores, so it was a very cheap way to really class-up an outfit.
Looking at my face in the mirror, I frowned. I didn't normally wear cosmetics at all. Most of the cosmetics I owned were several years old, the stuff Alt-Mom had owned, and Alt-Dad had packed up in boxes. My own mom had passed before she could really teach me how to do it, and although there had been about a year between when we were twelve and thirteen when Emma was learning and sought to teach me, what would be suitable for her wasn't suitable for me. Her skin was smooth and jade-like, bright and pale, and her hair was bright and colourful; it wasn't a wonder why she ended up a model. If only she was as pretty on the inside.
I decided on just some red lip gloss. It was enough to give a little colour to my lips without actually giving the impression I was wearing any cosmetics. Plus, now that I had the knowledge of a hundred dermatologists in my brain, I essentially never got any blemishes, as I would notice them and correct them as soon as I noticed something wrong with one of my pores. If you had very clean, smooth skin, you didn't need much makeup.
I was about to head out of the door when I stopped. I pulled out the little subcompact Lexington, as well as the spare magazine and considered. Then I quickly emptied the two magazines and refilled them with the same armour-piercing ammunition that gave me bruises on my boobs, emptying the submachine gun's magazine to do it.
Normally, I always carried hollow points when I used the Lexington for extra stopping power on random street toughs, but I honestly wasn't too afraid of people who didn't have body armour or subdermal armour anymore. I honestly doubted a nine millimetre could penetrate the torso of someone with subdermal armour, but I could go for head or throat shots.
I could consistently hit a slow-moving head-sized target at twenty metres with my duty pistol, being in the top five of any clinician in Trauma Team Night City. I even got a small little plaque and a small bonus for my performance on the quarterly weapons qualifications. I doubted very much I could achieve the same accuracy with the much shorter barrel of this pistol and without the tactical heads-up display in my Trauma Team helmet, but I was still a pretty good shot.
After filling the two magazines, I slid one last round into the chamber through the open slide, then thumbed the slide release with a satisfying clunk noise and replaced the pistol in my holster.
Glancing down at my watch for fun, I saw I needed to set its time. It was an antique watch, so it was amazing that it still worked at all, so it wasn't surprising it didn't exactly keep accurate time. Pulling out the stem, I casually set it to the current time before leaving my apartment.
Turning to the left, I walked straight into Clouds. Surprisingly, I wasn't alone in their intake alcove today. I had to go through the path that was manned by one of the hostesses, as the other side was automated and wouldn't let me in unless I wanted to Evelyn in her professional capacity.
There were two men in front of me, one was finishing up with the hostess, and the other glanced at me as I stepped into the alcove. He did seem quite nervous, but he wasn't the "neckbeard" type that I had envisioned in my head as the "typical" Clouds patron. That was an unfair stereotype I had, probably. He was a little older than me and clearly had money from the way he was mistreating his Jinguji casual wear. It looked like he slept in it or maybe just put on the same clothes he had worn for the past couple of days.
After one of the hostesses walked away with the first man, a new hostess slid in to assist the next person. He glanced at me, and I smiled in a friendly manner, and then he glanced back at the hostess and stammered, "Uhhh... you can go first."
I smiled. At first, I thought it was because he didn't want me to hear any of his kinky fantasies, but that wasn't really how Clouds usually worked, so I guess he was just being nice. Nodding, I slid in front of him, and the hostess recognised me, "Ah, Taylor-san. You can go ahead on back..." she glanced down and then frowned, "...except you'll have to leave your pistol here, of course."
Ah. I had forgotten that. Clouds was a pretty high-security place. Although I couldn't see them, I imagined there were at least two or three security guys very close when someone walked in packing. I reached behind myself and pulled out my pistol and had already reversed it, holding it out to the pretty Japanese hostess grip first when she froze briefly and then said, "Ah, apologies, Taylor-san. Jin-sama has authorised you to carry your pistol on the premises." She seemed a little perplexed, probably because I wasn't an obvious Tyger Claw or one of the employees. However, I guessed Mr Jin trusted me to protect his workers when we were out on the town.
The man behind me had his mouth hanging open, which I noticed in my peripheral vision, and since I was feeling saucy, I glanced over my shoulder as I slid my pistol back into its holster and gave him a little wink, then did my best "sashay" back into the non-public area of the brothel unescorted.
I had been to both Himeko and Evelyn's places a few times, and I was always happy that liberal soundproofing was employed on the walls of all of the rooms. I would have been mortified if I had walked past Himeko's room on the way to Evelyn's and heard lewd noises or something along those lines. I had accepted what they did for a living in the intellectual sense, but I still didn't want to be reminded about it too often.
I pressed her doorbell, and after a moment, the door opened, and I stepped in. Frowning, I saw Evelyn in a mostly naked state. I didn't see her in the gym, but it was clear that she had to go, just likely not at the same time Himeko and I did. I imagine if you were a doll, taking care of your body was a business imperative. I wasn't frowning because I was a prude, but because there was no way we would meet the "thirty minutes," she had told me before. It had taken me twenty minutes to get ready myself, after all.
She glanced at me and must have noticed my expression as she said, "Sorry, it was taking a little longer than I thought!" She paused for a moment and looked at me up and down and then gave me a thumbs up, "Looking good! If a bit stuffy, but classy-stuffy. I like it."
Although I wouldn't have called the look I was going for "classy-stuffy" myself, I guess it was a pretty accurate summation of what I was going for. Her room was pretty small but about the same size as my first apartment in this building. I sat on one of her chairs and waited, saying, "It's alright. Who all is coming with us?" It was, too. I didn't really have anything else to do today besides go get my car in the Badlands.
She was wearing pants that were tight enough that she had to lay briefly on her bed to wiggle into them, which caused me to smile in amusement. My cooling suit was just as tight, but it had the benefit of being made of slightly stretchy material all over. She glanced at me and said, "Me, you, Himeko, Amy and Anders." The last name was unfamiliar and sounded like a man's name, which threw me for a loop for a second, although I didn't know why as, of course, there had to be male dolls, too, even if females were much more common and popular.
After getting dressed, she spent a few minutes putting some cosmetics on and made a viola motion, asking, "How do I look?"
"Pretty, as always," I replied, and with that, we both walked out of her room.
She redirected me away from the front area, saying, "No, no... We're leaving through the back door. One of the security guys is driving us all in a van." Well, that explained how we all were going to get there. I was going to offer to drive Evelyn, but my car only had two seats after all.
The others were waiting by a back entrance that I didn't know anything about, as well as an obvious Tyger Claw wearing a suit that I supposed was our security. I waved at Himeko and Amy but almost tripped when I saw Anders. Not only did he look like he should be on the cover of a bodice ripper novel, with long flowing blonde hair, but I recognised him.
Specifically, I recognised him from some "special" BDs that I bought. They weren't X-rated; those types of BDs weren't special at all and could be bought pretty much anywhere. The ones I bought were speciality products only sold online and were of the genre "wholesome romantic." For example, a walk along a beach while holding hands, a dinner date, and the like. The lewdest they got was perhaps a kiss on the cheek. It said something about this world that these types of products were more niche and, to some extent, harder to get than XBDs. This Anders was the main actor in the series of BDs that I had bought! Oh god, this was mortifying. I can't let him know.
Himeko introduced us, "Taylor, this is Anders. Anders, this is Taylor."
He smiled prettily at me and said, "Hi, Taylor!"
"H-hi, Maximilian..." I said, and then I wanted to die immediately and have the earth swallow me up. I had just used the name of the character on the BDs that he acted in.
Both he and Evelyn grinned, although Himeko and the other woman looked a little confused. Evelyn said excitedly, "I knew it! I knew you would be into that weird shit!"
Weird shit?! Was hand holding weird shit?! It actually was in this world. Oh god, just kill me now.
Maximilian... err, Anders chuckled and looked pleased, "This is the first time I've met someone who was a fan! You've got to tell me all about what you liked and what you didn't!" Oh, no, please, no.
Thankfully, they noticed my discomfort and didn't tease me much more. We all got into the back of the nondescript black van, and the Tyger Claw man drove us to the restaurant. I asked curiously, "Do security people always escort you if you leave the building?"
Evelyn shook her head, "Nah, but they offered since it was four of us all going to the same place. They do recommend we only go to a few places though if we leave Japantown, but it is not mandatory or anything." Okay, that made sense. I would take the free security, too, if I were them.
Almost on cue, I got a call on my encrypted phone app from Mr Jin. Tilting my head to the side, I answered it, "Hello, Mr Jin." The four of them looked interested in my conversation, as they clearly knew who ran the business. He hadn't hired a new professional manager yet, and was actually quite popular with the dolls, from what Evie and Himeko had told me.
"Hey, Taylor! I just wanted to thank you for going along with Evelyn and Himeko... oh, and one other thing," he said, possibly misunderstanding precisely why I had come into his building armed. Or maybe he didn't, since he knew I would if I could, protect them. However, the last thing he said had a sly, amused tone.
I told him, "Oh, it's no problem. But what's the other thing?"
"Just a job offer if medicine or mercenary work ends up not working out for you. I think you have awoken something in the gentleman in the lobby today," he said, very amused. Then he told me a little bit about what he meant without violating too much client confidentiality. He said it was actually a pretty common fantasy, but I frowned as I disconnected the call.
I wasn't sure I wanted the answer to the question, but I still asked Evelyn, "What is a 'dommy mommy boss fantasy', and why would I have awoken it in one of your clients while waiting for the hostess?"
That caused all four of them to crack up briefly.
---xxxxxx---
Despite all of that, the breakfast was very fun. I had strawberry and cream pancakes, eggs and bacon. It was the best breakfast I had in months and was only about twice the price of my normal breakfast. Perhaps I would go here again.
It wasn't as awkward as I thought it would be with Anders there, despite him being an Adonis in human form. It was actually... fun to be around people like that. It was similar to the time I spent with Kiwi, Ruslan and Jean, even if we usually only hung out before or after a gig.
I declined a ride back to the Megabuilding, as I wanted to do a little shopping in the downtown area and figured I'd take a taxi back or maybe just get on the NCART.
As I was window shopping aimlessly at a large electronics store, I got a call from Wakako. I stepped into a more private and less popular area of the store before I answered, "Hello, Mrs Okada."
"Hi, Taylor. I got your report about the gig, and I had some questions. Firstly, did these guys owe you money? Sleep with your sister and then not call her afterwards? You went scorched earth! I mean, that's great and all -- you're getting a double bonus, but it seemed a little out of character," she said, using a very amused tone.
I see how it was. It was making fun of Taylor day. That's fine, that's fine. I'll remember this, though. I sniffed delicately and offered a haughty tone, "I thought they were crucifying two people, including a boy that was maybe five years younger than me, and I was in a position to stop them while still accomplishing the mission objectives."
"Mmhmm," replied Wakako, "You're not trying to be a hero or something, are you?"
I'd like to be, but I wasn't stupid, so I told her honestly, "I don't think there are any heroes on this whole planet, much less me. Still, fuck those guys."
She nodded, "Yeah, okay. Fair enough. Thanks for the tip about NC Dams, too. I had some similar information, so this is a good confirmation. But, I wouldn't recommend trying to short their stock, though, unless you have at least a million in liquidity and are willing to risk it. Anything less than that, and I think they'll stay afloat long enough to cause you to lose money overall. I think they'll hang on for at least another six months. You could maybe make a bit of money if you try it five months from now, assuming I'm right. Just my opinion, though, and I ain't exactly an investment analyst."
"No, you're much better than that," I told her honestly, but I was curious, "Why are the powers that be working to keep the stock price up?"
She got a shrewd look on her face, "Can't say exactly, but if I had to guess I would say that the market makers and initial investors are keeping the price up until such a point that they also have a net negative position on the company, which might take some time to secure without drawing any attention to it, so that they don't lose any money."
Something told me that was a very good guess. Something also told me that I would likely need to look under my car for a long time if I was stupid enough to try to call Network News 23 and give them a tip about this company. So, I would keep my mouth shut.
"Oh, yeah. The drones. The guy is willing to buy them back from you at a thousand eddies a pop. Interested?" she asked.
I hadn't bothered doing much research about this model of drone, so I asked, "Is that a good price?"
She shrugged, "Fair, I'd say. It isn't a good price if you have a use for drones like this, though, but it is a fair price for liquidating them when you didn't expect to get them in the first place. You can buy them used for about four grand per. One thousand is a fall off the truck price. He's trying to avoid having to pay more to replace them."
That was fair, I suppose, especially since that was basically how I acquired them if you included the fact that I murdered everyone on the truck and then set it on fire afterwards.
I couldn't see any use for medium-sized CHOO2-powered aerial cargo drones. Especially ones that had to have been hacked somehow to down them, so I nodded, "Yeah, that's fine. I'll have them couriered over to your office today or tomorrow morning at the earliest." I might even deliver them myself. RCS would charge almost a hundred bucks for the job, and Wakako didn't live so far away from my place. A hundred eddies was a hundred eddies, after all.
"Excellent, Taylor. It's always good to do business with a pro. As far as the other matter, I have secured a number of testers, and you should expect some good news in just a few days, a week at the most," she said brightly.
A pro? I didn't feel like a pro. Still, I took the compliment with good grace. Before she disconnected, I asked her, "Do you have any contacts for a body and paint shop? I want a complete re-spray done on my new car."
Her eyebrow rose perceptibly, and she nodded, "I'm not surprised. And yes, I'll send you the deets." With that, she disconnected. Wakako was never one for much small talk, after all.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone