21.4

January 2, 2070, at 1328
The Glen Metro: North Line, Car #6

Crystal had slipped into the Metro at the last moment, her fare for a monthly pass secured by the generous mercy payment of two hundred Eurodollars from Padre. Courtesy of her Shadow Armor, which turned her outfit into an eerie Halloween costume, most passengers barely glanced in her direction. "Isn't it amusing how less attention you get when you try to stand out?" Nota, her Eldritch AI companion, quipped as she arranged her Sgt. Fluffyfeathers backpack on her chest. Crystal chuckled, organizing her belongings comfortably and replying, "The world makes little sense."

The metro car, a refined fusion of steel and glass, was saturated with the subtle scent of ozone entwined with the artificial bouquet of synthetic flowers. This was a futile effort to mask the potent city odors. Yet, fortified with her enhanced senses, Crystal threaded through this olfactory labyrinth with nonchalance, unearthing concealed gang signs beneath a veil of tranquility. Her lips curved in a serene smile, resilient against the stench of humanity. She hadn’t noticed such things before feeding, but now they were sharp against her vampiric senses.

A symphony of pulsating holographic advertisements serenaded the car's interior, their vibrant hues dancing rhythmically against the chrome-dressed glass surfaces. Tempting offers of cybernetic enhancements and transcendental braindance experiences ensnared passengers in their hypnotic pull. Crystal, however, found this bombardment of information more of an annoyance as she dove into this rainbow of data.

Due to the afternoon sun's rays, subtle bands of neon etched into the ceiling cast a faint glow on the assorted faces of city inhabitants below. Illuminated by the blazing orb overhead, their faces formed a vibrant tapestry rich with concealed secrets, latent desires, and unfulfilled dreams. Chrome glinted in reflected echoes of the metallic city’s heart.

Gracefully, Crystal descended onto an ergonomic bench, it's surface a sheet of midnight-black synthetic leather that seemed to embrace her with a palpable coolness. As she reclined, the bar responded, morphing to cradle her form perfectly. If there was one thing the city Metro did right, it was air-con. No matter the temperature outside, the cars would be chilled.

Embedded within each backrest were strips of LED lights, casting a soft glow. This gentle illumination danced on Crystal's costume, ending her with an otherworldly charm that harmonized with the futuristic design of the metro car.

Glancing up, she saw that behind sliding doors were overhead storage compartments, a labyrinth secured by complex electronic locks. Branded with assorted logos and cryptic warnings, they unveiled interiors with charging ports for personal devices and cyberware at a glance.

The broad panoramic window to her left offered fleeting snapshots of the city's searing expanse. Adjacent to the doors, interactive display panels broadcasted the next station, intricate train routes, and anticipated arrival times. Advertising and news overlays spun a complex web of updates, weather forecasts, and local advertisements, embellishing the everyday transit details and blending subtly with the cityscape beyond. As the metro car vaulted into the simmering afternoon light, the rhythmic hum of the train spread to Crystal’s enhanced hearing.

"Time to check the gig list," Crystal announced, settling comfortably. Despite its reputation as a battleground, the Metro was tightly controlled by the NCPD. Gang fights were one thing, but harassing passengers was a quick way to end up with a bounty on one's head. After all, the Corpos would not risk dwindling profits due to scared commuters.

Nota summoned the roster Padre had transmitted, detailing each task with her unique insight.

Padre's Assignment Rundown:

Berkley Bay: Transport a package to Stall #29, Market Street.

Market Street: Retrieve overdue rent from the Meat Market at

Stall #17.

Palm View Plaza: Locate George Markus, last spotted there

Parque Del Mar: Security detail.

H2: Scavenger den. Exterminate.

Crystal scrutinized the list thoughtfully, her sub-vocal query directed at Nota, "Is it just me, or do these tasks seem concentrated around Wellsprings?" The affluent region, near the docks and a stone's throw from Corporation Street, piqued her interest, particularly the security detail at Parque Del Mar. A secure shelter and a legitimate license to eliminate threats would simplify her soul-harvesting operations.

"If we tackle them sequentially, they do form a loop," Nota agreed, projecting a map starting from Berkley Bay, leading to Market Street, followed by a sweep of the alleged Scavenger den in H2, and then to Palm View, concluding at Parque Del Mar. Crystal mused, "If the den exists, I'll need Padre to handle the gear disposal – my lack of contacts makes that impossible. Ask him how much a cut he’ll require to make it a non-issue." As Crystal scanned the metro's occupants, Nota returned with Padre's response, "He's offering thirty percent of the market price."

With a sigh of resignation, Crystal acquiesced, "Better than nothing. Confirm it." Nota relayed her agreement, and Crystal leaned back, settling for a brief nap before her Berkley Bay stop. The comforting mental image of her therapy chicken accompanied her into a temporary slumber. Her unique vampiric traits - minimal sleep requirement and apparent immunity to sunlight - were reminders of her Patron's formidable prowess.

Fifteen minutes of relative tranquility slipped before Crystal rose, adjusting her belongings. A pair of young men rose simultaneously, a detail her keen eyes didn't miss. She maneuvered through the crowd with newfound agility as the metro doors slid open, maintaining a look on her uninvited followers. The hustle of the afternoon crowd facilitated her exit towards Berkley Bay, the package pickup point. She decided against taking the alleyways until after securing the package.

With the package in her possession, the seclusion of the alleyways would grant her a harvesting playground. Tapping into the readily available camera feeds, she kept tabs on her pursuers. A harmless spoofing, far from aggressive network penetration, kept security daemons at bay. Compared to Corporation Street, Wellspring's security was lax, the cameras functioning more as insurance tools than active monitoring devices.

"Either they've mistaken me for an easy target, or they're positioned to intercept the package," Crystal mused to her Eldritch AI companion. The absence of any gang identifiers ruled out gang involvement - gangs thrived on the power play of overt heists. Something like this wasn’t their style. Their scent lacked the metallic tang of cyber enhancements, and Padre was not known for testing her on missions, further eliminating potential theories.

Her body moved automatically as Crystal's mind weaved through the network of cameras. The sight of two more roving groups snapped her attention back, prompting her to make adjustments—two points allocated to Body, three to Reflex to be battle-ready. An additional point invested in her Vampiric Form boosted her strength, while four went into her Sword Dance skill. A shiver of pure ecstasy coursed through her as she spent the points, the sensation comparable to the most exhilarating braindance devoid of any aftermath.

Now a middling adept at the ghastly dance of death, Crystal's blade was no longer a simple instrument but a conduit of effective execution. Once a dagger, her weapon had gained a second form, that of a compact gladius, adding versatility to her arsenal. The ability to switch between forms mid-battle made her strikes unpredictable and brutal, quickly catching those underestimating her new range off-guard.

"Transmit the package delivery code to the Net address," Crystal instructed, skirting past a towering high-rise. The hand-off point was concealed among the shrubbery. She paid no heed to the sender as long as the pick-up was punctual. A few minutes later, she passed concrete planters, retrieved the small parcel from the third one, and tucked it away in her backpack. Her next task was to deposit it in a self-service locker on Market Street, forwarding the locker key to a prearranged mail address.

The two young men began closing in on her as she departed. Crystal's eyes flickered crimson, detouring into a nearby thoroughfare heading back east towards the Metro loop. She noticed all six men converging on her position via the cameras dotted along her path. "They're not backing off. I'm deploying countermeasures against several wide-area cyber-attacks," Nota warned. Crystal saw bystanders clutching their heads in apparent agony. Whatever she carried was valuable enough to justify attracting significant attention, a risky move likely to leave traces and provoke retaliatory strikes.

Despite the commotion, Crystal fought the primal temptation to reap souls on her path, understanding the folly of a daylight massacre. Doing so would paint a target on her back for the NCPD. Despite its shortcomings, the police force had the resources and experience to turn her life into a nightmare. It was wiser to prey on the forgettable, the unnoticed until she gathered sufficient strength to defy this caution.

She slipped into an alleyway, looping the nearest camera feed and hunkering down behind a dumpster. Opting for the gladius over the knife, she readied herself for the confrontation. The Sword Dance skill began to make sense – it wasn't meant for a knife.

As the six men rushed past her hideout, a swift, horizontal swipe of her gladius severed the trailing man's neck. Capitalizing on the momentum, she delivered a powerful kick to the next man's knee, bringing him down, before puncturing his lungs and slashing through his abdomen. Utilizing Angel's Execution and Succubus's Kiss, she felled two more, reducing her opposition to two.

With a cheery, "Hello, chooms!" she advanced. Fear overpowered one of the remaining men who fled, only to find Crystal's thrown blade severing his spinal cord. Nota was kind enough to paint a targeting reticle to make knife-throwing less of a game of chance. His companion left alone, pulled out a pistol, firing a shot that lodged in Crystal's right lung. Her Shadow Armor absorbed enough of the impact to prevent it from going through her.

His moment of triumph faded into bewildered horror as her dagger re-materialized and flew, embedding itself in his gun-wielding hand courtesy of Nota. With a swift, silent movement, Crystal moved behind him, sinking her teeth into his neck.

A rush of euphoria coursed through her as she drank, eliciting an involuntary gasp and a shudder from her prey before his life ebbed away. She disengaged, catching her breath. Her nose wrinkled as it was clear her bite did more than drain blood.

Lacking a suitable incendiary, she used the remaining ammo in the pistol to obscure signs of her bite. Though tempted to loot the bodies, the approaching sirens made her reconsider. With a brisk gait, she made her way down the alley, her weapon dematerializing as she rejoined the crowd at a relaxed pace to avoid suspicion.

The remainder of Crystal's journey to the Metro passed without incident. Tucked away in a platform corner, she scrolled through the train schedules. Her wait was punctuated by sporadic communication with Nota.

"Why did the last guy seem to experience an extreme orgasm right before dying?" Crystal whispered, an edge of annoyance seeping into her voice. "It's likely a reaction to the venom injected into his bloodstream as you feed," Nota responded through their private link.

"Venom?" Crystal's eyes widened in alarm. "Could it leave a trace for the NCPD?"

"It could," Nota explained, "but not in a way that could be replicated. It'll appear as though the victim had taken some recreational substance. Any attempts to reverse-engineer the venom from the victim's bloodstream would be futile. A properly tuned mana source would be required, which is highly unlikely to be available."

Relief washed over Crystal at this reassurance; her venom wouldn't become the next street drug sensation. It was merely another weapon at her disposal. As the Metro clock struck 1415, she merged with the onboarding crowd, settling into a seat in the fifth car.

Her gaze swept over her fellow passengers, registering two separate gang groups, one stationed at the front of the car, the other hovering near her seat. She tweaked her Shadow Armor, concealing her face before pausing in realization – the pain from her lung injury had vanished unnoticed.

Drinking blood must have catalyzed her recovery, boosting her natural regeneration. She decided to analyze this newfound ability later, and for now, she discreetly moved further back in the car to sit amongst the Valentinos, distancing herself from the rival 6th Street gang upfront.

Shortly after she reseated, a gang member slid beside her and smiled. After a quick consultation with Nota confirmed that the Padre had identified her as an ally to the gang, she reciprocated the approach by flashing the chicken symbol from her finger. Following a brief pause and a whispered consultation with his leader, the gang member returned to inquire, "You need bodyguards? You've got good tech, but it won't stop bullets."

Declining his offer with a nod of thanks, Crystal settled back into her seat, relieved that the 6th Street gang seemed to share the Valentinos' lack of interest in causing trouble on the Metro. Still, the encounter reiterated the importance of procuring her transport, marking it as a top priority after securing a residence. Public transportation was serviceable, but it did restrict her freedom of movement.

Upon alighting at Market Street, she seamlessly melded with the crowd, navigating her way to the self-pay lockers. Deposit made, key in hand, she dropped it off at the NUSA FedX, collected her receipt, and had Nota update, Padre. Almost immediately, a deposit of two thousand Eurodollars appeared in her account. Clearly, the fixer had his own information sources telling him when a job was complete. The entire operation took a little over an hour, yielding an impressive profit, albeit atypical for a courier gig involving Metro travel and the occasional necessity to dispatch pursuers.

After requesting an update from Nota, Crystal was informed she was at 1500/5200 until the next level. "Does killing with programs count towards my harvest?" Crystal queried, intrigued, as she moved toward the bustling Meat Market level of the immense Market Street grocery building.

"We harvest souls, not credit. As long as the soul dies under your influence, it counts towards your harvest," Nota explained, "though there might be some rare exceptions, none of which I am currently aware."

Beneath her enigmatic Shadow Armor mask, Crystal's eyes ignited with an ominous red glow as she navigated the bustling market. The urge to unleash her deadly programs on unsuspecting targets was becoming overpowering, so she called on Nota for a distraction. "Play the Solo's Manual. I need to stay focused," she commanded sub-vocally. As the husky voice of a grizzled veteran filled her ears, she turned her attention towards creating a flexible code that could retain her sanity. Meanwhile, she appeased the irritable Sgt. Fluffyfeathers had been confined all day with promises of tasty grubs.

By the time she reached the bustling Meat Market level, she had formulated her first rule, which triggered an unexpected giggle:

Crystal's Code Rule 1: Abstain from drinking on the job unless injured.

Crystal finally arrived at Stall #17, immediately disabling the surveillance cameras and looping their feeds to ensure no recorded evidence of her visit. She bypassed the display of various types of meat, from sausages to succulent steaks, halting abruptly at the counter when she came face-to-face with a synthetic service bot.

"I'd like to speak with the manager," Crystal stated, using Angel's Door to bypass the store's security system. Ignoring the bot's programmed refusal, she turned it off, leaped over the counter, and slipped into the back room. There, the muffled sounds of cursing and frantic bag-stuffing betrayed the presence of an individual. Nota quickly provided her with the shop's blueprints, revealing a single, inescapable room from where the sounds originated. Patiently, she concealed herself behind a stack of ConAg Corpo crates, waiting for the person to emerge.

Soon enough, a plump, perspiring man carrying a bag stuffed with unidentified objects emerged from the manager's room. Confirming her suspicions, Crystal sub-vocalized, "Sleeping Beauty," watching as the man slumped onto the floor, unconscious.

Inspecting the vacated room, Crystal discovered a standalone computer and an open safe. "How do I access this?" she asked Nota, unsure how to interface with the archaic technology. Following Nota's instructions, Crystal fashioned a Shadow Armor-enhanced braid to serve as a makeshift connector. With Nota's guidance, they breezed through the system's encryption.

"Vincenzo Vecoli, you've been a naughty business partner," Crystal chided, downloading the system's data before Nota eradicated any digital footprints with a custom-built worm.

Returning to the hallway, she checked on the snoozing man. Assured by his sonorous snoring that he posed no immediate threat, she stripped him bare and repositioned him against the desk's front. Unzipping his bag, she found it crammed with bundles of cash. Despite the allure of an easy heist, she was aware of the risks of theft.

"Let's consult the Padre. This much money going missing could complicate things," Crystal proposed a sigh punctuating her statement. As expected, the Padre advised her to leave the money, eliciting Crystal's grunt about life's unfairness. Reluctantly, she returned all the cash to the safe, along with Vincenzo's clothing and an intriguing gun bearing the Kang Tao logo. Recognizing it similar to another weapon she had encountered earlier, she mused aloud, "Ah, the A-22B Chao. That pistol from before. Now it makes sense." After securing the safe, she spun the dial lock, sealing everything inside.

"Alright, the cash may be gone, but we have other means of payment," Crystal reassured herself, grinning at the prospect of selling the stolen digital records. "Nota, let the good Padre know about our progress. And tell him that the target is incapacitated and the back entrance password is Leviticus 19:11 V." Exiting the establishment via the back door, she erased any digital traces of her presence from the security camera feeds, a habit now, as she melted back into the thrumming marketplace.

She skimmed through the building directory until her eyes landed on what she sought: a pet shop on the third floor specializing in the peculiar yet necessary offering of live grubs.

Securing a compact terrarium equipped with a unique feeding system, she delicately placed it inside Sgt. Fluffyfeather’s soundproofed cage. A wave of contentment washed over her as she sensed the hen's delight at its meal. Grinning, she exited the market, the Metro station her next destination.

As the afternoon unfurled towards evening, she set her sights on securing lodging before delving into the Megabuilding H2 assignment. With its gentle hum of commuters, the Metro was a picture of serenity, a respite from the bustling streets above. Upon reaching her stop, she navigated the maze of alleys, seizing a moment to breach the megabuilding's security system, leaving a backdoor for future access courtesy of Nota.

Her destination was the Parque Del Mar Plaza. Nestled next to it was an apartment complex that, according to the gig directions, promised a potential home. The office was easily located at the base of the exterior stairwell. Rapping gently on the door, she removed her intimidating Shadow Armor face mask, replacing it with a more neutral expression. A thin, nervous man, mid-engagement with a BD, answered.

"Mr. Chanston? Lewis Chanston?" Crystal inquired, her voice melodious, soothing. The man pulled abruptly from his cybernetic date and scrambled to regain his composure.

"Yes, yes, that's me. But I, uh, haven't ordered any... services," Lewis stuttered, his eyes darting across her form. Unfazed by his insinuation, she continued, "Security for the Plaza. From the Padre. Verification code Z-066Q4-56U4ZFYJ-7E64OQPP-2EN3."

The following seconds were filled with silence as Lewis ran the code through verification, his expression clear when the confirmation flashed on his display. "Brilliant! There have been some troublesome individuals creating a stir and organizing fights. I want them expelled, and if you could also attend to the unsightly loiterers, there's a bonus in it for you."

"I can certainly manage that," Crystal replied, maintaining her neutral demeanor, "but instead of the usual eddies, I would like to discuss a residential agreement."

His eyes crawled over her, but she withstood the scrutiny, focusing instead on the immediate necessity of securing a place to rest. "I do have a corner studio available. After a week, I'll assess the security footage. If I find any lingering problems, I expect you to vacate without causing any fuss," Lewis sternly said, "And remember, I'm doing this only out of respect for the Padre. Cross me, and there'll be consequences."

Crystal responded with a disarmingly radiant smile, leaving the man slightly stunned, "Understood." Lewis handed her an access chip before disappearing into his apartment, eager to return to his interrupted escapade. She faked slotting and scanning the chip with a casual air, then returned it to him. With a final nod, he closed the door.

Just then, an incoming call pinged the ID revealing Sebastian Ibarra, the Padre. "Good evening," Crystal greeted him, accepting the call.

"Good evening, hermanita. Exemplary work thus far. Regrettably, there's a minor issue - our departed acquaintance met with an unfortunate mishap concerning his archaic system. The data has evaporated, quite the tragedy. I recall that you possess a knack for resurrecting lost information. Might you render assistance?"

Maintaining a veil of professionalism over her amusement, Crystal responded, “In this world, nothing is impossible, especially regarding the right compensation. Assisting a man of the cloth would be my pleasure.” A ripple of laughter drifted from the other end of the line, “What's your price?”

“As a newcomer, I respect and value your guidance in these matters, so I'm inclined to defer to your judgment on the fee. I believe fostering amicable relationships with one's employer is invaluable." Crystal replied, leaving the ball in the fixer's court, a strategy she’d learned from extensive training.

“Equal cut as with the Scavengers," the Padre proposed, "Moreover, I'll shoulder any complications related to this affair. No need for you to worry, hermanita.” Crystal’s eyes narrowed, realizing the data she was dealing with could be contentious. The price would certainly rise, but so would the risk. The choice was as crystalline as her name. “Transferring now.” A notification chimed moments later, signaling ten thousand credits added to her account. Only then did it dawn on her that the data's value far exceeded the original assignment's value.

Information was a premium commodity. Shocking.

Nonchalantly, Crystal shrugged. Delegation to her employer was preferable to handling the predicament on her own. She reassured herself of this as she ascended to the third floor of the apartment complex. “You opted for residential remuneration?” the Padre inquired as she unlocked her door. “Indeed. Nightfall stirs my productivity, and our mutual friend Lewis merely sought tranquility.”

The Padre responded with a chuckle, “Expect more assignments soon. Your performance has set high standards. Keep up the good work.” Crystal nodded in acknowledgment before remarking, “I've noticed a significant influx of Kang Tao products in the recent tasks.”

Her employer paused, then responded, “Intriguing. Keep an eye out, and update me with any developments.” Crystal nodded and ended the call. She cautiously stepped into the small apartment. The spacious living room, with its stark white walls, provided an unexpected embrace of warmth. The cold metallic floor beneath seemed to resonate with the echoes of past occupants.

To her right, a meticulously arranged kitchenette stood. Its state-of-the-art appliances glistened with precision, offset by the charm of the pristine white countertop.

A quaint dining table, large enough for two, was nestled against the wall, evoking nostalgia. The apartment's heart, it seemed, was its compact living space. Her gaze rested upon the empty bedroom, a blank canvas that awaited her personal touch, its promise of rest after a grueling workday nearly tangible.

Her favorite feature, however, was the expansive window. She drew back the white curtains, absorbing the view of the bustling plaza, gradually surrendering to the encroaching nightfall. The window served as a conduit to the world beyond her solace, providing not just sunlight but the vibrant pulse of the city.

The apartment was a small sanctuary where she could finally escape the heat. Placing her two backpacks down, she let Sgt. Fluffyfeathers out to roam and spread a small sleeping back out. Turning her second backpack into a pillow, she dropped off after setting the alarm for nightfall.