It was 17:00, or 5:00 PM for the chooms who still clung to the old ways, the place was a swirling vortex of life. The new speakers, custom rigged by a quick hack artist with a serious synth addiction, blasted a loud, vibrant mix.
One moment, it was the melancholic wail of a Spanish ballad, weaving tales of lost love and street loyalty. The next, it pulsed with Night City's regular hip hop, a brutalist symphony of bass drops and digitized vocals that spoke of chrome, eddies, and the fleeting thrill of a high.
Almost every table was full, mercs with too much chrome and not enough common sense, gangoons in their worn colors, ripperdocs nursing synth whiskey, and the usual assortment of dreamers, scammers, and lost souls. Laughter, sharp and sudden, mingled with the guttural shouts of friendly arguments.
The air was thick with the scent of cheap booze, fried nutrient paste, and the acrid tang of ozone from overcharged cyberware. The clinking of glasses, the rhythmic thud of a bartender slamming down drinks, the constant murmur of a hundred conversations, it was the usual Coyote banter, raw and real.
High above the din, on the right hand open side wall of the bar's upper level, a different kind of symphony was playing out. The metallic hiss and sputter of a spray can cut through the noise, a rhythmic rasp against the backdrop of the Coyote's controlled chaos.
Most of the art that adorned the Coyote's rough hewn walls had been Teo's handiwork over the years, a chaotic tapestry of vibrant colors and defiant imagery. A few pieces were by other artists, transient tags left in the wake of drunken benders or artistic impulses, but Teo had elevated the bar's aesthetic, making it his own sprawling canvas.
His mother's portrait, a cherished anchor in the cacophony, had undergone subtle transformations over the past weeks, Teo adding delicate, almost mythical touches that made her face appear less human and more a serene, ethereal deity watching over her flock. In his biased, artist's opinion, it made the piece sing.
This section of the wall, however, was a blank slate, almost bare. Now, it was a fresh canvas, a testament to his continued evolution. Teo, clad in his usual garbs, his face partially obscured by a simple graffiti gas mask, was at work.
His movements were precise, economical, every flick of the wrist and press of the nozzle honed by years of practice. He leaned in, the final touches applied with a focused intensity that silenced the bustling bar for him. A thin, final black outline danced across the wall, completing the intricate contours of his latest vision. The piece wasn't enormous, fitting snugly in its allocated space, a defiant splash of rebellion against the dull gray concrete.
He stepped back, peeling the gas mask from his face, a small, proud smile touching his lips. His emerald optics, usually glowing with internal processing, seemed to soften as they took in the finished product. It was his signature motif, the Green Crow, perched menacingly on a disembodied arm, its talons dug deep into synthetic flesh.
In the background, a hooded figure loomed, its face shrouded in shadow, save for a wide, mocking grin that seemed to challenge the viewer. Beneath the striking imagery, a large, stylized tag pulsed with nascent luminescence, the paint slowly coming to life, casting a ghostly green glow, 'Live like Cipher.'
"All done," Teo murmured to himself, the words barely audible over the renewed roar of the bar. He only knew Cipher for such a short time, a fleeting connection forged in the crucible of Night City's brutal underworld, yet the impact had been enough. Cipher had saved him, putting himself first, taught him a new way to see the Net. This, this piece of art, was the least he could do to honor the poor guy.
The paint's latent glow fully ignited, casting an almost eerie pallor over the surrounding wall. It looked… kind of scary, actually. But in a good way. "Nova," he affirmed, a low, satisfied grunt. Pride warmed him from the inside out.
His moment of artistic contemplation was shattered by a booming voice from below. "The fuck you staring at, choom? Got something on my face!" A burly merc, built like a synth steel fridge and spoiling for a fight, glared up, his optics burning.
Before Teo could respond, another merc, smaller but with an even bigger chip on his shoulder, shoved himself nose to nose with the first. "Yeah, you borged up fuck! It's called shit!" he snarled, pushing the confrontation to the precipice.
Teo's small smile vanished. Mama Welles usually dealt with these types of interactions, her presence alone often enough to quell the rising tides of aggression. But she was away, tending to "birthday preparations" a phrase that usually meant a covert deal or a delicate extraction disguised as a party.
He walked over to the railing, his eyes scanning the two hotheads below. His hand reached down, grabbing an empty, discarded spray can. With a snap of his wrist, he hurled it. The can, a blur of silver, arced through the air and struck the head of the merc who'd yelled first with a dull, wet thwack. The man grunted, a strangled sound, before looking up, his face a mask of bewildered rage. "Who did tha-" he started, his voice choked off.
"Puto madre, you fucks better quit that shit!" Teo's voice, amplified by his internal comms, boomed down, cutting through the bar's ambient noise. "You know the rules, fuckers!"
The two mercs looked at each other, then slowly, nervously, glanced around the room. Every merc, every gankoon, every body sculpted patron, their hands subtly, almost imperceptibly, rested on the holsters of their pistols, the grips of their blades.
Rule number one of the Coyote! Etched into the very soul of the place since its founding, if you're gonna flatline someone, take it outside Coyote grounds. Disturb the peace, and you risk a dozen barrels aimed straight at your face. The two men visibly sweated, their bravado evaporating like morning fog. Yeah, you don't fuck around at the Coyote. People cherished their fragile peace here.
Teo descended the steel stairs that led to the ground floor, each step echoing the sudden silence that had fallen over the main bar. The room, though still crowded, was now filled with familiar chooms and good friends. Mostly Heywood regulars, a diverse tapestry of faces he knew by name, by story, by the sheer number of synth-beers they'd collectively downed.
"Happy birthday, you little shit!" Gary, the burly Valentino lieutenant, boomed, his massive arm slamming around Teo's shoulders. He chuckled, a deep rumble from his chest, a half empty beer bottle clutched in his hand. "Heard you were getting all grown up now, huh? Time for some real chrome."
Just then, the back door swung open with a theatrical flourish, revealing Mama Welles and Jackie. Mama Welles, her arms laden with a large, suspiciously shaped box, beamed, her presence instantly radiating warmth that seemed to chase away the lingering tension. Jackie, equally burdened with a smaller, rectangular box, gave a triumphant grin. It was undoubtedly the synth cake.
Teo, pulled to the bar by Gary, sat down, and Jackie rounded the counter, settling onto the stool beside him. "Hey, hermano, happy birthday!" Jackie's voice was warm, genuine, a contrast to the rough demands he'd barked during their last gig.
Mama Welles, meanwhile, had gracefully unboxed the synth cake, a glistening, multi layered confection that pulsed with artificial neon light, and slid it in front of Teo. It reeked of saccharine sweetness and artificial fruit.
"Thanks, Jack. Tia," Teo mumbled, a genuine smile replacing his earlier pride. Mama Welles leaned over, giving him a quick, affectionate hug, wishing him a happy birthday in her soft, melodic Spanish.
Jackie cleared his throat, a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. "Padre said to wish you happy birthday, too. Apparently, more 6th Street drama is keeping him busy, but..." He paused, drawing out the suspense, before placing a small, velvet lined box on the counter. "He said to give you this."
Teo turned his head, his emerald optics widening slightly. He reached for the box, his fingers brushing the soft velvet. He lifted the lid. Inside, nestled on a small, silk pillow, lay a gleaming golden ring, intricately carved with delicate, almost ancient looking religious symbols. His eyes gleamed. He always liked gold, a connection to the old world luxury in a city of chrome and plastic. He slipped the ring onto his right ring finger. It wasn't bulky, nor was it too skinny, it felt just right, a perfect fit. He giggled. You aren't beating the goblin allegations, Teo.
"Who said that!" He said frantically looking around. Jackie looked confused, but brushed it off.
Jackie smiled, holding out his own hand, revealing a similar, though slightly more worn, golden ring on his own finger. "Ah, same as mine, hermano. Got something similar for my eighteenth, too. A little protection, a little luck."
Mama Welles, still beaming, then nudged a larger, sleeker box towards Teo. "And from your Tia and Jackie, mijo." Her eyes twinkled. "Something to make you even faster out there. We already got a good ripper to slot it in for you tonight."
Teo's eyes widened again. He knew what this meant. He carefully opened the box, revealing a sleek, polished chrome unit nestled within soft foam. It was a Kereznikov Reflex Implant, a medium grade model, brand new, gleaming under the bar lights. Not too high end to flatline a casual choom, but more than enough to give a serious edge in a firefight.
He pulled it out, feeling the cool, alien weight of the chrome in his palm. It was beautiful, a silent promise of enhanced speed, a fraction of a second that could mean the difference between life and death.
Jackie grinned, clapping him on the back again. "Now that's what I call a birthday present, eh, hermano? Next time you're dodging bullets, you'll feel that boost."
A subtle flicker in Jackie's optical implants caught Teo's eye. Jackie's grin faded slightly, replaced by a focused intensity. The gleam in his optics signaled an incoming line call, the kind that meant eddies, and trouble.
He stood up, excusing himself. "Gotta take this. Work related." He moved towards the back door, the heavy metal swinging shut behind him, plunging him into the cool, grimy alleyway.
Outside, the Night City decay permeated the very air. The comm unit crackled, and Rogue Amendiares' voice, smooth as polished chrome, cut through the ambient hum. "Jackie. Militech's got a window, and Arasaka's about to slam it shut. There's chatter about a pre Collapse Black ICE, the real deal, ghost stories come to life, hidden somewhere in the ruins of the Old Zoo in Pacifica. Both sides want it. My clients, Militech, they've got their own team heading there, but Arasaka's got a squad, 'Valkyrie,' that's ahead of the curve. Your job isn't to get the ICE. Your job is to stop Valkyrie. Neutralize them, cripple them, make sure they don't reach that cache. It's a simple, violent objective, clear the path for Militech. Payout's 25k each, no fuss, once 'Valkyrie' is verified as out of play. You have a day to gather a team of five. It's an ambush, Jackie. Make it count."
The comm closed. Jackie let out a long, slow sigh, the weight of the new gig settling onto his broad shoulders. "A team of five, huh." He turned, pushing open the back door, the familiar sounds of the Coyote washing over him. His eyes scanned the room, landing on Teo, still at the bar, nursing a NiCola and a slice of cake.
He approached, sliding back onto the stool beside his young friend. Teo, mouth full of synth cake, noticed Jackie's sudden change in demeanor, the way his shoulders had tensed. "Wassup, goh a gig?" Teo mumbled around a mouthful of cake.
Jackie took a swig of his beer. "Sí, hermano. Padre wasn't kidding about that birthday fortune. Big eddies, even bigger trouble." He leaned in, lowering his voice. "Militech wants us to put a stop to an Arasaka crew, top tier crew, called 'Valkyrie.' They're chasing some legendary Black ICE out in the Old Zoo in Pacifica. Our job is to ambush 'em, make sure they don't get their hands on it. Clear the path for Militech's own teams." He looked at Teo, a direct, assessing gaze. "You good to go out tomorrow? It's an ambush. Gonna need all the edge I can get."
Teo, despite the residual weirdness from the Black ICE art and the novelty of his new chrome, felt a surge of professional duty mixed with a thrill for the challenge. He swallowed his mouthful of cake. "I'm always good to go, Jack. You need three more people right, I can make some calls. Got a couple chooms in mind who'd eat this kinda gig up."
Jackie smiled, a genuine, appreciative flash of teeth. "You do that, chico. I gotta grab some gear, find the rest of the crew, replenish the ammo. I'll resupply your Kenshin as well. That chrome you just got, we'll visit Vik when I get back." He clapped Teo on the shoulder again before heading off, likely to make his own preparations.
Teo was left alone at the noisy bar, his emerald optics reflecting the neon chaos of the Coyote. He pulled up his contact list on his internal OS. "Let's see," he mused, scrolling through names in his 'Mercy bois' category. "Gonna need some vets for this kind of corporate slaughter. Not just muscle, but precision. Brains and brawn."
His eyes landed on Apex's contact. 'Perfect,' he thought, a flicker of appreciation. Apex was as quiet as a grave but hit like a freight train. He tapped the icon.
The comm opened, and Apex's voice, usually calm and calculating, appeared. "Apex here," she stated, her voice flat, devoid of emotion.
"Apex, it's Teo. Got a corpo gig that needs some chooms. You in?" Teo asked, skipping the pleasantries. Corpo gigs always paid well, hard not to accept.
"Context?" she replied, her voice firm, unwavering.
Teo laid it out, brief and to the point. "Militech needs us to flatline an Arasaka crew. Top tier specialists, going after some pre Collapse Black ICE in the old Pacifica Zoo. It's an ambush, pure and simple. Jackie's the lead."
"Hmm." Apex paused for a moment, her eyes, usually piercing, flickered subtly to the right, as if glancing at someone just out of frame. "I'm in. And I have another that's interested as well. Someone I've been training with a sniper, real good shot."
Teo's lips curled into a faint smirk. Apex and a sharpshooter? Perfect. "Got it. That leaves one more. Thanks, Apex. Meet at the Coyote at 0800 sharp." He cut the line, already scrolling through his list once more.
His eyes hovered over the name 'Maine.' 'Worth a shot,' he thought, even knowing Maine was usually tied up with his own crew. He had done some data digging for this crew multiple times, Maine always hooked him up. He gave it a ring.
The comm opened, and Maine's massive, imposing face filled Teo's vision. "Teo, been a while, choom. Heard some rumors. Making some big moves huh." His voice was a gruff rumble.
"Sup, Maine. Yeah, living the dream, dodging the flatline. Got a corpo gig slot open, you down?" Teo asked, stuffing another piece of cake into his mouth.
Maine chuckled, a sound like grinding gears. "Can't, choom. Tied up with some personal biz, deep in the Badlands. But..." he paused, a knowing look in his eye. "I got a reliable crew member just coming off a break. Rebecca. You remember her? The short one."
Teo almost choked on his cake, a wide grin splitting his face. "Yeah, The crazy chica with the huge guns? Rebecca? She's available?" The thought of Rebecca's energy and brutal firepower was almost too good to be true.
"The one and only," Maine confirmed. "She's been itching for some action. I'll send her your info. Tell her to give you a call. She'll be down. She always is."
Teo nodded, taking a swig of his favorite Nicola. "Appreciate it, Maine. Stay safe out there." The comm cut.
Mere minutes later, Teo's comm unit flared with an incoming call from an unregistered number. He answered.
"TEO! MAINE SAID YOU GOT WORK?!" Rebecca's voice exploded through his comm, a high pitched, almost manic shriek that made him wince, even with his audio dampeners. He could practically hear the twitching. 'Jeez woman!'
"Yeah, Bex. Militech, Arasaka, zoo, ambush, big eddies. You in?" Teo asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
"AMBUSH?! ARASAKA?! SYNTH CAKE?!" Rebecca shrieked again, and Teo was pretty sure he heard the distinct sound of something very large and very breakable shattering in the background on her end. 'Wait Synth cake he didn-' "YOU BET YOUR ASS I'M IN, TEO! I'VE BEEN SO BORED MY FISTS ARE ITCHING TO MEET SOME CORPO MEAT! WHEN?! WHERE DO I KILL?!"
"Eight AM tomorrow. Coyote," Teo said, rubbing his temple. "Just... try not to get injured or something between now and then, okay, Bex?"
"NO PROMISES! HAHAHAHA!" she cackled, and the line went dead.
Teo slowly lowered his comm unit. He took a deep breath, the noise of the bar now seeming comforting in comparison to Rebecca's unbridled enthusiasm. He pulled up his internal comms again, sending a quick, concise message to Jackie.
A/N: Sorry if this chapter is kinda choppy my brain feels like its goona explode rn.