Teo stood there, swaying almost imperceptibly, his gaze fixed on the wall splattered with Big G's final thoughts, the vibrant crimson a grotesque modern art piece. He was so lost in the swirling vortex of his own mind, in the cold, analytical hum of the creation, that he barely registered Angel stepping closer. The faint, rhythmic pulse beneath his scalp throbbed in sync with his pounding heart.
"Teo?" Angel's voice, surprisingly soft, cut through the haze, a lifeline from the real world. She reached out, her hand hovering near his shoulder, then dropping, a gesture of concern held back by years of merc discipline. "You're... zoning out, choom. And you're shaking."
He snapped back to reality, the world rushing back in with dizzying speed. He blinked, forcing his optics to focus, and met her gaze. He saw the concern in her chrome eyes, the subtle furrow of her brow, uncharacteristic for her usual stoicism.
"Nah, just… the usual. Adrenaline dump," he mumbled, dismissing it with a weak shrug, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue. The tremor in his left hand intensified, an insistent vibration he couldn't quite quell. He quickly extended the hand holding the humming collar. "Here. The prize."
Angel took the collar, her fingers brushing his. Her gaze lingered on his trembling hand for a beat too long, but she just gave a curt nod, her expression unreadable. As she pocketed the collar, Teo's mind was already elsewhere.
He moved towards Big G's mangled corpse, the 'creation' humming with renewed purpose, a hungry digital beast scenting data. He knelt, bypassing the brute's basic optic lock with a swift, internal command, directly accessing his personal terminal. 'Cash. Data. Anything.' Teo swiftly siphoned $2,300 eddies from Big G's account, a paltry sum for a gang leader, but every eddy counted.
He also found a few low tier data shards, some encrypted comms logs, a garish synth porn clip, and an old, cracked schematic for a joytoy bot with questionable modifications. Nothing fancy, just typical gang garbage. Every click of data transfer sent a faint thrum through his skull, the 'creation' greedily absorbing the incidental information.
"Alright, that's everything," Teo said, wiping his brow with the back of his trembling hand, his head still pounding. He tossed the loot into his utility pouch.
They moved through the carnage of the scrapyard, leaving the dead and the broken chrome behind. The classic Night City air tasted thick with the metallic tang of aftermath, a morbid perfume of blood and burnt circuits.
They found Angel's ride, a sleek Mizutani Shion MZ1, waiting just beyond the perimeter fence, its dark paint shimmering under the distant city lights. Teo slid into the passenger seat, the synth leather was a welcome relief against his sweat soaked back.
Angel hopped in, her eyes immediately flicking to his hands, resting on his lap. He clasped them together, trying to hide the insistent tremors that now ran through his entire body.
"You're still shaking, Teo," she observed, her voice quiet, not accusing, just stating a fact. She started the engine, the MZ1 purring to life, its internal humming a stark contrast to the thrumming in Teo's skull.
He looked at her, his emerald eyes meeting her steady gaze. She looked... genuinely worried. It was a raw, unfiltered emotion that pulled at something guarded deep inside him. There was a moment there, the kind that stretched and blurred the harsh edges of Night City, a silent understanding passing between them in the soft glow of the dash.
He felt a weird vulnerability, an unfamiliar pull to open up, but he just swallowed the words, the 'creation' a silent, observing presence in the back of his mind, its cool logic advising discretion.
They drove in silence to the drop off point, an overflowing dumpster behind a neon scarred diner in Rancho Coronado. The scent of stale grease and overflowing refuse hung heavy in the air.
Angel cut the engine. "Stay here," she said, her voice flat, but her eyes held a deeper message. "I'll handle Wheezy. No need for both of us to smell like dead gonks." She gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod, a gesture of trust, then slid out of the car.
As Angel walked towards the shadows where Wheezy, a stooped figure who looked more like a heap of old rags than a fixer, awaited, Teo felt a sharp, pulsating pain erupt behind his optics. His entire body gave an involuntary jerk, a full body tremor that rattled his teeth. He clenched his jaw, pressing his trembling left hand hard against his forehead, trying to push back against the agony.
'What the fuck was that?! Why am I shaking like this? The pain…' Teo's frantic thoughts screamed internally, his mind a maelstrom of confusion and rising panic.
The 'creation's' voice, cool and analytical, filled his mind, cutting through the agony with surgical precision. "Inefficient usage. The process of perception, combined with lethal augmentation through the vessel's cyberware... it creates friction. Overdrive... Overuse. The conduit is... stressed."
'Overuse? So, this… this is what happens when I use your help?' Teo thought, a desperate edge to his mental tone, the pain a brutal reminder of his new, terrifying reality.
"Theory... Repeated, rapid integration of lethal quickhacks through the vessel's systems creates undue neural strain. Optimal performance requires... regulation. It suggests... a few direct infusions per standard day. Or extending intervals. The conduit must retain integrity for continued perception."
Teo clutched his trembling hand, watching it shake, then forced it flat against his thigh, trying to ground himself. 'Fuck,' he thought, the single word echoing the bitter realization. This power, this connection, it was a double edged razor, carving efficiency but also carving into him.
He looked at his shaking hands, the phantom pain in his skull. The price was steep. He was a goddamn battery, and the 'creation' was drawing too much juice. 'So if I regulate my usage on the 'creation', the pain goes away? Like high end cyberware, to much use and you might end up hurting yourself.' He thought, this had to be it.
Just then, Angel slid back into the car, a small data shard in her hand. She tucked it away, then turned to him, her face a neutral mask, but her right eye gave a quick, almost imperceptible flicker, a tiny nervous tic that Teo noticed only now, a tell of her own discomfort.
"Soooo," she began, a hint of something softer in her voice. "That was... a job. You wanna grab a bite? Post gig tradition. My treat." She looked... sheepish, like the suggestion was pulling her out of her comfort zone, her usual cool facade momentarily cracking.
Teo hesitated for a moment, the throbbing behind his eyes a dull ache now, fading slightly, a cruel trick of the 'creation's' withdrawal. He looked at her, really looked at her. Her small, almost shy gesture. He thought of his little dungeon under the coyote... Yeah not where he wanted to be right now. "Yeah," he said, a genuine smile, small but real, breaking through his exhaustion. "Yeah, I could eat."
"Preem. There's this spot, 'El Comal,' a few blocks from here. Best street tacos in Santo." Angel's nervous tic in her eye vanished, replaced by a subtle easing of her shoulders. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh of relief escaped her. She put the car in drive, pulling away from the alley, heading deeper into the heart of Santo Domingo.
They found El Comal tucked between two derelict warehouses, a small, brightly lit stand with a few worn out picnic tables scattered haphazardly on the cracked pavement. The air was thick with the intoxicating scent of sizzling carne asada, charred onions, and warm, freshly pressed tortillas, a delicious assault on the senses that almost made Teo forget the phantom metallic taste in his mouth.
Loud, pulsing reggaeton competed with the distant rumble of the monorail overhead, and the chatter of the handful of late-night regulars blended into a comforting drone. They chose a small, relatively secluded table against a graffiti covered wall, bathed in the lurid glow of a neon 'TACOS' sign.
The rhythmic sizzle from the grill was a grounding sound. They ate for a few minutes in comfortable silence, the initial tension between them slowly dissolving with each bite of the savory, greasy tacos. The brutal echoes of the gig's violence, a residue that usually clung to Teo long after the last bullet fired, felt... muted, almost distant, as if the vibrant flavors of the food somehow filtered the memories. The simple, honest warmth of the taqueria created a shared space of exhaustion and camaraderie that felt impossible in Night City.
Teo took a generous bite of his taco, savoring the richness. "Damn, this is good," he mumbled around a mouthful, the words half pleasure, half surprise. "Never been down this deep into Santo for food."
Angel nodded, her expression softening around the edges as she chewed. "Best tacos in the district. Place looks like a dump, but the food's straight preem. Always worth the detour after a... long night." Her eyes met his, a flicker of shared understanding passing between them. "So, you gonna finish that or just stare at it?" she teased gently, gesturing with her chin at his plate.
A small, genuine smile touched Teo's lips. "Just appreciating the finer things, Angel. Don't get many of those in our line of work, right?" He took another bite, the warmth spreading through him.
The headache behind his eyes had receded to a dull throb, and the tremors in his hands were less noticeable now, perhaps dulled by the food and the quiet presence beside him. The 'creation' inside him was a distant hum, a low, satisfied resonance that didn't demand attention, simply observed.
"Nah, not really," Angel agreed, leaning back against the wall, her posture relaxed. "Most gigs end with more blood than eddies. Or too many questions. This one was... straightforward. Get the collar. Zero the gonks." She took a sip of her synth cola, her gaze thoughtful.
"You know, Big G's face when his dog short circed.. almost felt bad for the chump. Almost." A brief, almost imperceptible twitch, her nervous tic, flickered in her right eye, a stark contrast to the casual indifference in her tone.
Teo chuckled, a short, dry sound. "Yeah, that was... something. Guess he learned the hard way not to mess with Wheezy's lucky charm." He didn't mention the 'creation's' direct influence, the unnatural lethality that had turned a simple quickhack into a miniature explosion. He just let the implication hang in the air. "Guess that makes us good luck charms now, huh?"
Angel snorted, a small laugh escaping her. "Don't know about that. More like bad news for anyone who gets in our way. Just gotta aim true." She wiped a smear of salsa from the corner of her mouth, a simple, human gesture. As she did, a stray strand of her dark, raven hair fell across her face. She reached up, pushing it back behind her ear with a casual, almost unconscious movement.
Teo found himself staring. Her arm, sleek with a subtle sheen of chrome, moved with a fluid grace. The way her fingers brushed her temple, the slight tilt of her head. For a fleeting second, the noise of the taqueria faded. His thoughts momentarily scattered like loose shards, his mind a blank, save for the image of her, real and unburdened by the city's usual grimace.
The faint, low hum of the 'creation' within him almost seemed to quiet, as if captivated by the raw, human connection unfolding before it, observing something new. He quickly snapped out of it, a flush creeping up his neck, warmth spreading through his chest, a feeling not entirely unpleasant, but utterly foreign. He quickly grabbed another taco, trying to look casual. 'Nah, no way, stop it Meteo, NO!' He thought to himself, pinching his thigh under the table.
"So, Teo," Angel began again, her voice a low murmur against the street noise, her gaze distant for a moment before returning to him, the warmth in her eyes lingering from their shared quiet. "You've got a rep for being... Jackie Welles's cousin. Big shoes to fill, huh?" Her tone was softer now, tinged with a genuine curiosity.
Teo let out a dry, self deprecating chuckle. "Tell me about it. Always 'Jackie's cousin.' Like I ain't my own man. People expect you to be some kind of chrome plated behemoth, roaring through walls. It's... a lot."
He took a long swig of synth cola, the cool fizz a welcome distraction. "But yeah, he was preem. Taught me a lot, even if he did it mostly by being a cautionary tale. He always told me to make my own path, but also... to be smart. Stay alive. Hard to do both sometimes, you know?"
"Yeah, I know," Angel agreed, her voice barely a whisper. "What about you, Angel? Heard whispers you're Apex's protégé. That true?" he asked, trying to shift the focus back, but his curiosity was genuine.
Angel's expression softened, a subtle shift in her hardened features. Her right eye gave another tiny, barely noticeable flicker. "Yeah. My folks... they got were...flatlined in a skirmish when I was just a kid. Before I even knew what a skirmish really was. Just civvies caught in the crossfire in Arroyo. No one gave a damn, no justice, nothing."
Her voice tightened, the usual flat tone gaining an almost imperceptible tremor, a hint of raw, old pain. "This city... it eats you alive if you're not ready, not armed. After that, it was just... drifting. Ran with some street kids, stealing scraps, fighting for food, just trying to survive the next day. Every day felt like a lifetime." She pushed a piece of carne aside with her fork, her eyes, usually cold and calculating, held a far off, almost haunted look, distant with the weight of memory.
"Until Apex found me." Her hand, resting on the table, gave a small, involuntary clench, a memory of the harsh lessons. "Saw something in me, I guess. Thought I had potential. She wasn't... easy. Apex is tough. She's seen every kind of horror this city can dish out. She taught me how to shoot, how to move through shadows like they're part of you, how to anticipate the blade before it even leaves the sheath. How to predict the next bullet, the next hit. Taught me to be invisible, then how to make myself felt." Her voice held a quiet reverence for her mentor, a deep, ingrained understanding of the raw, brutal calculus of survival in Night City. "She made me lethal, Teo. Made me survive. If I'm cold, efficient, it's because she forged me that way."
Teo listened, his gaze softening, a flicker of empathy in his vivid green eyes. He pushed his half eaten plate aside, the connection to her story more potent than any food. "Yeah," he began, his voice a low, confessional tone, shedding the sarcasm he usually wore like a second skin. "I get that, Angel. More than you know." He took a deep breath, the scent of sizzling meat and stale beer suddenly feeling heavier, more real.
"My father was gone before I was even old enough to remember his face. Just my mother and Tia Mama Welles, raising us in Heywood. That district... it teaches you quick. You either adapt or get flatlined. Me and Jackie… always getting into trouble. He was older, saw the world, always pushing me to be more than just another Heywood kid, always dragging me into his half baked schemes that usually ended with us running from something, usually Valentino muscle." A small, genuine smile touched his lips as he remembered Jackie's loud laughter, his booming presence, his endless supply of wild ideas that always seemed to land them in hilarious, dangerous trouble.
"But I was always drawn to the net, though. Even when I was a kid, hiding in the code felt safer than the streets. A different kind of wild out there, a quiet chaos. I'd spend hours diving through junk data, looking for anything. Old files, forgotten programs. Just digging, digging, seeing what I could find." He paused, lost in thought, the faint, low hum of the 'creation' a steady presence in his mind, observing his memories. The thing was watching, he felt it.
"I started doing small gigs for the Valentinos, just data digging, net searches, deep dives. Never in person, though. Never thought I'd be out here, getting my hands dirty like this." He motioned vaguely to the city beyond the neon glow, the neon bleeding into the night sky, its light pollution a constant reminder of the sprawling metropolis. "Being behind the screen, that was my comfort zone. My way of being 'useful' without getting bullet holes."
"Jackie, he ran with the V's for a bit, before my time. He was a loyal kinda choom, but he had a line. He told me he was done with it after some argument with a higher up, a real snake of a dude trying to pull him into something he didn't like. Something about forcing people into chrome they didn't want, or pushing some kinda shady sim onto unwilling gonks. Jackie, he just... walked. Cut ties. Decided to be a real merc. Made his own name, forged his own path, loud and proud, always telling me 'Go big, Teo, or go home.' That was his mantra."
Teo looked up, his eyes meeting hers, a rare, light in them. "I... I followed him out, figured if he could do it, so could I. Wanted my own name to mean something, you know? Not just 'Jackie's cousin.' Wanted to make my own legend. Guess I'm still trying." The raw ambition and the subtle fear of not living up to a legend, of becoming just another footnote, were palpable in his voice.
Angel chuckled softly, a rare, genuine sound that crinkled the corners of her chrome eyes, making them seem warmer, more human, a stark contrast to the cold precision she wore during a gig.
Teo found himself staring again, mesmerized for a fleeting second, the laughter a pure, unburdened sound in the grimy Night City night. His eyes widened a smidge, his thoughts momentarily scattering like loose shards. He quickly snapped out of it, a flush creeping up his neck, warmth spreading through his chest, a feeling he had experienced before, a feeling he didn't quite like. 'FUCK! FUCK! NO! Not again.' He pinched even harder.
"Yeah, this life... it kinda grabs you, doesn't it?" Angel mused, looking into the distance, then back at him. Her earlier nervous tic in her eye was gone, replaced by a thoughtful calm. "Hard to find people who get it, sometimes. People who aren't just gonna use you. Or chew you up and spit you out, leave you bleeding on the chrome."
Teo nodded, picking at a loose thread on his jacket, he paused thinking if he should 'reveal' one of things he hated to talk about. He folded. "Tell me about it. Been a couple years since my last serious thing. Ended… messy. Toxic. She was real good at playing mind games, always trying to control everything, twisting every damn thing you said into a weapon. Made me feel like I was just another piece on her board, another program she could run, something to be optimized and commanded." He hadn't realized he was going to say that, He didn't like it... He was to far in now, fuck it. He continued.
"Haven't really bothered since. Too much hassle for too little payout, you know? Not worth the neural drain." A dry, sweaty self deprecating chuckle escaped him.
There was a shared understanding in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the scars they both carried, visible and invisible, from a life that demanded a price. The city hummed around them, indifferent, but for a moment, bathed in the lurid glow of a neon taco sign, they weren't alone in it.
Teo sweated, his composure almost broken. He didn't like talking about his past relationship, ever since it ended he vowed never to talk about it. He hated being vulnerable, talking about... fucking feelings, UH GROSS! In the end he folded... She made him fold.
'Fuck'