Afterlife And The Briefing

A/N: Meant to put this in end of last chapter.

Cyberware:

Kiroshi Optics: His eyes, providing augmented reality and his primary visual interface for the Net.

Subdermal Interface Cord Thing: A port, likely behind his ear, where he directly plugs his cyberdeck's cable.

Ear Implant (Comms): For receiving communications directly into his ear.

Shard Ports (on forearm): Slots in his arm to quickly insert and transfer data shards.

Militech Paraline OS (Cyberdeck): His basic, utilitarian cyberdeck, serving as his core netrunning hardware.

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The following day dawned with a hazy, indifferent glow. The sun, a bruised orange disc struggling against the perpetual smog, cast a faint, sickly light through the slant window of Teo's basement room. It hit him like a physical blow, dragging him from the oblivion of sleep. His eyes, still gritty with exhaustion, squinted open, struggling to adjust to the weak morning. The air, despite the Coyote's cellar, still carried the faint, metallic tang of Night City, and the phantom echoes of his mother's absence.

Beep... beep beep.

The insistent chirping of his internal comms, routed through his ear implant, cut through the oppressive quiet. Someone was already trying to pierce his fragile morning peace. Teo groaned, stretching his long arms above his head, the joints cracking like dry synth bone. He swung his feet off the bed, landing on the cold, unforgiving concrete floor. "Coming!" he yelled, his voice rough. The comms, however, seemed to take his answer as an invitation for escalation. Beep beep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

"Alright, that's too much, why do people do that." he muttered, running a hand through the dark red, almost crimson black waves of his hair. A quick glance at his Kiroshi projected internal chrono blinked, 06:30 AM. "Way too early for this shit." He pulled on a fresh, tighter pair of black tactical jeans, designed for mobility, the reinforced seams a subtle promise of protection. He slipped the belt around his waist, then tugged on a clean white wife beater, its simple cotton clinging to his lean, muscled torso. Finally, he pulled on his new "Street Samurai" Armored Jacket. The synthetic Dura weave fabric felt stiff, unfamiliar, but the weight of the ballistic plating in the shoulders and torso was a welcome, tangible shield. He slid his feet into his black military style combat boots, lacing them up with quick, practiced movements. The outfit was a statement: no longer just a kid from Heywood, but a merc on the rise.

He walked up the steel stairs that led from the basement directly into the heart of the El Coyote Cojo bar. The heavy door groaned open, revealing the still dim interior. It was 06:30 AM, and Mama Welles was already there, a solitary figure behind the bar, meticulously polishing glasses. The faint aroma of fresh coffee and a hint of the previous night's tequila hung in the air. His aunt looked up, her face softening into a warm smile. "Mijo, come have your breakfast. Big day today," she said, setting down a gleaming glass.

Teo nodded, the knot of nerves in his stomach tightening. He quickly devoured the simple breakfast Mama Welles prepared, a strong coffee and a plate of scrambled synth eggs with a side of toasted flatbread. The food was warm, comforting, grounding. With a final nod of thanks, he stood up, his gaze already set on the door. He had a meeting at The Afterlife.

The walk was short, but Night City always felt longer. Heywood was just beginning to stir. The streets were already littered with last night's discarded trash, flickering holo-ads played on endless loops, and the occasional drone hummed overhead, performing its automated cleanup. A couple of gangers, likely Valentinos, huddled in a doorway, their voices low and guttural. Further on, a street vendor was already setting up his stall, the sizzle of cheap synth meat on a griddle cutting through the morning chill. Teo kept his hands tucked into his new jacket's pockets, his gaze sweeping the surroundings, subtly assessing, processing. His Kiroshis filtered the information, the gold line beneath his eyes subtly enhancing his perception. He felt the familiar weight of the Lexington tucked into his waistband.

As he walked, he reviewed the quick docket Padre had sent him yesterday, the words scrolling across his internal display. His client, a discreet, low level operative from 'Synapse Dynamics,' a struggling independent cyberware manufacturer. Their rival, 'BioDyne Corp,' had been systematically crushing them through industrial espionage and leveraging its powerful network. BioDyne recently acquired a new, cutting-edge bio optic prototype that Synapse Dynamics believed was outright stolen from their own research. They needed proof. Teo, along with two other mercs he hadn't met yet, would receive the full mission intel upon arriving at The Afterlife.

'The Afterlife,' Teo thought, a mix of apprehension and exhilaration churning in his gut. 'A true merc bar, meant for the pros. I'm still a newbie. Can't believe I'm actually going there.' It was a legendary place, an institution in the mercenary world, where legends were born and careers ended. It was close, thankfully, nestled in the heart of Heywood, a grim monument to a thousand shattered dreams and a thousand successful gigs.

He arrived before a heavy, unassuming steel door, tucked into the side of a brutalist synth concrete building. No flashy neon, no bold advertising. Just a single, glowing red light above. The Afterlife was basically open 24/7, as long as you had biz, the right kind of business, that is. He pushed the door open, feeling its surprising weight, and stepped into a dim, sterile hallway. The air here was colder, recycled, smelling faintly of stale synth-booze and a hint of ozone.

At the end of the hall, blocking the entrance to the main bar, stood the legendary bouncer, Emmerick Bronson. The man was a colossus, a walking tank of hardened muscle and heavily augmented chrome. His sheer size was intimidating, his face a landscape of scars and embedded cyberware. His optics glowed with a dull, predatory red, perpetually scanning, assessing. He looked like he'd been carved from the very synth concrete of Night City itself. Teo stalked up to him, his hands still casually stuffed in his jacket pockets, trying to project an air of detached confidence.

Bronson's glowing red optics locked onto Teo, utterly devoid of warmth. "Hold up, kid," he rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that seemed to shake the very foundations of the building. "Mercs only. You look like you got lost on your way to a school trip."

Teo met his gaze, raising an eyebrow, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. 'This is a test,' he thought, his mind already racing. 'Standard procedure. See if I break.' He stared at Bronson for a long, deliberate second, letting the silence hang heavy, then spoke, his voice calm, even-keeled. "I am a merc. Got biz inside. Corpo's waiting for me."

Bronson's lip curled, a flicker of something almost like amusement in his eyes. "Corpo, huh? Don't see many greenhorns like you rollin' with corpos. What's your handle? Who's vouching?" He crossed his massive arms, the chrome on his forearms clinking, a physical manifestation of his authority. "Don't waste my time, kid. I got a long shift."

Teo maintained eye contact, his resolve hardening. He knew Bronson wouldn't just take his word for it. This was his chance to show, not just tell. His Kiroshis subtly engaged, a flash of crimson, black and vivid green in his internal vision. He deployed a Ping on Bronson's internal comms, a silent, targeted pulse. Bronson's red optics suddenly flickered, going blank for a startled moment.

"The fuck!" Bronson grunted, his composure momentarily shattered. His vision returned, and his eyes darted to Teo, a flicker of confusion, then suspicion, then something else realization. Teo's ghost smirk widened, just a fraction.

"I'm a netrunner, man," Teo stated, his voice gaining a sharper edge, a hint of annoyance. "I got a gig. Let me in. Name's Mateo Welles, and I'm being expected." He gave Bronson a subtle, almost imperceptible nod towards his Subdermal Interface Pad, a silent indication of his capabilities.

Bronson stared, his augmented eyes still tracing the ghost of the quickhack. Then, a low grumble escaped him. He tapped his own comms, speaking quietly into the hidden mic on his neck. After a tense few seconds, his face, still grim, relaxed infinitesimally. "Looks good. You're fine. Go on in," Bronson said, a hint of grudging reluctance in his voice. The bouncer had confirmed. Teo had passed the test.

Teo merely nodded, turning to push through the heavy, sound dampening curtains that led into the main bar. As he walked into the sickly green interior of what was once a morgue, a macabre legacy that still permeated its atmosphere, he checked the time: 07:45 AM. He had some time before the client showed up. The air was thick with the lingering scent of synth-smoke, spilled liquor, and the metallic tang of chrome, a strange, intoxicating blend unique to this place. He stepped up to the bar, opting for a stool further down, away from the sparse few early-bird mercs already drowning their sorrows. "NiCola," he ordered, his usual.

 He sipped his NiCola, the synthsweet tang a contrast to the bitter undertones of the bar. The silence here wasn't peaceful, it hummed with the ghosts of legends and the silent judgment of every chromed out merc who'd ever walked through these doors. He felt small, a barely chromed kid from Heywood in a world of giants, yet the excitement, sharp and dangerous, was a live thing in his gut.

He was still turning over the implications of a "team" gig when a shadow fell over his stool. A firm, almost bruising, tap landed on his shoulder. He turned, his Kiroshis instantly processing the figure behind him, a woman, tall and powerfully built, easily 6'2". Her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight, no nonsense bun, revealing sharp, intelligent blue eyes that scanned him with an almost predatory efficiency. She was all muscle and purpose, adorned with practical, military grade chrome that hinted at a long, brutal career. Slung casually across her back was a formidable weapon, a Militech M-10AF Lexington assault rifle, its composite chassis a dark, menacing silhouette against her heavy combat vest. Apex was her name from his little scan. 

"You Teo? Padre's little netrunner?" she asked, her voice a low, gravelly rasp, her eyebrow arched in a challenge. 

Teo met her gaze, a familiar prickle of annoyance rising. He was Mateo Welles, not "Padre's little netrunner." "What, am I too young?" he shot back, a defiant edge in his voice.

She offered a dry, humorless chuckle, resting her back against the bar beside him, the M-10AF nudging the wall with a soft clink. "Mhhm, no. Not if Padre vouches for you. But you are young. How old are you, kid?"

"Seventeen," Teo responded, holding her gaze. "Half a month from eighteen."

Apex's eyes narrowed, a flicker of genuine skepticism in their depths. "Jeez, you are young. You sure you can do this gig? This ain't no data grab from some gonk's comms. BioDyne plays for keeps."

Teo straightened on his stool, his jaw tightening. This was it. His chance to prove himself. "Mhhm. Of course. I'm sure you got the intel from Padre," he said, his voice clipped, forcing a confidence he wasn't entirely feeling. He wasn't just convincing her; he was convincing himself.

"Right," she conceded, a hint of grudging acceptance in her tone. "We should get the other merc soon."

As if on cue, a figure emerged from the deeper shadows of the bar, moving with a silent, almost fluid grace that made him seem less like a man and more like a whisper. This was Cipher. He was leaner than Apex, his frame cloaked in a long, dark coat that seemed to absorb the dim light of The Afterlife. His hood was drawn low, obscuring most of his face, but a sliver of pale skin and a pair of unsettlingly calm, intelligent eyes were visible. He carried no obvious weaponry, but the subtle bulge beneath his coat, the way his hands moved with an almost preternatural stillness, hinted at hidden blades and tools designed for precision, not brute force.

"Hey, Apex," Cipher murmured, his voice a low, smooth cadence, like sand shifting over synth-steel. He didn't look at Teo, but a quick, knowing glance passed between him and Apex. The shared look spoke of past gigs, of trust forged in the crucible of Night City's dark alleys.

"Cipher. So Padre called you too, huh?" Apex said, a rare warmth softening her voice for a moment.

"Yep." Cipher finally turned his veiled gaze to Teo, a faint, almost sardonic twist to his lips. "Well, well. Padre's little netrunner. Didn't think you were real." There was a sarcastic undertone, but also a sliver of genuine curiosity.

"Yup," Teo shot back, a flash of his usual Heywood sass. "Be honored in my presence, peasant."

Cipher's low chuckle was barely audible, a dry, rustling sound. The trio fell into a tense, brief exchange of small talk, a quick sizing up disguised as casual conversation about their skills and strengths. Teo felt their eyes assessing him, his youth, his lack of visible heavy chrome. He felt the weight of their unspoken doubt, but also the fierce, burning desire to prove them wrong.

A few minutes later, the atmosphere in the already somber bar shifted. A hush fell, thicker than before. All three mercs felt it, their gazes drawn towards the entrance. An older woman strode in, her presence radiating an undeniable, almost sterile authority. She was dressed in a meticulously tailored, charcoal grey power suit, her movements fluid and economical, utterly devoid of the street's grime. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, her features sharp, unyielding. This was unmistakably the corpo. Behind her, moving with the silent efficiency of a well oiled machine, was a massive man in a plain black tux, built like a brick wall, his eyes hidden behind dark, reflective optics.

Teo's Kiroshis instinctively engaged, his internal scanner whirring, focusing on the bodyguard.

BODYGUARD – UNKNOWN

Height: 6'5"

Weight: 300 lbs (estimated)

Primary Chrome: Full Combat Chassis (Subdermal, Reinforced Skeleton, Hydraulic Enhancements), Ocular Implants (High-grade Recon), Internal Weapon Cache (Likely), Bio-Monitors.

Threat Assessment: Extreme. Likely highly trained, direct combat specialist. Minimal visible humanity, high threat to soft targets. Extreme Caution Advised.

The bodyguard's head subtly swiveled, his dark optics locking onto the trio at the bar. He made a small, almost imperceptible gesture with his hand, a silent command for them to follow. "Looks like the corpo in need has arrived," Teo muttered, sliding off his stool, the synth leather sighing under his weight.

The small group moved towards one of the many secluded, shadowed booths within the bar, designed for discreet conversations. As they slid into the worn upholstery, the corpo woman's cold, assessing gaze lingered on Teo for a beat too long before sweeping over Apex and Cipher. "So Padre sends me you lot," she began, her voice crisp, devoid of any warmth. "A grizzled woman, a weird, shady man, and a… rat from Heywood."

Teo felt a surge of cold fury, his eyebrow twitching. 'Yup, corpo arrogance. Right on schedule.' This wasn't just a job, it was a battle for respect from the very first word.

The corpo woman didn't react to Teo's silent defiance. Her cold gaze merely flickered to her bodyguard, who remained a silent, unmoving pillar of chrome and intimidation behind her. She then pulled a sleek, obsidian datapad from her briefcase, its surface glowing with holographic schematics.

"My name is Tanaka," she stated, her voice flat, devoid of pleasantries. "I represent… interests within Synapse Dynamics. As you may or may not be aware, BioDyne Corp has been systematically crippling our R&D, leveraging their market dominance and, frankly, their lack of scruples. They've squeezed us dry. Now, they've gone too far."

She gestured to the datapad, and a holographic schematic of a complex bio optic unit, pulsating with an almost ethereal blue light, appeared above the table. "This is the 'Aura Vision' bio optic. BioDyne released it three months ago, claiming it as their groundbreaking innovation. It is not. It is ours. Stolen. Our research, our prototypes, our future, all ripped from our labs by their espionage networks." Her voice remained steady, but a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in her hand betrayed the raw, burning resentment beneath her placid exterior.

"We need proof," Tanaka continued, her gaze sweeping over Apex, then Cipher, lingering for a fraction longer on Teo. "Absolute, irrefutable proof of their theft. The data that will expose them, ruin their stock, and allow Synapse Dynamics a fighting chance to claw back from the brink."

The holographic display shifted, now showing a grimy, unassuming warehouse nestled amongst the rusted skeletal frames of cargo containers in Northside, near the docks. "Our intelligence indicates the original, uncorrupted schematics, along with critical internal reports detailing the acquisition of the 'Aura Vision' essentially, their internal confession, are housed within this facility. BioDyne calls it 'The Echo Chamber'."

She looked directly at Teo, her eyes narrowed. "This is where you, the netrunner, come in. This 'Echo Chamber' is more than just a warehouse. It's a highly secure data archive. Physical security is standard, guards, automated turrets, motion sensors. Apex and Cipher will handle that. But the real challenge lies within the Net. BioDyne uses sophisticated, multi layered ICE, Intrusion Countermeasures Electronics, designed to flatline any unauthorized plug attempting to breach their core servers. They also utilize a redundant data mirroring system. Any careless move, any 'echo' left behind, and they'll trace the breach directly back to us, and to Synapse Dynamics."

Teo felt a cold knot tighten in his gut. Layered ICE. Redundant data mirroring. His basic Militech Paraline OS, reliable as it was, felt like a child's toy against the implied complexity of BioDyne's network. This wasn't just another data grab, this was a digital fortress. He'd have to push his deck to its absolute breaking point. Every twitch of his Subdermal Interface Pad, every pulse through his Kiroshis, would be a razor's edge.

Tanaka leaned forward, her voice dropping slightly, becoming a low, urgent murmur. "Your primary objective, netrunner, is to penetrate their central data core. Locate a specific, deeply encrypted data packet. It's labeled 'Project Chronos - Aura_Vision_Origins.enc'. Once found, download it and secure it on a clean shard."

"And the secondary objective?" Apex interjected, her voice flat, her eyes narrowed. "Padre mentioned something about a 'distraction'."

Tanaka nodded, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips. "Correct. BioDyne employs maintenance drones within the facility, supposedly for upkeep. Once you're inside their network, netrunner, you are to remotely activate those drones. Overload their flight paths, send them on erratic, destructive trajectories. Cause as much chaos as possible without, ideally, destroying the data you need. Think of it as a digital smokescreen. It will draw physical security away from your location, provide cover for the team's exfiltration, and utterly scramble BioDyne's response."

Cause chaos. Got it. Teo thought, his internal 'System Glitch' daemon already humming with a dark anticipation. This was right up his alley.

"The stakes are high," Tanaka continued, her gaze sweeping over them, finally resting on Teo, a chilling intensity in her eyes. "Synapse Dynamics is on the ropes. If this data gets out, BioDyne faces a massive class action lawsuit, a PR nightmare, and a devastating stock plunge. If we fail… Synapse Dynamics collapses. Thousands lose their jobs. Families starve. We lose everything." Her facade cracked for a split second, revealing a raw, desperate fear that was far more unnerving than her earlier arrogance. "I need you to succeed. This isn't just eddies. This is a matter of survival."

Apex simply nodded, her expression grim. Cipher, ever the shadow, remained unreadable. Teo, however, felt the weight of it. This wasn't just about the eddies for his new chrome anymore. This was about lives, about corporate warfare spilling onto the street, about the very soul of Night City's cutthroat economy. He had to be perfect. He had to be the ghost they needed. However something was missing. 

"Pay?" Teo questioned.

"45000 eddies." she responded almost immediately.

'So the Total Payout from Client (to Padre): 45,000 Eurodollars (eddies)

Padre's Cut (still 30% for a high-value gig): 45,000 * 0.30 = 13,500 eddies

Remaining for the Mercs (Apex, Cipher, Teo): 45,000 - 13,500 = 31,500 eddies

Split equally among the three mercs: 31,500 / 3 = 10,500 eddies each' He quickly calculated. 

Fuck this is good, he needed this.

 A/N: alr i need to break the mission deets sorry! action next ch. LEAVE SOME CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM PLEASE! I'D LIKE TO KNOW HOW I CAN IMPROVE THIS SHI.