Get comfortable, turn the page, and let’s see what this story has been hiding 🔥 ✦ The wind was cold today.
That was ridiculous in August, but Zilf Sino still felt chilled.
Because cold sweat would not stop crawling down his back.
“I fucking told you, on time means on time!
Shit!
You bunch of morons!” Sino seemed to be on a call.
His voice was low, but almost hysterical.
Then everything cut off.
Cade felt the reality of the braindance around him: the hot wind blowing past, Sino’s clear voice, the noise from the street in the distance, and the advertising AVs cruising over Night City.
It was so hot that Cade could feel himself sweating.
His mouth even felt dry.
In this new era, people who knew how to use technology had taken massive amounts of information and made “being there” almost painfully literal.
Cade had no time to appreciate the tech before a ringtone interrupted him.
Mr.
Hands’s voice came through his ear.
“Try moving the perspective closer to the Barghest soldier’s ear.
See if you can hear the other side of the call.
Identify them, if you can.
If it is an old acquaintance of yours, that may save us most of the trouble.” Cade followed Mr.
Hands’s instruction and pulled the perspective toward Sino’s ear canal.
Sure enough, on the voiceprint layer, another voice sat beneath Sino’s.
“Kincho shinaide, tomo.” “Don’t be nervous, friend.
Corpo overtime is common.
Be patient.
I am almost there.” The man on the other end opened with Japanese, then used English with a faint Japanese accent to soothe Sino, who sounded close to collapse.
“Arasaka?” Cade thought of the giant first.
Mr.
Hands gave a soft laugh.
“The Tyger Claws all speak Japanese.
Europeans work for Arasaka too.
Judging a friend’s affiliation by language is not a sound strategy.” So Cade kept listening.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Do you know how much risk I took leaving Dogtown?
If those bastards don’t see me when shifts change tonight, I’m fucking dead.
You have ten minutes.
If you don’t show, the deal is off!” Sino almost growled the words.
In the distance, a drunk lay on the ground vomiting.
The smell was so real that both Sino and Cade instinctively covered their noses.
The other end of the call went silent for several seconds.
“Friend, do you think your colonel would be kinder if he knew you were selling him out?” Sino clenched his fists so hard his teeth ground together.
“You people are fucking bastards.
All of you.” “Wait nicely.
Do not make this difficult for me.” The man on the call sounded bland, almost bored, and ignored Sino’s angry shouting completely.
Cade frowned.
Sino did not look like an intel broker.
He looked like a turkey trapped between two ovens.
‘No way out.’ Cade shook his head.
He still did not know who had been speaking to Sino, but Sino had clearly been the one under pressure.
Mr.
Hands gave his next instruction.
“Advance the timeline.
Stop when he meets his contact.” Cade nodded.
As the braindance sped forward, Sino’s agitation became obvious.
One moment he was punching a wall; the next, he was crouched on the ground with his head in his hands.
“There.” In the image before Cade, a Quadra Turbo-R 740 pulled into the alley where Sino waited.
Sino was crouched with his head down, cigarette butts scattered around his feet.
At the start of the twenty-first century, Japanese sports cars had almost taken over the American market.
They handled well and were economical.
Then the Quadra Turbo-R arrived, a jewel of the American auto industry.
The Turbo-R had become a classic of its class.
It had power and style, but it asked one hard question of its driver: could you actually control the engine under the hood?
‘Damn.
Money.’ That was Cade’s first impression of whoever owned the retro sports car.
Only someone with real income could drive something like that.
At minimum, the owner was probably mid-to-high level in a corp or gang.
The other possibility was a veteran field operative who spent a lot of time behind the wheel, since most wealthy people chased comfort and stability instead.
When Cade gave his analysis, Mr.
Hands sounded pleased.
Of course, what really helped was Cade’s deep research into the game in his old life.
“Something wrong with the BD?” Cade asked.
The upper half of the man who stepped out of the car looked smeared with digital noise.
Only fragments of his voice came through clearly.
Mr.
Hands sounded resigned.
“Anyone competent takes measures against being recorded.
That kind of cyberware is expensive, but affordable.
Quite normal.” “I came to meet you myself.
Give me the goods.” Sino’s contact stopped in front of him without the slightest guilt over being late.
Sino looked up at the man.
His fists clenched several times, but in the end he helplessly pulled a shard from his pocket.
“We agreed.
Ten thousand eddies.
Cash.
Not one eurobuck short.” Sino watched the man take the shard.
The complaints from the call were gone now, and the immersive BD layer let Cade feel the exhaustion behind his silence.
‘I’m done.
Pay me and I leave.’ “The route map you provided is not worth that price.” Sino’s trading partner was not a nice man.
He wanted more.
Sino reached out to snatch the shard back, but failed.
A dull impact followed, and the man kicked Sino several meters away.
“Cough…
cough…” Blood filled Sino’s mouth.
A Barghest soldier getting kicked away that easily told Cade the contact’s cyberware was almost certainly corpo-grade.
“Cyberware looks corporate.
Voice is unfamiliar,” Cade said, giving Mr.
Hands his assessment.
Mr.
Hands nodded.
“Bionic joints.
Titanium bones.
Nothing missing.” Sino finally could not stand being treated like a beaten dog from start to finish.
“Short me and I’ll take this straight to Hansen!
Fuck it.
None of us have to live!” Seeing that Sino was desperate, the contact finally revealed his next demand.
“Plant these solid explosives under the trucks.
The full remainder will be paid.
This is the deposit.
After it is done, go to [static].” Sino got up and opened the cloth bag full of rolled cash.
“Five thousand?
Shit!” “Enough.
You have cost many people sleep.
Half up front is reasonable.” Sino gritted his teeth and accepted it.
“Fine.
I’ll go there for the rest afterward.” The image froze completely.
Creak.
As Cade withdrew from the braindance, the familiar sandalwood scent of the room washed over him again.
Mr.
Hands removed the wreath and turned an inquiring look toward the young man.
Cade laid it out carefully.
“There was a golden tiger ornament on the passenger side.
It may connect to the Tyger Claws, or it may just be decoration.” “The cyberware did not look like typical gang chrome, but that doesn’t prove much.
Corps and gangs are tied together all over Night City.
Beyond that, I do not have a strong read yet.” “Too many key details are missing.
We did not even get a plate.” Mr.
Hands approved of the answer.
“Very observant.
Clues must be followed slowly.
Remember this matter.
It is why Colonel Hansen sent you here.” [System Notification] Character: Mr.
Hands Affinity: 10 Reward: Body +2.
Bonus +1.
As the text disappeared from Cade’s vision, Mr.
Hands stood and took down a long case from a high wooden cabinet.
“Originally, I intended to send you downstairs and have one of my people pull a weapon from the armory.
Now I think this treasure from my private collection should go to someone who can make proper use of it.” “A netrunner’s partners are very good at finding enemy runners according to that runner’s instructions.
This good friend will let you stop them at range.
How you use it is up to you.” “Find your own ammunition.” Cade opened the case.
A massive black rifle lay quietly inside, smelling of fresh gun oil.
[Iconic Tech Sniper Rifle: Nekomata] Manufacturer: Tsunami Cade’s mood lifted.
‘Now that is what a real reward looks like.’ ✦ ✦ ✦ Ready for more?
CREATORS’ THOUGHTS EmberHollow Thank you for reading.
I hope this chapter pulled you deeper into the story.
Stick around, because there’s still a lot waiting just ahead.