Corpo Gig

The week had flown by in a blur of packing, transporting, and unpacking. Teo had finally settled into the labyrinthine embrace of the El Coyote Cojo's basement. His personal space, a smaller, more intimate room, was now his sanctum. The larger, adjoining room served as his true operations center: a well worn synth leather couch faced a flickering, salvaged flat screen, while the entire opposing wall was dedicated to his netrunning setup. Wires, thick as chrome veins, snaked across the concrete floor and climbed the walls, disappearing into a maze of various servers and data caches he'd managed to scrounge and configure. The rough hewn concrete walls themselves were a canvas, hastily covered in spray painted graffiti, stylized tributes to his mother, her face a serene, ghostly presence amidst chaotic lines, alongside symbols of the Valentinos, and other, more abstract designs that were milestones of his young, tumultuous life. It was a chaotic, yet deeply personal, blend of low tech grit and high tech ambition.

Teo was currently a still silhouette in his netrunning chair, a repurposed, ergonomic seat that bore a disturbing resemblance to the sterile chairs ripperdocs used for full body augments. He was jacked in, the thick, braided cable from his splitter adapter snaking from the Integrated Cyberdeck Terminal on his desk to the discreet Subdermal Interface Pad behind his ear. His Kiroshi Optics glowed with an internal, ethereal green hue, his body utterly motionless, a conduit between two realities.

He was deep inside a security protocol, currently tripping through layers of corporate ICE, a ghost in the machine's cradle. Within his Kiroshi rendered virtual space, the world fractured into a chillingly beautiful digital landscape. Crimson black data streams, like rivers of corrupted blood, pulsed around him, their movements mirroring the frantic, hidden lines of code he was manipulating. Sharp, angular circuit patterns, blazing with an intense, vivid green, traced the network's vulnerabilities, an extension of his own piercing eyes.

'What a shit show, this security is ass.' He thought 

He saw the corporate security network as a skeletal, glowing fortress, built of cold, indifferent logic. Reaching out with a mental command, he tapped a pulsating red glyph, a critical access node. Instantly, the crimson black lines of his intrusion code attached, writhing like voracious, thorny vines, digitally strangling the target's system, forcing it to yield. Then, with a surge of focused will, he unleashed his final, magnum opus augmented Breach Protocol.

A sudden, jarring visual exploded in his internal perception. A large, cartoonish crimson ghost, Gengar like with its wide, toothy grin and mischievous eyes, materialized within the network, its digital form rippling with malicious energy. The ghost was giggling, a phantom, high pitched sound that seemed to echo through the digital void as the last bit of the network's defenses finally imploded under Teo's assault.

Outside the cyberspace, his body remained still, but his mind raced. The company, a small, unremarkable corporate outfit he'd targeted for a merc, would have its countermeasures kicking in. He had to be quick. He quickly snatched a data shard, glowing faintly with the network's raw info, from a port in the armrest of his chair and, with practiced ease, slid it into a specialized shard port layered into the chrome on his forearm. Data flooded into the shard in a silent, furious torrent, a rapid upload of the intel he needed.

As the upload completed, a mental chime of success echoed in his mind. He pulled back, cleanly severing his connection, leaving no digital trace save for the rampant crimson ghost he'd unleashed, which now continued to wreak havoc, blindly fucking with the company's compromised systems, scrambling their data, triggering false alarms, and generally sowing digital chaos. His target achieved, and a little extra punishment for good measure.

He repelled the cord from his interface pad, the plug retracting with a soft 'thwip' back behind his ear. "Whew, that was easier than I thought," he muttered, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, a reminder of the physical toll even digital warfare could take.

His Kiroshis immediately projected a comms invitation. He accepted, and the face of a merc, grizzled and imposing, solidified in his optics. "Maine here," the man rumbled, his voice deep and gravelly.

"Got your data," Teo responded, standing up, the data shard glowing faintly in his hand. He headed towards the steel staircase that led up to the main bar. "Come to the Coyote, pick the shard up."

"Great, thanks, kid," Maine replied, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Padre was right, you get shit done quick. Sorry for needing it done fast, the gig we were given had to take a change. Our crew's resident netrunner had to bail and deal with a personal gig of her own. I'll pop over within the next thirty minutes, coming from Kabuki Plaza."

"Wow, you have a netrunner in your crew? Rare," Teo commented, genuinely impressed. Most street merc crews relied on external plugs. "Well, show up whenever. I'll be eating something, hungry after working, you know." He reached for the pad by the top of the stairs, sliding open the heavy double doors leading to the bar.

"Great, thanks again, kid." Maine's chrome etched face vanished from Teo's optics, leaving him with the familiar, heavy silence that always followed a jack out, a momentary disconnect from the digital buzz. He took a deep breath, steeling himself, before stepping into the familiar, welcoming cacophony of the El Coyote Cojo. It wasn't too late, roughly 7:30 PM or 12:30 for some of you weirdos who use this time.(sorry Love u guys tho.). He plopped down onto an open stool at the bar, his usual spot.

He'd taken a string of small data gathering gigs over the past few days, Padre doing well to keep him busy and his eddies climbing. He was looking forward to getting a new upgrade to his cyberdeck, perhaps more memory, or a better daemon. He sighed, the weight of a week's worth of work settling into his bones. He caught Tina, the waitress, passing by and called over his usual NiCola. He checked his eddies tab in his OS: 8300 eurodollars. After being paid for the job he just finished, he rounded the number up in his head.

'I'd have 10,500 eddies. Perfect. That should be enough for a new implant.' He thought, his gaze already drifting towards the phantom ripperdoc menu in his mind, considering a Tetratronic Rippler MK.4 Cyberdeck. That would be a true upgrade, perfect for chaining his quickhacks and taking on heavier targets.

Just then, Mama Welles herself came around from the kitchen, a steaming plate of his favorite barbacoa and a basket of fries materializing in front of him. "Ah, mijo, you must be hungry," she said, her knowing smile reading his mind perfectly.

"Mhhm, didn't have breakfast this morning, went straight to work," he mumbled, already stuffing his face with the tender synthcarne.

"You've been working hard this week, mijo. Take some breaks once in a while," she said, her voice laced with genuine concern.

"I will, Tía. I'm planning on taking the weekend off to get some new cyberware," he replied, between bites. They chatted idly while he ate, the comforting rhythm of their conversation a balm to his frazzled nerves.

After about twenty minutes, the heavy oak door of the El Coyote Cojo swung open, and a large mass of chrome and raw, intimidating presence strode through, making the lively bar quiet down a few decibels. Maine, a hulking figure of augmented muscle and battle hardened chrome, commanded immediate attention. His heavy cyberware, a visible testament to countless street wars, gleamed under the bar's dim lights. A few mercs scattered throughout the Coyote recognized him, exchanging wary glances and quickly averting their eyes. Behind him, a tall, imposing woman with striking blonde hair and a no nonsense gait, Dorio, stepped in, her posture radiating controlled power. And then, a small, pale skinned woman, almost dwarfed by her ridiculously oversized combat coat, with vibrant green pigtails framing a sharp, almost manic grin, followed. She cradled a massive shotgun on her back as if it were a child. This was Rebecca. They made their way directly towards the bar.

Teo, just finishing his food, felt a the hulk like presence settle onto the stool beside him. He hadn't even glanced up, still focused on savoring the last bites of his barbacoa. The massive man ordered a beer, his voice a low growl that barely registered over the returning murmur of the bar. Dorio and Rebecca moved to a few stools further down the bar, letting Maine handle the biz.

Teo finally glanced to his left, his Kiroshis immediately initiating a scan.

MAINE Affiliation: Independent Merc Crew Leader (The Maine Crew)

Height: 6'8" (estimated with augmentations)

Weight: 450 lbs (estimated, heavy cyberware mass)

Primary Chrome: Full Combat Chassis (Torso, Arms, Legs), Ocular Implants (High-grade), Subdermal Armor, Integrated Weapon Mounts.

Threat Assessment: Extreme. Highly experienced combatant, known for direct action and heavy firepower. Leads a respected, dangerous crew. Caution Advised.

His client, huh. Teo subtly pushed the basket of fries, now mostly empty, towards Maine. "Mama Welles's special," he offered.

Maine glanced down at the fries, then at Teo, a faint smile spreading across his heavily augmented face. He plunged his massive hand into the basket, picking up a few stray fries. "Thanks. Teo, right? Got the shard?"

Teo nodded, his forearm shifting. From a discreet row of shard ports embedded in the chrome plating of his arm, an implant he'd gotten to handle multiple data transfers simultaneously for his netrunning work, he retrieved the glowing data shard and placed it into Maine's immense palm. Immediately, a notification flashed in Teo's Kiroshi optics. +3000 Eurodollars. Transaction Complete. A bonus. "Wow, a tip. I'm honored," Teo said, the sarcasm light, but the gratitude genuine.

"You did well, kid. I heard Jackie Welles's cousin was good, but didn't expect you to be that good. That's just extra. You're young, just starting out. I know what it's like. I started when I was your age." Maine's smile widened. "Well, thanks, kid. This should make our gig run a lot more smoothly. I'll be in touch if I need an extra netrunner." He patted Teo's shoulder, a gesture that almost knocked him off his stool, before standing up. Dorio and Rebecca followed him towards the door. Rebecca, the small woman with the comically large shotgun, shot Teo a wild, almost feral grin before waving a silent goodbye, then vanished after Maine.

"Well, that was one nice merc," Teo muttered, turning back to his now truly empty plate.

Just then, his comms chimed again. Padre.

"Ay, Teo! You free tomorrow? I got a gig for you. A good one. Good eddies," Padre's voice, thick with his usual accent, came through Teo's ear implant. 'Straight to business, huh', Teo thought.

"Well, I was thinking of upgrading my deck, but I could use another gig. What you got?" Teo responded, already sensing a bigger score.

"Sending over the info now. Meet at the Afterlife, eight o'clock sharp. Clients already got a spot. Corporate dog needs help, needs a team to infiltrate. I've contacted a few more mercs. Meet the client there," Padre said, cutting off before Teo could respond.

'My first in person gig,' Teo thought, a thrill of adrenaline mixing with a knot of apprehension in his stomach. 'Time to make the best of it.' He slid off the stool, not even bothering to pay. Tía never liked him paying, a silent rule of the Coyote for her family. 'Let's get some gear.'

He walked out the backdoor of the Coyote and headed towards the closest gun store in Heywood. Night City was littered with them, like rotten teeth. He passed the usual urban symphony, distant sirens, the metallic clang of a dumpster, the guttural roar of a souped up vehicle, a couple arguing violently in an alley, a flash of chrome reflecting neon. His hand instinctively brushed the cold, familiar grip of the Lexington Jackie had given him, tucked securely into the waistband of his jeans. He walked up to the store, the thick, blast proof glass doors sliding open with a low hiss. Inside, the air reeked of gun oil and synth cleaner.

He approached the counter where a large, heavily muscled woman, her arms covered in intricate bioware, was meticulously cleaning the inner chamber of a Lexington pistol. "I need some ammo for a Lexington," Teo said, "And extra clips."

The woman looked up, her expression unreadable, then grunted. She walked to the inner room behind the desk and returned with a couple of high capacity magazines and several boxes of 9mm ammo, their casings gleaming dully. "963 eddies," she grunted out, pushing them across the counter.

Teo nodded, wiring the money to her with a tap of his arm. He slid the boxes and clips into a flimsy plastic bag, feeling a pang of his recently acquired eddies draining away. He stalked out of the store and across the street into a clothing shop, not a stylish boutique, but a utility store specializing in street gear and armored wear. As he entered, he walked directly to the armored section, a standard feature in every Night City clothing store. His eyes landed on an orange, tech styled jacket (the one in the cover art.), its synthetic fabric gleaming under the harsh lights. He pulled it from the rack, feeling its surprising weight.

He read the tag: "Street Samurai" Armored Jacket Material: Dura weave synthetic fabric reinforced with micro flex ballistic plating in torso and shoulder areas. Integrated comm mesh. Provides moderate ballistic and impact protection, light melee defense. Price: 2300 eddies.

He grimaced. 2300 eddies. It was a chunk of change, but he needed something. He couldn't go to a corpo gig looking like some kid in a wife beater. He grabbed the jacket and brought it to the desk, paying for it and watching the bonus eddies Maine had given him vanish in an instant.

'There goes that,' he thought, a familiar weariness washing over him as he walked back towards the Coyote. The night was deepening, the city's neon pulse growing stronger, but for Teo, it was just the beginning. Armed with new gear, a fresh objective, and a relentless drive, he was stepping out of the shadows, ready to carve his name into the chrome heart of Night City.