Chapter 2

After cleaning up your loot, you return to your corner and start to wonder-- you've done so much already that you can't quite help but think about the future. What else you could do and how you could do them. Not here, of course; Kiwi's place is much too small for you now.

You'll have to move out soon if you're to make something of yourself. And to do that, you'll need to make more money.

A stray thought comes to your mind. Money attracts attention, and not always the good kind. And knowing Night City, you'll have to be ready to defend yourself when the time comes.

You remember your lessons with Kiwi early on in your stay at NC, having been introduced to self-defense lessons and weapon handling early on. Thankfully, you haven't had the chance to use the weapon yet.

Yet something in the back of your mind has you producing it from your holster and giving it a once over. Ideas flash through your mind, and you take it apart to learn how its internals functioned.

There's multiple parts to a gun-- 30 in all. Each one plays an important part in the act of shooting the weapon, and without even one the weapon will not be able to shoot. This you can't make better, as it's already been perfected through the ages by genius and master artisans preceding you.

However, if the gun can't be made better, perhaps other aspects could. Like the material or ammunition.

You pick up a .45 ACP round and give it a critical eye. You smile as ideas blossom.

(gain basic understanding on firearms, unlocked new Science options)

Ideas in mind, you dress up and head to the gun store a few days later under Kiwi's supervision.

"You didn't have to come, you know?" you tell her as you both head to the gun store she took you to not too long ago. "I know enough about gun safety to not accidentally shoot myself in the head."

"That's exactly what someone with a lack of gun safety would say." she snorts. "But more seriously, it's not that I don't trust you Pete-- I do. It's just that you're still a kid and kids can still make mistakes."

"…so you don't trust me to keep my nose clean." you grin.

"You're 15. That's the age where people do stupid stuff and suffer consequences." she tells you. "Besides, I still remember when I first took you here and gave you that gun. You started doing kung-fu moves with them and--"

You seize up and curl up into a ball in the middle of the street. Kiwi laughs and pulls you up, dragging you along as your brain plays back the memory of you doing gunkata in a shooting range in plain view of all the other patrons. Embarrassment and shame burn on your face as you round a corner to a familiar gunstore.

"Please, no, I regret coming here now." you mewl piteously. "Let's eat out and go home now, my treat."

"Nope!" Kiwi cackles. "C'mon, lets get you in there Petey!"

You are, as expected, bombarded with laughs and teasing from the store owner and a few of the regulars who remember seeing you doing that ridiculous and very childish rendition of one of your beloved childhood movies. With nowhere to hide and Kiwi preventing you from running, you're forced to reap the seeds you've sown and take the teasing like a man.

Thankfully, it's over with quickly and you're allowed to do what you originally came here to do-- familiarization of the bigger and heavier weapons available in NC. There's a decent spread here, but Kiwi's quick to remind you that there's more in the Street. Much more.

"The stuff here? They're pretty common out there in the Street, but there's tons more where you can't reach. Places like Dogtown and Coastview over at Pacifica have even bigger arsenals with deadlier stuff. Illegal stuff." Kiwi says.

"You sound like you've got experience." you ask her. She shrugs.

"Sometimes, the stuff you need isn't available up top. So you'll have to go down and hit the Streets." she tells you. "But what's available here should be a good eye-opener for when you do go out."

"Huh. Okay, that makes sense." you nod. "So, I think I'll rent and try out some of the usual suspects; an SMG, a shotgun, an assault rifle, and a precision rifle." you rub your hands, eager. "I'll give them all a shot and see what I can glean off of them for my own projects."

"I want to say you can't make the design of the gun itself any better, but you were able to turn burner decks into decent ones." she muses. "Alright then, give it a try and see if the recoil can jog your brain up better."

"And hey, maybe you can do another gunkata show for us too." one of the passing patrons say, and your grumble as your face burns. "It'll make for a good laugh."

"That too." Kiwi chuckles.

"It was just one time." you mutter, bringing your guns into the range. "I get over-excited once and everyone's on my case."

It's… hard to not get giddy once you've gotten your hands on another gun and the chance to use it on a non-living target.

Immature of you, sure-- but you're 15. You're supposed to be immature at this age. Moreover, you're a 15-year-old with a gun after having consumed so much media depicting and glorifying shooting. It's no wonder that you're not more giddy now.

But you manage to restrain that enthusiasm, the bubbling urge to let loose and depress the trigger until the gun goes click, in order to focus.

You're not here to have fun. You're not here to indulge in some childish fantasy of an action hero gunning down hordes of enemy assailants. There's no day to save or a villain to defeat. This is purely for testing and other relevant scientific purposes.

That mature, certain, and secure mindset lasts all of 2 minutes before you turn into a giggling, trigger-happy kid living out the childhood fantasy of shooting guns and playing hero.

It's fun, even if the guns feel heavy in your hands. The SMG's staccato kicks, the AR's heavier but no less rapid fire rate, the precision rifle's heavy recoil and satisfying boom, and the shotgun…

Ooh you can see why it's Doomguy's weapon of choice.

But it's not all fun and games-- you make sure to note the recoil and how the guns work/feel when you use them.

So you make sure to have a dataslate on hand so Thread can record the weight and feel of the weapon in addition to your own personal accounting of the feeling. Kiwi watches from the side and provides advice and tips in addition to personally showing you how to shoot.

Her experience proves vital as you're made and to hold the weapons properly, and aim down the sights like a proper shooter. With her aid, you're able to do a much better job in recording your ability to handle guns.

There's a slight issue in how to handle the shotgun though; your body being unfamiliar in the usage of such a big gun. Luckily, you're quick on the uptake and soon enough you're able to rock the shotgun with no apparent issues.

"…hm. You know, I expected you to have a little trouble handling the heavier guns." Kiwi notes as you empty the shotgun. "But you're performing much better than I thought."

"Yeah, I know. I thought I'd be a little nervous or something, but after the first shot I just… got into the groove." you shrug.

"The what?" she blinks.

"You know, the groove. Finding a rhythm that you can move with or operate to." you explain. "You honestly don't know what that means? That's kinda weird Kiwi."

"Pete's you're a bennie in NC-- you're weird." she snorts, reaching over and tousling your hair. "You're lucky you're such a cute gonk."

(no penalty to using heavy firearms in combat, unlocked new Science options)

Once you're done, you return your rented guns to the gunstore owner and he gives you a hearty pat on the back as well as a well-meaning laugh about your propensity to do gunkata at the range.

"I like you kid. Feel free to come around more often." he tells you. "The place is livelier with you in it."

"Yeah, kid-- it's rare to see someone who actually shows how giddy they are when it comes to shooting." another patron says. "You're fun to be around, and watching you do gunkata is pretty great!"

"You just want someone to laugh at!" you accuse, and the entire store laughs. "Fuck this, I'm gonna go on a walk."

"Stay safe!" Kiwi laughs. "And you know where to go if you get lost!"

"You're not my mom!" you tell her as you flee. "Ugh, stupid adults and their stupid teasing-- worse than Harry and Gwen sometimes, I swear…!"

Despite what you say, there's no denying how… fun it was to be in such an environment again. Even if you were the center of attention. It brings you back to better times, happier times, times when you didn't have to worry about getting in trouble just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

…except when Thompson was involved. Damn Gonk.

Mood soured by your own doing, you decide to head to a shop in place you've heard about on the 'Net that sold Quick-Hacks. You could use a few for your science work.

The shop itself isn't too far away from the gunstore-- needing only a short walk and the use of the metro to get there.

It's located at the Kabuki Roundabout, a place called Dewdrop Inn. The owner nods at you when you enter, and you find the place with modest custom-- people of every color and clothing, though you spot the tell-tale shine of neural chrome; indicative of Netrunner specialization.

"Welcome." she greets you as you come in. She gives you a once over through her glasses, squinting. "You're a full 'ganic."

"Uh… yeah. Yeah, I am." you nod.

"Don't get many 'ganics around here. What're you looking for?" she asks.

"Well," you look around. "I'm in a shop for netrunners selling quick-hacks and gears, or so I've heard from the Net." you pause. "So obviously I'm looking for a good sandwich."

"Hah. A joker too." she chuckles. "But really, what's a 'ganic doing here?"

"Would you believe it if I said I'm just looking for Quick-Hacks?" you ask. "But, uh, not to use?"

"Buying Quick-Hacks… to not use them?" she blinks.

"I know, weird as hell," you sigh. "But--"

"Upup. No need to say anything. I think I see why." she tells you. "Quick-Hacks are over there. You got a 'slate, right?"

"Yeah, yeah I do." you nod.

"Good, then I won't have to hold your hand. Go take a look, buy anything if you want. Just don't start anything." she tells you, leveling you a look over her glasses. "Or else."

"Y-Yes ma'am." you swallow. "I'll be good."

She nods and you're left to your own devices, walking through the crowd and watching the stuff on display. There's an impressive assortment of chrome available, and you spot a few eyeing them critically.

You reach the display case and pull out your dataslate, looking at what's available. An impressive list with tons of variety, but…

"Hmph. Nothing I can't make." you hum. "Though the programming and sub-routines might be…"

A form bumps into you.

"Oh, sorry, didn't see you there." you apologize reflexively. "I didn't--"

You and the person you bumped into blink at each other.The first things you see on her are the lines on her face and hands, indicative of chrome installation. Her outfit makes you think of infiltrators and spies, and… she has a head piece on that makes it look as though she's wearing cosplay cat ears.

She blinks at you, looking you over in surprise. Then your dataslate pings with a new message from an unknown number.

'Weird to see a full 'ganic walking around. What're you doing here?' it says.

"…did you send this?" you show her the message. She grins, cat-like, as another message pings you.

'Never seen a netrunner before?'

"Huh. Thought you'd talk normally like the other 'runner I know." you ask. Realization settles on her face.

'Ah, right. Well, I'm mute, so…'

"Ah shit, sorry about that, I didn't know.

'It's alright-- tech helps circumvent it.' she shrugs. 'So what're you doing here?'

"Oh, I was hoping to find a good sandwich here." you look around, and she giggles silently. "Gotta say, the service is kinda bad."

'Gonk. Really though, what's a 'ganic doing here?'

"Groceries." you shrug. She bats you playfully. "Kidding, kidding. I like examining tech, taking it apart and then rebuilding them. I do the same thing with Quick-Hacks-- make them better and more potent."

'Huh. You some kind of solo, then?'

"Nah, just a techie." you shake your head.

'I thought techies only deal with chrome?'

"There's more to chrome than just the hard and shiny bits on the surface." you shake your head, only a little disappointed that this girl isn't as knowledgable as you thought she was. "But yeah, I'm learning more about Quick-Hacks to make corpos cry."

'Ooh, anyone trying to make the corpos cry is an auto-good guy to me.' she grins. 'So, anything here caught your eye?'

"Nothing yet." you hum, looking at the goods on display. "I've seen most of these already or know how to make them anyway, so I'm not exactly..."

'Wait, hold on,' the girl blinks at you owlishly. 'You… know how to make Quick-Hacks?'

"I…" you pauses, suddenly remembering where you are and the kind of people around you. "M-Maybe?"

The girl continues to blink at you.

"A-Anyway, I'm taking a look at the software and codes around here. Looking for something better than Assembly…" you groan. "God, I hate Assembly. You won't believe how stupid it is to use."

The girl continues to stare are, mouth moving like some kind of fish. It's funny, almost-- and you wish you had a camera to take a picture of her to show to Kiwi.

But before either of you can do anything else, the door to the shop is kicked open and three men come in. Their intentions are immediately made known when one of them blasts the ceiling with his shotgun, and every reflexively ducks down in fright.

One punches a random guy in the gut, while another grabs the woman manning the counter and drags her over. The one with the shotgun steps forward and racks his weapon, the spent shell clattering on the ground.

"Alright, nobody fuckin' move!" the lead robber says. "This is a robbery! Disable your chips and hand 'em over!"

"And no funny business! Or we start zero'ing gonks!" the guy with the woman claims.

'Shit. Scavs.' the girl texts you. 'We have to stop 'em.'

You almost tell her off, words about unnecessary risk and danger on the tip of your tongue. But you hold it off.

You've heard stories about NCPD from Kiwi. Even if someone sends out a call to them, there's no guarantee they'd arrive in time to save the day-- or at all. You'll have to handle this yourself.

"Y-Yeah. We don't have a choice." you nod, swallowing heavily. "You have an iron?"

'I do, but I'm not a good shot.' she confesses. 'Please tell me you have some, techie.'

"I'm Peter. And yeah, I do." you lift your shirt and discreetly drawing your Unity.

'Good. Call me Sasha.' the newly-named Sasha nods. 'What do we do?'

"Okay." you take a deep breath. "Alright. What hacks do you have?"

'Weapon Malfunction, Cripple Movement, Reboot Optics.'

"Okay-- jam their guns, priority on the shotgunner. The hostage-taker and the chip are next, in order of importance." you tell her. "Once that's done, disable the shotgunner. Then, we zero 'em."

'Copy.' you see her eyes light up. 'Hacking now.'

"Hands-- hands!" the chip taker demands. "Chip in the bag! Now!"

"You're gonna regret this, yono." the counter lady hisses, defiant even with a gun in her face. "If you make it out of here, I'll make sure to pay back the favor."

"Shut the fuck up and get down! Get fucking down, bitch!" the hostage-taker demands. "I'll fucking flatline you if you don't-- get down!"

Tense heartbeats pass, then your data slate beeps with a new message.

'Guns down.' Sasha says. 'Now or never.'

You grit your teeth and brace, breathing rapidly to hype yourself up. You glance at the netrunner and nod once-- then both of you stand up and raise your guns.

Time slows down, the adrenaline in your veins making one moment last a full minute. Lessons from Kiwi at the range fill your mind as your body assumes the correct kneeling firing stance, putting your sights on your target-- the shotgunner.

He's slow, moving like someone hit the slow-mo button on a remote. He's wide open, ripe for the taking, just standing there with a bullseye on his back.

But your finger doesn't move.

You want it to, you've heard the horror stories from Kiwi-- out in the Street it's either kill or be killed, dog eat dog, survival of the fittest. If you don't kill him now, he'd kill you instead and then Sasha. And after that, whomever else that tries to stand up against him.

You have to. You need to. Shoot now, save yourself, and make the world a better place with one less low-life in it.

Yet your finger still doesn't move, even as Sasha starts shooting beside you.

Now the robbers move, surprised flinching due to sudden gunfire amplified from the adrenaline into reflexive ducking.

You see them move and pull the trigger, but their guns go 'click' instead of 'bang'. You see Sasha's bullets hit home, but it's not enough. If they shot back then they mean to hurt you and everyone around you.

You couldn't let that happen. Not when Kiwi was waiting for you.

So you grit your teeth, squeeze the trigger, and shoot.

Time speeds back up as you shoot, training taking over as you follow through with your action.

Your gun barks seven times, a whole magazine-- four on the shotgunner and three on the hostage taker. They go down gagging and coughing, blood and brain matter staining the wall behind them.

The chip collecter is hosed down with the steady staccato of an SMG, the man collapsing onto his back as Sasha's weapon clicks empty. A moment later, the rest of the store adds their own fire into the mix-- though by then it's redundant and a waste of ammo.

Noises erupt, cheers and shocked exclamations. You feel hands on your shoulder, patting your back and hauling you up on your feet as you let your gun-wielding hand drop to your side-- smoking and empty.

Thanks and compliments filter through, entering one ear and exiting out the other. You understand the words well enough, even nodding and laughing a little, but your attention is still drawn to the corpses on the floor-- the ones you made.

It's… strange. To look at what used to be people, now reduced to empty husks. There's nothing in them anymore, no drive or purpose. Simply inert meat and cyberware.

"Kid? You okay?" the counter-lady's voice asks, and you blink-- realizing she's standing beside you. "You need anything?'

"I…" you swallow, tearing your gaze from the bodies and nodding. "I'm good. Thank you."

"No, thank you." she smiles. "You just saved my life and helped me keep my profits for today. I owe you."

"N-No, no, I was just--" you try and wave her off, but two arms wrap around yours and pull it into soft cleavage. "Ack--! Hey!"

You find Sasha grinning at you cattily, and your dataslate beeps with a new message.

'Just take the compliment, gonk. You earned it.'

"I…" you sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I did."

The shopkeeper, who introduces herself as Yoko Tsuru, promises you a discount on your next purchase. Sasha leaves her contact info on your dataslate, with a promise to meet up and hang out later.

You just watch as the three corpses are dragged into the back of the shop-- where Yoko says she'll bring them to the local body bank for recycling. You nod, making a mental note to ask Kiwi about it later.

You don't make any purchase, but you do claim a free shotgun and a spare Unity-- as well as whatever scratch the corpses have on them, which isn't much. Still, better than nothing. That done, you separate from Sasha and head back to Kiwi's place.

There's an odd weight on your shoulders as you walk, and not just from the loot you've gotten from the Scavs you put down. There's something more to it that's left you all tired, but jumpy-- an odd mix.

When you arrive, Kiwi's on the couch doing some netrunner stuff based off of her lightly-glowing eyes. She blinks out of it when she hears her door close, and turns to you with a smile that turns into concern at the sight of the guns you set down on the coffee table.

"Pete?" she asks as you sit down. "What happened?"

You take a deep breath as you set your Unity on the coffee table and let yourself sink a little into the couch's plush padding. You think about what to say and decide to go for the obvious answer.

"I killed some Scavs today." you tell her. "Barged into the store I was in and held everyone up. I just zero'd 'em--" you mime shooting a gun with your hand. "Just like that."

There's a moment of silence before Kiwi scoots over and pulls you into a hug.

"Oh Pete." she coos, arms wrapped around you.

(gained 1 Unity .45 handgun, gained 1 M2038 Tactician, gained 390 Money)

Kiwi doesn't bother dressing up what you've done in flowery speech or helps you with breathing exercises or anything of that nature. What you've done wasn't a good thing, and both of you were decent enough people with enough of a spine to admit that.

But at the same time, she does tell you that it was either you or them. And Scavs were low-life scum that deserved all your hate and none of your mercy for the things they do to people-- all for a quick Eddie.

"It gets easier." she tells you. "That's how it works in Night City-- if you don't zero them, they'll zero you. And I personally would much rather you not wind up in a ditch somewhere with a hole on your head, Pete."

"You love me that much, huh?" you grin, and she hugs you.

"I wouldn't call it 'love'." Kiwi whispers. "But it's certainly an attachment I don't want to break, Pete."

Those words, the confirmation that you had people worried for you, is enough to lift the weight from your shoulders. It was you or them, and you had people who wanted to see you again-- that's enough of a reason to pull the trigger the next time someone tries to stick you up.

It's with that mindset that you hit the books and pull up some spare cyberdecks-- eager to put your mind to work and not have to think any more about the moral ramifications of your choice.

In this case, it's the customization of circuitry; more specifically the modification of circuit boards and their related parts to eke out better performance in whatever way you can.

=X=X=X=X=X=

Kiwi watches the boy work, mind in two places.

On one hand, it was good that Peter was adjusting as well as he is in Night City. Usually, bennies took a while to get used to NC and not many could just zero a yono so easily even if they were a Scav-- especially on their first time.

On the other hand, he was a kid. Not even in his 20s, and he's already bloodied his hands. This would have an impact on his psyche, and Kiwi's not sure whether it'd be a good or bad one given how it's NC and everyone here is a little on the damaged side-- herself included.

God, she shouldn't get the hots watching a 15 year old work; she's old enough to be a mother for god's sake. And yet here she is, rubbing her thighs together at the sight of a kid making miracles out of junk.

She can only imagine how good he'll be once he's fully grown. A legend for sure, definitely someone great enough to change NC-- if he lives that long.

'He will.' she finds herself promising as he pulls off his goggles. 'I'll make sure of it.'.

"Done!" he cries.

"Great job." Kiwi reflexively says. "What'd you make? And before you say it's 'nothing special', you were using parts from old gen 'decks-- the kind that's usually thrown away on the reg." she reminds him. "So it's gotta be good."

"Err, right…" Peter coughs. "So, I… might've figured out how to make parts and a circuitboard that's performs 50% better than the stuff that's on the market?"

…

"Lemme see." Kiwi sighs, wondering if her suspicions of him being a clone of Bartmoss were correct after all. "Hand it over, Pete."

=X=X=X=X=X=

(unlocked new Science actions, unlocked new Personal actions, increased revenue potential from Small Gigs, all ParkerTech cyberdecks and chrome set to perform at higher base-level than street equivalents)

Once Kiwi finishes freaking out about how you've seemingly revolutionized Night City's chrome industry, which you doubt because if you could do it then surely the corpos would have--

(various Corpo heads sneeze in their offices)

--you decide to take a swing at one of Kiwi's long-standing requests; the production of your own hand-made cyberdecks, now named the Spyderdecks. She wants several for use on the field, each one with free space that she can load whatever Quick-Hack she needs for a specific job.

"Sure thing." you nod. "I'll need some parts and tools, though."

"I can go get them for you. Just hand me a list and hand me the Eddies for it-- or take the expenses out of how much you're going to sell them to me." Kiwi nods. "A little bit of manual labor is nothing for your toys, Pete.'

"…Huh." you pause. "You think--"

"I know what you're thinking, and while trading favors for your stuff is a valid transaction, it has to be between you and people you can trust to fulfill their end of the bargain." she tells you. "Edgerunners, that is mercs like me that work on the edge, come in every shape and size you can imagine. And not everyone is a decent type."

"Right, right, fair enough." you sigh, flicking her the list of stuff you'll need. "You got the list?"

"Got it." she nods. "Pretty basic stuff all told. I thought you'd be sending me to get something more exotic."

"I'd rather not work on stuff like that-- at least not yet." you shake your head. "Better stick with the stuff I'm already used to and not have to worry about messing up. Y'know, KISS."

"KISS?" she blinks.

"Yeah, KISS-- Keep It Simple Stupid." you tell her.

"That's the first time I've heard of that." Kiwi notes. "That's… actually a preem saying. Mind if I borrow it?"

"Heck yeah." you beam. "Have fun with it."

Kiwi leaves a few minutes later and you get to work making the Spyderdecks. She didn't specify how many she wanted nor whether or not they were disposable, so you decide to make several of either.

The disposable Spyderdeck would be intentionally designed to break after three uses, with chemicals reacting to the heat of the internal components to damage the circuitboard to the point of uselessness. It also has the added effect of making sure your designs can't be copied wholesale by the Corpos or any aspiring techie in the Street.

The non-disposable one you make based off of the Spyderdeck MK.1, but… hmm.

You take apart the Spyderdeck MK.1 and scratch at your chin. The design is solid and there's room for improvement, because everything can be improved of course. But besides that, you see something more important than improvement.

You see standardization. The capacity for mass-production.

So you take some spare scrap and get to work, bending and molding them into similar shapes and sizes, assembling the internal components all the same way, and even applying identical decal on the exterior shells.

When Kiwi comes back, she finds 7 Spyderdecks waiting for her on the table-- 4 disposable models (painted black) and 3 reusable models (painted red).

There's a piece of paper on the left side of each row of Spyderdecks, denoting their prices: 150 Eddies per disposable model, and 400 Eddies per re-usable model. Kiwi drops her purchases and takes one of either while you're busily transcribing the process of mass-production with Thread's help.

"Oh, hey Kiwi!" you beam at her. "I got your order ready on the table. Didn't know whether you wanted the Spyderdecks to be disposable or not, so I made several of either and--"

She goes to her fridge and retrieves a beer.

(Small Gig complete, Spyderdecks are now mass-producible, unlocked new Science actions, unlocked new Personal actions, gained 1650 Money, reputation increased)

After that run-in with the Scavs and your work with the Spyderdeck MK.1s, Kiwi highly suggests staying in her place for a while.

For once, your budding teenager hormones are not one to argue and you decide to heed her advice-- remaining in her apartment for a while as you hit the books and figure out what else to do.

You find that next thread of development immediately-- advanced electronics.

Easily summed up as 'computers but more in-depth', you get to work immediately to learn the ins and outs of the material you have. Only… there's not a lot of it-- at least, not on the NET.

You get crumbs of it from forums and plenty of theorizing from the likes of street techies and ripperdocs, but nothing much besides that. Your questions about where or how to get more is always met with the same, almost despondent answer wherever you look.

'It's all with the corpos.' a poster says. 'And they have a tight grip on anything and everything relating to it, since it's the base of the stuff they sell.'

'The only way you can get anything like that is through a corpo drone, who's got access to the stuff most gonks aren't allowed to see.' another says. 'Manufacturer names, internal components, material composition-- etcetera.'

'More or less. The only way you can get that info is by becoming a corpo drone yourself… or arranging something with a drone.' another says.

So you ask Kiwi for assistance, and she gladly hands it to you for a price-- discounted heavily as you're her techie she understands that this is going a long way towards her own betterment. A day later, you get the information you needed, and your base of knowledge is further widened.

(gain intermediate intermediate knowledge on electronics, new Science options unlocked)

After consuming the next bit of information and opening your mind to the next set of scientific challenges, you're left alone in Kiwi's apartment.

When she's not here to talk, you have the emptiness and your own thoughts to contend with-- and sometimes it brings you back to that netrunner shop with the three Scavs. Always, you feel yourself falling apart metaphorically and lose yourself in what-ifs and what-could-have-beens.

It bad enough that you decide to take a walk-- if only to clear your head and get your mind to focus on something else. Anything besides the memory of killing those Scavs.

Your feet bring you out of Kiwi's apartment, and you find yourself just… aimlessly walking. Going from place to place and watching the sights.

You make sure to mind your business to avoid the yonos and proles, suddenly finding yourself in front of Misty's Esoterica. Something in the back of your mind tells you to go in, and you do. The front counter has Misty, but she's napping on her chair. Poor girl probably worked herself tired today.

Past her, you move to the basement where you find Vik tinkering with something on a work bench. He glances over his shoulder and does a double take.

"Pete?" he says. "What're you doing here? I don't remember asking for help today. The shop isn't even open."

"It wasn't?" you ask. "Huh. Guess I'm just being a workaholic."

The older man watches you, then gets up from the work bench. He walks over and takes off his glasses, giving you a once over.

"…what happened, Pete?" he asks, voice deep and comforting. "C'mon, let's get you seated and we can talk."

He takes you to the usual table where you'd do your number crunching and general paperwork when he comes in and hands you a can of what looks like beer-- though the brand is not one you recognize.

"Uh, I'm not--" you start, but the older man just snorts.

"Doesn't matter. I think you earned a can." he tells you. "But I won't force you to drink, that's up to you." he cracks open his own can and sits down. "So. What happened?"

You stare at the beer and decide, what the hell you've already killed people-- underage drinking won't be an issue.

You crack it open and take swig-- immediately coughing and cringing at the taste and burn in your throat respectively. Vik just laughs at you uproariously.

"That's beer?" you say, almost disgusted. "That's fucking horrible!"

"You drink beer to get drunk, not for the taste!" the older man chuckles. "You get used to it though-- promise!"

"Eugh…" you wince, and take another sip. "Blegh-- I hate it."

Vik just laughs at you.

"So." he takes a swig out of his own can. "What happened?"

…

"I killed someone Vik." you tell him. "I killed two gonks the other day. It was either that or I don't come home."

The older man gets an understanding look on his face and exhales slowly. You see him age a few years, the humor and good cheer leaving him until only what look like resignation and somberness remains. He puts his can down on the table and nods.

You find your continuing to speak, as though compelled to by some unknown force.

"And I almost didn't, nearly choked." you swallow. "I-I don't know what would have been worse, if I choked and someone else died or what I ended up doing..." you shake your head. "They were Scavs, sure, and I've heard plenty of horror stories about them but--"

"It's something else to hear hear about murder, and doing it yourself." he nods. "I know Pete, I know. You're not the only one with blood on your hands here."

You blink at him and he nods at you, as though to answer your questions as he downs another mouthful of beer.

"It was '52, after I retired from boxing. I was just starting out as a ripperdoc at the time, and I got a visit from a posergang that ran a protection racket." he tells you. "I didn't want any part of it, but they insisted. And when I held my ground, one of them drew an iron. I was faster though, and I punched him in the throat."

He turns to you.

"Not a lot of people chrome up their throats, not unless they go full borg or have some kind of voice changer implant for sneaky jobs." he tells you. "And I hit hard. So when I punched that guy's throat? It was crushed."

You swallow, your mind's eye imagining the scene-- the poser choking on his own blood while Vik and the others watched. Compared to that, the deaths you gave the Scavs felt merciful.

"He died slowly, and I tried to save him when the rest of the gangers fled. I failed." Vik shakes his head. "It weighed heavy on me for a while, but I got over it. I don't even remember now unless I specifically think about it."

"So you got over it?" you ask, your hands idly reaching for junk and tools to idly tinker. He nods. "How?"

"By working. By helping others, even if they might not have been good people." Vik tells you. "By doing enough good in the world so it cancels out the bad that I do. That way, I can safely say that I'm doing the share of good that would've been done by the life I took."

"…huh." you blink. "Did that gang actually, y'know--"

"Do any good?" Vik laughs. "Nah. They kept that racket up for a few more months and dabbled a little in the chem trade before they were wiped out by a Solo."

"…so that poser you killed--"

"Likely wouldn't have done much good even if he did live." Vik shakes his head. "Point is Pete; you did what you had to do, and you bring more good in this world than any no-name yono could-- let alone a Scav."

He pats your shoulder, a surety in his grip that has your back straightening.

"As far as I'm concerned, you didn't do anything wrong. They put your life in danger first-- you just defended yourself."

There's a moment of silence as you digest what Vik said, mulling over the fact that there was a line in NC, and that some people being dead would actually make the world a better place.

It's… hard to believe. The concept of there being human life that is genuinely a detriment to the world and society at large. You've been raised with the thought that all life has value, and that taking it is some form on unforgivable sin. Reconciling that way of thought with the one in NC… it's not easy. You can't just shrug off the 'killing is bad' mindset and embrace the 'there's people you should and shouldn't kill' belief.

…but it's possible. And what's more, it's necessary-- Night City is nothing like your old life, your old world. There are no superheroes here to save the day, no superpowers that could magically fix things. This is all the work of men.

But it was men who climbed the tallest mountain, who swam the deepest depths, who put people on the moon. And they did it without superpowers.

If people have the capacity to do horrible things, then so too do they have the capacity to do great things. Two sides of the same coin, the shadow cast by light.

You made a promise to yourself once-- to see Night City made better. And you will. It just won't be as clean or as bloodless as you thought.

"Pete?" Vik's voice pulls you from your thoughts. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm better now. Thanks Vik." you smile. "I guess I just… needed that last bit of assurance."

"Of someone telling you that it's nothing to be ashamed about, right? Yeah, I needed that too after what I did to that poser." he chuckles. "Night City is not a good place. We do what we need to do to survive sometimes."

He downs the rest of his beer.

"That doesn't make us bad people. We just didn't have a choice." he shrugs.

"A choice, huh?" you sip your beer. "I can live with that."

"You better. Can't do much else in NC otherwise." he grunts. "Now, what is that you're making?"

"Oh, this?" you hold up the… doohickey you were idly tinkering with. "I… dunno. This happens sometimes when I'm all stressed, I reach for the nearest stuff and just start putting it together. Hold on, this is…"

You fiddle with it a little bit, and the 'butt' turns on-- shining a bright light.

"Oh! I think this is a flashlight!" you cry.

"A… flashlight?" Vik blinks. "Pete, that looks like a messed up mechanical spider."

"It does, but it's also functional. Look, you can mount this on your head and it'll shine into the next patient you work on so you can see what you're doing."

"Mount it-- how am I supposed to mount that?" Vik laughs.

"By hoping really hard I guess." you shrug. Vik laughs again. "Thanks for the talk Vik. I needed it."

"No problem, Pete. It's the least I could do for you." he smiles, taking the offered lamp spider and turning it over. "You know, I could probably hang it on a wall somewhere-- make it a piece of store decor. Liven up the place a little."

"Something besides the neon?" you look around. "It's nice and all, but it gets… boring sometimes."

"Yeah, it does." he sighs. "I miss the days when neon lighting was optional and not as pervasive. It's everywhere now."

"Right?" you sigh. "Anyway, thanks again Vik."

After that talk with Vik, your headspace is made… better. Arguably the best it's ever been since you arrive in NC little over 6 months ago.

Now you don't feel so out of place anymore, like you've truly assimilated into NC properly now. The idea of killing, of getting your hands dirty, is still unappealing to you for many reasons-- but it's no longer something you can't do anymore. Now it's an option, one you can do even if you dislike it.

Kiwi takes note of you good mood and doesn't ask how it came about. She does, however, provide a good amount of hugs to either congratulate you or assure you that whatever you did was the right choice.

That you were tucked face-first into her chest makes it all the better.

Some time after that, you get a message from Sasha-- asking if you're free for coffee. You don't have much else going on, so you shrug and say yes.

Immediately, you get a location and even a selfie of her with the caption 'Don't be late~' on the bottom. You snort and get dressed, Kiwi tossing you your iron just in case.

It slots into the shoulder holster under your jacket easily, and you leave Kiwi's pad feeling equal parts content and safe.

The location, a cafe, is in the safer part of Watson but a little farther than usual for your walks. So you take the metro instead, bearing the weirdness until you reach your stop.

"It's really like NY's subways." you shudder as you head out.

Finding the cafe is easily enough-- it's a quaint place with a design that takes the stereotypical neon sci-fi of the outside and… tones it down a little. Adds color that's not just eye searing purples and blues.

The interior is even better, possessing greens and yellows and organic architecture that reminds of less distressing times. It even nails the nice, homely feeling of coming to a place you feel safe-- or at least welcome. Even the waiters and waitresses are polite enough to nod at you when you come in, already better than most establishments in NC.

You see Sasha easily through the crowd, her getup easily distinguishable from the various others in the cafe. She even waves at you as you approach, and for a second you can imagine a cat tail flicking excitedly behind her.

"Well, you look happy." you say as you get into earshot.

'Course I am-- I'm not eating my food all alone and sad anymore.' send pings you, grinning all cattily. 'Go ahead and pick a meal, my treat.'

You look at the menu, watching the prices with growing dismay.

"No, I'm paying for myself. Thanks for the offer Sasha, but look at the prices." you hiss. "Look how much it is for a coffee! And it's just plain black-- no add-ons!"

'I thought coffee was supposed to be black?' she blinks.

"Not with these prices, god in heaven…" you sigh.

'This place is actually pretty cheap compared to the other places I've been to.' the girl messages. 'I once went to a coffee shop that sold a 200 eddy cup as the cheapest beverage.'

"…it better have been brewed with actual coffee beans."

'They said it was 30% real beans.'

"Then what was the other 70%, chems?" you facepalm. Sasha grins. "Oh my fucking god…"

'It's not that bad-- at least it's not caffeinated hot water.'

"…please never say that." you pull your hand from your face. "Well, since I'm pretty new to this place, what do you recommend?"

You wind up going with a synth-burger and flavored water. It's not even carbonated flavored water, and the synth-burger only barely tastes like a burger. Hell, you're 70% sure that this isn't even a sandwich.

The buns(?) are stale, the meat(?) patty is thin, the sauces(?) and mayo(?) is overly much, and there's a telling lack of greens and cheese that heavily suggests this is a complete scam. But you eat it anyway-- no sense wasting Eddies on something you've already bought.

Sasha watches you eat and giggles, even taking pictures and sending it to you. The mix of disgruntled anger and resigned sadness makes you laugh.

'I'm posting that on the NET. The memes that'll spawn from that will be funny.' she tells you.

"Yeah? Well, at least I'll have brightened someone's day." you shoot a sour look at your food. "Unlike this burger."

'Come on, it's not that bad! I know tons or worse places in NC-- this place is actually pretty decent.' Sasha giggles silently. 'You just have really high standards, Pete. Really, real food? What are you, a corpo?'

"It's called have a shred of integrity and common sense." you sigh. "Now I'm all sad. Lets change the topic to something more lighthearted."

'Like?'

"Well, how have you been for starters?" you say. "any cool jobs you can talk about?"

'Well, aren't you a smooth talker?' Sasha smiles. 'Well, I've been okay pretty much. Food still on the table, light's still on, water's still running, and all that.'

"I'd ask if you've been eating well, but that'd just bring us back to the previous convo about me being all sad and mopey." you tell her. She snort, giggling. "I'm glad you're doing okay at least, Sasha."

'Gonk. We don't even know each other that well and you're talking like we're mainlines.' she rolls her eyes, a faint red on her face. 'Not that I dislike that, but I don't want to make a wrong impression.'

"You're not, don't worry. And, uh, sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable."

'Oh no, you're fine-- I was just talking.' she shrugs. 'Anyway, I took up a decent job the other day; standard stuff. Go in, get data, get out. Got good eddies out of it and I wanted to celebrate.'

"Ah, I see. Well, congrats." you smile. She smiles back, happy.

'Thanks. I knew inviting you was the right choice.' she tells you.

"Oh, don't heap praise like that on me-- I'm just doing what decent people would do." you snort. "It's nothing special. Really."

'Well, it's special to me. So thanks, Pete.' she beams.

"No problem." you nod back. "So, netrunning. How long have you been doing it?"

'Oh, not too long actually-- only been in the biz for few months.' she tells you. 'I'm taking it slow right now, testing the waters and building my rep. I'm looking to join a crew eventually once I hit it big.'

"Joining a crew…" you muse. "Any that catch your eye right now?"

'A few. Not sure if they're looking for any netrunners though, and I hadn't bothered to check.' she shrugs. 'Not like I'd make for a good runner anyway-- my stuff is still pretty low-tier. I'll need to do more jobs and rake in more eddies before I can get the proper tools to join the big leagues.'

"What're you rocking right now? Arasaka? Militech?"

'Pssh, no, those are way too expensive for a newbie like me.' she snorts. 'Try cheaper.'

"Please don't say 'street-ware'."

'What do you think?'

"Oh my god, you're crazy if you think that's going to take you far." you sigh, shaking your head. "I can whip up something better in an hour using whatever junk I can find in a dumpster."

'Really?' she blinks. 'Oh, right, you mentioned you were a techie… do you make chrome?'

"I don't really 'make' chrome insomuch as I take junk and I improve it. Stuff like cyberlimbs or cyberdecks? Those I can do." you nod. "Hell, I'll can sell you my own home-made cyberdeck."

She squints at you, looking for any sign of deception. You think she's trying to scan you too, and you're thankful you don't have any chrome in you that she could try and breach.

'…how much are you selling?' she asks, and you can feel the uncertain tentativeness in the words she types. 'I'm not exactly rolling in eddies here, Pete.'

"I… hm…" you pause, realizing an opportunity. "Why don't we schedule something for later? I bring my stuff and you can try it out."

'That sounds fair.' she nods. 'But for real, how much are you pricing it?'

"The cheapest is 150 eddies, and its disposable."

She blinks.

'…disposable chrome?'

"A Cyberdeck, but yeah. Disposable." you nod. She stares at you. "I've gotten another runner to test it out-- it's 100% safe and performs as well as I made it to."

'Huh. Okay then, color me interested.' Sasha grins.

(unlocked new Personal action, reputation increased)

A few days after your meet up with Sasha, Kiwi announces that she'll be away for a few days on a job-- entrusting you with her place until she comes back. You promise to look after it before she goes, and your mind wanders.

What would she be doing? Obviously hacking, but besides that there's also the possibility of her getting hurt out in the field since she's going out personally. That thought makes you pause, thinking of what could happen if she screws up even once.

It makes your blood boil, that such a thing could happen to someone as kind as her. You can't accept it, and resolve to make something that would mitigate that as much as possible.

You turn to her bathtub, remembering what netrunners do and the kinds of stresses imposed on them by their work and their chrome.

An idea comes to mind.

Your dataslate comes to your hand and you start working, designing a netrunning rig for Kiwi. But not just any rig-- the best one you could make for her with what you have right now.

A rig that would optimize the cooling of her chrome, and thus keep her nervous system intact, without something as crude as an ice bath. That didn't require Kiwi to disrobe.

A perfect 'thank you' gift for the woman that took you in so long ago.

The idea you have is simple-- a pod that fills up with super-cooled air and a plush bed lined with some kind of substance that conducts heat very well while remaining comfortable.

Your material stocks and wallet take a hit, but it's not a big deal-- it's for a good cause anyway and you're not going to skimp out for Kiwi.

You have to move the furniture a little bit before you can start building, and even then the process is slow-- you don't want to piss off the land lord and the other neighbors after all.

Through steady application of heat from a mini-blowtorch, you're able to bend and form metal into your desired shapes and through the various smaller tools you have you're able to put together the internals. Then, you assemble the whole thing-- building the pod piece by piece, fitting and twisting each panel and screw until there's nothing left to fit.

You give the pod a once over, checking the various moving parts until you're satisfied with what you've made. All that's left is to buy the liquid nitrogen, connect it to the humidifiers, and viola.

The Spider Nest Netrunner Rig is complete. Well, the basic version of it.

As it is, the Spider Nest only replaces the ice bath-- keeping Kiwi's chrome from cooking her from the inside out. She would still need wires and various terminals and cyberdeck to connect to the NET and do her work, which is… sub-optimal. And you can't accept that.

So you partially take it apart and start upgrading.

The internals of the Spider Nest are… largely empty. The only bit of electronics in it are for the regulation of temperatures-- meaning there's tons of unused space in it that you could put to use. So you will.

You put your knowledge of circuitry customization and miniaturization to good use-- making computer banks with wireless interface capability and a manual access screen just in case. These banks you fill with clean Spyderdecks; that is, Spyderdecks with no Quick-Hacks on them to maximize storage space and RAM usage. Moreover, you intentionally make it so that the 'decks could be removed easily-- either with for replacements or upgraded models.

In these computer banks, you build a NET structure-- complete with ICE and Black ICE programmed to protect the user (which would be Kiwi) from possible counter-hacks. It's slow, painstaking work but you won't stop until you're sure Kiwi could use this and you're sure she'll be safe.

Then a possible issue strikes-- having all these Spyderdecks and an internal computer bank with ICE and Black ICE protects means it would cause heating issues. Even if Kiwi would be safe, the Spider Nest would be quick to burn out under repeated high-stress use.

So you decide to do some more modification-- diverting some of the liquid nitrogen for use as coolant rather than solely for Kiwi's safety.

This would deplete the liquid nitrogen tank sooner, but it's a price you're willing to pay-- it's the least you could do to repay Kiwi's kindness.

Then you realize something. If you could divert the liquid nitrogen into the computer bank as coolant… then surely you could do the same for Kiwi. More specifically, by cooling the padding she'll be resting on.

The inside of the pod features humidifiers which will funnel the liquid nitrogen out onto whomever's inside. However, there's parts of the body it doesn't quite cover-- mainly the back area.

Of course, Kiwi could circumvent that by laying on her stomach, but that's not comfortable for long-term netrunning ops. Better she lay on her back, thus the issue you found.

You put padding in there so Kiwi would feel comfortable when she laying down for long periods of time, but that raises the issue of heat insulation and thus possible performance issues. So you rip off the padding and get to work modifying it for optimal performance.

First, the insulation issue. To fix that, you make a pipe system not unlike what's on the computer banks-- only modified for human tolerances.

Next, the padding itself. Foam is insufficient for heat conduction and comfort, so you look online for a good replacement. You find it immediately in the form of gel. More specifically, viscoelastic gel used in some beds and pillows.

You find a company that sells it online, and track down their buyers. From there, you find their subsidiaries in NC, and look into their disposal practices.

Turns out, these kinds of beds are thrown out as easily as normal beds. Finding one, cleaning it, and hauling it out is child's play.

And finally, the installation. You cut a bit of the matress off, just enough to fit inside the Nest, and carefully fit the piping inside. That done, you scramble home with a big smile and excitement aflutter in your heart. The last piece, the final bit, and your gift will be complete.

…which is why life decides to laugh at you and have Kiwi come home that same day, while you were out.

=X=X=X=X=X=

Kiwi is standing in the living room, staring at the Spider Nest Netrunner Pod.

It's a little taller than her, with a wide base and piping connected to what she thinks is a small tank of liquid nitrogen. There's a see-through front window pane and the familiar spider decal that Peter's put on his Spyderdeck. She sees hinges and hydraulics, cleverly hidden as tasteful exterior design. A shaking hand presses the touch screen outside and the pod opens with a nearly-inaudible hiss.

Cool air wafts out from inside of the pod, and she sees what looks like a chair-- with tell-tale grooves and piping that indicate something was to be installed in it. Her HUD lights up, detecting a new wireless connection.

She connects with it and a menu opens up, easy to understand and very intuitive-- showing temperature controls, Data Fortress integrity, even options to decide how steeply the pod would tilt backwards. Even Thread, Pete's home-made V.I, is present.

//Welcome to the Spider Nest Netrunner Rig. I am Thread, the built-in Virtual Assistant. If you have any inquiries, feel free to ask.//

Kiwi runs a diagnostic test and gapes at the specs, and sees that this rig comes with its own ICE and Black ICE protections.

She-- S-She was only gone for a 3 days! How the fuck did Pete--

"Kiwi!" comes the gonk's voice and she jumps, turning to the boy who holds in the crook of his right arm a cushion. "I thought you weren't meant to be back until Friday!"

"…Pete, it is Friday." she tells him.

"It is?" he blinks and checks his dataslate. "Huh. Must've lost track of time or something. Anyway!" he marches to her and grabs her hand. "Out!"

"Wha--" he tugs her and she stumbles after him. "What do you mean 'out'?! This is my apartment!"

"And that is your present and it isn't ready yet so out!" he tells her. "Gimme another 30 minutes, then you can come inside!"

He all but pushes her out the door and closes it in her face.

"…what the fuck just happened?" Kiwi mutters under her breath.

=X=X=X=X=X=

You finish the netrunner rig and bring Kiwi in to finally unveil what you've made for her properly, like a surprise.

The Spider Nest Netrunning Rig, built originally just as an easier way to keep Kiwi and her chrome from literally cooking her from the inside out, has seen at least three revamps and 2 serious overhauls from yourself.

She goes on to listen to you talk, about the rig and it's performance capabilities-- being able to cool down Kiwi's chrome and act like a NET Iron Man suit where she'll be wearing ICE with Black ICE programs keeping enemy counter-hacks from piercing through her defenses to kill her.

It effectively increases her ability to get through most kinds of NET defenses faster, allowing her to crack all but the toughest data-fortresses in NC; which conveniently belong to the bigger corpos. And you doubt Kiwi would do that unless she was forced to or was very desperate.

Besides that, the rig also comes with wireless connectivity; with a switch inside to pull off the Wi-Fi chip and cut off a successful counter-hack. And, just as important, there's an emergency lever inside the pod that she can pull in case she has the get out of the pod ASAP to shoot a gonk or escape.

You're just about to explain how you've made an inserted various Spyderdecks, with the forethought to make sure the rig can accept future upgraded 'deck, before Kiwi pulls you into a hug.

"Pete," she starts, whispering into your ear. "Shut up for a second and let me thank you."

"B-But I still haven't finished explaining--!" you say, only for Kiwi to tighten her hug. Not by much, just enough to quiet you down. "Ngh! K-Kiwi--!"

"Shh." she shushes you. "Pete, what you just made for me is something only corpo or Netwatch 'runners have access to-- and even then, only limited to their top 'runners. You don't see this kind of tech in the Street unless an edgerunner hires a techie to make it."

"…so I shouldn't have made it in the first place?" you wonder, and Kiwi laughs. "I-It's a legit worry! I-If someone from a corpo or Netwatch finds out--!"

"They'd try and hire you Pete, offer you multi-million eddy contracts to make your tech for them exclusively." Kiwi tells you. "You're a genius. Like, once in a generation genius. Everyone would want you working for them."

"I…" you swallow, imagining that kind of life and salivating. "R-Really?"

"Really." Kiwi nods into your shoulder.

"…but what if someone tries to zero me?" you ask, worriedly. "Like a corpo kill squad, or some gonk that got hired to do it?"

"That won't happen as long as you keep your head down." Kiwi assures you. "And if it does happen, then give me a call. I'll come running."

"…t-thanks, Kiwi." you sigh, hugging her back. "I guess this makes us even now, huh?"

"I'd say it does, and more." Kiwi laughs, pulling away with the brightest and happiest grin you've ever seen. "Now, gimme the specs for this baby. What can it do if cranked past 100?"

"Hold on, let me move it so you can get a better look on it from an accessible side."

"You made it mobile?!"

"I made it easy to transport, but yeah. It's got these wheels on the bottom that you can fold out if you want to move it and-- ack! Kiwi! Kiwi, too tight!"

(created the Spider Nest Netrunner Rig, Kiwi very pleased, increased reputation, unlocked new Science actions, unlocked new Personal actions, all new actions locked until acquiring new home)

You give Kiwi the specs as well as all the miscellaneous information that you figured would be helpful for her going forward.

Kiwi gives you another hug and makes a few calls. Half an hour later, some rough-looking people arrive and haul the Spider Nest out with Kiwi making sure it gets on safely. It drives off not long after, and you level her a look.

"They're movers. I bought a storage unit to put the rig into so it doesn't take up much room in the apartment." she tells you. "There's not a lot of space in it to begin with."

"But what if it gets stolen?" you ask, worried. "I could make it again, sure, but if it gets yoink'd…"

"I'll handle it, Pete. Don't you worry your little head over it." she chuckles, leading you into her apartment and plopping down on her sofa with a happy sigh. "I almost didn't think today would get any better. First a successful job, and then coming home to you making me a present like that?"

"You took me in." you tell her. "I figured one good deed deserves another."

"Yeah, but I was expecting you to be a little more…" she waves a hand at you. "Normal. Like, maybe buying me a gun or a new cyberdeck or something instead of making me a Netrunning Rig."

"Well… w-what can I say?" you chuckle, sitting down next to her. "I don't cut corners. Only the best for a loved one."

"…loved one, huh?" she smiles, a small thing with blooming hope and happy warm that makes your heart soar. "Thanks Pete."

"You're welcome, Kiwi." you tell her. "You know I care about you, right?"

"And that thought makes my day, usually." Kiwi nods. "You have no idea how much I appreciate having some who cares about me, Pete. Really, I mean it when I say that thought makes my day."

"…does it?" you blink.

"Yeah. A lot of people in NC don't have some kind of positive connection in their lives to keep them… grounded? Sane? Stable?" she pauses, looking for the right words. "Something like that, I guess. I dunno, I don't have boga vocab-- I'm a netrunner, not a corpo speaksy."

"Alright, alright." you chuckle. "Can I hug you, Kiwi?"

"'course you can. Why are you even asking that, choom?" she blinks at you as you scoot in close and wrap an arm around her. "Not like I'm gonna take your head off or something."

"Can't be too careful." you tell her. "Some people hate close contact like this, y'know?"

"Then they're gonks who're missing out on some preemo stuff." she snorts, leaning into you. "This is where it's at. No amount of netrunning or BD use can get replicate this." she pauses. "Actually… a BD of this would sell for a pretty penny…"

"What's a BD?" you blink.

"It stands for Braindance. Basically, people record their memories and experiences and sell it to others so they can experience it too." Kiwi explains. "Stuff like extreme sports or performing for a crowd or sex."

"Even sex? Whoa." Pete blinks. "I wonder--"

"No. No explicit BDs under my roof." she tells you. "You aren't going to get it while you're here, Pete. And I'll know if you do."

"N-No! How would I even interface with a BD anyway?" you splutter, red-faced. "Don't you need Chrome for that?"

"Yeah, but just the basic kind. Y'know, comm jacks and such." she pauses. "Ah. Right, you don't have a comm jack, do you?"

"Should I get one?" you blink, genuinely curious."

"You don't have to, no." Kiwi shakes her head. "But it's useful if you need to get a hold of me for anything."

"Right, I really should have a way to keep in touch with you." you muse. "But does it have to be chipped in?"

"Can't be stolen or knocked off that way." Kiwi shrugs. "Nowadays, people have chip in to keep their stuff from being stolen. Plenty of kleptoids in NC that would take just about anything they can get their grubby hands on. I've seen one make off with a dead guy's chrome once or twice when no-one was looking."

"Really? Damn." you hiss. "I don't particularly like the idea, but now that you mention the downsides it's practically needed now…"

"It's all up to you in the end, Pete. Whether or not you want to get chromed is your preference. I won't stop you either way." Kiwi shrugs. "I do wonder though-- if you don't get chipped in, does that mean you make your own stuff?"

"'course I will." you nod. "Making something to call people with shouldn't be too hard. Right?"

"You're asking me?" she snorts. "Pete, you're the techie here, I'm just along for the ride."

"Hah. Fair point." you laugh. "So hows work?"

"Oh, same old same old." she shrugs a shoulder. "Client give me a call, give me the detes, I do the job, and get paid. Nothing special."

"Anything interesting, at least?" you fish, hoping for something.

"Well…" Kiwi hums. "I did run into a new runner while I was out on a job." she tells you. "Big guy, has ink from the military. Probably a vet from the recent war."

"Right, the Reunification War." you nod. "That ended… what, back in June?"

"Yeah, a few weeks before you dropped in actually." Kiwi hums. "He called himself Maine, said he was looking to build a crew."

"Oh? Anything worth noting?" you ask.

"Well, combat experience aside, he's got impressive chrome on him. Nothing like the stuff you can make, but it's pretty good." she pauses. "You know, I might introduce you to him later, see if you can give him tune-ups and upgrades."

"Maybe once I'm more sure about my skills, yeah?" you grin.