Winding Roads: Tourists 2.1 (ch. 4) (Patreon)

‘I cannot read his mind.’ Despite the words coming from within her head, they weren’t Ciri’s thoughts. They were Avallac'h’s. He, Yennefer, and Triss always said that telepathy was one of the most basic magical arts. That she’d master it one day. But that day had yet to come. 

The man named Rocinante stood across from them, his expression betraying nothing. He was around her age, perhaps a year or two younger. Handsome without being pretty, well built, but most puzzling of all was his metallic arm. Ciri had seen prosthetics before, but it was clearly different from them. He held her gaze rather than Avallac'h’s, leaving her to process the information. 

Avallac'h was one of the most gifted mages Ciri had ever met, and she had known a number of mages in her time. Mostly against her will. Almost always against her will. When they weren’t planning to harvest the power that lurked in her veins, they had plans for her womb, and they usually didn’t care what she had to say about that. Avallac'h was one of the precious few she had any amount of trust in, but for him to be unable to read a mind… 

“What do you get out of it?” Ciri asked, not sheathing her sword, but she lowered her stance. A gesture of trust that could be corrected in an instant. 

Rocinante’s brow arched in a way that vaguely reminded her of the way Geralt did it when she asked a question she should already have the answer to. “You dropped out of thin air from a portal. With magic. Neither were things I thought existed about two minutes ago.” Well, when he put it like that… and she supposed this was a better reaction than most would have to magic. Which usually started with running away and ended with a pyre. “Call me interested in what your whole deal is.”

“The mercenaries I know don’t work for free,” Ciri returned, lowering her blade a fraction more. As a rule, it wasn’t a particularly good idea to trust mercenaries, but Rocinante didn’t feel malicious. More amused than anything. There was also the fact that they’d arrived in front of him to consider. 

Despite all of her mentor’s efforts, Ciri was no expert on magic. For all the power that she had, how she used it was instinctual. Emotional. The esoteric nature of magic and its theories went in one ear and out the other. With no small amount of effort on Yennefer's part, some of the most basic principles were beaten into her head. 

Magic acted in a similar way to gravity. Powerful magic had its own gravitational pull, bringing lesser magic into its orbit. She wouldn’t call it fate that she landed here with Avallac'h guiding intent. Fate was too heavy a word. Ciri just didn’t think it was by chance either. 

“True,” Rocinante acknowledged. “In that case, what else could you do? Fireball? Lightning bolt? Illusions?” He stressed the last one, betraying his interest in the latter. The words were directed at her as much as Avallac'h, but she betrayed her own inability by glancing at him. Avallac'h’s expression betrayed nothing. 

His gaze went to the well-hidden cave behind the mercenary. “That would depend on what you seek to hide,” Avallac'h replied, his tone ambivalent about the whole affair. That was how he felt about most things, in Ciri’s experience, so she didn’t think anything of it. 

“Long story short?” Rocinante asked, his lips curling in a grin. “Son of a powerful man killed me and pissed me off. So, I stole his very expensive collection of cars. I was in the middle of savoring my victory, reflecting on my future and the potential lack thereof, when you two dropped in.” 

“Killed you?” Ciri echoed, now fully lowering her sword. She didn’t trust him, but now she had a feel for him. 

“And pissed me off,” Rocinante added. “I was just wondering how long I could keep the collection hidden before some random idiot decided to go cave spelunking. However, if you could wave your fingers, chant some gobbledegook, and conjure up an illusory wall? Consider it a down payment for my services as your tour guide for Night City, a place that is as wonderful as it is terrible.”

Despite the tension, Ciri had to wipe away her smile. It was still early, and she could be wrong. Still, Rocinante seemed like the kind of man who only marched to the beat of his own drum. The kind who didn’t care if it was a good idea or a bad one, only that it was his idea. She gave Avallac'h a pointed glance, seeing that his expression was mostly neutral. 

It usually always was. After so long, she had gotten good at deciphering his microexpressions. He was deeply offended at the… ‘gobbledegook’ remark, but all the same, arcane energies swirled around his hand. With a gesture, the cave entrance behind Rocinante was seemingly sealed with a perfect illusion. If she hadn’t seen the illusion take shape, Ciri doubted that she would give it a second glance. 

“Huh. Convenient,” Rocinante observed, sounding impressed. He glanced back at Avallac'h, reevaluating the elf. “That’s that taken care of. Follow me. It’s a quick walk to Rocky Ridge. I have a car there waiting. After that… Well, I have some biz to take care of that you’re welcome to join me on. It’ll help you get a feel for Night City.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just making a gesture for them to follow. Avallac'h seemed to be entertaining the idea of snapping his neck with telekinesis until Ciri clasped him on the shoulder before following. His eyes narrowed a fraction. ‘Magic is difficult to grasp here. I am diminished.’ 

Ciri’s expression tightened slightly, but she was unsurprised. If magic were ‘fleeing from this world,’ then she imagined that would make it more difficult to use. Still, it wasn’t a comforting thought. Avallac'h was powerful in ways she simply wasn’t, and they were in a very strange sphere. 

It stunk, for starters. A persistent odor lingered in the air, though she couldn’t locate the source of it. The bright lights and towering buildings… 

It wasn’t the first time she had seen such sights. Once, she had accidentally traveled to the future of her own world. There, she saw the same tar roads and buildings, but this world seemed even a step beyond that. And several steps down. 

Rocky Ridge was revealed to be an abandoned village. She knew the sight well, even if the buildings were unfamiliar. It was as if every villager decided to leave, carrying what they could and abandoning everything else. The car wasn’t unfamiliar to her either, though it would be the first time she got into one of the horseless carriages. 

“What happened here?” Ciri questioned, sliding into the front seat, though she did have to plant her sword by her feet. Rocinante got in the driver's seat next to her while Avallac'h took the seat behind her, and she tried not to flinch at the sound of the carriage awakening. 

“Progress,” Rocinante answered dryly. “Night City grew bigger. Poisoned the water. Then the land. Then every living thing. Not on purpose- well, not mostly, but it happened all the same. Eventually, small towns like these couldn’t hold on so they left. Either going to the big city, or finding another, or becoming a Nomad Clan.”

That felt like it gave her more questions than answers. 

While the horseless carriage was a strange thing, she couldn’t deny the utility. With it, Rocinante crossed the distance that would have taken a horse hours to gallop in mere minutes, allowing them to approach the border of the city. There, she saw it was every bit as bright and baffling up close. Projections danced on the side of buildings, attempting to sell wildly different products. Weapons to clothing to-

“Watson Whore?” Ciri mused, her eyebrows rising at the sight of a woman having sex with another woman. With no one seemingly caring as they walked by without so much as a glance. And the people- “Do all of you chop off pieces of yourselves and replace them with metal?”

“All? No. Most do, though,” Rocinante answered. “Enough so that a pair of ‘ganics like yourselves will stand out. Well, you more than him. People aren’t going to look at him and think ‘elf.’ They’ll think Exotic, if a bit minimalist.” 

Ciri narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, “Why wouldn’t they think he’s an elf?”

Rocinante glanced her way, “Because elves don’t exist? Or, if they did, then they’re long gone, and all we have left are myths and legends.” Ciri didn’t know what to make of that. Over her travels through various Spheres, she had encountered beasts and creatures that didn’t exist in her home or other Spheres. It was the first time she encountered a Sphere who knew of another race, but didn't believe they existed.

“What myths?” She asked, and behind them in the back seat, Avallac'h shifted in a way that betrayed his interest. 

Rocinante scrunched up his face like he was considering it. “I think Elves were mostly just fairies in the original folklore? Which also don’t exist, by the way. Probably. Anyway, these days, they’re primarily seen in fantasy stories or porn. Extremely arrogant, thinking humans are pitiful at best or non-sapient animals at worst, and they either live in forests and commune with Mother Nature, or they build fuck off huge magic cities. When they fall from supremacy, it’s usually all the way to the bottom as second-class citizens or slaves. How close are they to reality?”

She could feel how grumpy Avallac'h was in the back. “They are… Accurate. A little too accurate,” Ciri admitted. “These are just stories, right?”

“Just stories. The only people humanity can enslave and treat as second-class citizens are their fellow humans.” That was… something, she supposed. “I have a few questions of my own. Who are you running from?”

It was a question that she expected, but she couldn’t say that she wanted to answer. “Eredin Brea-”

“Eredin Bréacc Glas,” Avallac'h corrected. 

Ciri rolled her eyes to the roof above before continuing, “Yes. What he said. Leader of the Wild Hunt and king of the Aen Elle.”

“Ah. Snooty elves,” Roncinante deduced. She couldn’t stop herself from laughing -- snooty was a vast understatement. “He a recent or longstanding problem?”

“They have been after me my entire life. I just didn’t know it until a few years ago,” Ciri’s grin lost some of its good nature. “They’re persistent as well. We can’t stay in a Sphere for long without them following us in a matter of days. Sometimes weeks.” Nowhere was safe. Not for long. 

“Hm. I suppose I don’t need to tell you that games of cat and mouse usually don’t end too well for the mouse, do I?” Rocinante asked, and Ciri watched the city go by. For all its bright and flashy sights, it was filthy. Broken streets, broken buildings, piles of trash everywhere, people that others wouldn’t see… 

“No. You don’t,” Ciri admitted. She had managed to stay out of Eredin’s grasp so far, but their close calls were getting closer. He was using bait to lure her into the open now -- first Yennefer, then Geralt… Anyone she loved was in danger because of her. That burden never got any easier to bear. 

“Well, what we lack in magic, we’ve more than made up for with weapons.” Ciri had her doubts about that, but she kept them to herself. Rocinante made a turn, and she noticed that the other carri- cars on the road began to clear up. Until the roads were empty. “And we’ll probably find a couple of them where we're going.” 

“That being?” The part of the city they drove to… it was like Rocky Ridge, except bigger. Only it wasn’t abandoned. As they drove by, Ciri could see people on the road, all of them beggars. A sign caught her attention: “Pacifica?”

“Dogtown, specifically,” Rocinante said, pulling off to one of the few places that was illuminated at night. “It’s a Combat Zone. Basically, the police have completely written off that chunk of the city. It’s occupied by some holdover from the Unification Wars- not too important, so don’t worry about that. All you need to know is that, as far as Dogtown is concerned? Kurt Hansen is king, and Barghest is his long arm.”

That, at the very least, felt a little familiar. A feeling that was short-lived when they pulled up to some kind of checkpoint. Ciri saw the bright yellow clothing that marked them as Barghest soldiers. She wasn’t sure which was stranger -- their appearance or what they held. She wasn’t entirely certain what they were, but it was undoubtedly some form of a weapon. A type of crossbow, based on the trigger. 

Pulling up, a light washed over them, making her still. Then a voice spoke, “A gonk with airlocked systems, a ‘ganic, and an Exotic. Feels like the start of a joke. With the punchline being that rustbucket car.”

“Figured it’d be so ass no one would klep it,” Rocinante replied, earning a bark of laughter from the soldier who spoke. 

“I wouldn’t be so optimistic. Welcome to Dogtown,” the soldier said, letting them pull forward to-...

“Most tour guides would show off the nice parts of the city first,” Ciri noted while Rocinante pulled forward. Dogtown looked just like what the name implied. It was a kennel. Half a ruin, ruled over with an iron fist. Yet, it was bright. Flashing lights that had her blinking away dots, people walking about, almost all of them armed or armored. 

A laugh was her response. “You strike me as the kind of woman who prefers an ugly truth to a pretty lie. And this… Dogtown is where you’ll find the best and worst of Night City. Usually right next to each other.” Flattery. Accurate flattery, which was the best kind, but flattery all the same. “Just follow my lead, okay? Oh, and don't kill anyone if you can avoid it. It's not illegal, but it'll bring Barghest down on our necks.” 

With that warning delivered, Rocinante came to a stop on the side of the road. The three of them got out, with Ciri looking at a massive colosseum, even if it was half collapsed. Sheathing her sword, she attempted not to stare so much as they ventured to the colosseum. Which turned out to be a market. 

It was… a lot. More than she was expecting. Her gaze bounced between the people, the towering golem of steel, the flashing lights, and the music made with instruments she couldn't even imagine. But it was also strangely familiar. Ignoring the contents, it wasn't that different from a normal city market square. Each stall competing for customers, trying to draw your eye. Only, instead of shouting, they flashed lights in your eyes. 

Rocinante moved through the madness with deliberate intent, trusting them to follow. “First, we should get you two some new threads. You kinda stand out,” he remarked, revealing that he was guiding them to a clothing store. Or something like it. It wasn’t a stall like the rest of the market, but it seemed to have been converted from whatever it had been. 

Entering the store, no one seemed to be manning it. However, there was another customer that stepped into a booth-like compartment on the far wall, so she followed suit. Stepping inside, opaque glass close behind her, Ciri flinched when a light washed over her from head to toe. The same kind of light that had washed over them in the car. Once it was done, a black window on the wall came to life to display… 

“That's uncomfortable,” Ciri muttered, looking at a mirror image of herself. Just naked. It even had the rose tattoo on her inner thigh. Arranged next to the naked model of herself were a number of buttons under Recommend Style, Choombata. Pressing one, she saw herself dressed in Night City's more traditional clothing.

“Huh,” Ciri was impressed. Fashion wasn't one of her strong suits. She always preferred trousers to dresses. Whatever decided the outfits picked up on that, and after a quick look through, she found one she liked. Only to be thwarted by ‘Payment Processing Error’ when she pressed confirm. “Rocinante? How do I pay?” 

“Forgot about that. Here, take this -- it's a cash shard. Limit is four thousand eddies. If you have the option for defensive upgrades, go ahead and take ‘em.” Rocinante reached over the glass paneling to hand her a small piece of metal. One with fine detail work. “And just call me Roc.” 

Ciri allowed herself a smile, “Ciri. And the grumpy one is Avallac'h.” They never did introduce themselves, did they?

“Nicetameetcha, Ciri,” Rocinante returned. 

Sliding the shard into a port, she was able to confirm the style she wanted. There were defense options, which further increased the price. Ballistic lining, ceramic plating… it was poor form to spend all of Rocinante's money, so she shied away from the more expensive options, leaving the total to be paid six hundred eddies. The box instructed her to undress while her outfit was being assembled, and she did so after passing back the cash shard with a quick thanks. 

It was a strange Sphere she landed in. But it wasn't devoid of its charms. 

A panel on the side suddenly slid open, and upon a rack, Ciri saw the outfit. Knee high combat boots, ‘low rider’ jeans, a cloth leotard that left parts of her hips exposed with straps around her shoulders and, which would be covered by a leather half jacket that ended at her ribs. Her old outfit was salvaged, taking the parts that mattered -- like the belt, her pouches, dagger, and, of course, her sword -- which was returned to its rightful place on her shoulder. What was left was dumped in a bag. 

Emerging from the booth, she watched Rocinante's reaction. Not that he attempted to hide the look over he gave her, “You look great.” 

Ciri smiled at the compliment. Then she stifled a laugh when Avallac'h emerged from his booth. He wore a dark blue coat with a hood that also ended at his ankles, a scarf around his neck, with tight fitted pants, shiny shoes, and a button down with a high collar. He must have heard it all the same because his pale eyes flickered to her, “This was the closest thing they had to robes.” Ah. Now he was just being sullen. 

“You look the part, at least. Not sure how long you're planning to stay, but it might be worth looking into getting a neural port just for convenience." Rocinante remarked, showing off the slots that were behind his ear. One of which was occupied by the cash shard. “If not, cash shards are the way to go.” 

As interesting as that might be, Ciri doubted that they would be staying long enough to make use of it. Now that they looked the part, they once more set out into the market. 

It only grew stranger the deeper they went. Prosthetics, Ciri could understand, but her gaze lingered on a man who was almost inhuman in appearance behind a counter. As if someone had wrapped flesh over a human-shaped metal golem, and done a poor job of it. There were items with purposes that she could only guess at, while others were obvious, though Ciri doubted a whore could look upon them without blushing up a storm. 

Their destination seemed to be a location that sold vehicles. The ones on display were more aesthetically pleasing than the one they arrived in, though she couldn’t tell much more about them than that. “Give me a sec,” Rocinante said, going to a larger version of the screen that had been in the changing booth. 

Once he was out of earshot, Ciri glanced at Avallac'h, who seemed to drink in the sight of cars, and humans gawking at them, with a deep and profound irritation. “Thoughts?” 

“I do not trust him.” Avallac'h replied bluntly. 

“Because you can't read his mind,” Ciri supplied the reason. 

“For reasons beyond that. He claims magic does not exist, yet we arrived before him. He claims ignorance, yet he has defended his mind flawlessly.” Avallac'h replied, glancing at her in turn. 

“He's alright,” Ciri decided. She didn't trust him, but she didn't distrust him either. So, she was willing to give him a chance. And if he proved untrustworthy… well, then she would just kill him. 

Avallac'h let out a familiar hum. The one that translated to ‘I'm going to dissect that response until there is nothing left of it so I can come to a conclusion about your conclusion.’ Ciri was used to it by now. Then, however, Avallac'h tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. ‘We are being observed.’ 

‘Who?’ She couldn't use telepathy, but Avallac'h could hear her response in her head. 

‘To the right. Overhead.’ Avallac'h answered and Ciri turned her head, as if she were looking at Avallac'h fully, but her gaze flickered up. Two men with strange lines on their faces were speaking quietly to each other. However, their attention was affixed on Rocinante, as he did something on the screen. 

They were there for Rocinante. ‘Can you warn him? With telepathy? Or is that closed off too?’ 

‘I could, but I shall not. If he does speak true about his ignorance of magic, then I will not reveal my capabilities to him.’ Avallac'h replied, his tone telling her that his opinion couldn't be changed. Annoying. ‘I heard that.’ And that's why she hated telepathy. 

If Rocinante noticed, he gave no indication when he stepped back from the screen, wearing a small but satisfied smile. “Sorry about the wait. Had to fill in some info.”

“Offload the cars?” She asked, joining him as they walked away. From the corner of her eye, she saw the two men break off. 

“Just one. Safer to sell them piecemeal than one big package, even if it would be more eddies,” Rocinante replied. His gaze flickered to her, noticing her glance over their shoulder. Their eyes met in that instant, and even without telepathy, he heard what wasn’t said loud and clear. His little smile didn’t leave his face, but his gaze seemed to flatten. “It’ll net me some spending money. Enough to last me until I can sell the next one. Hopefully. I do seem to be burning through cash fast.”

Now she felt a little guilty. “Is six hundred eddies a lot?” She asked, trying to gauge how expensive the outfit was. She liked it. It was surprisingly comfortable and didn’t restrict her movement. 

Rocinante let out a low hum, “It’s not a lot to have, but a lot to spend.” Ah. She understood that perfectly. It was a bit like crowns, ducats, or florans back home. A week's wages, more or less. He might be a mind reader too, because he offered a lopsided grin. “Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t willing to pay.”

She would accept that. For now. All the same, before she left this sphere, Ciri was determined to repay the bout of generosity. “And the people following us?”

“Could be a few people. But, if I had to guess? A Scav named Deadmuse. Kinda robbed ‘em blind after they tried to harvest my organs. I’m guessing he might be a bit sore about it,” Rocinante answered. “I thought something like this might happen. Didn’t know I’d have company, though. You’re good to head off for a bit, and I’ll take care of it. Shouldn’t be more than a minute.”

He was confident, at least. “Never been a fight that I didn’t want to be in the middle of,” she boasted, her hand twitching to her sword. 

“Aim for the neck, armpits, and inner thighs. Stabs would work best, since they might have armor under their skin, and their skin might be cut-resistant. Guns are loud. Bullets are basically an arrow or bolt faster than the eye can see, so either magic up a shield or don’t be where the muzzle is.” Rocinante advised, taking a winding path around the colosseum. Giving the ‘Scavs’ time to gather up and lay their ambush. “They’re Scavs, so they’re probably going to be hopped up to the gills on combat sims -- don’t expect pain to make them stop. Go for the kill every time, then double tap to make sure they’re dead.”

Ciri glanced at Avallac'h, whose fingers twitched in anticipation. Rocinante, on the other hand, ran a cord from a case on his waist up to the small port on the back of his neck. Once they emerged from the colosseum, Ciri saw one of the men leaning against their vehicle in the open. Behind him, three people hid in a back alley with one on the floor above. Two more were on the other side of the street, pretending that they weren’t watching them. 

“You-”

Rocinante’s eye glowed red before the car the man leaned on suddenly exploded in a flash of heat and light. The man, whoever he had been, was reduced to chunks of meat and metal while Rocinante burst into action. A thin glowing wire emerged from his metal arm, and he lashed out with it to one of the men across the street, who brought up what Ciri was assuming was a gun. 

He managed to pull the trigger once, filling the air with a loud bang, before the glowing wire wrapped around it and his arm. The wire cut through both as if they weren’t there, making the man drop to his knees, a blood-curdling scream tearing from his throat that Rocinainte silenced with a bullet from a smaller gun in hand. His head snapped back with a bullet tearing through his eye. 

Ciri nearly hesitated. How he moved was entirely too graceful. An inhuman amount of grace with every movement fluidly moving from one action to the next. He moved like a Witcher. 

“Drop these bitches!” A voice shouted out, but Ciri was already moving. With three long strides, Rocinante’s advice in mind, she drew her sword and her dagger. A man with a face obscured by some kind of mask emerged from behind a foul-smelling trash bin, leveling a gun at her. His finger curled around the trigger, and she jerked out of the way. 

‘Can’t block those.’ Well, maybe she could deflect them if her sword was already in the right position for it. 

Avallac'h revealed his participation when the gun in the man’s hands suddenly exploded. How, Ciri didn’t know, but she knew magic when she saw it. She closed the distance in an instant, driving her dagger underneath his chin at an angle. Ciri felt her blade hit something other than brain matter, so she yanked it to the side sharply, spinning sharply, twirling the dagger in her hand before she plunged into the base of his skull with the same action. 

Turning to the others, Ciri stilled when she saw that they were already running, fleeing for their lives with no hesitation. Based on the distance, they started running when Rocinante blew up the car. It wasn’t uncommon with bandits. They were ambush predators -- when they thought victory was certain, they were bold. When it was uncertain or seemed to be turning against them, they were quick to flee to fight another day. 

With them running, the short-lived battle was already over, leaving only one of the scavengers left. 

“Shit- shit, man- I didn’t want to! Th-they found me, choom! Honest! They were gonna kill me!” He protested, lying on his back with Rocinante standing over him, gun in hand. 

“Raul,” Rocinante greeted him, his tone almost casual. It couldn’t hide the edge in his voice, though. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect to see you again. Figured you would have dropped dead by now from glitter.”

Raul let out a weak-sounding laugh, that deadly edge going unnoticed through willful blindness. “Woulda’ choom. But, D-Deadmuse sent some of his boys after me. They grabbed me. Thought they were going to f-finish harvesting me, but… I dunno, man. They just asked me a bunch of questions- b-but, I didn’t tell them shit.”

“Uh huh,” Rocinante nodded, as if he believed the obvious lie. “I don’t suppose I just dropped Deadmuse, did I?”

Raul shook his head hard enough that she heard something metallic in his neck creak. “Nah, t-that was Scoop. M-Muse sent ‘em to get b-back what we took, but he was gonna flatline you after that.”

“Understandable,” Rocinante nodded, unsurprised. “Deadmuse. Care to tell me where I can find ‘em? And the rest of the Scav den you all seem to be crawling out of?”

“Wa-watson, mostly. The old… fuck. The All Foods Factory! We got some guys there. Like… ten now? A-After you killed the others…” Raul answered, glancing off to the side where Rocinante had killed his partner. “You ah… I can help you get in! You… you spared me once for a reason, right?”

“Actions have consequences, Raul. I spared you. Set you up. And I knew, odds were, it was going to bite me in the ass. If you didn’t OD on glitter, then you were going to sing like a canary the moment you were pressed,” Rocinante replied, and Raul sensed his death coming. “I accepted that. So, accept yours-”

“NO-!”

Rocinante pulled the trigger, snapping Raul’s head back with a bullet to the forehead before he pulled the trigger twice more. Just to be sure. He gazed down at the corpse for a second longer before a sigh escaped him. In a single smooth action, he holstered the weapon before glancing their way. No sweat. No fear. Only the steady calmness of someone used to violence. 

“Sorry about that. Anyone hungry? My treat.” He offered, stepping away from Raul’s corpse without another thought. Her gaze lingered on it for a moment before looking back up at Rocinante. She felt like she understood him a bit better now. 

“I could eat.”

…

It was actually wild how… neat and tidy the black market was in Dogtown, I reflected. It was almost like dealing with a company, just one that specialized in smuggling illicit goods. The entire thing was convenient. Streamlined, almost, for both the seller and the buyer. 

I put the Herrera Outlaw GTS on the market with proof of possession. Of all the cars in my possession, it was the least impressive. And expensive. Still, it was worth five hundred thousand eddies if purchased directly from the manufacturer. Significantly less on the black market, though. There it was ‘only’ worth a hundred thousand eddies. 

The car was apparently a hot item because the very moment I posted the sale, I was hit with a dozen messages to buy it. Who they were, I had no idea. And they had no idea who I was. I just accepted the highest bid of a hundred and fifty thousand eddies and agreed to a fifteen percent cut on behalf of the smugglers to transport the car to the buyer, for an added layer of security. There was even insurance I could buy, just in case something went wrong and I would still get my payout. 

Meaning my payout when it was all said and done was just over a hundred and twenty-five thousand eddies. Something I wasted no time cashing in on. 

Ciri and Avallac'h crashed the moment they ate. Well, Ciri ate. Avallac'h looked at me like he thought I was trying to poison him, so I guess he wasn’t a fan of the burritos. Either way, I dropped them off at my apartment before heading back out to pick up my payday. 

Driving the Outlaw felt like a dream. It was almost an insult to disguise it as a junker, the spoofing shard in place, barely going a fifth as fast as it could go. All the same, I kept it steady while I made my way to the drop-off point. From there, the shady smugglers would pick it up, deliver it to whoever bought it, and I would get my money. 

The location was the garage I killed the Scavs in with Raul, but when the garage door opened, I saw it had already been stripped bare. Deadmuse, most likely. All the same, I drove the car in, took out the shard, grabbed the hologram emitters, and left the garage behind. Shooting the smugglers a text that it was there, I walked off with my hands in my pockets, drinking in the sights of Night City while I came up with a plan. 

Day one with Ciri and Avallac'h seemed to go well. It was strange seeing the same bafflement in Ciri as I had felt, all the while I spouted off lore I half remembered from videos on my second monitor. 

“They spent half a year here,” I muttered. Probably. I only knew that much because I was confused about the sequence of events in Witcher 3, so I was mostly going off some random guy’s best guess. So, six months to a year. Maybe a little more or less. I’m not sure what made them leave -- either they were found, or they were convinced they’d lost the Wild Hunt’s trail. Either way, around a year from now, the events of Witcher 3 would kick off. 

There was an option I didn’t expect to be available to me. 

I could just leave this universe. Hitch a ride with Ciri and Avallac'h. I’d have to fight the Wild Hunt, sure, but I’d like to see what they could do against a Sandevistan Monowire combo. I doubted that I would be able to find my home universe in the vast multiverse, so that was a bust. Point being, I didn’t need to stay in the ultra-captalist dystopian hellhole. I could go to a medieval fantasy hellhole. 

My phone buzzed sharply, and I saw a message from the smugglers saying they had picked up the car. Glancing over my shoulder, I was barely a block down the road when I saw the Outlaw emerging from the garage. “That was fast,” I remarked with a shrug, rounding the corner as I continued to ponder my options. 

Magic was cool. Though I wasn’t sure I wanted to settle in a world that didn’t have running water. More than that, if I did hitch a ride with Ciri, it would influence what I did from now on. 

“Netrunning would be a dead end,” I continued. It was so powerful here because everyone was connected to the net, their bodies full of tech that could be used against them. Even setting aside that the internet wouldn’t be a thing in a fantasy world, even in other universes with it, it would be a dead end. 

Which meant I needed to go with a more in-your-face combat role. Like a Sandevistan. Or go longer range as a sniper, or something. Doable. Very doable. But I did really like being able to make people explode with a thought. It was very convenient. 

“Maybe I could learn magic?” I mused, a small grin tugging at my lips. It wasn’t like I couldn’t ever come back. Once the Wild Hunt was dealt with, Ciri could jump between universes as much as she liked. We would just have to deal with them first. I didn’t imagine it would be particularly difficult to convince Ciri to let me tag along as backup. I could come back to Cyberpunk. Or I could settle in another world. 

I-

My phone buzzed once more, and I opened it to see that a deposit had been made into my account. The anemic three hundred eddies I had left after the withdrawal on the cash shard were bolstered to a nice and robust one hundred and twenty-eight thousand eddies. 

“I sold the car to someone in Night City,” I reasoned. That was the only way the payout could be delivered so quickly. That was amusing. Still, it was very nice to have some money again. Especially when I needed to spend some of it. 

Before I could even think of leaving with Ciri, I needed to prepare. I needed a few choice implants. I needed some bioware upgrades. We would need weapons, tech, and generally anything else we could think of to put the Wild Hunt down for good. More than anything else, however, I needed to prove to Ciri I wouldn’t be deadweight. So, I made a call. 

After a quick ring, I heard a familiar voice on the other end. “Donquixote-san. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Wakako greeted me, her voice professional. 

“Looking for info on a Scav by the name of Deadmuse,” I answered promptly. It was a shame about Raul, but he made his choice. While he claimed that they were at the food processing plant, and there were about ten left, I didn’t trust what he had to say in the slightest.

“Hm,” Wakako hummed, and I didn’t know what to make of that. “Deadmuse operates out of the All Foods Processing Plant in Northern Watson after his exile from Dogtown in a power struggle. Currently, he boasts a nest of eighteen strong.” Almost twice what Raul had said. Or maybe she wasn’t aware we dropped a few of his guys?

“I appreciate it, but why do I get the feeling you aren’t telling me out of the goodness of your heart?” I ventured with a thin smile she couldn’t see. 

“Because I have a gig available. A trial run to see if I will call upon your services again. Deadmuse has acquired a datashard that my client wants. Retrieve it.” Wakako commanded with the expectation of obedience. 

Wakako wasn’t my first choice in a fixer. She wasn’t the second, third, or fifth either. But, just as I told Jackie, I would work with the fixer I knew rather than the fixers I didn’t. 

“Send me the details.”