Neokitsch was always something that I had looked down on because it took the best parts of mundane kitsch fashion, its accessibility, and inverted it to hell. Everything that could make it even more expensive was done in order to flex as much as possible on whoever saw the outfit. It was an attack on the poor, a vicious mockery reminding them that they truly couldn’t have anything just for themselves, that Night City, and all within it, belonged to the rich.

  I could also admit when it looked really fucking preem.

  The centerpiece of my ensemble was a calf-length bright yellow silk jacket with an intricate quilted pattern of white circuitry at the back and over my shoulders covering where the silver white high-vis bands would have been on my mom’s jacket. Neon-white piping was incorporated in the jacket’s seams, putting a new meaning to flashy clothing, making the whole jacket forcefully eye-catching. The inside of the high collar of the jacket was iridescent and glowed as well, and was adorned with a gold filigree pattern that elevated it from just corpo straight to old-school bougie.

  Beneath that was a pure white jumpsuit that felt very comfortable to my skin, so much so that I almost suspected it to be drugged somehow. Never felt material so soft in my life. I wore a yellow belt with a zigzagging golden belt buckle consisting of three lines to break up the monotony, and the buckle was studded with yellow and white gemstones. On my feet, I wore a pair of sleek white knee-high boots, with yellow soles that glowed with every step.

  On my face was a pair of oversized aviator glasses with bright yellow lenses that somehow didn’t really change the color of my vision that much, and white frames that mercifully didn’t glow as well. There was a headpiece, too—a crown-like wreath with square spires making it look like the walls of a fortress, made from white gold and studded with more yellow and white gems, and behind them were light-sources that gave them a distracting shimmer.

  And finally, a pair of white cloth gloves, as plain as the jumpsuit I was wearing, but no less comfortable.

  I took some photos with my eyes as I looked myself in the mirror, striking some poses.

  It was strangely fun. I wasn’t really that much of a fashion-head, but even I could recognize when something just looked good.

  And it was a way to honor mom, the jacket at least. Couldn’t forget about that.

  Though I didn’t really like the crown that much, and I could do without the extra gems on the belt buckle.

  “How much,” I sighed as I asked the tailor, whose name was actually Yamanaka.

  “Nineteen thousand five hundred,” Yamanaka said after a slight moment of hesitation, which I had long-since learned was just… a thing that people did when mentioning large sums of money, regardless of how obvious the reality was that products had to be exchanged for money.

  “I don’t like the crown,” I said. “And if it’s the gemstones that are inflating the price, why don’t you get me some fakes. Not like anyone would notice it, right?”

  He scoffed now, the derision back again in full swing. “Cyberoptics with spectrometer apps would.”

  I looked at him askance. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! People have that?”

  “Of course! You really think using fake gems goes unpunished in high society?”

  I growled. “I try not to let myself get fixated on such trifles.”

  “Trifles, you say. Very well, if you wish to humiliate yourself this evening, then be my guest.”

  “Okay, get rid of the gems altogether,” I said. “And the buckle… is that actual gold?”

  “Yes it is. Seventy-five percent pure, eighteen karats, the bare limit.”

  I shot him a glare. “Easy for you to say when it’s not your wallet on the line here. Without the stupid headpiece, and the gems, how much is this?”

  He pulled out a calculator, eyed my outfit for a moment, and then gave me an utterly shameless response. “Five thousand five-hundred and eighty.”

  “You’re telling me you almost ran me fifteen K on stuff that I didn’t even want to begin with?”

  “Without those things, the outfit becomes rather plain, wouldn’t you say?” he asked. “A display of opulence is necessary, and I can assure you that your classmates would have appreciated it.”

  “The crown was insane,” I said. “The final price is still insane. And I don’t plan to stay at this height forever, you know.”

  “Not a problem at all,” the man said. “How do you think these clothes fit you so well? There’s a nano-weave connected to microprocessors that lengthens and shortens to accommodate the wearer. It can grow to an excess of twice its current size. It’s stabbing and cutting-proof as well, giving you, and it for that matter, additional protection in this city. Your parents would much appreciate a son of theirs staying both safe and fashionable.”

  I looked at the outfit, and tried to stop myself from doing something boneheaded.

  Five thousand would set me back, but a weekend of dedicated solo work and picksocketing with nothing else to take my focus could help me recoup this awful loss.

  And well, if I was going to be spending large sums like that, might as well not half-ass it. “What if we kept the gems on the belt?”

  Yamanaka grinned like he had won the lottery.

  “Why don’t we try different headpiece designs while we’re at it?”

  000

  I ended up paying out an excess of twelve thousand eurodollars.

  It fucking hurt, too.

  And was it worth it? Who even fucking knew?

  For the extra money, we toned down, but didn’t eliminate, all the gemstones on the belt-buckle. They were concentrated on the center-most zigzag pattern, alternating and spelling the letter M in the middle.

  And in lieu of a headpiece, I wore a white tech choker with rings of gold at each border. It made the jumpsuit look like a turtle-neck and made me extra glowy as well, which was important for God knows what reasons. The white of the tech choker could throw holograms based on pre-installed FBXs, files with animated 3D models, but they had some presets for me to use as well, and I could also change the color palette if I wanted to.

  I didn’t waste any time pick-socketing like my life depended on it. Several times once I got busted, I joined in on the collective outrage, and no one looked at me twice. I looked way too rich for anyone to even suspect me.

  I ran the NCART line so many times just racking up as many shards as I could, until finally I spotted cops on every station, glaring menacingly at the train. Some even entered the train and started eyeing people suspiciously.

  Except for me. They just gave me a respectful nod, and continued their watchful vigil.

  Nova.

  I got off on the next station once it was clear that my picksocketing was over for now. I’d never overdone it so hard before, and I guess now I was seeing the consequences of my actions.

  A call came.

  Lunacy: Cops are all over the NCARTs. The fuck did you do, Martinez?

  David: Why the fuck did you immediately jump to me?

  Lunacy: I’ve tapped the cop feeds, you gonk. I know they’re after a phantom picksocket. They suspect speedware-use, too. You’re not being slick at all.

  I rolled my eyes.

  David: What does it matter to you?

  Lunacy: It matters because I almost got fucking pinched because of your stealing spree. Why do you have to make it so fucking obvious, man? Are you really that dumb-stupid? Do I have to hold your hand every time? If you can’t do it right, then don’t do it at all.

  David: Fine! Super sorry. Won’t happen again.

  Lunacy: It fucking won’t or I’m breaking that shitty cyberdeck of yours.

  I groaned.

  I shot Kiwi a text.

  David: I’ve got more-more shards. It’s a big haul. I want money for this, not extra lessons.

  Kiwi: Big-big haul is right. Heard from Lucy first. Almost screwed her over.

  David: Already apologized-said sorry. The shards?

  Kiwi: Not interested in learning more?

  David: Learned lots already. Thank you. Figured out Overheat. I’m gonna focus on Ping next. Then I’ll get another lesson. For now, cash.

  Kiwi: Drop by the usual place. Can’t promise swift payment either. Shards are still hot. You might not want to let your patience run thin next time you’re strapped for edds, David. Can’t force more money. Your eagerness worked against you.

  David: I understand. I’m sorry.

  Kiwi: That Sandy-Sandevistan of yours makes you pretty fucking impressive, but you can’t let it convince you that you’re invincible. That’s my advice.

  David: Got it. Thanks, Kiwi. Can we meet tomorrow then?

  Kiwi: Sure

  Come to think of it, the place where Kiwi and I met, a rundown cafe at a megablock, was maybe a place that I should look into connecting to the local net of. Maybe it was a real Netrunner hub?

  I’d make it a point to check the next time.

  Having already popped my lavish spending cherry for the day, and being aware that looking the way that I did would make me an easy mark for bullying or robbery, I took a cab to my megabuilding and Sandevistan’d as close to an elevator as I could.

  With some cyberdeck magic, I brought the elevator straight to my floor without any stops and got home without anyone noticing me.

  I really didn’t want any kind of heat in my shitty little apartment unit that could be snuck into through vents of all things.

  I should maybe look into moving to a one-bedroom apartment soon, or any apartment without that glaring vulnerability.

  I checked the time and saw that it was just six o’ clock.

  Since the shards weren’t going to pay anytime soon, I might as well hit up El Capitan for some more gigs.

  D: Anything quick and easy?

  El Capitan: Kid, you’re the ones that are makin’ ‘em quick and easy. What’re you in the mood for?

  I sighed.

  D: You got any scavs for me to clear out? Or a hideout of non-borg gangoons in need of zeroing?

  El Capitan: I’ve got scavs. Eight to thirteen. I’ll pay you the usual rate of twice their going bounty.

  D: Why do you do that anyway? Wouldn’t it be cheaper for you to just tell me about the scav den so I can collect from the NCPD?

  Telling him that wasn’t exactly something I was afraid would change our usual arrangements. There must be a reason for this, and I’d much rather know than not.

  El Capitan: Keeps things off the books and the pigs off my business. These scav nests are a thorn in my paw, and I’d rather things not get bogged down by formal investigations and cordons and whatnot. The extra thou is for you to clear the way so I can send some other boys to clean out the bodies all nice and quiet and business can go on as usual, true and honest.

  D: Thanks for telling me, and about the scav den. Shoot me the info and I’ll be done within the hour.

  El Capitan: You’re a fucking menace kid, you know that? I’ll throw you an extra five grand if nobody calls the cops. This is a residential area, and sure, a couple of gunshots isn’t gonna rattle anybody until it gets worryingly close, but like I told you before, I need the discretion.

  D: I’ll make sure not a bullet gets fired.

  El Capitan: You’re a real one, D. See you.

  Once he shot me the information, I realized that the most annoying part of this gig would be getting to the den itself. It was in Northside, Watson.

  I grumbled as I took off my clothes and donned my usual uniform. My mom’s jacket had been mended as well as I could, and I had just decided to buy a new shirt altogether.

  With my mask, and the machete I had taken from the first scavs I had killed, I headed out.

  000

  Turns out with cops prowling on every NCART while I was wearing a mask and lugging around a fucking machete, questions would be asked.

  I narrowly managed to shake off the pigs through the ocean of people in the NCART and the doors opened just in time for them to almost reach me. Getting away from them became trivial afterwards.

  I decided to take off my mask and put the machete in an inner pocket for the next cart.

  This time, I only received a shove and a bark from the cops, and it wasn’t long before I had reached my stop.

  I checked my Critical Progress, and it was sitting at a 50% from all the Sandevistan uses during my shard-klepping spree.

  That was fine. I doubted I’d need more than one use of the Sandevistan to take care of the whole lot.

  I took a cab to the address, this time far cheaper due to the neighborhood we were in, and made my way to the megabuilding. My cyberdeck was fastened to my left forearm and my machete was in the other. I hacked into the elevator and took myself straight to the floor section that the scavs had klepped for themselves. According to the data, they had wired the elevators to just skip this section of floor entirely, a full sixteenth of the megabuilding’s floor, and now they had the run of the whole place.

  Not for long.

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  The elevator opened, and I was face-to-face with five scavs all holding guns of all kinds. A shotgun here, a pistol there, even an automatic rifle.

  I activated the Sandevistan, got behind them, and started reaping.

  I went for the back of their necks, wanting to end things as quickly as possible and having read that it was a weak-point that could lead to instant death that even subdermal armor would have a hard time shielding against.

  Once my machete finally hit subdermal on the fourth gonk’s neck, I let the weapon go and looked for something else that was long and sharp.

  I entered room after room looking for more scavs and quickly found one that was mid-operation. They had some fun sharp implements hanging around on the walls, and I helped myself to two, a machete and a large butcher’s cleaver with a pointy end.

  I ran back to where the scavs had tried to ambush me, and the last remaining scav alive was just beginning to react to the deaths of his companions when I slashed the back of his neck with the butcher’s knife, driving it straight through his neck.

  Thirty-nine.

  I ran back to the room where the scavs were operating, four around a table where a lump of meat that could hardly be recognized as a human lay.

  Each died with a stab or cut to their throat.

  Forty-three.

  Bringing along several other sharp implements, I checked the other rooms and found some watching TV or zoned out in a BD. Four in number. I hit subdermal once, and left the knife in their throat and used the others I had brought, but other than that, no other hitches. Upper limit reached. Fucking success.

  Forty-seven.

  I checked the other rooms too just in case they were more than El Capitan’s upper limit suggested. The same happened last time after all.

  Not a soul left on this floor. I deactivated the Sandevistan and heard the collapse of all thirteen scavs.

  D: Finished.

  I sent him the stills of the dead bodies to go with the message.

  El Capitan: Holy shit kid, you fucking butchered them! Thirteen, huh?

  D: Didn’t fire a single bullet, as promised.

  El Capitan: At this rate, you’ll inflate the value of dead scavs. Fuck!

  D: They’re so easy to kill, I’m actually surprised they still exist.

  El Capitan: Ah, forgot to mention, there’s an additional risk to killing the scavs. You’ve heard of the bratva, yeah? Well, worry about them. Any cameras catch you?

  I looked around, startled by that sudden warning.

  El Capitan: No problem about that. Just be sure to scrub the camera feeds if you can. They’re all dead, so you basically have a run of the place.

  D: I’d appreciate the warning earlier next time. I was almost about to leave.

  El Capitan: That one’s on my account. How’s an extra two thousand sound for an apology?

  Getting real tired of people paying me for my hurt feelings.

  D: Appreciate that.

  Twenty-nine thousand.

  Thirty-four thousand once I got my bonus in, too!

  I looked for their computer terminal and hacked into their system in only a few minutes. Conveniently, their camera feed was entirely local and nothing had been sent out in the last twenty-four hours to some other network. I went ahead and just deleted it all, and then for good measure, started smashing the PC tower up. Once it exposed its drive, I pried it out from its mounting and smashed it against the floor before stomping on it several times for good measure.

  I rode the elevator down, and before I could even exit the megabuilding, a wire transfer came my way along with a fat thirty-four thousand.

  I whooped in joy. “Fuck yeah! Whoohoo!”

  I was so going back to Jinguji for some extra stuff.

  000

  After going back home, dressing up once again, and returning to Jinguji in full regalia to adorn myself in more chains and rings than I knew what to do with, I was barely scraping by on how much time I had left to attend the party Allister was going to.

  The additional apparel was purely jewelry, last-minute additions that Yamanaka felt would not subtract from the style of my current get-up. I wore rings on my pinkies, middle fingers and index fingers, each platinum bands inlaid with alternating patterns of yellow and white diamond.

  I got several gold chains as well and didn’t skimp on their purity, either: Cuban link, cable chain and venetian chain, all gold and eighteen karats. All of that set me back by an impressive fourteen thousand eurodollars. I still had enough money to pay off this semester’s fees with three thousand eurodollars to spare and paid that as quickly as I could, almost as if I didn’t trust myself to be sensible with it.

  I really didn’t fucking know what I was expecting either from tonight to be so lavish about my spending. Yamanaka had assured me that my aesthetic was fresh and new, the EMT jacket thing being a stroke of absolute genius, which just… made me feel dirty. Neokitsch was about appropriating working class fashion and making it high class. If anyone deserved to do that to mom’s style, it was me. And I thought it looked good, but… I was just torn on exactly what to feel.

  Yamanaka had also assured me that I passed the bar for classy as well by how pure my metal was and how big my stones were. By all means, my schoolmates should be impressed. I just knew that they wouldn’t.

  Because I was wearing it.

  Like we agreed, I would meet Allister in a high class bar that wasn’t so far away from Jinguji, a bar that I was even scared if the bouncer would let me in. I sent him a text saying that I had arrived before refocusing on my first obstacle. He was a huge guy, probably as big as that Animal bouncer guarding The Afterlife, only he was dressed in a black suit and stood before a velvet rope. He took one look at me and immediately parted the rope with a deferential nod my way. “Welcome, esteemed patron.”

  I looked for that familiar head of white hair, and found him sipping on a fruity cocktail at the bar. From what I could see from my angle, he was wearing a pair of black pants and a blood-red fur-coat. As I approached him, I called his name. “Allister.”

  He almost jumped out of his skin as he turned to see me, and when he did, he really did jump out of his seat. “David?! Is that you?” He wore a frilly red shirt as well, buttons open to reveal his chest, giving prominence to his gold chains. Less numerous than mine. He didn’t wear any rings, either. He still wore his glasses with blue frames, but they weren’t shaded. “I thought I’d have to meet you outside if the bouncer wouldn’t let you in without waiting but…!”

  “He let me in no problem,” I said. “Also,” I said as I came forward to give him a hug, but instead slipped a baggie of BD chips into the inner pocket of his fur coat. “That’s ten of them.”

  I let go of him and gave him a look above my shades. “When are we headed out?”

  000

  I took a long sip of my mojito—soda water replaced with regular water—and savored the taste of some good shit. I didn’t know alcohol could really taste all that good. Always assumed they went from downright nasty to just tolerable enough to not ruin a high, but this was really good. Minty and sweet.

  Allister sat next to me, the both of us still in the bar, ‘pre-gaming’ as it was called. “You’re obviously a man of means,” Allister said. “But you’re not a legacy, not from Arasaka at least. I would have known.”

  He wanted my story. I couldn’t blame him.

  I could only blame myself for not having come up with one.

  Shit.

  Edgerunning to pay for school was well and good if I had resolved myself to staying unnoticed all the way through, but instead I had gone ahead and put myself on the map with an outfit that practically screamed rich parents. Now I needed to explain myself, or someone nosy enough would do the explaining for me.

  Time to get creative. And with a Sandevistan, I had all the time in the world to come up with some passable bull.

  “Rich grandparents from Mexico,” I said. “They got pressed into retirement and hiding by the cartel. They still have money, and they’ve used it to put me through school here. They just haven’t been able to come out of hiding for fear of their lives. And I’ve had to keep a low profile with my mom as well.”

  Allister’s eyes widened in shock. “Then… what changed?”

  “Those cartel fucks finally got flatlined. New management rose up, old grudges died. My grandparents are finally off the hook, so now they decided to splurge on me.”

  “Wow, that’s…” Allister shook his head. “Well, I’m glad things worked out for you. In retrospect, it was a little fantastical to imagine that someone destitute would be able to stay in Arasaka Academy for as long as you have. I even heard rumors that…” he pressed his lips closed. “Nothing, nevermind.” He took his shot of top shelf vodka in hand and downed it in one go. I sipped the last of my mojito as well. “Let’s get going.”

  “Where are we meeting Walter?” I asked.

  “When we get there,” he said as we both exited, passing by a line of people made to wait. Hadn’t seen that line when I arrived. Lucky me, I guess. Allister stood by the pavement waiting, and from a corner, a driverless Rayfield Caliburn drove by.

  The sleek, low-roofed hypercar stopped right in front of us.

  The door opened.

  Allister went in.

  I stared at him slack-jawed.

  “What are you doing?” Allister asked. “Come in.”

  I rounded the car and entered to sit on the passenger’s seat. Once the door closed, Allister immediately pulled off.

  “I didn’t get the gist between you and Walter,” I told him. “Not the first time we spoke today, or ever really. Always assumed he was the alpha. But you’re the one driving a hypercar. You know who I am. Who are you?”

  He gave me a sideways glance and a small smile. “You’ve probably assumed correctly the nature of our relationship. His parents work for mine. He attached himself to me as such, bidden by his parents, and has stayed by my side since, like the ancient vassals of feudal Japan. My father is a vice president at the finance department of Arasaka, and Walter’s father is a manager. If my father is the samurai lord, then Walter’s is his retainer.”

  I nodded. “Then why are you an XBD gofer?”

  Allister made a shocked sound, and then chuckled uneasily. Maybe I broke him out of the corpo speak too violently.

  “Vice president is not as great of a position as it might sound. They’re below the directors, who are below the executive director, the de-facto hegemon of the department, in charge of Arasaka’s purse, in Night City at least. A Vice Presidency might afford my father enough money to buy his only son a hypercar, but I too am like Walter in that I must answer to a higher authority.”

  “The son of a director,” I said.

  “I’m a little more special than that,” Allister said with a smile. “By all accounts, my father is looking at an imminent promotion, having already conquered the competition in his tenure as VP, and will soon be welcomed into the good company of the directors.”

  I could hear the derision in his voice.

  “And now the directors who had stayed busy bothering and lording over the weaker VPs, having left my father alone due to his prowess, will focus their attention on the young upstart, and he will have to shoulder scorn and derision for the time being until he establishes himself well enough in this new arena. This, naturally, drags me into the consequences of his actions. I will now have to play nice with the son of the executive director. Thankfully, the director’s children are either too young, old, or weakly positioned to bully me, leaving me at the mercy of this fifteen year old boy.”

  His personal little Katsuo.

  “And when I promised him Jimmy Kurosaki XBDs hot off the street, he believed me. And then I ended up disappointing him.”

  I winced. “Fuck. Sorry dude. Life became… hectic—”

  “I know about your mother’s passing,” he replied. “I would never blame you for deciding to take a break or even quitting entirely after what happened to you. Walter didn’t see it the same way. He could tell how much damage this had done to my image in the eyes of Jin. He dragged me all the way to you and… you know the rest. And besides, I already took responsibility for my shortcomings. Jin and his cronies will get these XBDs for free, not that it would ever truly harm them to pay for them. But it’s the personal cost to myself that matters. A pound of flesh to make reparations.”

  “Ain’t that a bitch,” I muttered.

  Allister chuckled a “Yeah.”

  “So what does that make me as someone who isn’t sworn to you like Walter is?” I asked. “Could I do that or something?”

  Allister frowned. “Don’t make requests you don’t know the weight of, David. Swearing yourself to me means I get to protect you from whatever bullies are giving you a hard time, sure, and I doubt you’d have any more troubles in school if you did, but that means you work under me. And you always will. Walter’s father will never accept a promotion that supplants my father. Walter will similarly never take a step up the corporate ladder in which he is my equal. If either of them ever did, then they would be marked as betrayers for life and would lose all trust. Very few ever manage to get away with doing so, and only ever do because the head family of Arasaka gave them clemency for very special reasons. Do you want that, David? To work under me for the rest of your life?”

  I blinked.

  What the fuck.

  Was that what their deal was? Allister said all that shit about retainers and samurai, and I just thought he was being the nerd he always was, but he was dead fucking serious, wasn’t he? Walter really was his retainer.

  His servant.

  “That’s a lot to consider all at once,” I said.

  He snorted. “I’m sure it is. No, you are my business partner, David. You help me sate Jin’s appetite for XBDs, and I give you an in to this world where you are free to network to your heart’s content. But let me give you a word of advice before you get started on all of that: for God’s sake, don’t be afraid to admit inferiority. It does you far less harm than you can imagine.”

  I started kicking the floor of the car, but stopped once I realized where I was.

  Instead, I just chewed on my lip.

  This wasn’t going to be a good night at all. I could feel it.

  Allister put a hand on my shoulder. “Just stick to me and don’t speak unless spoken to. Dazzle them with your outfit and delta without elaborating. High society loves the quiet types.”

  “I don’t do quiet very well.”

  “Can you try?”

  I nodded. “I can.”

  We pulled up in a toll gate that was crawling with armed security guards and dogs of all things. Hadn’t seen one of those outside of TV in… ever, actually. Nuts.

  Around the toll booth was what looked to be some kind of scanner arch.

  I paled as the weight on my back took precedence in my mind.

  A security guard approached Allister’s window. He rolled it down and looked up at the officer. “Allister Takeuchi with a guest, David Martinez, my schoolmate.”

  The security guard gave me a look that lasted a few seconds, and my heart pounded in my chest. He gestured carelessly to the side. “You can go,” he said. The toll booth opened and we drove right in. The arch didn’t even activate.

  Just in case it did and it was soundless, I looked behind, wondering if they were going to follow us and drag me out of the car, asking me why I had mil-spec chrome chipped in.

  None came.

  “They’re not coming after us, you know,” Allister said with a chuckle in his voice. “They know who my father is. I live in this neighborhood.”

  It was only now that I noticed we were in fucking North Oaks.

  And it looked just as preem as it did on TV. Even better, in fact.

  I was at a total loss for words. Grass. So much of it too, and it was growing everywhere. It was dark, and from the neon lights dotting the picturesque landscape, I couldn’t make out the green of it all, but it was no less amazing just for that.

  The flowers and hedges were immaculately arranged as well in patterns that betrayed hundreds of man hours spent making this place look as perfect as possible during all times of the day.

  North Oaks was the neighborhood of the ultra rich, a subdistrict of Westbrook, a district that fucking bordered mine. Arroyo was probably five miles from North Oak tops, probably less.

  This was how the other half lived, huh?

  “A lot busier during the day,” Allister said. “That’s when the legions of gardeners crawl out to make sure everything stays in shape.”

  “I figured,” I said.

  “So, did you look at any plans to move out of Santo now that your grandparents get to flex their funds?”

  “Still a little quick for that,” I said. “I’m dealing with a lot at once right now. Living in one place will do me good. Even a shithole megabuilding.”

  “Heard they’ve got some good units the higher you go,” he said. “Why don’t you move into one temporarily and pay rent for both so you don’t have to move all your stuff?” I snorted. What a rich kid thing to suggest.

  Then again, I was pretty rich now, wasn’t I?

  Well, I was pretty rich. Then I went ahead and tied my networth to a dick-measuring costume. Hey, with that, and the Sandevistan, I did have a pretty decent net worth. Maine was ready to lay down forty grand for it. Add that to my outfit, which cost twenty-six thousand eddies all in all, and I had the net worth of a modest homeowner.

  “My house is fine as it is,” I said. “Comfortable bed. Good locks. ICE is solid. I’ll give it a month or two before I even think about moving out. Right now, I just need stability.”

  I wouldn’t get it, though, with how I was planning to live my life, learning so many trades and skills at once. Stability was a pipe dream. What I needed to develop was a mindset that could deal with this lack of stability.

  “As long as you’re comfortable,” he said. “Still kind of cracks my chrome that you’re so rich, but you live in a megabuilding.”

  “Me too,” I said. “It is what it is. In the meantime, I’ll stick with the NCART for now. Can’t go around buying a Rayfield just for some fuck to klep it.”

  “Yikes,” he muttered. “Yeah, you will have to keep the wealth on the downlow. Who knows what some psycho would do to you if they saw you with all this gold?”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m the one who grew up in Santo. No need to be worried on my account.”

  He nodded. We split off from the main road finally, taking the loan road to someone’s estate, a confusingly old-fashioned mansion: conical and pyramidical roofs of black stone, and cream walls with white balconies. Allister put the car to self-park, and it inserted itself between two other parked hypercars that gave enough space for the doors to raise so we could get out.

  I felt dizzy just walking in this place. The air smelled so good, felt so good. It lacked the sting of the polluted city-air, and was far more humid and somehow fuller than the desert air.

  The corps had better air than us.

  “Are you alright?” Allister asked.

  “Yeah,” I said as I forced my composure and followed after him. The parking lot was attached to the estate’s drive, and almost rivaled the whole width of the mansion in size, which was insane enough alone. Once we got closer to the house, I could see the pool past some hedges where dozens of people were milling about, some dressed in sleek, black and functional neomilitaristic outfits. Militech, maybe? Or just unwilling to submit to the absolute circus that neokitsch admittedly was. Most were in neokitsch, and some wore a more modern take on traditionally chinese clothing. Kang Tao, no doubt about it.

  A shock of fear went through me at the realization. QianT was a subsidiary of Kang Tao, and I was wearing their mil-spec chrome. Let alone them finding out about it, how much actual power could they exert over me? Maybe some sort of killswitch to just straight up kill whoever wears their chrome? They could do it. It was entirely possible.

  I had to comb through my Sandy’s OS quickly. Couldn’t keep living with this cloud of fear hanging over my head.

  Conspicuously, no one was swimming.

  Walter was wearing neo-military as well, a black suit with a white shirt underneath and no frills whatsoever. It gave his tall and broad build far more severity.

  He looked at me with a frown that turned into a shocked expression. “Martinez?!” His eyes flashed blue as he looked me over. “That’s eighteen karats at the lowest! How could you afford any of this?” He turned to Allister. “Did you…?” Was there hurt in his expression there?

  Allister shook his head. “This is all David. His grandparents are actually quite wealthy. How do you think he could afford an Arasaka education?” Hearing the lie repeated like that made me feel a little guilty that I was playing Allister.

  But then again, what choice did I have? Sorry, no, I don’t actually have a rich gramps from buttfuck Mexico footing my bills, it’s actually me getting knee-deep in scav guts every other day that does it. Yeah, and sometimes I slice Tyger Claws in half for extra pocket money when my soon-to-be-a-cyberpsycho boss doesn’t give me jobs klepping data from the very company we’re sucking the dick of.

  “The nitwit is tasteful, I’ll give him that,” Walter admitted with a grimace and I gave him the middle finger in response. “He might take eyes off you at this rate.”

  Allister just scoffed. “I’m not here for the attention. If I can pay for my mistakes and slink back into obscurity uninterrupted, I will be most grateful. The limelight isn’t where any of us want to be.” He then looked at me with a halfway apologetic expression. “Sorry. Only silence and mystique can save you now.”

  Where was all that confidence when he was a quivering, cringing mess in front of me during that XBD deal earlier today? This Allister was in his element.

  I gave a silent and mystical nod to that. Allister grinned. Never let it be said that I wasn’t a fast learner.

  I followed him past the pool area and towards the front entrance where we walked through the open doors without a care. Inside were even more people. My head was almost hurting from all the people I saw, and I activated the Sandevistan to take care of it and also slowly let myself ride out the disorientation and feeling of absolute foreignness.

  Then I looked around at the time-frozen world.

  I saw some familiar faces, and many not.

  And close to where Allister was making a bee-line for was Katsuo.