Strong Enough 4.3

Shot Caller 4.3

Taylor and Emma stare at the eviction holo blocking their door.

“You have got to be fucking with me,” Emma says.

Taylor sucks in a deep breath, eyes flashing red. “It’s never the hit you see coming…”

Emma shoves her shoulder. “Don’t start. We’re locked out of our apartment!”

The two of them stand on the main concourse, staring at the door. It’s a Friday afternoon; they just got back from the last day of a killer module—Taylor wishes she could think that less literally—to find their apartment locked, belongings still inside.

Hopefully.

Taylor sighs. “Just when we started to get things stable.”

And for the most part, they have been. Sasha piggybacking jobs over the net freed up Lucy to get up close and personal, Becca pulled in clients from the Mox, and David was slinging some BDs for extra scratch. Things were turning around and now…

Emma kicks the door.

“Forget that! We just paid rent on this bitch.” She kicks it again. “Where’s the prop manager. I will not be treated like this!”

The property manager’s office is closed on Friday afternoons. Taylor would think it was just another indignity in a long line of them, but there’s a holographic notice on that one as well.

“Holy shit,” Emma says after she reads it. “She got caught for skimming.”

From the note, the pieces aren’t hard to put together. The manager got fired for taking bribes to get people in the building, and now those bribed contracts were all voided by the owning company for violating ToS. Probably illegal, but the property courts in Night City are bought and paid for, so someone is enjoying a fat stack of eddies for signing off on this mass eviction.

Taylor’s lips pulled into a sharp frown. “I guess I wasn’t the only one who bribed her.”

“Idiot.” Emma scrunched her nose. “She got greedy and screwed us all over.”

“Or the company did and decided to screw everyone else in the process.” Taylor looks out into the center of the megabuilding. She can see five or ten locked doors on every level. “I bet some algo pinged that they could jack the rents, and they realized firing the property manager was a good excuse.”

Emma huffs, shifting back and forth. “I mean…that’s good business.”

“Until it leaves you homeless,” Taylor says. “Do not pass go, do not collect your security deposit.”

Emma bites her lip. “Yeah.”

“…Is your dad...?”

“Still in Japan.” It’s been months. Whatever project he’s working on, it looks more and more like he won’t be back this year. Emma looks away. “I—” She bites off whatever she was going to say, frustration bubbling to the surface once more.

Taylor takes her own anger and packages it away. Alan Barnes has always been a flake. All it took was Taylor ‘handling’ things for him to forget he hasn’t set up an automatic rent payment. Just one more problem in a long line.

Night City takes, and Taylor should have known better than to think it would give her the time to get back on her feet.

“Let’s go back to the car. We’ll figure it out,” Taylor says.

“But—” Emma pauses. “I had something for you…in the apartment.”

Taylor pauses, blinking. She looks over at her maybe-once-again-friend in surprise. “You got me something?”

Emma crosses her arms. “Don’t look at me like that. You said you wanted me to help you with close range options. I just…I just wanted it to be a surprise!”

Taylor nods. Despite the situation, a little smile pulls at the edge of her mouth. This thing between the two of them, whatever it might grow into, whatever might somehow burst free from ashes…it soothes the frustration of the moment.

“We’ll figure it out.” Taylor jerks her head. “C’mon. You start looking at listings. I’ll call David.”

Emma narrows her eyes slightly. “What’s with you and the guttersnipe?”

Taylor enjoys these new bouts of possessiveness more than she should. Every so often, Emma realizes that Taylor has friends now: good friends, ride or die friends. When they were children, Emma never had to compete for Taylor’s attention. Taylor brushes off her uniform jacket.

“He lives in a megabuilding.” Taylor shrugs. “And he’s probably been locked out of his unit before. Since we need to get our stuff right now.”

Emma blows out a breath. “He better have a way in.”

Turns out he does.

<You-you can crawl in through the bathroom vent> he says.

Taylor and Emma are standing back in front of their door. By now, a crowd has started to form on each of the levels. People realizing they’ve all been locked out of their houses. People are getting mad. Sooner or later, someone with a crowbar is gonna show up, and then it’s only a matter of time before the company calls the pigs to protect itself from the ‘negative externalities of their actions’.

That’s the module they’ve been working on at the Academy. How to offload negative externalities. It involves off-ing the people affected more often than even Taylor thought it would.

But as to the problem at hand, “I’m…probably too tall,” Taylor says. She remembers the vent inside the bathroom, and thinks that her legs would probably get stuck in the wall even if she managed to pop it open.

Emma straightens, pushing out her chest a little. “I wouldn’t even fit.”

“Don’t brag.” Taylor rolls her eyes.

“The biosculpt clinic is open,” Emma replies.

“With what money?” Taylor shakes her head. “David, can you get down here? I can comp you some if—”

<Nah don’t w-worry about it, boss. I’ll get there soon as I can>

“Thanks.” Taylor ends the call. She leans against the wall next to their door. Other people are eyeing them up. Two girls locked out of their building. There are other vulnerable people here, but none on the first floor. “He better get here quick, or we’re gonna have to shoot someone.”

Emma’s hand slides into her purse. “Should I flash my iron?”

“Not yet.” Taylor shakes her head. “We don’t want to set off a riot before we’re out of here.”

“And after?” Emma raises an eyebrow.

“It looks like…there might be a riot no matter what we do. But if everyone breaks into their own units and then scatters across the city…”

Emma smirks. “It would cost a lot of money to track everyone down. Especially now that they have no permanent address.”

“What a shame.” Taylor buffs her knuckles on her uniform jacket. “Maybe they shouldn’t have gotten greedy.”

They don’t have to shoot someone by the time David arrives. Taylor’s just called for Becca to bring the big truck around, cause they’re gonna need the space.

“Hey, boss.” David flashes a grin at them. “Heard you needed some help.”

Outside of school he wears a black and red tank top that show off his skinny arms, though they’re looking better now that he’s eating better. The gold chain around his neck shows where at least one paycheck has gone, but Taylor can’t blame him. Most boys at the Academy wear much more expensive jewelry.

“You said you could squeeze in through this?” Taylor taps the vent to the side of the door. It’s a bit above shoulder height, just tall enough that someone should be able to squeeze their head through, and barely wide enough for a person’s shoulders.

“Yup.” He pulls out a screwdriver, ignoring the actual screws to jam it under the lip of the vent cover and pop the whole thing right out. The screws don’t even connect to the wall. “Had to do this once or twice when Ma was short on rent. Boost me up?

Taylor steps over and helps him scramble into the vent. He crawls into it, just far enough that Taylor can barely make out his shoes. Then he shifts, getting just enough space to bash and elbow into the interior vent. He puts his weight into it: once, twice, then he falls sideways into their unit with a yelp.

Taylor turns to Emma. “Hope you didn’t leave anything embarrassing out.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Only your doll collection.”

A second later, David opens the door up from the inside. “Still got it.” He grins.

“Nice.” Taylor wires him a fifty eddy tip, ignoring the kid’s half-hearted protests. Sure, it wasn’t a big deal that he showed up, but he did. “Let’s get everything packed up to go before Becca gets here with the truck.”

“Not like we have much stuff,” Emma sighs.

“Didn’t think anyone else from the Academy would be living in a Megabuilding,” David says, faux causal.

Emma shoots him a tight glare.

“It used to be a penthouse, before the storm.” Taylor shrugs. “Her dad forgot about us because of some big case. He probably won’t remember he has a daughter until he rotates back to the states.”

Which wouldn’t make sense, considering that Alan spent a small fortune to have Taylor rescue Emma back during the Storm, but that’s always been how he worked. Long stretches of neglect, punctuated by massive overcompensating binges where he tried to buy his way back into his daughter’s good graces.

Alan is not a good parent.

“Ah.” David rubs the back of his neck. “Never knew my dad.”

“Somehow,” Taylor replies, “That makes you the luckiest.”

The less she says about her own father, the better.

They get inside and get to work. Like Emma said, the girls don’t have much. Luckily, they still have boxes from moving in stacked in the corner, and all the clothes and what little else they’ve managed to acquire over the past few months quickly goes into those.

“What about the mattress?” David asks.

“Grab it,” Taylor says. “Rip the cushions off the couch, too. Make them earn our deposit.”

David grins. “Love the way you think, but I’m pretty sure the cushions are like, sewed onto the couch or some shit.”

“I have the perfect answer for that,” Emma says. She pulls out a small box from one of the drawers in the bathroom.

David’s face lights up. “You haven’t given it to her yet? Nova!”

“You know what this is?” Taylor raises an eyebrow.

“Hell yeah, I do,” David says. “Helped get the shit. Oh, and Sasha too.”

“Ah.” Taylor fights a smile. “So you were working on something for me.”

“Don’t leave me with all the credit,” Emma mutters. Still, she holds out the small box to Taylor, before opening it with a flourish. Inside sits her Burya, which Emma asked to look a few days ago, along with a long and thin knife with a wicked looking edge.

Taylor blinks. “What’s up with these?”

“You said your gun couldn’t fire fast enough in speed mode.” Emma presses the box into Taylor’s hands, before taking out the revolver. “So I sourced some materials, David took things apart, and Sasha wrote the code. Now? The trigger still works, but there’s an option to shoot it with this button on the side that resets instantly.” Emma demonstrates after showing the chambers are all empty. “And if you press your thumb against it like this…” The barrels start to spin faster until they’re nothing more than a blur.

Taylor takes the gun, playing with it. She speeds the barrels up, and down, slipping into a quick burst of speed with her Sandevistan, and watching them slow down. Yes, Taylor thought. At speed, she could easily line up the barrels before pulling the trigger. It would just take some practice.

Before, the chambers of her gun spun too slowly for her to fire more than a single round before she had to drop back into real time. A huge advantage, even if low caliber bullets slow to a crawl when she pushes her Sandevistan to its limits.

The Burya does not fire low caliber rounds. They can pose a threat to slower foes, as long as Taylor can track them at speed.

“Where did you get the parts for this?” Taylor asks.

“Tore the cylinder motor out of a beast of an overture,” David says. “The rest of the wires was just spare shit you can get anywhere. Really it woulda been harder to put together, ‘cept the Burya is a massive brick. Plenty of space.”

“Soviet engineering…” Taylor murmurs. She slips on her holster, loads up six new rounds and puts her new gun right where it belongs. “You even left the scorchmarks on the barrel.”

“Well…” David starts.

Emma elbows him in the side.

Taylor looks back and forth between them. “What?”

David gives Emma a look, and the redhead sighs. “The barrel was getting worn out. You overused it. So we swapped in a new one.”

Taylor pulls out her gun again, noting the muzzle, where the classic, no-nonsense chrome gives way to a blackened scorch mark. “You replaced the barrel, and added a scorch decal?”

“Emma did,” David says. “By hand.”

Emma looks away.

Taylor takes a deep breath. Despite the situation, she’s fighting a smile. “Thanks,” she says. “I love it.” She slides it back into its holster for a second time. “And the knife?”

“That one’s store bought.” Emma crosses her arms, still not looking at Taylor. “But sharp and sturdy. Shouldn’t have any trouble gutting someone at the speeds you move at.”

“Woulda got a sword, but.” David shrugs. “They’re kinda big. Also I read that if you’re going too fast you can rip a longer weapon right outta your hands if you’re not careful.”

Taylor takes the knife, flipping it around. The sheath has a self-sharpening attachment, because the only things that are quality in Night City are the weapons. But still, it’s… “Probably the nicest things anyone’s ever gotten me.”

“Hehe.” David grins, rubbing his nose. “Don’t mention it.”

“Gonk,” Emma mutters. “I’m…glad you like them.”

“I do.” She holds the knife and the sheath out to Emma. “Help me put it on.”

Emma pauses, looking over at Taylor again for the first time in several minutes. “Yeah.” Emma swallows. “Yeah, sure.”

It doesn’t need to be said what this means.

Until now, Emma’s given Taylor space, she’s given Taylor control. Anything Taylor wanted Emma to do, she did. And while Emma’s shown initiative on jobs, this is the first time she’s done so in their personal lives. Even if it’s related to their gigs, Emma got Taylor a present and planned to surprise her with it. It’s personal, Emma showing that she’s useful, a valuable member of the team.

A valuable friend.

Even after years at Arasaka Academy, Taylor’s never thought about relationships in that transactional way. But that doesn’t mean she can’t see what Emma’s doing, what she’s trying to say.

So for the first time in years, Taylor trusts Emma with a knife at her back.

She slips off her uniform jacket, turns around, and lets Emma buckle on the sheath.

“Is…there good?” Emma asks. Her fingers rest on the small of Taylor’s back, the sheath sits right under Taylor’s left arm, handle forward in a spot that’s easy to draw.

“Yeah.” Taylor says.

“Good.” Emma nods. She takes a moment longer, pretending to adjust the tightness of the straps. “That’s good.”

David, bless his gonk heart, misses all of the byplay. “Ready to cut up some cushions, boss?”

Taylor pulls on her lab coat. “Forget the couch,” she says. “I think we have a business opportunity here.”

“Oh?” David perks up.

For the only member of their crew who doesn’t pay his own bills, David is also willing to do almost anything for a payday. Twenty Eurodollars is twenty Eurodollars.

“Think you could bust into more apartments like you got into this one?” Taylor asks.

“Proly.” David shrugs. “All of the studios for sure. They’ve got the same floor plan. I think one and two beds are the same?”

Taylor nods. “Emma, get your work threads. We’ll provide security,” she says. “A lot of people got booted out of their units today, we can get them back in. Also…” she checks her agent. “Becca still won’t be here for another forty-five. Night City traffic.”

Taylor and David go outside so that Emma can change into her own ‘edgerunner’ outfit. Mostly it’s just a sleek pantsuit, with bulletproof fabric of course. She wears her own unity openly at her hip, and normally does her hair up in a more elaborate style, but today they don’t have time.

“Sure this is a good idea?” David asks. “Fucking with building management is one thing, but the owners…”

“I think that the more people break into their apartments today, the less time they’ll have to be mad at us,” Taylor says. “That’s a lie. I’m actually really pissed right now. I want to make sure someone gets hurt for it.”

David grins. “Got it. What we charging?”

“Fifty a door?”

“Hey now, that’s my fee.” David thumps his chest. “Call it seventy-five, the extra for my security detail.”

“Seventy-five and your security detail gets half,” Taylor says.

“But I take the extra buck.”

Taylor laughs once. “Deal.”

“Great.” David cracks his knuckles. “Let’s roll this place. I need a new pair of shoes.”

Emma steps out onto the concourse, takes on look at them, and places her hand on her face. “I really chose the worst friends.”

A month ago, Taylor would have stiffened at those words, a week ago Emma wouldn’t have said them.

Today, they’re homeless again, but Emma got Taylor a sweet new gun, and Taylor’s gonna make sure they have a place to crash tonight. Everything else can come after.

“Let’s Delta. We wanna pop as many doors as we can, then be back here to load the truck the moment Becca pulls up.

David sprits towards the lift. “Last one in buys dinner.”

With the Sandy, the winner of that contest was never in question.

They start at the top floor so they can work their way down, and there are maybe ten or fifteen evictions per level. Most people are still just getting home, pacing in front of their doors, calling people, screaming. Taylor walks up to the first man who looks like he’ll hear them out.

“We can get your door open,” she tells him.

“Yeah?”

“Seventy-five,” Taylor says. “Two minutes. Then we’re gone.”

“Bitch, does it look like I got seventy-five eddies on a door girl?”

“Suit yourself.” Taylor shrugs. “We got plenty of customers.”

He swears and kicks his door again. “Fucking fine. But it better be two minutes.”

Taylor smiles. “David, you’re up.”

He gets through the vent and pops the door open in one. Taylor doesn’t even have to flash her iron to get the man to pay after that, he’s just inside, throwing clothes and other shit into a duffel as fast as he can.

It takes about five doors for people to notice what’s going on. A few of them offer more money to skip the line. Normally, Taylor would have taken that. Hell, seems like today is the time she needs the extra money most, but that type of greed is exactly why Taylor and Emma had to bribe their way into a shitty studio. That type of greed is why her whole crew is running jobs for any fucking gonk off the street just to pay the rent. That type of greed kicked all of these people out on the streets.

Taylor realizes that she’s sick of it.

Night City takes.

Taylor wants to take something back. Not money; all she does is make sure her crew has enough money, and she is so fucking sick of thinking about money. She wants to reach into Night City’s guts and rip out something real.

“Seventy-five eddies a door,” Taylor says. “We’ll get everyone. So get out of our way and let us work.”

Right now, all she can do is make sure that this mega building records the biggest loss for this quarter since the fifties. It’s a start.

It’s not enough.

There’s a fire lit in her now, bolstered by steel in her spine and iron at her hip, fed by people she cares about and who care about her in turn. Night City has taken so much from her, and Taylor will burn it down before it takes one more thing. She’ll leash this feeling, channel it, drive it higher until she can take something back. Or so Taylor thinks.

She doesn’t know it yet, but this fire is out of control.