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He barely got any sleep last night. Like a zombie, with a throbbing headache, he got up and jumped under the shower. He didn't know if the water was clean or if it was the sa toxic water from the reservoir. He didn't care.
After a shitty burrito, he worked on the gun again in the hopes of ending that itch in the head. But the process was too complex. There was no such thing as a microfusion cell in the Cyberpunk world. So, he had to make sothing for it.
Needing more stuff to build it, he just left the house and rode to the city. He avoided so crazy, crod-up rcs fighting in the middle of the street, then avoided an NCPD truck almost running him over. Eventually, he reached Lizzie's bar.
"Whoa, that rough, huh?" Judy comnted at his sight. "Here, got the deliveries prepped and good to go. Oh, and this is my choom. She gigs as a doll over at Clouds."
Cypher, too tired to even react, looked at the blue-haired woman giving him a cocky smile, arms folded. "Howdy. Na's Cypher Blackwell."
"Evelyn Parker."
That was it. He couldn't give more fucks at that mont. His brain wasn't braining. He just grabbed the bag full of BDs and left, overhearing the two won talk about him in the distance.
With ten deliveries to make that day, he rode fast. It was getting really hard to focus on the road as his body craved the crack. He tried not to think about it, but biology was against him.
Watson, Westbrook, and Heywood, he rode around half the Night City. By the ti he finished the tenth delivery, it was already nearing midnight. It wasn't that he was slow; it was just that a few clients kept him waiting too long before receiving their deliveries. So fucker even ordered it right to his office building.
Nonetheless, tired, he did so shopping for the gun parts and returned to Lizzie's. He found Judy busy at work and received his paynt for the day. But for dinner, she couldn't join him that night.
So, all alone, he headed out. But surprisingly, he didn't find Rita at the bar's gate anymore. After asking the new bouncers, he learned her shift was over. That reminded him of the address Rita had sent him the day before.
Not like I'm gonna get any sleep.
So he rode towards Pacifica. Batty's Hotel, to be precise. It was all the way on the southern side of Night City. But since he was already going to head that way for ho, it didn't feel like an annoying chore.
As he neared the spot Rita had ntioned, he noticed so music.
Getting closer, he saw two big vans with the Mox gang logo on them. A few people were dancing there, and others were drinking. It really was a great spot as they could see the ocean directly from there.
"Well, look at you, finally found the way."
He smiled at Rita and joined her. She was sitting relaxedly, feet up on the single-seater couch. He grabbed a seat on the larger three-seater one.
"Couldn't say no to good company," he muttered with a lazy smirk, settling back. His gaze slid to the sea stretched out far off, mostly all clouds, but still a view. "Pretty solid spot, honestly."
"Been my go-to since I scoped it. Lets catch a breather when the city starts chewing on . How about you? Heard you've been slogging through so gonk trouble too."
"Figured I'd clean up my act. But after years hooked on glitter, it ain't letting go easy. I barely sleep at all," he admitted, not covering a thing. "It's gonna be a slow ride."
Rita shot him a knowing nod. "Knew a pal fighting the sa thing you're in. Heard there's a pill that helps you crash easy in these kinds of sses. Not addictive, so they say. I can nose around if you're interested."
"Did Judy tell you to do this?"
"Judy pinged to keep my optics sharp around you. Now I get why, but I can handle my own chro. If this helps you out, that is one less gonk in Night City I need to worry about."
Cypher eyed the beautiful punk woman with intrigue. Maybe it was because he knew them beforehand, but he found it hard to believe he was eting decent folks in Night City. Ones as hot as Rita, even. He wasn't much into cyberware like her, with entire arms replaced, but he saw the charm in her. The purple the going on, even the lipstick. Her facial features were east asian, but he didn't know if she actually was asian.
"That'll help a lot, Rita. Seriously, thanks."
"Alright, enough of that. Let's dance."
Rita got out of her seat suddenly, high on her heels. She grabbed his arm and dragged him as well to where the other Moxes were dancing.
Cypher was mostly out of energy, but honestly, with her dancing so sexily in front of him, he couldn't say no. The way she smoothly swayed her hips towards him, nearly crushing her back on his chest at tis, followed by them just rocking face to face. It felt like therapy.
I didn't know… I was missing this.
He couldn't rember the last ti he danced. He couldn't rember the last ti he partied. Both in his past life and in the mories of this body.
This… really felt like therapy. And making small talk with her was fun. He learned about her just as she learned about him. Apparently, Rita liked to make sculptures in her spare ti. She explained the reasoning behind it, and honestly, it was interesting. Sculptures don't talk, don't judge, and they last longer than you.
For nearly two hours, they drank, talked, and danced. By the end of it, they were chooms sharing stories and fucked up things they'd seen in their life. Cypher didn't know how that happened; Rita didn't seem like an easy woman. She had wants, needs, and deeper thinking. Yet, they sohow matched each other's vibes.
Maybe it was his 'I don't care if I die' attitude, or maybe it was just his new perspective on life. Whatever it was, he didn't hate it.
Eventually, it got late, or perhaps early. By two in the morning, all the Moxes had left, and the music's volu was turned low. It was just him sitting on the couch, and Rita right beside him. They shared a cigarette while talking.
"So you planning to stick with Judy till the end? No shade, but swimming in BD gigs might frag you up with your past. Would suck to see you flatline."
"Oh? Ms. Wheeler is worried?" He passed a flirting smirk, aware of her hand that had sohow landed on his leg. It was all chro, but it still felt real because intentions were behind it.
"I ain't sure. I'll stay till I'm clean. After that, I'll go hunt down a 'job' job."
"rc stuff?" she asked.
Hmm?
He noticed her hand slide inward between his thighs. He wasn't complaining, already bricked up. She was giving him little squeezes, like hints that the signal was green.
"I can't really say. I've no interest in that. But if I do beco one, it'd only be because I got no choice, not because I'm looking to have a damn Afterlife cocktail nad after ," he said, yawning loudly and stretching until his arm landed around her shoulder. "So, why? You got sothin' for or what?"
Rita chuckled suddenly and shifted. "You're too damn slow, you gonk."
She shifted suddenly and straddled his lap, her lips pursed, her purple mascara-streaked eyes narrow with mischief. She ground her hips against him, and humd a moan as she felt his hardness pressing up through the fabric, the friction sending a jolt straight to his core. The weight of her body settled perfectly, her curves molding against his thighs.
"You're not a chro-jock rc, that's great. Your breed is rare. Most gonks are chasing glory for what?" She leaned down a little, her breath hitting his face. "Say, want to give you a little motivation?"
Cypher could feel the dead guy inside him nearly cream from just feeling her soft hips on his lap. Rita Wheeler was beyond beautiful in an unusual way. She had cyberware implants, but they didn't make her ugly. Her voice was soft but not sharp, nearly throaty, a bit mature, and that was hot.
"Like what?" he asked.
Rita chuckled, her tal hands stroked his cheek, her sharp nails gently traced his skin. "You're cute."
"Seriously?" He asked because he'd seen himself in the mirror.
"I see the potential." Rita giggled and lowered her face fully.
Uh… I'm already close. Fuck!
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