Chapter 9

"Thank you for riding with us. We look forward to serving you again."

Words I’d never have heard in my old life. I stepped off the Delamain and stifled a scoff.

I always got off early—near H4 Building. Letting it drop me right at the door would pull too much attention.

Still… gotta admit. Jugra’s something else.

Never thought I’d wear the same uniform Mom did.

Emergency crew gear—crisp, clean, obviously new. She didn’t say it, but it was clear. When she told me, “Custom-fit for you,” it sent a jolt through me.

And the pay? 1000 eddies an hour. Insane compared to the scraps most gigs throw.

I only work three hours a day after school—4 to 7 PM. Sundays, though, I can go all in. Jugra cleared it.

Best part? No set payday. I can cash out anytime.

Sure, maybe it’s because I’m her only hire. But she’s got eddies to burn. Watching my balance grow from pocket change to something real? Yeah, that rush never fades.

"Me? Legend material? …Bullshit. But her eyes—she meant it."

Become a living legend.

Weirdest damn pitch. But it made me think of the names whispered in Night City:

Morgan Blackhand. Andrew Weyland. Boa Boa. Adam Smasher.

They carved their way through chrome and blood.

And now… me?

No way.

Still, Jugra treated that fantasy like it had weight. Even said she’d fund it.

…But why?

That look in her eyes stuck with me. Dark. Still. Pulling. Like a quiet void that swallowed everything.

Worse than that? The sadness behind it.

“…Mom’s not here.”

Past 8 PM. No sign of her. Early shifts usually mean she’s crashed by four.

But today? No bag. No laundry. Yesterday’s load still sitting there.

She never came home.

My chest tightens. I flip on the TV—no alerts.

Maybe she’s out with coworkers?

I force myself through a shower. Then bed.

"Ugh… damn alarm’s louder than a gunshot—"

I slap it off. Still foggy. Cold water doesn’t help.

No greeting. No snoring.

Dread gnaws again.

Holo—no missed calls.

Emails—nothing.

No note. Nothing to show she ever came back.

7:02 AM. Right on time.

“…Mom?”

Jugra’s voice echoes in my head:

"The weak don’t get to choose how they die. Especially not here."

No. No way.

But if she got caught up in something—

"My old man got his head blown off by a scav on a grocery run."

Jugra had said it like fact. Flat. Heavy.

This city doesn’t play fair. Unless you live in Arasaka Tower, nowhere’s safe. Trauma Team would’ve helped—but we can’t afford that.

So what now? School?

What the hell am I supposed to do?

"Huh? The hell, David—didn’t order a wake-up call."

I’d called Jugra without realizing. Instinct.

“Mom’s gone. Since last night. Said she had an early shift.”

My voice shakes. Jugra exhales—slow, like she’s putting something together.

For a moment, I hope.

“Right. Listen. You want the truth? Even if it’s ugly? I’ve got a theory. Might be off, but probably not. You in?”

My pulse pounds.

Truth? Hell? Over this?

Katsuo’s voice slinks back: "Your mom’s doing illegal shit to pay your tuition."

I’d laughed it off. But if Jugra’s saying the same—

“…Yeah. If it helps find her.”

“Heh. Voice leveled out. Got some spine now? Then here’s the deal: Your mom’s probably chopping cyberware off corpses and flipping it on the black market. NCPD EMT pay won’t touch Arasaka tuition. Not even close. How else you think she fed you and paid up?”

“…Knew it.”

“Huh. Took it better than I figured. You see something? Doesn’t matter. Listen—”

“Can you find her?!”

“Maybe. Depends on luck. Pray for good RNG, Legend-boy. Now focus: high-tier cyberware is rare. Quality and demand change, but military-grade tech? Jackpot. I dug through some borrowed files. James Norris—cyberpsycho—had a prototype Sandevistan. Military issue. It’s gone from the logs. Your mom—Gloria Martinez—was on shift nearby. I’m betting she took it. Arasaka name on that gear? Big payday.”

“…The hell, Jugra? How’re you netrunning like this?”

“The fuck? That’s what you ask? It’s analog, kid. Old-school. Keyboards, terminals, typing. Do it right, and—”

["This happens."]

Her voice floods the room—from every device. TV. Fridge. Phone. Even the damn PA speakers.

Cold sweat trickles down my spine. Like I’m trapped in a horror BD.

“Happy? Took hours syncing analog hacks. Pain in the ass. Anyway—she probably met the buyer in person. Standard move. But on the way? Got spotted. That’s my guess. No promises.”

I’m frozen. Mouth dry. A warm Nikola doesn’t help.

“…What do I do?”

“Better question: What do you want to do?”

“What kind of—”

“One: I’m wrong, and she’s passed out at a coworker’s. Two: Hire a fixer. Three: Run around like a headless gonk. Four: Let me handle it. Five: Go to school and play dumb.”

"…Six. I follow your lead and find her."

"Oho. That’s my Legend-boy. Flashy debut—let’s make it loud."

The holo cut out. Then, without warning, it snapped back. No call log. Just Jugra’s name and a flaming dragon icon in my optics.

Analog hack.

…Seriously? Can’t even block this?

"Good. Now we’re private. Old-school but untraceable. Oh, and I borrowed your school’s system—marked you absent. Swing by my place. That weak-ass outfit’ll get you killed."

"Got it—wait, how?"

"Email-to-speech app. My voice is a sound file on your device. No actual call. Just talk—I’ll hear you."

"…Analog as hell."

I changed and stepped outside—just in time to see the Delamain lift off in AV mode.

"Called in a favor. Ground traffic’s for losers."

"…Sure."

"What’s this?" Jugra’s voice played in my head, a wry smile pulling at my lips.

She was wild—out of pocket, half the time—but always came through when it counted.

Delamain took the direct route, slicing through the sky, and we landed at Graaker fast.

The entrance, sealed tight, opened the second I approached—like it had been waiting for me.

I let out a breath and walked in. Straight to the side room by the operating bay.

Techie’s desk from yesterday was gone. In its place, a monitor and keyboard. And in front of them—Jugra, in a tank top and shorts, hair still a mess from sleep.

"Yo. Mornin’, David. Time to kit you out—any preferences?"

"Nah. Just make me look good."

"You got it. Strip down."

She laid out gear like it was treasure: MaxTac carbon-fiber pants, Militech ballistic undershirt, and a custom bulletproof vest reinforced with Armadillo mods. Even had wire-mesh lining tough enough to stop a car. Nothing short of a tank.

"Uh… yeah."

I changed. Jugra folded my old clothes without a word.

Dressed, I checked myself in the mirror.

No joke—I looked like a real cyberpunk now. Serious edge.

Jugra smirked and hit a button. The wall shifted—shelf down, weapons rack up. Guns everywhere.

My breath caught.

She picked one and tossed it over.

[Fingerprint scan initiated. New user detected: David Martinez. Registration complete. Locking functions.]

The holo message blinked and vanished.

Sleek. Matte. "SMILEY" etched on the side.

"Smiley…?"

[Voice recognized. Default message: Hello, User. I am SMILEY, an AI-equipped smart-tech firearm.]

"…Jugra. What is this?"

"Heh. A smart-gun with an AI assistant. That’s Smiley. Still green, but it learns. Talk, fight, train—it grows with you. Think of it as your partner. And since it’s smart-tech, no need for fancy implants. Just point, and it does the rest. Hostage scenario? Smiley adjusts. Perfect for rookies."

"A partner, huh?"

[Keyword detected. Nice to meet you.]

"Uh… yeah. Likewise, Smiley."

Weirdest intro I’d ever had to a weapon—but I couldn’t lie. It felt good. Felt right.

Jugra handed over spare mags, a custom holster, a waist bag full of meds and ammo, and a knife rig with a vibro-blade and plasma cutter.

Like I was ready for war.

"And this," she said, passing a heavy piece, "is a Boulya. Knocks out car tires. Spare mag’s in the bag. Just grip it tight—the recoil’s nasty. And only use it when things get real. It vaporizes people."

"You’re handing this to a total amateur?"

"You fine with Gloria getting dragged off ‘cause you weren’t packing heat?"

"…Point taken. I’ll handle it."

"Good. But remember—you’re still green. Don’t get cocky."

"Yeah."

"Keep calm. No hesitation. Got it?"

Her tone sharpened, all business. I got it. She wasn’t just arming me—she was trusting me.

I raised a fist. She bumped it with her chrome knuckles.

…Ow. Right. Metal hands.

No use whining now.

I had something to do.

I had someone to save.

As I turned to leave, Jugra gave me a light shove between the shoulders.

Didn’t say a word.

Didn’t need to.

I didn’t look back. Just kept walking.