Lucy Kushinada.
Exiting the Net, young Kushinada pursed her lips involuntarily, a sign of her growing anxiety.
The new purchases of such vital and valuable, yet expensive, gear had once again significantly depleted their family budget.
But there was no other way.
What had happened to Tony clearly demonstrated that without support in the Net, any of his missions—even the simplest ones—in this city could escalate into something far worse, leaving a trail of corpses, bullets, and blood.
And if Stark were to die as a result…Lucy simply couldn’t imagine how she would survive it.
“I’d probably end up hooked on some heavy psychotropic drugs,” the little girl answered herself—grimly, cynically, and with utter honesty.
Having survived…a lot—too much for a child who had once lived a sheltered life—Lucy, while currently stable, was at the limit of her moral strength.
She tried to hide it even from herself, but from time to time the accumulated stress would break through, like those fits of hysteria that Tony and Omnissiah were later forced to soothe.
Captivity, the loss of friends, a constant dance with death, disillusionment with her parents, running away, and starting a new life—all of this, collectively and individually, was extreme stress, especially for a fragile, undeveloped child’s psyche.
Together, they created a hellish cocktail capable of breaking even an adult.
But by some miracle, Lucy was holding on, even beginning to slowly loosen the internal spring of constant tension.
She realized that what had happened would most likely leave a mark, but she didn’t understand herself how exactly such events might affect her.
Besides, there were other things to attend to.
Night City…a dirty city.
Dark, full of anarchy and the blood of its own inhabitants, whom it devoured daily to sustain its own existence.
While Warsaw, despite everything, tried to maintain order, limit the marginalized masses, and strive toward a bright future—even if each step was taken with great difficulty and only after time—Night City was like a terminally ill patient who had nothing left to lose, rushing toward the end in an adrenaline-fueled haze, having cast off all moral and ethical restrictions.
She hadn’t been in this city for even a month, but she had already found a multitude of murders, robberies, racketeering, and rapes in the city network, the perpetrators of which were extremely easy to bring to justice…yet no one did.
“Here, in this city, there is only one law: the law of the strong,” Lucy realized at some point, beginning to adapt.
Once she accepted this simple thought—that “whoever is strong is right”—everything suddenly fell into place.
And not just in Night City!
A child-killer wasn’t imprisoned because a corporation stood behind him.
A man who bought girls with burned-out brains from the Tyger Claws, replaced them with behavioral chips, and sold his own children born from them, conducted his business because he commanded a well-armed gang.
Meanwhile, a boy who accidentally killed a robber sat in prison; a mother who sued her husband for cracking their child’s skull open was fined for slander; and a brother who took revenge for his disgraced and suicidal sister burned himself alive with the culprits because he knew they would get to him, and he shouldn’t expect protection from the authorities.
And the same went for her!
Her father turned her life into a nightmare because he was stronger; her mother didn’t protect her and abandoned her because she was weak; and only her stepbrother came to save her because he was strong.
“Weakness is a sin,” her lips whispered the simple truth by which their entire world lived.
Getting out of the bathtub and tiredly rubbing her face with her hands, trying to chase away a bit of her exhaustion, Lucy looked around her workspace.
A lot was missing here—in fact, almost everything.
A basic server, an ice bath, an access point, and that was it.
No proper data center, no archive of programs for every occasion, no camera to monitor the situation in reality.
If not for her implants, she would have been a powerless observer, a ghost in the network, incapable of anything significant.
Wiping her naked body with a towel, Lucy, as always, glanced in the mirror.
There wasn’t much to see there yet; her breasts had only recently started to grow, her hips too, and there was no waist to speak of.
Just a bottom and legs, and even then, the former was excessively small, and the latter were a bit thin.
A clumsy girl…
“Whose skin is also ruined,” she thought with anger and shame, running her hand hard over the lines of synthetic skin designed for better heat exchange for the umpteenth time.
“It’s no wonder he refused,” she thought, now with sadness and shame.
It wasn’t that she seriously wanted to jump into bed with what was essentially an adult guy as soon as possible, but in Lucy’s life, Tony had become the only anchor—the stability upon which her entire life rested, and at least some feeling of security.
While they were traveling to Night City, she had time to think everything over and analyze it.
Lucy leaned against the edge of the bathtub, resting her head on her folded arms, trying to cope with the emotions that raged every time she thought about this topic.
Kushinada had always been a smart girl; she learned quickly, knew how to read between the lines, and formed her own opinion from several sources.
Her mother, despite everything that had happened and the almost complete shifting of parental duties onto servants, wanted only the best for her daughter.
And her constant repetitive speeches that she and Tony would get married were one of the few things she did as a loving mother, and not just as an outsider doting on a cute little girl.
Lucy wasn’t a fool, but she was a child without proper life experience and with access to the internet, with all the content that shapes modern society.
Of course, she often stumbled upon blogs, advice, and stories of “socialites” talking about millionaire boyfriends, full financial support, freedom, and so on, while they themselves couldn’t even afford a cup of coffee.
And not natural coffee, but synthetic.
But young Kushinada understood that now; back then…no, she didn’t consider it the ultimate truth, she simply didn’t care, but she took note of it.
Lucy just didn’t think about her future because her present suited her completely.
She went with the flow, studied, developed as a netrunner—yes, she basked in comfort and love.
Now, however, taught by bitter experience, she thought about the future and, willy-nilly, remembered those videos and pieces of advice she had heard.
And what to say…if one were to believe them, then in a year or two she should go lose her virginity in a club with some random guy, by eighteen try a hundred cocks to “understand men,” and then find a millionaire husband with high stature, a giant dick that would tear her stretched-out hole, a pretty face, a kind character, and a caring attitude, who would endure all her tantrums and fulfill her whims.
When Lucy formed an image of this “modern girl” mindset…she simply fell into a stupor.
She didn’t understand what was going on in their heads, but compared to them, she was the height of adequacy and logic.
By fucking a whole bunch of them?
And how would that help determine their character?
Lucy thought she knew her parents, but her father sent her to the slaughter, and her mother simply gave up, WITHOUT TRYING in any way to help her daughter.
And in general…to let a stranger, a little-known person, near her, her own body—Lucy simply couldn’t imagine such a thing, despite all her intelligence and imagination.
And that’s not even mentioning what such girls were supposed to bring to a relationship.
From all such sources, she saw only one answer: “be faithful.” That’s it.
Faithfulness was presented by these girls as if it were something so sacred and rare that it should justify all their actions in the past and an openly consumerist attitude in the present.
Imagining herself in such a role, Lucy quickly came to the conclusion that she would simply be replaced.
An advanced android, a poor kept girl living under a very clear contract, an EDUCATED person with a brain, and not the abstract thought “I’m given everything-everything just because I’m so beautiful and I give sex.”
But most importantly…
Lucy simply wasn’t interested in any of this.
She couldn’t say that she loved Tony as a man; she simply wasn’t at the right age.
He was her only family, her savior, her benefactor, a person who sacrificed EVERYTHING his parents left him for her sake.
A bright future, the factory built by his hands, his home, and the money left by the Starks to their child to ensure his well-being—he gave all of this away to save a girl who wasn’t even related to him.
And this…caused shame.
“Weakness is a sin,” Kushinada repeated her thought once again.
Because of her weakness, her friends died.
Because of her weakness, the only person close to her gave up everything he had and was now forced to risk his life, work for bandits, and steal just to settle in a new place.
If she had been strong, this wouldn’t have happened.
She couldn’t say if she wanted to become Mrs. Stark, but she would become her.
Even without the last name, just as a bed warmer—she didn’t care; she owed her sworn brother too much to pay attention to such trifles.
The feeling of security she experienced in his arms and the sense of stability gifted by his very name were enough for her.
The love between a girl and a man?
She loved Tony; he was a good person, the only one who didn’t abandon her, who sacrificed himself, and she was certain about the future with him.
Some ephemeral, lofty feelings didn’t interest her—dreams were just dust from the bodies of burned dreamers; objective reality was what mattered.
And the reality was that Tony Stark was the best, and after everything he had done, the only option for Lucy Kushinada.
That was exactly what her mother had told her since the day she was born.
Finally gathering her strength, she dressed in home clothes: a simple, stretched-out t-shirt—a bit worn, but therefore especially cozy and homey—and loose shorts, as if tied together with a couple of strings.
In Poland, they didn’t let her dress like that at home, always dressing her up in cute dresses, skirts with blouses, and other purely girlish wardrobes.
Here, for the first time, she wore not what was beautiful or practical, but what was comfortable, instantly falling in love with this style.
“Has Tony already left?” she asked Omnissiah as she walked into the kitchen.
She had already eaten, but after a self-inflicted nervous breakdown, she wanted something sweet to lift her mood and soothe her nerves.
“Confirmed. Master Stark has an appointment with Eva Barnes.”
“I see,” Lucy replied, not very happily.
She wasn’t jealous of Tony; she just didn’t want anyone else to influence their lives.
She barely trusted people now with whom she wasn’t tied by the most basic, and therefore fundamental, social bonds.
Tony had proven his attitude, and besides, he was the future father of her children; Omnissiah was loyal to him to the last screw; while others were potential traitors, murderers, scammers, Arasaka spies, slave traders, or someone else of that ilk.
Not the healthiest sign, but Lucy wasn’t going to fight it—in the modern world, such an attitude had an extremely beneficial effect on one’s health, and she had Tony and Omnissiah for social connections.
“Did you check her?” she asked the main question that would determine whether she would run back to cover for her stupid brother via the network or could afford to have a snack in peace.
“Checked. Do you wish to receive the subject’s personal file?”
“Send it to my computer,” Lucy decided.
In the end, she had seen this Eva and fully understood Tony’s interest in her.
Like any healthy man, he had certain needs, and although Lucy was embarrassed by the hypothetical development of their relationship onto a horizontal plane—due to a lack of experience and an extremely personal situation—she agreed.
But for better or worse, Tony didn’t have sexual deviations, and he wasn’t interested in little girls, and she still had six to eight years to wait until her mammary glands fully formed.
“Although there’s something exciting about it,” Lucy noted to her own surprise.
“Puberty, is that you?”
Lucy closed her eyes, imagining what it would be like if Tony agreed and…nothing.
“Okay, and what about like this?”
Now she imagined Eva completely in Stark’s power, playing with her body however he wanted, while she, helpless, with a rounded tummy, took on all his lust.
“First fetish, is that you?” Lucy noted, feeling something warm in her lower abdomen, fighting the burning fire in her face, Lucy thought…a little bewildered and even annoyed.
Too much had fallen on her recently; she wasn’t ready for early puberty at all right now!
“God, what a mess in my head,” she concluded. Get faster updates on g.com.
“Detecting increased temperature,” and then the cold, soulless tone was replaced by a mischievous-satisfied one.
“Someone is clearly thinking about something dirty.”
“N-no!” Kushinada squeaked slightly.
“I just overheated while working with the network, that’s why I’m a bit shaky!” Lucy retorted with a tone she wouldn’t have believed herself.
“I’ll pretend I’m convinced,” Omnissiah nodded.
Tony Stark.
Descending in the elevator from the top floors of the megatower, Tony cast a bored look at the courtyard.
Dozens and hundreds of small cafes, thousands of vending machines, gyms, small shops with a mixed assortment where you could find everything you might need at home.
There flashed the shop “Li Has Everything”—a wild mix of a hookah bar, a cafe, an ice cream parlor, a pharmacy, and a grocery store.
It seemed like they even used to sell clothes there before, but a full-fledged clothing store opened across the street where you could not only buy but also sell old rags.
Li had to reduce the assortment.
By the way, Tony bought that faucet and other small things for the filter from Li.
“Such a thing was the norm for the backward countries of my world,” Tony thought.
In developed countries, the specialization of shops is characteristic—mentality traits originating from factory workers and spreading further, into all spheres of activity.
The principle of the division of labor is too effective to be neglected, and where there is distribution, there are high-profile specialists.
A cook specializing in fish is unlikely to be able to perfectly prepare foie gras, but will prepare poisonous waterfowl as easily as an experienced bachelor makes an omelet.
The same applies to clothing; employees of shop departments can easily tell you what material something is made of, what can cause allergies, what is better, what is worse, whose price doesn’t correspond to quality, and vice versa.
Similar mixed shops are characteristic of backward countries, where instead of shopping centers and supermarkets, there are bazaars and markets where anyone can come, with goods of any quality.
And it was even more wild for Stark to see such a shop in America, in Night City, one of the wealthiest cities in the world.
With not exactly cheerful thoughts, Stark exited the elevator and headed his steps toward the nearest cafe.
A more-or-less decent one, since at night a whole crowd of cops sits there, and with such visitors, you don’t really save on quality.
On the other hand, the gangs themselves keep as far away from such a place as possible.
During the day, it’s just a quiet place where you can go and not be afraid of getting poisoned.
“Hey!” the moment he entered, Eva waved at him.
She stood out strongly among the gray crowd.
Shoulder-length pink hair, large golden eyes, tanned healthy skin, and an exciting figure that couldn’t be hidden by tight leather pants, a stretchy black tank top, and a light yellow jacket.
On her pants, by the way, was a belt to which a holster with a simple pink Militech M-10AF “Lexington” was attached, along with five grenades—two stun and three fragmentation.
On the streets of Night City, it’s hard to find a person without weapons; even children walk around with guns here, but they all hide them.
Only gang members carry weapons openly, and even then, not all of them—mercenaries, police officers, and corporate career military personnel.
So Tony wasn’t surprised that a sort of exclusion zone reigned around Eva’s table.
“You’re early,” Tony noted, checking his watch.
Unlike others, Stark’s eyes remained his natural ones, not implants, so he didn’t have a virtual interface with a map, health status, video output, and a clock.
“Couldn’t sleep after yesterday,” she replied, smiling brightly and waving to the waiter.
“And they wouldn’t let me—the girls questioned me all night about how it went, and then they hauled me off to a ripper to check my health.”
“And how is your health?” Tony asked.
“Normal. There’s slight exhaustion and dehydration—after all, they held me for two days—but otherwise, everything is fine.”
“Glad to hear it,” Stark admitted honestly, opening the bottle of beer brought by the waiter.
In his past life, he had serious problems with alcohol, but in Night City, and indeed the whole world, the booze was so lousy that he wasn’t afraid of falling off the wagon again.
Wetting his throat, warming up—that much was fine, but getting pleasure from consuming THIS was extremely difficult.
At least for someone who knew a thing or two about liquor.
“And how are your family?”
“Ah-ah-ah…” Barnes drew out, waving her hand.
“My brother went into another creative stupor and didn’t even notice my absence. If it weren’t for the youngest, who feeds him from time to time, he would have collapsed from starvation again.”
“You have a sister too?” Tony was surprised.
Large families in modern realities weren’t exactly a rarity; the other thing was that not all children survived.
Very few people die of hunger and diseases, even in Night City (the Biotechnica case is an exception), but getting killed by a robber, overdosing, getting poisoned by some particularly nasty filth, or catching a bullet in a shootout—that’s easy.
“Yeah, the youngest, she’s thirteen. A crazy little bitch with a love for big guns,” Tony’s interlocutor smiled warmly, immediately making it clear that she loved her sister.
“Well, how about you?”
“Two sisters,” Tony admitted, skipping A LOT of details.
“The older one is a real pain in the ass, but you can always rely on her, and the younger one is just smart and beautiful.”
“Well…so what are we going to do?” Eva asked, clearly feeling awkward.
“Maybe we’ll visit Jackie? At the same time, we’ll meet his ripper; as I understand it, Big Guy trusts him, and that’s a great rarity in Night City. It won’t be superfluous to have such an acquaintance.”
“Good idea,” Eva admitted.
The Moxes didn’t have their own ripper; instead, they cooperated with a couple of doctors near the docks—they gave them protection, the doctors gave them a guarantee of their work, everything was fair.