22.8

January 18, 2070, 0802

Watson, Konpeki Plaza, Service Entrance

"Wealth," they say, "is just a word." But when it materializes into a luxury hotel that's the epitome of style and extravagance, it becomes something palpable. Crystal Moss had left the kids in the care of Mama Welles, vowing to settle the score within a week. Mama Welles was no charity worker, and it's not like the kids had homes waiting for them. Going back would guarantee a one-way ticket into the clutches of Arasaka enforcers or Kendachi elite goons.

Crystal's idea started simple: hustle a few Corporate Exec for some high-grade eddie extraction. The first phase was child's play, but the second required a specific kind of mark. No celebs, ideally those new to the big leagues but not too powerful.

Infiltrating the hotel turned out to be easier than expected. For an opulent establishment, the security was rudimentary – mere biometrics mixed with a rotating date-time cypher-key stamp. They’d surely upgrade to something more sophisticated after her charity work.

Slipping into the service level laundry for the wait staff took only a fraction of a second. Crystal snatched a laundry bag, her visage morphing into that of an unassuming middle-aged woman, a face that could blend in anywhere. The arcane tech of Many Faces eldritch invocation worked like a charm. Hitting the Warlock Fifteen level had brought many benefits and this was the best in Crystal’s opinion. Disguise Self covered her in the right uniform, complete with the trivialities and even keys. The keys wouldn’t function, but they provided a cover for her On/Off cantrip. Thus cloaked, she entered the manager’s office with stealth and dosed her with vampiric venom. As the older woman's eyes rolled back and a loose smile played across her face, it was go-time.

Her venom had been carefully tested to incapacitate for up to eight hours. Crystal wasn’t concerned about the manager's awakening as she bundled her into the laundry bag and set it in a nearby cloth bin. Adjusting her features and attire was a breeze, transforming her into the supervisor. Her form was a tad off, but that would be resolved with her final eldritch invocation, once she had it.

Now, infiltrating the rest of the hotel was a cinch. The real prize, though, lay in accessing the manager's computer with her biometric credentials. Eye scans couldn't counter her face-shifting spell. Once inside the computer, Crystal established a wireless link allowing F.F. to use her body as a conduit. As the virtuoso ninja chicken Netrunner entered the system, it took several minutes to extract a comprehensive list of staff and guests. The hotel’s cybersecurity was leagues ahead of other targets they had infiltrated before, probably due to ties with the nearby Arasaka Waterfront.

"The rooms are bugged?" Crystal mused as audio files rolled across her vision. "These special service staff must be honey traps. Enticing rich patrons into their opulent rooms, seducing them into boasting while lost in passion. One of the oldest plays in the game. Arasaka scores easy intel, and the hotel gets a shadowy backer to handle troubles."

Crystal noted the high number of male and female staff who had been 'retired'. Many of them were likely mind-wiped and dispatched to less savory locales, following the corporate wastefulness-be-damned doctrine.

If they were fortunate.

The unlucky ones probably ended up in labs, insatiable for flesh and blood, churning out state-of-the-art tech on a bedrock of corpses.

"Selling to both sides? The owner's got some serious gonks." Crystal muttered while F.F. sifted through the system, extracting less guarded intel. Militech and Arasaka both received laundry shipments. At least they had the situation in the bag, right?

Checking the HUD clock, Crystal saw she had an hour before her next patrol. Settling down, she browsed through the profiles of the current hotel guests.

She wasn’t about to honey trap any of them – too many variables. Although she favored women for easier braindance connections, she wasn’t completely prejudiced now. A good Mr. Stud in skilled hands could hit all the right spots. Judy had proven that before getting iced. The real deal wouldn’t be any worse – likely the hottest chip for night-time escapades.

"No guy would want to underperform in bed, after all," Crystal smirked, her eyes scrolling through the data.

A short list of viable marks emerged from the current guest list. Crystal's frown deepened as she realized that pulling off the job today wouldn't be the smart move. It took her a beat, but the solution soon became obvious. Crystal's eyes gleamed crimson as she shot a cold glance at the laundry bag concealing the supervisor. Rising, she slaked her thirst. It took but a moment to reseal the laundry bag and toss it into the waste disposal bin.

Her initial plan had to pivot, requiring her to assume the supervisor's role for an extended period. Unfortunate for the manager, but considering the number of people she had "retired," Crystal figured she got off light.

It wasn't difficult to cobble together a checklist of duties from the managing service level supervisor's responsibilities. Make a round every two hours for twelve hours, then clock out for the night. A typical wage slave shift from 0800 to 2000. That would leave her a window of four hours to make an exit and a few tweaks.

Crystal had F.F. scour the list of ripperdocs for a particular name – Viktor Vektor, a reputable name in Noir City. She needed chrome, but not for combat. Instead, for aerial acrobatics. Subdermal wings that would let her leap from staggering heights and plummet safely at breakneck speeds. A touch of vampiric magic would allow her to graft the chrome directly into her bones, while flesh manipulation would keep them concealed until needed.

Attaining Nobility, as she understood it, meant that the chrome would assimilate into her being. She'd lose the wings but retain the power of flight – a transmutation of form to function. Magic was a peculiar beast, even more so when dealing with an Eldritch Patron, a Great Old One, like Eve. The inexplicable became plausible.

The ensuing hours were monotonous – patrol, correcting staff errors, citing two workers for getting frisky in the freezers, and studying the staff manual. Konpeki Plaza may have been a haven for its guests, but for the staff, it was a migraine in the making. Fortunately, the day ended, and Crystal headed for Viktor's clinic.

Arriving at the address via Combat Cab, she paused to double-check. Misty's Esoterica was apparently the storefront for Viktor's practice. As she entered, a young woman at the counter fixed her with an intense stare for several long moments before heading into the back, presumably to fetch the doc. It struck Crystal as odd.

Her eyes narrowed as Crystal abruptly summoned F.F., letting the spectral chicken perch on her left shoulder. She was testing a hunch that was confirmed when the young woman returned, freezing like a mouse in the presence of a predator. "So, you can sense her power? Interesting," Crystal murmured.

"H-Hello, I'm M-Misty," the young woman stammered, her eyes riveted on Crystal's left shoulder. "Y-Your aura is v-very d-dark."

"Show yourself, stop spooking the normies," Crystal ordered, scratching F.F. under the chin. Her spiritual chicken netrunning ninja shot her a look that said, "This better come with grub."

The tension evaporated as the chicken materialized on Crystal's shoulder. "Oh, she's so beautiful," Misty enthused, landing a direct hit.

Internally, Crystal was dumbstruck, though she showed no signs of it, even as her treacherous chicken betrayed her again. Misty produced a canister of top-tier grubs from beneath the counter and promptly offered them up in the name of appeasement. Looking at the shop that sold everything from shrunken heads to tarot cards explained the critters on tap.

Before Crystal could comment, Viktor emerged from the back. Her gaze drifted appreciatively over the handsome middle-aged man, her efforts to reclaim her fickle pet forgotten. He took in the scene and admonished Misty, "Don't feed other people's pets. If you overstuff them and they kick the bucket, guess who's footing the bill? Organic pets are pricey stuff, worse than real beef!"

F.F. shot him a glare that clearly said, "I've got a bottomless pit for a stomach, so don't try to cut me off, choom."

Viktor shot a side glance, avoiding a brawl he couldn't win. It looked like his boxing instincts were as sharp as ever. His gaze slid to where Crystal stood, a smear of shadow amidst the neon haze. "Heard from Misty there’s someone needin’ my touch?”

Crystal smirked, partially lowering the Shadow Shroud with a fluid flex of willpower, "That'd be me. Need some bespoke tweaks, choom. Your rep's buzzing in the dark alleys. Solid. Reliable. Cheap." The stealth effect she just dismissed was the handiwork of One with all Shadows and her unique vampiric resistance to electromagnetics. Even in dim lights, she became a ghost, but here she was – out of the shadows after tailing Kendachi. Practicing this new trick had taken a chunk of time. It was worth it though, to avoid trouble by hiding in plain sight.

For edgerunners in the know, it looked like she just switched off premium-grade stealth gear. Viktor’s eyes practically flashed with eurodollars. To be a Solo with such tech meant you were top-tier – and rich. An answer without a question.

“Custom chops come with a price tag, darling,” Viktor smirked, rubbing his thumb and fingers together.

"Bit light on eddies, but I’m up for some side gigs if you’ve got a score to settle. Maybe knock off a bit of that price," Crystal shot back. Her intel told her about Viktor’s Scavenger problems; though the Scavs wouldn’t dare touch him with Margarita, the local fixer and her team, being his regulars.

Viktor, throwing a knowing glance at Misty playing with F.F., mused, "Might have some gigs for someone of your... specialty. Let's shift this chat to the clinic."

As they moved, Crystal noted the clinic's chrome shine. A cleaner bot whizzed by, its circuits humming softly, keeping the place spotless.

“Park it here,” Viktor motioned to a sleek med-chair, the glow from its interface painting him in a soft blue.

She obliged, her instincts buzzing as she felt a probing scan bounce off her Veil, returning nada.

Peeking over his glasses, Viktor whistled, “Top-shelf tech. Think you can drop the curtain?”

“Maybe, but we haven’t got that doc-patient bond yet, right?” Crystal shot back; eyebrow arched in challenge.

Viktor chuckled, “Always transparent with my peeps. But I got to know who’s getting into my chair. So, I take a shot before everything is solid. All cool?”

Crystal, amused, retorted, “You got some cojones, scanning prospects. How many of your would-be client’s bolt?”

Viktor shrugged, "The ones that freak? Aren’t the kind of clientele I’m keen on.” She got it - this was his way of vetting clients.

Leaning forward, Crystal asked, "Alright, what's the gig, doc?"

"You got a level you like to play at?" Viktor countered with a sly grin.

"Keep it below bustin' into Arasaka or Militech fortresses, and I’m game. So, what’s the sitch, doc – wet work or dry?" Crystal queried nonchalantly, eyes darting across the contract that flickered in her visual view. A few swipes, and it was signed, sealed, and pinged back to Viktor.

Viktor took a long, measured look at her, trying to read the game behind her cool facade. "You for real?"

"Always real when eddies are involved, choom," Crystal drawled, her voice dripping with boredom as she idly traced the patterns of neon light dancing in her palm.

Viktor leaned in, voice low, "You’re sayin’ you can handle corpo-level ops, just short of Arasaka or Militech?”

"Got a problem with that?" Crystal's smirk returned, her crimson eyes glinting behind her shades.

Viktor shook his head slowly, "No, no problem. I've got a job that’s right up your alley. You up for extractin' a high-level techie from a Biotechnica lab?"

Crystal nodded, "You got my attention. What’s the score?"

"Two-hundred large on delivery," Viktor replied, confidence seeping back into his voice.

"That includes my little bit of custom work, right?" Crystal checked.

"It does indeed," Viktor quickly responded.

"Can I get the work done first?" Crystal asked curious as she, stretching out her legs in the medical chair. "In return I'll take your little techie out of their chrome cage within the week unless you need it faster?"

"Call him a 'little techie' if you like, but word on the street is, he's got data on a new biochip that’s worth a fortune. Keep your wits about you," Viktor warned.

Crystal raised an eyebrow, "A fortune, huh? Lucky we already have a deal."

"We do." Viktor gritted his teeth, "Not a eurodollar more. This techie, his name's Angel. Be careful; Biotechnica won’t give him up easily."

Crystal’s eyes flickered as she visualized the Biotechnica lab pulled by F.F. from the company’s own server. A smile crossed her lips as the challenge of the extraction ignited a thrill within her. "Two hundred thousand and custom work it is. You better have those eddies ready, choom. I’ll bring you your Angel. Or put them at a drop off if that’s what you want."

“Deliver them here, please.” Viktor said as he extended his hand, and they shook on the deal. Crystal felt the weight of the impending operation settling in, but she relished it. The work was extremely lucrative, but it also wasn’t backed by anything other than reputation.

Crystal had a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. As a Noir City alumina, she had tricks up her sleeve that made extraction gigs a breeze. Judy’s situation provided the perfect way out. Drop the target in a cryo-coffin, stash it in a secure dimensional dungeon, and then it was all about the waiting game until delivery time. A very smooth route to payday.

"Anythin' else on your plate, doc?" Crystal asked, her smile wattage going up a notch. "I'm in a generous mood with this cake of a gig on the horizon."

Viktor rubbed his neck, hesitating. Crystal picked up on it. The old ripperdoc had a problem, one he was reluctant to voice. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head. But it was no big secret, really – Viktor had issues with some local choppers, chop shops specializing in illegal cyberware extraction. Sharing that tidbit with her was as good as signing their death warrants. Yet, with Misty in the shop, vulnerable, Viktor decided to gamble on her.

Finally, Viktor spilled it. "I got some trouble with choppers."

Crystal took off her shades and pinned Viktor with her blood-red eyes. The air was thick with tension, and the silence stretched on. Finally, she said, “Send me their names. I'll sort it out. No way Fluffyfeathers would let me live it down if I let her grub supply get cut off."

Viktor gave a terse nod, and a list of names materialized on Crystal’s optics. She relayed it to F.F. with a message – these were potential threats to Misty. In return, she got an image of a three-toed foot stomping on grasshoppers and then gobbling them up.

Death by chicken – swift and brutal.

Planning took the better part of half an hour, with Viktor suggesting an bat theme for her upgrades. She examined the wings, sleek and vampiric, and shrugged. Even magic had to play by some rules, it seemed.

Installation took an hour and a half. Crystal dropped her Shroud just enough for Viktor to get accurate readings for the procedure. She had no concerns about any funny business with F.F. keeping watch. As Viktor began to put her under, F.F. materialized on his desk, eyeing him intently.

"Seen weirder audience in my time," Viktor remarked with a shrug as he noticed the watcher just as Crystal's world went dark.

Waking up came with a pang of thirst, a hunger for blood that she hadn't felt in ages. She found Viktor, furrowed brow glued to his screen, analyzing her readings. "We all good, doc?" Crystal asked, her voice raspy.

"Yeah, yeah, you're all good," Viktor replied absent-mindedly, still engrossed in his screen. "Your vitals are a bit wonky, but nothing alarming."

"Wouldn't be worried about your vitals, either, if you reeked of fear and curiosity like that," Crystal remarked, glancing at Fluffyfeathers. When the chicken gave a disapproving shake of its head, she relaxed. Viktor hadn’t taken any samples. No harm, no foul.

Crystal summoned the Shadow Shroud, making sure it blended seamlessly with the ambient energy. If a kid could pick up on her presence, who knew what other talents were lurking in the vast expanse of Noir City?

She got dressed from the neat pile on the filing cabinet and said, "Off to handle your chopper problem. Might torch their den while I'm at it."

Viktor nodded absently; his attention still fixed on the screen.

Shaking her head, Crystal made her way upstairs to Misty’s shop. Misty didn’t have that haunted look anymore, her eyes not registering the same dread.

"Better?" Crystal inquired, sizing up Misty, who nodded in approval. "Much better. Like a shadow, not some strange specter of death and blood. Hell of an aura you got there."

"Yep. Aura control, one of my talents," Crystal lied effortlessly, eyes on Fluffyfeathers as the chicken devoured the last grub. She banished the spirit chicken and turned to Misty. "How much for the grubs?"

"Two-hundred eddies," Misty said, a wide grin plastered on her face.

Crystal sighed and handed over a sizable chunk of her hard-earned eddies. "Devil demon chicken, that’s what she is," Crystal muttered as she left the shop and called a Combat Cab to pick her up. Losing the Delmain cabs was annoying, but it was only a matter of time before she solved the issue.

As the Combat Cab took off towards Japantown, Westbrook Crystal's mind turned to her new ride. The drop point of her new ride was “Skyline and Salinas” giving her just enough time to speed back to the hotel and sleep like a good little employee.