####
Money.
Without money, you couldn't survive in Night City. And when you've got no money and bone-crushing debts, you're worth less than a cockroach. Well, maybe a bit more since Scavs could sell your organs.
Cypher knew that he needed a lot of money if he was to make that Leaper creature he had co up with in his mind. It was massive, needed special alloys, and a lot of precision tools. It was on a different scale than the gun and the screwdriver.
He no longer questioned the origin of that knowledge. All he knew was that he was in one heck of an interesting ti. He rembered this Leaper, where it was from, and what its function was. It was exciting, and he really wanted to build it and deploy it around his ho at the Lake Farm.
Can't even be a whore with this face.
With a sigh, he moved away from the mirror and dressed up to head out. The dead Cypher wasn't completely useless; the man had deadly vices, but also two talents that kept him alive and fed. One was a damn good aim, and the other was damn good driving. Dead Cypher used to join so races to earn a few eddies.
Now, the best course of action was to be a techie. But that would need him to build a reputation first, and then go around showing his skill, hoping to get hired. He didn't have the ti; the need for eddies was urgent. For that, he wanted to race again.
The problem was that his motorbike was likely taken away by the Wraiths who attacked him.
Can't I just rent a car?
It was annoying to take the tro, but he had no other option. He headed towards Japantown with a few ideas and plans. On the way, he checked the people around, the level of their cyberware sotis subtle, and at tis too much. From normal folks to almost-cyberpsycho borged out, the city had them all. He honestly couldn't wrap his head around the fact that people trusted Corpos enough to replace their entire body with their products.
But again, those people lived there all their lives, consuming the propaganda since young. To them, this was normal. It was Cypher who was the odd one.
Pat!
Huh?
With a deep frown, he looked back. He felt as if a hand had just tapped on his pants' pocket. From the corner of his eye, he noticed white hair flashing away. But he didn't worry; he was totally empty anyway. Nothing on him could be stolen; he didn't even have a shard slot on his body.
Ah, it's there.
He felt the small bundle of physical eddies in his jacket pocket and relaxed, continuing his pondering.
Soon enough, he arrived at the Monroe and Sagan station. A short walk from there, he reached Jig-Jig Street, a very infamous place for all sorts of adult entertainnt. From fixers, ripperdocs, and cheap restaurants, to sex shops, joytoy brothels, drug dealers, and other exotic or illegal rchandise sellers. It was heaven for soone like the dead Cypher.
But he had a special purpose. He walked around the street looking for a loan shop.
There were plenty of them, but he was looking for one not directly run by the Tyger Claws. Japantown was, for the most part, a Tyger Claws territory, with Moxes being the second. Sadly, Tyger Claws won by their sheer number.
Looking around a bit, he eventually bought a pair of cheap sunglasses with an inbuilt AR screen that would let him access basic things like maps and the net. He really needed it since his neural link and personal link were gone.
With those glasses, he looked up loan shops on Jig Jig Street. Pretty soon, he had all the information needed. He picked one random shop from the decent-looking ones and got himself a small loan. The interest rate was weekly, a whopping twenty-five percent. Good thing, he only planned to hold it for a few days.
After sorting out his money problem, he went to a nearby apartnt building and rented a unit for one month. It was the sa place that V had in Japantown. It was on the more expensive side, costing over a thousand a month. The nearby H8 gabulding had cheaper options, but it didn't suit his needs.
This apartnt was fully furnished, beautiful on the inside, and it gave him a clear view of the street outside.
Done with all that, he relaxed in his new place, although it still didn't feel as good as that lake one. He sat in front of his personal computer in the apartnt and surfed the net to find a rental car to race in.
In normal circumstances, he'd have asked Nash to lend him one, but that bridge was already burned. He didn't have any other friends in Night City. And he wasn't going to ask Judy because she'd lecture him on how risky it was. Besides, she had a truck.
Fuck, they're all expensive.
There were a lot of options, each needing a different amount of paynt. In the end, he chose the Quadra Turbo-R, a fast car that wasn't too new or too expensive. It still needed him to pay ten thousand eddies, out of which, he'd get six thousand refunded at the ti of returning the car.
Finally, he sent a ssage to the guy who knew a guy who knew the guy who organized the races. Since he'd never t any of them, he felt pretty safe. Though he knew Nash and his boys must be looking for him.
And now… we wait.
####
Hargreaves St., Santo Domingo,
It was two in the morning, the sky was dark, and the streets were empty. It was the perfect ti for racing, and Cypher chose to arrive early. He'd already run a fast course through the designated race route, from Hargreaves Street to Capitola Street in Japantown.
There were two ways to make money in the race. One was, of course, the prize money for winning. The second way was betting on your favorite car. Cypher bet on himself, throwing in all the cash he had, which was about fifty thousand eddies; all of it was a loan.
He wasn't going to ride alone, however. He'd called and asked Rita if she wanted to join him, and just his luck, she was finishing her shift at Lizzie's. So, with ti to kill waiting for her, he started walking around the other cars.
There were a lot of Corpos, Militech and Arasaka sort, then there were wanted criminals from Tyger Claw, Mox, Valentinos. Funny enough, the police cars were just parked nearby, not bothered at all.
It was more of a death race. Cheating wasn't just possible, it was expected. So, Cypher did just that; he walked around the cars in the na of checking them out. Thanks to his junkie, fucked-up, dried-up face, nobody bothered him.
In his right sleeve, he had the Sonic Screwdriver ready. As he approached each car, he waved at the tires, at the fuel tank, and then at the engines. He did that with each car, never really damaging anything, as that would be caught by onboard systems. He just sabotaged.
Once done, he just leaned against his car, ready in the middle row.
There were a total of six competitors in that race. He expected that soone must have ssed with his car, so he ran diagnostics with the screwdriver. Sure enough, he found hacks placed in the basic computer of the car. They were supposed to brick his engine the mont the race started.
He didn't remove them just yet and looked around, waiting for Rita. He took out his pack of cigarettes and pulled a random one out. That was an interesting habit of his from old life, throwing random cigarettes in a pack and pulling them out to either be surprised or enraged.
nthol, nice.
Smoking, right as he swept his gaze towards the small crowd gathered, he noticed an EMT van and a woman standing beside it, dressed in a yellow jacket. Her hair was vivid red, and honestly, she was pretty.
Is that her? The face tattoo checks out.
With nothing else to do, he walked over to the woman. He honestly didn't know much about her; nobody did. What he did know was that she couldn't be trusted. An EMT and a black market cyberware vendor, he pondered if she always got cyberware from dead bodies. The company she worked for was known for being sketchy, having lost its old glory to Trauma Team during the fourth corporate war.
"Can I get your number?" he asked as soon as he approached her.
"..."
"W-What? I'm sorry, I have a son."
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