4

Back home I would hear about shootings on the news, armed robberies that happened a few cities over, or major military politico activities happening in some distant country so far away that it almost seems like a different world.

I'd never truly grown out of that mindset, even after waking up in this future.

I was paranoid enough about everyone around me replacing body parts as casually as people back home would buy the latest damned iPhone, accepting glitches, breakdowns, and malfunctions in their systems as just part of the deal.

As if an errant glitch, a faulty subpar product couldn't very well ruin someone's life.

Expecting something like a shooting that would be it to do me in was very far on the list of things for me to worry about.

In hindsight, it was easy to focus on larger, more distant fears and ignore the immediate dangers. Knowing gangs, mercs, and private militaries prowled the streets was one thing.

It is easy to focus on the bigger problems, and fears and be blind to the more obvious dangers due to tunnel vision.

It was another thing to have it thrown in my face. I never really expected to get involved in the mess of all of it myself.

I'd heard on WNS about the countless shootings on the 1, 101, and 166. Ziggy Q went on frequent rants about the highways often enough that it's burned in my memory.

But it's not like they all happened in Night City did they? These were interstate highways.

The US 101, If my memory was correct, was an interstate Highway between Washington and California. Or well, SoCal as it was here, what with California having been split at some point in recent history, and the whole mess that was NUSA and free states around the country.

The NCPD's guideline to not get into danger was to avoid walking on the sideroad near these highways. Clearly, they were wrong.

I needed bulletproof armor yesterday. My personal pity party at being here, at being pulled away from my family, and my dog; and the depression thereafter had blinded me to the risk. A stray bullet could kill me if I wasn't careful.

Cyberware would be the fastest solution, of course. Subdermal armor could prevent bullets from killing me instantly. Kendachi advertised that often enough for their consumer defense lineup.

But even if I were willing to endure a ripperdoc's invasive surgery, I couldn't afford it. That was before the additive augmentations to my muscles that were necessary for my musculature to be preinstalled; to allow me to move around with it under my skin.

In the end, cyberware wasn't an option. I didn't trust it, didn't trust any tech here. I couldn't bring myself to accept something unless I knew what it would do to me; what kind of tech it truly was.

The corps here; each and every one of them armed to the teeth, made companies back home look like angels in comparison.

The only thing I could rely on was the Forge and what it provided.

Almost on cue, the pressure in the back of my head flared. The elevator dinged, signaling we'd reached the ground floor, and I followed the mercenary out, half-aware.

"The car's this way. Our client wanted all three of you safe, so we're taking you to him," David said as he guided us toward the building's exit.

I wasn't focused on where he was taking us. I hadn't focused on much since he'd arrived—since the weight of having shot at someone, even if they were an ass; had fully hit me after I registered I was finally somewhat safe.

The galaxy spun wildly, the constellation burning bright in my mind. A tight cluster of stars drew close to my core, mesmerizing in its intensity. One brilliant star pulsed, and light shot from it, filling my soul with a familiar surge.

I was hit with a rush of ideas and possibilities.

Alchemy. It was a concept I hadn't thought possible in this world, yet here I was, imbued with the knowledge and skills of a master alchemist.

A slight smile crept onto my lips as the implications sank in. With just the ingredients I had in my kitchen—synthetic as they were—I could devise a rudimentary skin-hardening potion making it almost as durable as rock, an invisibility potion, and even a healing concoction.

Each thought sparked a flicker of excitement in my chest. The forge was truly my lifeline.

I would need to test their potency, of course, but the fundamentals were clear. The synthetic nature of most of the food in my fridge would actually aid in enhancing the effects of my potions. Their semi-organic, semi-chemical makeup could serve as a perfect base, amplifying the reactions I needed without the necessity of truly magical ingredients.

The possibilities were staggering.

Over time, I was sure I could use some of these potions to heal soil and sand, allowing me to grow organic food—real vegetables that didn't taste like they'd been synthesized in a lab. If I could somehow get my hands on some seeds, it would be a game-changer.

The brilliant light and swirling galaxy faded as a hand waved in front of my eyes.

I blinked, focusing on a short, pale-skinned woman with lime-green hair standing right in front of me. She had striking red-green eyes and pink tattoos visible under her grey-black jacket, just below her bra.

She was humming a tune, her cybernetic red-green eyes were glowing, and I figured she was listening to music using some form of her cybernetics.

As soon as she noticed she had my attention, she grinned. "Finally! You were totally out of it there, choomba. David and the crew are getting your chooms in the cars, wait here with me, kay?" She didn't wait for a response as she started bobbing her head to her music.

I glanced past her to where David was standing near a heavily armored grey SUV—a Chevillon Emperor—parked right behind Mr. Torres's car. The back of the SUV was open, and David was hoisting Kenta's groaning, twitching body into the rear seat.

Inside the SUV, a blonde woman with a red jacket sat in the back, wearing some kind of mask device over her lower jaw—a cybernetic breather, if I had to guess. A driver sat in the front, leaving the front passenger seat presumably for David.

Ethan and Archie were leaning beside the SUV, looking tense and uncertain.

I noticed the other people in the street were giving us a wide berth. The NCPD patrol car at the end of the street was watching us, but not moving to intervene at all. I didn't know if that was because they were afraid of getting involved with mercs, or were waiting on backup.

David nodded toward the blonde woman in the red jacket. "Kiwi," he said, "run a quick check for his shards; any data on him. Last thing we need is any more nasty surprises from him. We're too close to the Vista as it is."

Without a word, the woman pulled a cord from her arm and handed it to David, who plugged it into a socket on the back of Kenta's neck. Kenta moaned, seemingly unaware of what was happening.

The woman, Kiwi, leaned back, closing her eyes and muttering flatly, "Shouldn't have taken this gig anyway. The heat from our last gig with the Tinos hasn't died down yet. We're lucky enough as it is that the Trauma Team or some other group hasn't shown up for any of their clients in the building."

David shrugged. "This was the easiest job Wakako could find, and I want to get back home quickly today."

The girl beside me shuffled over to Ethan, eyeing him curiously. "Speaking of Trauma Team," she piped up, "why aren't they swarming the place already? I mean, big shot Zetatech corpo like you? You'd think Trauma would be here in minutes once the dickwad started shooting."

Ethan winced slightly, adjusting his weight to keep pressure off his recently healed leg. "I'm… in the process of resigning from Zetatech," he admitted, looking a bit sheepish. "They confiscated my cyberware about a week ago, along with the Trauma Team package."

The lime green-haired girl cocked her head, raising a brow. "First time I've heard of a corpo with a fancy ass apartment like yours, leaving a cushy gig at Zetatech willingly. They usually don't just let their employees walk." Her smile widened, and her red-green eyes brightened as if she'd made a groundbreaking deduction.

With a mischievous grin, she wiggled her eyebrows, nudged him with her elbow, and then, in one fluid motion, wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him down to her height. "So… what dirt you got on 'em, huh? Give us the detes choom, spill."

Ethan looked more than a little uncomfortable as he gently pried her arm off his neck. "W-what are you talking about? There's no dirt," he insisted. "I filed my resignation, signed a non-compete, and that was it."

The girl gave him a long, deadpan stare, clearly unconvinced. "Right… pull the other one."

"That really is all I did," Ethan replied, sounding slightly hysterical and affronted.

The pale girl huffed, crossing her arms. "Fine, keep your secrets, boring long-nosed bloodsucker."

Ethan spluttered at the accusation and tried to futilely convince her otherwise. "I-I am not lying! Do you think I'd be in this position if I had blackmail on them? Instead of some crazy maniacal ex of Archie here" he said, indicating to the blonde who was clutching his hand rather tightly "it'd would have been a team of my old colleagues coming in to secure my 'silence'."

Archie, who was clutching the man's hand; shuddered and shook "I-I really am sorry, I didn't think Kenta would pull something like this."

Ethan shook his head, waving his arm, wincing as the pain in his leg fired up again "No, no. This isn't your fault. I'm not blaming you… you couldn't have predicted any of this." He said, trying to soothe his girlfriend's concern. "Although…" he continued, "I'd appreciate it… if you could let me know of some other exes of yours that would come gunning for me. You know, so I can be prepared to fight them off next time."

His attempt at brevity must have worked as Archie finally smiled, and scuffed on the back of his hand.

"Ugh!" The pink tattooed girl exclaimed "Another pair of lovebirds… just my fucking luck."

David turned to the girl and sighed, his stoic expression softening "Let them be, Becca. The gonks are overwhelmed as it is. Let's just get this done and go home after we get our eds."

"Whatever you say, Davie" The girl, Becca pouted at being denied her fun, but replied as she bounced on her toes impatiently.

Martinez then turned to me. "You're Zain right?" At my nod he continued "You will be riding with Becca in the other car, there isn't enough room in ours with the merc out cold in the back. Rafael made it clear—both you and Ethan, alongside Archie, should have protection," he said, nodding toward Ethan. "This way, one of the crew can watch your back. I hope that isn't a problem,"

"No, no" I waved off the concern "I-It's not a problem. I needed to get Mr Torres his car back anyway."

The green-haired girl's face lit up as she turned back to me, bowing dramatically with her hands pressed together. "Namaste! Choom! I'm Rebecca, I'll be your nanny today!" Her grin was as wide as it was unfiltered.

She thought I was a monk too, didn't she? This was getting annoying.

Thrown by her enthusiasm, I managed a smile, introducing myself and clarifying, "I'm not a monk. I just… there's no need for bowing, or anything. I just don't have any cyberware, that's all."

Rebecca tilted her head, studying me with unabashed curiosity. "Wait, like, not even a neural socket? No chip?"

I shook my head, trying not to sound as exasperated as I felt. This was a very common misunderstanding that almost any new person I spoke with had questions or a tease about. "It's a personal thing—grew up that way. Never saw the need, I guess."

"Nova!" She breathed; her red-green eyes widened as if she were looking at a rare artifact. "you're … weird! I like it, choom!" she concluded, clearly fascinated.

Just then, Kenta let out another pained moan from the back seat of the SUV, where he had been slumped since his systems had been fried.

I couldn't ignore the lingering question anymore and turned to the others. "What did you actually do to the guy exactly?" I asked Rebecca as Archie and Ethan quickly boarded the SUV. "He's been moaning in pain since he went down, and I didn't see any thing really hit him … apart from sparks at the back of his head."

It was Kiwi, the masked woman, who responded. She didn't bother opening her eyes as she replied in a flat tone. "I collapsed his systems remotely. Simple hack using daemons—nonlethal, but effective. He had an extra optical sensor hidden at the base of his skull. Didn't want to risk direct confrontation."

That flew right over my head, and I hesitated before asking, "Could you… clarify what that actually means?"

After a few moments, Kiwi opened her eyes, giving a quick nod to David. He disconnected the cord from Kenta's neck, and it retracted swiftly into the sleeve of Kiwi's jacket. She barely seemed to notice, her focus drifting as she reached up, rubbing her head.

She turned to David who had been watching her like a hawk, and asked "Coolant, David?"

David nodded and began rummaging through the SUV's storage compartment; right beside Kenta, who continued groaning. He handed her a large injector.

Without hesitation, Kiwi stabbed it into her left shoulder and let out a relieved sigh as it took effect.

"There won't be any problems with our friend here anytime soon," she said, her tone flat. "I couldn't go too deep without a proper ice bath, so I stuck to checking his most recent archives. Besides regular chatter with some guy named Jae Hyun and the occasional call to a Joytoy, he's not hiding much of interest."

Then, turning her attention to me, Kiwi clarified, "I overloaded him with data—basically fried his nervous system. He won't recover without a decent ripperdoc, so you don't have to worry. He's out of the game for a while."

A chill ran through me. The idea that someone's nervous system could be fried remotely, that chips and implants could be hacked and rendered useless without a second thought, was unsettling.

If I'd ever needed a reason to avoid cyberware, this was it.

David finally said they should be on their way, giving me a nod before climbing into the passenger seat of the SUV. He told me to follow close behind, so I headed toward Mr. Torres's car, where Rebecca was already making herself at home.

She was in the passenger seat with her feet propped up on the dashboard, her guns strapped and visible. I figured it was best not to ask her to put her feet down. Today had already been more intense than I could have imagined, and I didn't want to add "pissing off an armed merc" to the list.

As we started driving, I kept a safe distance behind David's SUV. I'd barely had time to process everything that had happened, but the weight of it all pressed on me as we rolled through the grim streets of Night City.

After a few minutes of silence, Rebecca sighed dramatically and turned to me. "This is boring. Listening to music on my own is gonked." She shifted in her seat to face me, her excitement turning her usual sharp gaze into something almost curious. "So, tell me, no chrome, definitely not a Buddhist, and you're new to that gun you're carrying. How've you managed to stick around so long in this city? Especially in the shithole around Auntie Wakako's?"

I took a second to think it over, trying to decide how much I wanted to share. "Well, I'm… new to the city, actually," I said, keeping it simple.

She hummed thoughtfully. "New, huh? What brought you to Night City, then? People come here looking for a fresh start, or they're running from something."

I swallowed, reminding myself to keep it vague. "I'm from the Badlands. Sort of a refugee."

Rebecca nodded, absorbing that. "So, you're a nomad?" She paused, eyeing me with a bit more caution. "What happened to your family?"

I hesitated, feeling a tightness in my chest. "I… don't know. It's not something I like to think about." Which was true, in a roundabout way. This time period, this place—it wasn't mine. And my family, my old life? Gone. But there was no way I was getting into all that.

She tilted her head, studying me like she was piecing together a puzzle. "Most nomads don't just leave their clans or families behind unless they're Raffen or… you know, betrayed them. You're not Raffen, are you?"

I shook my head, chuckling softly. "Who are the Raffen, anyway?"

She raised her eyebrows at me, suspicious now. "You sure you're a nomad? I mean, I can smell BS a mile away, choom, like that corpo input of your friend." She jerked her head in the direction of the SUV ahead, obviously talking about Ethan.

I shrugged. "Why do you say that? Ethan could be telling the truth."

Rebecca snickered, shaking her head. "That guy's a lawyer. He knows how to twist things and lie like a pro. But we're not talking about him. We're talking about you."

I glanced at her, a bit thrown off. "Why are you so interested?"

She pointed right at me, her feet wiggling on the dash as she looked me over with a grin. "What's not to be interested about? You stick out like a sore thumb. New to the city, but you say you're from the Badlands and don't have a single piece of chrome on you? People don't survive out there without some kind of cyberware. And then there's that wide-eyed, lost-puppy look you got goin' on." She grinned wider, laughing. "Plus, you're kinda adorable, like that stray puppy I found once."

I ducked my head, caught off guard by her bluntness. "I… don't really know what to say to that." I rubbed the back of my neck, hoping it wasn't obvious how much she'd rattled me. "The family I had and the way I grew up made cyberware unnecessary, I guess."

"Damn, Nova!" she said, kicking her feet back and eyeing me thoughtfully. "You're saying you were able to survive in the badlands remaining ganic? That's preem shit, right there. Why leave then?"

I replied, my voice quieter than before, "I didn't exactly leave willingly. I had no other choice."

Rebecca's grin faded slightly. After a moment, she asked gently, "What happened? I mean, if you're comfortable sharing."

I took a deep breath, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or the lingering shock from earlier, but I felt the need to get it off my chest. "Honestly, I don't really know," I began. "It's all a blur. I was out with some friends, partying at this dumb bar. Came home, talked to my Ma, and went to bed. Then... everything after is just blank. I don't like to think about it much. Next thing I knew, I wound up here in Night City."

She absorbed that, her expression softening. "Sounds like you had a good life," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."

I shook my head, offering a small smile. "Don't be. I've come to terms with it. Can't go back. Night City is home now."

We drove in a comfortable silence for a while, the city's neon glow casting shifting patterns across the windshield. The hum of the engine was oddly soothing amid the chaos of my thoughts.

Eventually, Rebecca broke the silence. "You should keep that gun of yours close at all times," she advised, nodding toward the revolver resting between us. "City isn't safe. Japantown, Kabuki, and other parts up in Watson especially."

I nodded appreciatively. "Thanks for the advice."

As we approached a red light near the edge of Vista Del Rey, I slowed the car. David's SUV stopped ahead of us. Just then, a lowrider Villefort Alvarado pulled up beside me. Inside were five heavily tattooed men and women, all visibly armed. The thumping bass of their music rattled our windows.

Rebecca spotted them first. She immediately ducked down, sliding low in her seat until she was hidden below the window. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath. "Be ready to punch the CHOOH," she whispered urgently, her red-green eyes glowing as she initiated a call.

I tensed up, glancing sideways at the gang members. "What's going on?" I whispered.

She held a finger to her lips, eyes darting over the dashboard. "They haven't spotted me yet," she murmured. She risked a quick peek over the edge of the window. Just then, a woman perched in the back of the lowrider locked eyes with her.

"Shit," Rebecca cursed, ducking back down. "Punch it! Now!"

My heart lurched. Without thinking, I slammed my foot on the accelerator. The tires squealed as we shot forward, David's SUV doing the same ahead of us.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the woman in the lowrider signal to her crew, raising a gun in our direction. The first bullet shattered the rear windshield, glass spraying into the back seat.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I shouted, adrenaline surging as I gripped the wheel. "Not again!"

"Don't fucking panic!" Rebecca barked, pulling out a pink shotgun from under her jacket. She cocked it with a practiced motion, lowering the window. "Stick close to the others! I'll keep those bastards off us!"

I nodded frantically, swerving to avoid a slow-moving car as we sped through the intersection. Horns blared behind us.

Bullets whizzed past, one embedding itself in the passenger door with a metallic thud. Rebecca leaned out of the window, her shotgun poised. "Keep it steady!" she shouted over the wind.

"I'm trying!" I yelled back, weaving through traffic to stay behind David's SUV.

Bullets continued to slice through the air, whizzing past our car as Rebecca fired back with relentless intensity. The Alvarado kept close on our tail, undeterred by her shotgun blasts.

Ahead, David's SUV swerved sharply, slipping down an alleyway. I tried to follow but missed the turn, swerving onto the sidewalk and plowing through a row of traffic cones, narrowly avoiding plowing headfirst into some store front and other civilians.

Thank God, I didn't want that on my conscience.

The Alvarado stayed on us, its headlights looming like predators in the rearview mirror.

"I fucking missed the turn!" I yelled to Rebecca. "Lost the rest of your crew!"

"Keep going," she snapped. "Head for the ring road, but stay clear of Corpo Plaza. David and the team will swing around and cut 'em off."

Gritting my teeth, I weaved through traffic, dodging more bullets as chaos erupted around us. A motorcycle caught in the crossfire crashed spectacularly, sending its rider sprawling. Cars screeched to a halt or swerved erratically, trying to escape the madness.

"FUCK!" Rebecca cursed, and I glanced over to see blood streaming down her arm. She clutched the wound, grimacing. "Fuck. Knew I shoulda gotten those damn Gorilla arms sooner."

My stomach twisted. "What now?" I asked, panic creeping into my voice.

"Just drive," she ground out, as she placed her bleeding hand under her butt, trying to stem the bleeding by sitting on it, as she pulled out a massive pistol with the other. She dropped her shotgun on the seat and resumed blasting out the window. "I still got one good shooting arm."

I couldn't just sit there and let her take all the hits, not knowing how much longer it would be before David's team circled back.

Summoning a shaky resolve, "GET BACK INSIDE!" I shouted over the roar of gunfire.

Rebecca kept firing, barely sparing me a glance. "WHY?"

"Just do it," I insisted. "Take the wheel."

She ducked back in to reload her pistol and looked at me like I'd lost it, as she resumed firing. "You've gone gonked in the head, haven't you?"

"Probably," I admitted, voice tight, "but you can't keep taking shots like that!"

She took down another gunman in the Alvarado, but a bullet ricocheted off her chromed shoulder, leaving a nasty bruise. She groaned, ducking back inside. After a quick inhale from a MaxDoc, her breathing steadied.

"Fine," she muttered. "Keep your foot on the CHOOH. David's half a minute out. I'll take the wheel."

Nodding, I pulled out the revolver Mr. Torres had given me. I still couldn't believe I was about to shoot at people. Twice in one day. I had no idea why they were even shooting at us in the first fucking place!

Anger flared up in me—at this city, at myself, at this whole mess I'd landed in. I didn't know if I could kill, but right now, I had no choice. Keeping my foot on the gas, I leaned out the window, letting Rebecca take control of the steering.

With the micromanipulator gloves, I was able to stabilize my aim, but my heart pounded with every pull of the trigger.

Bullets zipped dangerously close, nicking the car door and shattering the remaining side mirror. Swallowing my fear, I squeezed the trigger again, and by sheer luck, one of my shots hit the woman who'd first spotted us, square in the shoulder.

I kept firing, feeling the recoil jolting through me, each shot wild but desperate. I didn't even notice I was running out of ammo until the last click of the trigger, my revolver almost empty. In that moment, David's SUV surged out of a side street, barreling behind us as it slammed side along into the Alvarado with a brutal force.

The lowrider spun, its driver fighting for control before it veered dangerously close to oncoming traffic. David, half-perched on top of the SUV, stood like a living weapon. His chromed torso gleamed under the streetlights, jacket whipping in the wind.

Rebecca's eyes went wide. "Finally," she muttered, sounding both relieved and excited.

Before I could fully process what was happening, David moved—fast. He leaped from the SUV like lightning, colliding with the Alvarado with a force that made me recoil. In seconds, the Tinos were reduced to smears of blood and chaos. The lowrider, now a driverless shell, swerved, tumbling uncontrollably until it hit the median.

It bounced, rolled, and erupted in a fireball, illuminating the street behind us.

Still leaning out the window, I could only stare, wide-eyed, as the wreckage burned. "...Fuck me," I whispered wind whipping past my hair, as I loosened my foot off the gas.

Rebecca leaned back, grinning as she holstered her pistol. "Yeah well, welcome to Night City," she said with a chuckle. "Let's get you back to your employer."

I could only nod, feeling the weight of the night finally catch up with me.

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(A/N) Another fun, if a little hectic chapter to write.

I feel I need to clarify somethings about Zain. He is extremely sheltered by Night City standards. Guy is just a fresh grad from a university in San Jose. And after his arrival; he had massive massive culture shock, depression because he lost his family, and he just found out that literally, everyone around him treats their bodies like they are parts to be replaced like some cell phones.

He had other things to worry about, like getting a job for food, and water. His apartment rent might be paid off, for now. Doesn't mean he doesn't need other things to survive.

Finding a job in Night City, without any implants is genuinely impossible. He got one because he sticks out like a sore thumb, and Rafael took pity on him. Literally everyone is treating him like he's a wide-eyed tourist.

He's also suspicious as fuck.

Japantown, and Westbrook are not cheap places to live in. They are semi corporate residential areas, and even if Zain lives in the shadier part of town, the rent is way way out of his weight class. In game, Japantown house is rented at 30000 eddies.

Zain earns 1000 a month. For him to afford something even half that is suspicious. People have noticed. They just haven't asked because seeing Zain, it's impossible to treat him as a threat. He is basically the coughing baby in a packed full with literally the entirely arsenal of weaponry.

His weakness is what let him be ignored. Had he been in Watson, or anywhere else up north, he'd have already been prime target for Maelstrom. The Tiger Claw territory is the safest for someone like him.

He'd be run out of the Glenn or murdered; if he'd been living in that corpo area. It could be anyone there, the Tinos or any of the corps.

Santo Domingo and Arroyo meant eating and drinking water that's radiated and extremely toxic.

The city outskirts around Rocky Ridge could have worked sure, but not without real support, or living like a total hermit like that one cyberpsycho incident with the turrets up there.

I've basically him some creature comforts where he could survive, barely. The Windows computer was for familiarity. Someone pointed out to me that Microsoft as a company exists in the verse, I still doubt the Windows OS is a thing, as a connection to the Net is primarily physical through netrunning chairs.

Zain has no clue that the net is not the internet he knows, but rather fractured city-wide nets, or intranets if I can consider that an apt enough comparison.

His research into the history of the world and Night City is sourced from the TV, and publicly available sites his Windows computer can browse for him. That isn't the open access to shit like Wikipedia, or something but corp controlled info on their city net.

While a lot of the history is accurate, some are not. Like he believes the fourth corp war was won by Arasaka, because Arasaka propaganda says so. Their city net is the most widely followed and accessed net, and their information propaganda is king.

He doesn't know about a lot of the tech available out there, and while he knows Agents and other communicative tech are available, and would solve a lot of his money problems, they are illegal according to Netwatch. (canonically)

He is a weird case of distrusting corporate tech because of fear, culture shock, and paranoia while also being the most easily susceptible to propaganda because he has no reason to assume the net isn't the same as back home. The internet, for us, is the one thing that's a constant. Like, it's difficult to comprehend a more sophisticated version of it. For us, a more advanced internet is for it becoming faster, lower latency, less bandwidth, etc.

The idea that you can physically interact with it is mind-boggling. And with Netrunners being rare enough as they are … well, it's no surprise that Zain doesn't know much about it, and accepted the corpo propaganda at face value.

He knows vaguely about the DataKrash, and the events around Rache Bartmoss, but seeing as there is a net, his assumption is that the infrastructure must have been rebuilt.

For a clearer view. He trusts the NCPD to do its job, because well cops. He trusts Netwatch to do its job, because federal agency. He trusts the NUSA, and is heartbroken as an American because of America's fracture. He is heartbroken at the fact the badlands even exist, and there are cities like San Jose (his home) and San Francisco that cannot be visited without necessary implants.

(Canonically San Francisco's air is unbreathable without Lung implants, there isn't much about San Jose but seeing as they are both in NorCal, I stretched that to the surrounding cities around San Fran. Otherwise, after coming out of the depression, Zain would have taken the three-hour drive to see what was left of home.)

He distrusts Arasaka, but doesn't recognize their propaganda, or Militech's for that matter. He distrusts their products, not that they are lying about history too.

He can't comprehend that netrunning literally means walking into the net. It hasn't clicked yet.

I think this part should be informational, but I figured I'd put it here in the Author's note to avoid any other confusion.

Rolls for this chapter:

Domain: Skills: Alchemy

Alchemist (A 'Happy' Harry Potter Fanfiction) (200CP)

The fine art of turning lead into gold in the quest to create the immortal granting elixir of life. What few remember is that alchemists rely on more than just magical ingredients for their mixtures. Chemicals, elements, oils, tinctures, spices, metals, it is not the magic that matters to you but the results of the combined reaction. Your abilities at brewing are beyond that of even the most skilled potioneers as anything that relies on ingredients to create you can make. Your favorite marinade, new alcoholic beverages, beauty products, intangibility potion, napalm, whatever you set your mind to you can make a reality. You know all the proper techniques and tricks to squeeze the most essence out of your ingredients, how to harvest them without botching it, how to store them so they don't lose any of their potency. You know the best ways to prepare them, the best time to add them, how to get the reaction you want, and all the steps to achieve it. You can even tell which ingredients complement each other best based on smell, taste, touch, and any record of their properties. If being a master potion maker isn't your goal well there's always opening a bar, getting your own cooking show, or running a chemical factory of some stripe because a philosopher's stone is something you could make by just cracking open a few chemistry and potion books.Chapter 4 –

"Hey, sugah! I have something that will keep you hard for hours ~ let's head back to my place and I promise, you something that no BD can ever match!"

I ignored Rebecca's snickering, as she laughed at my expression.

"o-oh, erm… no thank you?" I replied and ignored the soulful pout from the holographic anime girl. Honestly, I couldn't be more surprised at this point.

A blue-haired holographic wannabe Hatsune Miku drug dealer just propositioned me while pushing me with what I must guess is some ultra-futuristic, ultra-sketchy Viagra; this clusterfuck of a day just kept on giving.

I had avoided walking into Jig-Jig Street like the plague since I'd woken up here. Until now. It was clearly a Tyger Claw haunt. I had no desire to be swindled, robbed, scammed, drugged up, or be a part of the clientele of any 'business' they probably had going on in the place, on top of the sex work that is.

"Gosh, you're like a virgin just about to get his cherry popped." Rebecca laughed as she walked beside me. "Don't tell me you've never seen a doll house before!"

"I live a few blocks away from here, Rebecca. I have seen quite a few dollhouses since coming to Night City." I replied dryly as I followed behind David and the rest. "If you have to search for metaphors, I think I'd be more like a lamb walking into a Tiger's den… I did not think this Wakako's choice for conducting business would be here of all places."

"This, choomba, is the safest place to conduct biz in all of Westbrook." Rebecca exclaimed, waving her arms as if indicating the whole area around us "You're worrying about nothing. The claws don't interfere unless the customers get rowdy. Wakako wouldn't take too well to them intimating most of the customers around here… kills the mood, ya know?"

I nodded at that notion; I could see the logic behind that. Though I wouldn't put my faith in gangsters to be as adherent to those rules as much as Rebecca was suggesting, but I didn't mention my skepticism as we approached the center of the red-light district, approaching a modest gambling house, a Japanese Pachinko Parlor.

Kiwi and their driver, Falco, had opted to remain behind in their car. Kenta was slung over David's broad shoulder.

The other people in the street were giving us a wide berth, though I don't think either Archie or any of the rest noticed.

I was almost certain Archie was in a hyperactive perpetual state of shock. She had been oscillating between shouting my ears off about being reckless, endangering myself needlessly; and apologizing while blaming herself for the mess we were all in, not that it was her fault.

I blamed the shock. And Kenta. And the Valentinos.

But mostly just Kenta.

At the very least Ethan seemed to be taking everything in stride. He'd even made a couple of jokes to me on how he'd have joined in on the fun if he'd had a gun on him at all. How he would have managed that, I had no idea, but I appreciated the sentiment. Even if his jokes were a bit awkward.

In hindsight, leaning out of a moving car and taking potshots at gangsters chasing after us was not a smart move. But well, I couldn't leave Rebecca to bear the brunt of their aim, not after she'd already been hurt.

At least no one was seriously injured. The bullet wound on Rebecca's hand had been tied up, and she was already making plans to get a pair of Dynalar's latest line of Gorilla arms to replace her organic ones.

That thought still twisted some things in my gut, but I could see the pragmatism behind the idea of modular, replaceable body parts.

Somewhat. Barely.

All that remained was to get back to Rafael who had chosen to wait for us with this Wakako, and head on back home. Archie was certainly anxious about the meeting, afraid even. More so than even Kenta. He hadn't put her on edge as much as the mere mention of Wakako was managing to now.

And it was understandable, the woman was evidently a Yakuza leader; someone who held considerable power with the most prominent gang of this part of the city. I'd only heard about 'The Lady of Westbrook' through gossip, mostly at the diner. I didn't expect Rafael's chosen method to deal with Kenta would be to contact the local crime lord; and through her, a group of mercenaries.

The Pachinko Parlor was a modest, dimly lit room, with a handful of flashing pachinko machines lined along the walls, their flickering lights casting brief, colorful glows. The scent of incense, mixed with cigarette smoke, hung heavily in the air, a rich, earthy aroma that clung to the senses.

I wondered if it was real wood being burned. In a place like this, with a Yakuza leader like Wakako calling the shots, I supposed it might be.

A receptionist sat behind a small counter at the far end, her expression calm, disinterested—nothing about her hinted at any connection to the kind of business I suspected was being conducted just behind the beaded curtain at the back. She didn't look like Tyger Claw to me, but what did I know?

As we approached, she nodded at David who then turned to us. "Wait here. This won't take long"

I heard the faint, worn cadence of a woman's voice beyond the curtain. Warm, conversational, like that of a gossiping old grandma, an old friend sharing juicy secrets over tea.

"Don't you worry, your daughter is unharmed. The complication with the Valentinos was quickly dealt with." Wakako's voice drifted through, smoothly reassuring whoever was in there with her. "My mercenaries are on their way…. I won't consider this a change in our normal arrangement."

Another voice responded, careful and measured, and I recognized it as Rafael's. "Thank you for… your kindness, Wakako," he replied. "I'll have the eddies sent by the end of the night."

A gentle laugh followed. "Ah, my dear, there is no need to rush," she replied, indulgent. "Normally, I don't take biz on credit, but for you, I can make an exception."

There was a pause, and then Rafael replied, guarded "Thank you, Wakako."

Just then, as if on cue, the Lady of Westbrook continued. "And if I'm not mistaken, I believe they're here now."

With that, David stepped forward, parting the curtain, Kenta's limp, unconscious form draped over his shoulder. Rebecca seemed to be bouncing on her heel in excitement, for some reason.

I happened to be closest behind David and got a very good look inside. The room was warm and inviting, filled with dark, polished wood and subtle lighting that gave it an almost antique charm. A small bonsai was potted on a desk, along with fine china.

I could still see her, and the rest through the beaded curtains that separated the office from the Pachinko parlor.

Wakako sat comfortably at a polished wooden desk, her gaze falling on David, then lingering on Kenta with a pleased smile.

"Just as promised, Rafael," she said, sounding amused. "One Suzuki Kenta, delivered as requested, for you to handle however you see fit. Your daughter's safe—and her friends, too."

Rafael let out a breath, and I saw his shoulders finally relax, though he maintained a cautious distance. "Thank you again, Wakako."

Wakako's eyes shifted to David, her expression approving as she regarded him. "Fine work as always, David," she said with a slight nod. "Please wait a moment, I will close this gig with the client, and then I'll transfer your payment."

David gave a nod, about to speak when Rebecca pushed past me and surged forward, grinning wide.

"Auntie Wakako! It's been ages since we met in person!" she greeted, her excitement almost childlike. "Why'd you stop sending solo gigs my way? I'm still game for them, ya know—every now and then."

Wakako gave her an amused smile, but Rebecca didn't wait for a response. She raised her bandaged arm, waving it slightly to emphasize her point. "Anyway, never mind that. I went and screwed up my arm," she continued, a pout forming on her lips. "Aaaand, I need a new ripper. My usual one skipped town, the old bastard; and Fingers is a creep. Grabby bastard tried to cop a feel of my butt as 'payment' last time. I was there for optics dammit, the slimy bastard; I nearly broke his damned fingers, if there hadn't been a line of girls outside I would've."

Wakako chuckled, the sound warm and a little indulgent. "Rebecca, dear, slow down," she said, clearly entertained by the tirade. "It's good to see you too. And as for the solo gigs…" she trailed off with a knowing smile, "I don't send them your way because I'd much rather see you working in a team. It's safer, and you're less likely to run into some untoward accidents."

Rebecca huffed, crossing her arms with a pout. "I can handle myself just fine, Wakako."

Wakako shook her head, still smiling. "Perhaps, but I've no desire to see you dead, dear," she replied dryly. "As for a ripper…. I'll have my boys arrange an appointment with Chiyo for you. You'll be in better hands with her. She does the work for most of my boys these days."

Rebecca's pout softened, and a smile crept back onto her face. "Thanks, Auntie. I knew I could count on you."

"You're welcome, my dear" the old woman replied, "I wish we could continue our conversation, but alas. I have biz to see to. Why don't we chat over tea later this week? We haven't had much time to talk since…Pilaf's death. It's been months and I have been remiss as your 'Auntie'."

The grin Rebecca had been sporting soured at the mention of Pilaf, a relative perhaps. But it returned in force quickly, "That'd be nice Auntie! I'll be there. I'll just wait here while you finish with the biz"

The woman nodded and returned her attention back to the group crowding in her office. "Now… as I was saying, David… there is still the matter of closing the gig. We need to deal with Kenta however Rafael sees fit."

The man in question had been still during the by-play of the conversation between Rebecca and the Gang Boss. It was her presence and his clear wariness of her that had stopped Rafael from launching and engulfing his daughter as soon as she had stepped into the office.

He was quick to regain control of himself, having become the center of attention of the Lady once again. He turned to David and asked, genuine concern for his daughter in his voice, "Was my daughter hurt? Tell me everything… leave nothing out."

The man was quick to give a brief, but thorough retelling of what happened. It was very detailed too, and it even provided information that the man wasn't present himself to witness with surprising accuracy.

I could see the rage building behind the man's features with every passing word. Wakako herself seemed to be unaffected, her hands steepled as she awaited the decision the man was to make.

At the end of his retelling, Rafael's face went eerily calm, his lips pressed into a tight line. He looked down at his hands, a flicker of disbelief mingling with the simmering fury in his gaze. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice low and strained.

"He shot at my daughter. He tried to murder mi hija… mi pequeña…" He broke off, his fists clenching as he glared at Kenta's unconscious form. "Curse you, curse your family, curse your entire lineage to the pits of hell, Bastard!" he spat.

After a moment, he drew a deep, steadying breath, clearly wrestling to regain his composure.

Wakako chose this moment to interject, her tone gentle yet firm. "If I may, Rafael," she offered, her gaze shifting to Kenta. "I can take care of this matter for you. You won't have to dirty your hands with him, and he'll no longer be a problem for you or your daughter."

Rafael turned to her sharply, eyes blazing as he spat, "I want him gone from my life, my daughter's life. I want him as far away from Archie as possible… do what you have to do. I want to never see the hijo de puta again."

Wakako steepled her fingers and nodded slowly, her gaze unwavering. "Then it will be done. Rest easy, Rafael. You and your daughter will never have to see this man's face again."

I glanced over at Archie, who was standing beside me with Ethan, and saw her tremble slightly, clutching Ethan's arm tightly. The gravity of what her father had decided seemed to hit her, but she said nothing, her face pale and resolute.

After a few moments, Rafael gave a deep bow of thanks to the Lady, his respect evident. Wakako returned his acknowledgment with a gracious nod, then shifted her attention to David. "David," she said smoothly, "I'm closing the gig and transferring your payment now." Her eyes glowed briefly with a faint blue light as she handled the transfer.

Rafael was quick to turn and make his way out of the office, and the instant he stepped outside, he gathered Archie into a tight, heartfelt hug. He held her close, whispering gently, "Ay, mi amor… mi vida… thank God you're safe. I was so worried, mija." He pulled back, scanning her carefully for any sign of harm. "Estás bien? Are you hurt? Tell me, mija."

Archie returned his hug, and I saw her entire body relax as though a weight she'd been carrying for hours had finally lifted. Her face softened as she let herself be held by her father, the tension she'd worn since we arrived at her apartment seemingly melting away.

"I'm fine, Papá," she assured him, her voice shaky but genuine. "I was scared, but… we're okay now."

Rafael didn't seem completely satisfied, fussing over her and inspecting her from head to toe. Then he clutched her ear in a vice-like grip "Dios mío, mira—next time you pick up the damned holo when I call you… I don't give flying fuck if you're with a …. friend or whoever else, just pick up the damned call."

"Ow ow ow ow, Papa!" Archie yelped in pain, as she tried in vain to get the man's grip off her ear. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I will pick up! I am sorry!"

Once he'd assured himself she was indeed unharmed, Rafael let the girl go and turned to Ethan, he took a deep breath. "You protected my daughter," he said, his tone warm yet serious. "You were in danger yourself, at gunpoint, and yet you stood by her side... your house is damaged. If you wish, you can take the couch at my place for the night."

Ethan, looking slightly taken aback by the appreciation, laughed nervously. "Well, I always did have fantasies as a kid of being a knight in shining chrome," he joked, scratching the back of his head. "So, uh… maybe this counts as a win in that regard….. Er ehm, I will take you up on the couch offer though."

I couldn't help but shake my head at Ethan's awkward humor. He was clearly out of his depth, but he'd stuck by Archie all the same.

Rafael nodded all the same, taking the sentiment to heart. "Thank you, Ethan." Then he turned to me, his expression unexpectedly softening before he pulled me into a hug as well. I was caught off guard but returned it, albeit a bit hesitantly.

Rafael's voice held genuine warmth as he spoke. "I don't know how to thank you enough, Zain. For rushing in to help my daughter when you didn't have to. I sent you to pick her up from a date, nothing more. You could have left when you saw the danger. But you didn't. That means more to me than I can say."

I nodded, "Archie's a friend. You're a friend. And… you've helped me a lot, Rafael. I couldn't just do nothing."

Rafael pulled back, smiling. "You are good people, Zain." He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "But tonight, you should get some rest. Take the day off tomorrow. We'll talk after. Go home, get some sleep."

I nodded, though I doubted I'd be getting much rest.

Every nerve in me was shot, I had been pushing away the images of the smears of blood David had caused with the Valentinos and their car, trying to forget Kenta's crimson-red eyes… I needed to build something. Anything to make myself less prone to death by a stray bullet by tonight.

My mind was running through every possibility of what I could do to protect myself. I wanted to be done with this day, to finally return home and start planning… something.

Potions and alchemy seemed to be the most immediate solution. A potion that made my skin tougher than stone, an invisibility potion … those seemed like safe bets. But first, I needed to make a stock of what I had available at home.

I was just leaving the center square of Jig-Jig Street, having said my goodnights to Archie and the rest, heading for home a few blocks; and a few floors above the street, when Rebecca's voice made me stop.

"Heeey! Zaiin! Wait a sec!" She was rushing straight for me, dashing through the street faster than I had thought her capable of. She came to a stop in front of me.

"Oh.. erm. Hey? What's up?" I asked her as she grinned up at me.

"Kay, so listen up. I owe ya, and I don't like owing shit to anybody. So, I'm zipping you my contact info and if you ever, and I mean it, ever need someone zeroed, something klepped, or fuck it I dunno you want to start shit up with some gonk, I'm your girl!" She said as she started dragging me out of the Red-light district and toward where their car was currently waiting for her and David.

"Hey, hey, hey, what? What are you talking about, and more importantly where are you taking me?!" I asked as I let myself be dragged by her.

"Ugh, keep up choom!" She whined as we exited the main entrance to the street, "I. Owe. Ya."

"Yeah, I heard you. But what the hell are you talking about?" I asked as we reached her car, and I righted myself from the sudden dizziness of being dragged at speeds I was certain were not humanly possible.

Well, without cybernetics.

"Aaaaah, right. Back when we were under fire by those Tino cocksuckers. You didn't have to stick your neck out for me, but you did. Literally. I was the merc, I was paid to do a job, which was to protect you." She said poking me in the chest with her uninjured finger and glaring up at me.

"You saw that I'd taken a bullet and covered for me… sure it was for half a minute, but that's not important. It was the fact that you did it, that makes me in your debt." Saying that her eyes glowed briefly as she searched for my phone number.

I felt the phone in my pocket vibrate, and I quickly pulled it out. There was a notification for a new contact added to my contacts list. Before I could look up the new contact, she'd snatched the phone out of my hand.

"Holy shit, a flip phone! Where the fuck did you find this thing?" She exclaimed as she examined the thing like an archeologist would a Stone Age rock.

"… The junk store," I replied, gingerly procuring the phone back from the excitable gremlin of a woman.

"Nooovaa!" she breathed. "I dunno what's more adorable, your gonked lost look, or that you're supposedly a collector of really outdated tech."

"…I have no idea what to say to that…" I replied, and she chuckled, "But I don't think you owe me anything. I didn't do it to curry some favor from you."

"I know. But I owe you anyway." She replied and looked around behind me, I followed her gaze and David was walking toward us quickly, apparently having finished whatever else he had left to do with the Lady of Westbrook.

"Looks like we're done for the night. Take care of yourself, round cheeks! Buh-bye now~" She waved at me merrily, and quickly climbed into her car.

I was befuddled as I watched their car drive away for a few moments, checking my face and my cheeks with my hands.

I did not have round cheeks….

The walk home was mercifully uneventful. Night City's chaotic energy was already amping up as the neon haze of evening transitioned into the pulsing chaos of the nightlife.

I kept my head down, moving quickly past the usual street scenes—the high-as-a-kite junkies loitering under the stairs, muttering to themselves, and the perpetual shouting matches spilling out of apartments. None of it registered. My thoughts were locked on the events of the day.

Twice. I'd been in not one but two shootouts. Real, honest-to-fuck shootouts. The kind you see in action movies, only there were no stunt doubles, no special effects, no neatly tied-up endings. Just the deafening sound of gunfire, the acrid tang of cordite, and the gut-wrenching realization that death was only a bullet away.

And then there was David. That terrifying moment when he had leaped into action, not with weapons, but his bare hands. He'd torn through those gangsters like a storm, leaving behind nothing but blood, shattered bone, and the misty remains of human beings. The image clung to my mind like static—horrifyingly vivid.

I pushed the thoughts down as I reached my apartment in the Umibe residence, fumbling briefly with the lock before rushing inside. The door clicked shut behind me, sealing out the city's chaos. For the first time that day, I let out a long, shaky breath.

Focus. Potions. Skin-hardening potion. I needed to feel less vulnerable, less like one stray bullet could end me.

Heading straight to the kitchenette, I yanked open the fridge and pulled out everything I'd stocked up on from All Foods. Packages of synth-milk, synth-veggies, processed paste egg yolk, synth-purified water, and a jumble of other synthetic, semi-organic, semi-chemical foodstuffs filled the counter.

I rummaged through my limited pantry and added some cans of Nicola and a couple of Sojajil Machistador bars to the mix.

Examining the labels, my heart sank. What the hell was "recombinant proteal compound-4A"? Or "carbon-chained meat matrix stabilizer"? Most of the ingredients might as well have been written in another language. Whatever they were, they didn't inspire much confidence.

Great. I needed chemistry to develop this skill further.

While Alchemy was potent enough with what I knew. I was a master. I could make good workable potions with what I had. I could easily work with what I had having some sense of what the things in front of me were, in a way. But it could be better.

The Forge had blessed me with the skills of a seasoned master at the art, but they weren't omniscient. I had to build on them, and that meant studying.

Fucking hell, I had to go back to school. Technically.

The thought would've made me laugh if I weren't so tired. Did libraries even exist in Night City? Most information was transferred via data shards for individual neuroports. I would imagine education occurred through something similar to that too.

Back home—wherever home was now—my university coursebooks were nearly all digitally accessed.

But books must still be a thing, right? I'd seen magazines at the diner, the kind with fucking embedded videos, GIFs and glowing pages. If those existed, surely some kind of physical learning material did too.

Just thinking about it made my head hurt. I could just wait for the forge to gift me knowledge in chemistry.

Could it even do that?

Should I risk it? Probably not.

Hopefully, somewhere in that galaxy full of stars, was a star waiting to burst forth and grant me knowledge in Chemistry. But I would not bet on waiting for it to magically land on my lap as soon as I needed it.

That was a problem for later. Tonight, I had to work with what I had.

I reached for the synthetic water purifier and filled a glass, gulping it down in one go. The cool liquid did little to soothe my frayed nerves, but at least it gave me something to focus on.

Food and water were an enigma in Night City, at least to me. Water was not synthesized per sé. The water sources, essentially all over the world, were mostly contaminated. There were filtration systems built into the infrastructure of the city, but N54 and WNS made highly frequent reports of deaths that they blamed on the poisoning of that water, which meant synthetic water purifiers were essentially a must.

Either that or fork over 99 eddies a gallon for Real Water.

Food, on the other hand, was mostly synthetically grown. Lab-grown meat, lab-grown veggies, and fruits, lab-grown everything. Unless you were content with eating kibble.

And trust me, a huge chunk of the population of Night City had made kibble a part of their diet.

My hands moved automatically, the micromanipulators keeping them impossibly steady, arranging the ingredients on the counter.

When I woke up here, I had no kitchenette. Instead, there had been an honest-to-God vending machine in my living room, that spat out processed food when supplied with sufficient eddies. Who refilled it, I had no clue. Probably the landlord.

….I could not use it then.

I had no eddies and had no way to use the machine even if I did. I had no chip to transfer those eddies to the damned machine, nor did I have optical cybernetics to interact with it. And after seeing the contract that Marmur Bank offered for their cred chips… I noped out of even getting that.

Fuck getting a neuroport installed in my skull. Fuck their generational debt clause. Fuck their 'Default Requisition Service'. Fuck their credit rating system in particular. Though honestly, that last one was not all that much different from the system that was set up back home. But fuck it too.

So, instead, I sold the machine and opened a basic bank account that had no accrued interest overtime on my savings. It was essentially a digital vault. The fuckers still charged me out of pocket for it though. And retained the right to seize all stored assets if I went inactive for over 4 months in my deposits.

I had a couple hundred eddies stored in there, which reminded me; I really should go over and make a deposit. I was living life as if I was in the pre-credit card era! Go me!

The vending machine got me a new phone with a cellular connection to a DataTek SIM card, a CHOOH2 stove, some food, and around 1300 eddies. I am sure I was fleeced for the cash even then.

That was how I had met Rafael in fact. At the Redwood Bazaar, conducting a sale for my vending machine. I had no idea what stars were shining on me then, the man offered me a job. Probably the same stars as the forge.

And here I was. Having risked my life for the man's daughter.

I would do it again in a heartbeat, of course. Getting a job… surviving in Night City without one would have been impossible. I would have starved to death sooner. The man even hooked me up with a cylinder of CHOOH2 from the diner for my stove, for that he had earned my gratitude.

I set the water to boil and quickly mixed in the ingredients. I have no idea what caused the mixture to turn purple, but it did. Magic.

It was the result I should have gotten, for a potion that turned my skin rock solid for at least half an hour, with some truly magical ingredients, none of which I had. But these worked. The Forge had taught me so.

Would it work for someone else, if they were to follow the recipe I had to the letter? I have no clue.

The purple concoction made from a fucking synthetic banana, a bar of sojajil machistador, a can of Nicola, boiling hot synth-purified water, and some chopped synth veggies simmered as I let it cool. By my estimate, it would last me for four uses. One mouthful of this, admittedly pungent potion, would be one use.

So I had a total of two hours of the ability to turn my skin into stone. A rudimentary bulletproof hailmary, should I get into a firefight. Or strayed to somewhere close to one.

…I should probably test it.

How the fuck do I test it? The potion would give my skin a rocky texture, as well as toughness. Essentially, it should look like I was covered in rocks.

Now that I think about it… I could tweak that visual effect out. I would need … ingredients that my kitchen did not have. Some shopping was due then.

Still didn't solve my problem of testing this potion. I could just test for the visible effects and call it a day, but my goal was to make myself bulletproof. For a time. Until I had other options available to me. And I was not shooting myself having its effects active on me. I trusted the forge, but I won't gamble away with my life like that.

….I should add a cheap Kevlar vest to my shopping list.

Perhaps I could try punching something with the effect active?

Not the wall. If it worked, I didn't want to live with a giant hole in my wall. I didn't know if I even had a landlord, or if the forge was my landlord but I didn't want someone coming in and asking me to fork over the eds to fix that. No one had shown up when I sold the vending machine, but I had been desperate for cash then and I couldn't give a fuck then. I didn't want to keep trying my luck, lest someone finally shows up knocking.

There were dumpsters down by the street, that I could whale on. Those were sturdy enough to test, but I didn't want to go out looking like a rock monster unless it was absolutely necessary.

An invisibility potion was next on my list of things to brew either way. Some gadgets would come after that, basic things for now to improve my life.

A functioning aircon that I didn't have to pay for would be delightful. It was technically a gadget.

Apart from that, I was thinking of elemental bullets. Bullets that caused freezing, and shattering of targets. Bullets that exploded on impact. Bullets that homed in on a target.

That last one was already a proven concept by the fine engineers over at Kang Tao, Kendachi, Eagletech, Mystic Tech, and so many others. I needed to even the playing field if firefights were going to be a frequent thing for me to worry about surving.

All of these were variations on trick arrows that I was modifying to fit a bullet. I just needed to gather the parts necessary to actually build the things. Fortunately, the one thing this time period, this place had an abundance of was tech parts. I could go dumpster diving and end up with old tech that I could repurpose to fit my needs.

And the old tech of this place blew the tech from home out of the park.

Again, dumpster diving would be a problem for later.

After my invisibility potion was brewed.

After cleaning out the pot, and remixing some of the ingredients, replacing the veggies with different variety, I let the clear liquid simmer.

Again, I wondered if someone else were to mix and cook some of these, clearly edible substances that were definitely used as ingredients for food; would they end up with my invisibility potion?

Again, I had no clue.

I let the concoction, which had a pleasant smell admittedly, cool as I emptied it into a bottle. This would last me, a while. A few drops were all that I needed to turn invisible. And I had a bottle full, and the means to make more.

Avoiding firefights and running away should be a cinch.

This I could test. And with it, if both my potions were active simultaneously, I could test both.

Now was the moment of truth then. I stared at the bottle with the purple concoction, trepidation filling me.

Never ventured, never gained as they say.

I took a gulp. It tasted sweet. Like honey. Or, maple syrup? It was changing tastes in the sweet spectrum.

Huh.

For a moment, I was disappointed as nothing happened. Then as if a rash but not rash, it wasn't as itchy as it looked, developed on my chest. The feeling quickly spread, withing seconds I was covered head to toe in stone. My eyes, nose, ears, my everything was stone.

Even little me. I checked. Ouch.

How I was breathing? No clue.

Seeing? No clue.

Moving? No. Fucking. Clue.

Magic.

I at the very least I looked like I could tank a fucking bazooka. Not testing that, however. Hopefully, I would never have to.

The test for the rock-skin potion was a partial success, pending secondary testing.

The invisibility potion was up then.

The first one was a sweet-tasting potion. I had my hopes high for the clear one. At worst, hopefully, it would be like water. Tasteless.

I moved to the kitchenette again, where the bottle rested on the counter when I encountered my first problem.

I was fucking loud. My footsteps sounded like your bad, extremely unruly upstairs neighbor had the bright idea to play basketball indoors. This was not subtle. Well, the walking-talking human-sized rock tank look I was sporting was enough for that. But the noise was basically meant to attract attention to me.

I was lucky I hadn't cracked the floor of my apartment with the amount of noise I was making.

Another fucking problem for later. Hopefully, if I ever have to make use of this potion, subtlety would already be out the window.

I shook my head, and focused on the next potion.

Without wasting another moment, energized by excitement, I opened the bottle and dropped three drops on my tongue.Fucking vinegar. Of all the things, why vinegar?

No, it too was oscillating on the sour scale, between fucking suerkrauts and vinegar.

I needed to wash my mouth dammit.

In my distaste for the potion, I had forgotten to verify the results.

And well, I couldn't see myself. I could still see everything else. My room, my closet, my still burning stove.

Fucking hell, I turned that off.

How the hell do I have the hand-eye coordination to do that, when I can't see myself?

Again. No. Fucking. Clue.

~Magic~

Well, slap my tits and call me Houdini. I'm a fucking wizard!

Okay, an Alchemist. But close enough!

Fuck, the dancing jig I did at being fucking invisible reminded me I was still made of rocks, and was louder than an indoor basketball team all playing with individual balls at the same time.

Okay, okay. I need to calm down. I was fucking Alchemist. But I need to calm down. I could freak out later.

I still needed to test my durability and strength. I was already on the verge of cracking my floor with my footsteps, so I was durable and strong, so technically that test was successful too.

But I wanted to fuck shit up. Today had been stressful, and I wanted to break something. And a few giant metallic dumpsters seemed just like the thing that would help me vent.

Should I risk heading out however, sounding as I am right now?

The forge seemed to have an answer for me, as it chose this moment to spin alight again. I would gladly take another gift from it, it seemed like just the cherry on top to finally end this stressful day on a high note.

The beautiful starry galaxy spun, the bright constellations that made it revolved around my soul. One familiar cluster of stars came closer, I had already interacted with it once, and I was excited to see what else it would grant me.

A beautiful, vividly bright star pulsed as it approached me. It pulsed once, twice….

And the light faded as the connection to my soul failed.

What just happened? My excitement flipped to panic in an instant.

Was the forge going dormant? Was it just a failed connection, and nothing more?

Would it light up again? I hope this wasn't an error. It was probably not.

The Forge had been kind to me twice earlier that day, having granted me the abilities of a master Alchemist, as well as the skills of a gadgeteer. I was content with that. I shouldn't be greedy. That was enough.

The forge would awaken again soon, and it would gift me something else equally magnificent soon enough. Hopefully.

The effects of the potions I had active, faded as I sulked on the fact that I could miss connections to the forge on occasion. Hopefully, it wouldn't be a common thing.

For now, I need to take my mind off it. Some sleep would be fantastic for that.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

(A/N) Finally, some tinkering with the perks of the forge.

Last chapter, Zain had started