Behold, Cyberpunk Robbie and Lisa's first meeting. I started this shit 2 years ago (holy fuck) and its been marinating in my skull since then. Tweaked it a little and I think I'm finally ready to loose it upon the world.
Thumping music mixed with the pounding in Robbie’s head. The pulsing compounded behind his right eye and it felt like being stabbed in the skull with a screwdriver on every beat. Even squinting down at the ground to block out the light show and the other forms of… entertainment on display, it hurt. Everything hurt. He didn't know it was possible to feel light-headed and so heavy all at once.
‘That's the blood loss,’ the voice said. It sounded annoyed.
He was cold, too. Something he didn’t usually have to worry about in Night City. When he had tried earlier to zip up his jacket he couldn't quite get his fingers to work right. They kept slipping over the zipper and shaking when he tried to maneuver the little clasp. It felt like one of the side effects rambled off in those Biotechnica pharmaceutical ads, one of the bad ones that they said you should see a doctor for. Not that it mattered. The only people in Night City who could afford to see real doctors didn't usually need Biotechnica’s drugs unless they were doing them recreationally.
He bumped into something or someone as he shuffled in a generally forwards direction, sending shots of pain through his torso. He was grateful the bouncers at the front had let him in with little protest. He was barely able to take his eyes off the floor, much less put up a fight. It was like someone had started skinning him and decided halfway through that he wasn't worth the trouble to finish.
The voice gave a sarcastic scoff. He didn't really know what to think of that. Or of the voice in general really. He had started hearing it when he was stumbling out of some ripperdoc he’d never seen before. Garbled, at first, but slowly becoming clearer in the - minutes? Hours? He couldn't really tell - since he had started his journey to Lizzie's bar. At least the Tyger claws wouldn't follow him here. One less thing to worry about… probably.
Robbie gave up on his vaguely forward shuffling and slumped against one of the walls illuminated by neon pink and blue LED lights. Fuck, he was so cold. He raised his hands up to his mouth and breathed into them. The sensation was strange. Still there, but sort of numbed and distant. He couldn't feel any moisture or temperature, just feather-light pressure on the inside of his palms. When he pulled them away from his face his brow furrowed.
It seemed like a trick of the light at first. Shadows messing with his clearly fucked-up head. But as he shifted his shaking hands back and forth it became clear that wasn't the case. Black padding with faint geometric embellishments covered the base of his thumb and his palm leading up index and ring finger, then spread to cover the interior of them on his right hand. The same padding and patterns were symmetrical on his left. He shuddered, he couldn't tell if it was from the cold or not. And the feeling was accompanied by a sick, twisting feeling in his already aching chest.
The sleeves of his jacket slipped down and the light caught on yet another piece of shining black cyberware. This one was embedded into his right wrist and spread into his mid-forearm. The section near his wrist appeared to have an opening. With clumsy and desperately scrabbling fingers he pried at it. He didn't even really know what he was looking for, but he’d definitely know when he found it. He knew that deep down somewhere, something lay inside. And he wanted it out. As soon as the thought was made solid, something emerged from the open slot.
With a faint choked noise he only partly felt came from him, he used the padded fingers of his left hand to pull out a now-visible wire. It was thin but strong, and glowed a golden yellow.
Robbie pulled more and more trying to find the end. He had to get it out. This wasn't supposed to be a part of him. This was wrong and-
“Hey!” A woman's voice jolted him out of his frenzy. “No live chrome in the bar!”
Lisa was in a bad mood. Bad really wasn't good enough to describe it, no, Lisa was in a FOUL mood and she had been since she first arrived for her shift.
She almost wished the bar was busier to take her mind off of it, but even in Night City people only partied for so long, and 7AM was usually the breaking point unless they were hopped up on something really special. At around 10AM people would start coming in again. Generally, the early morning clientele consisted of dock workers or people who worked the night shift in the markets outside, flooding in to numb themselves before hitting the hay in their shitty apartments. She hoped she would get to see the sun coming up before she went back to her own place for some well-needed rest. And a shower. And probably a good cry.
Not even a minute after clocking in, her coworker had informed her of more changes coming to The Mox. A stronger focus on only protecting people with assured allegiance, starting to establish a territory and even some talk of attacking any stray gonk executing business in the Kabuki market. All of it was a waste of time and resources as far as Lisa was concerned. Focusing on petty bullshit instead of what really mattered.
The Mox had been formed as a defensive gang in the interest of protecting people with similar struggles, not just members willing to die for territory. The progression from one to the other wasn’t unique either. A few of the gangs in Night City had started out the same way as The Mox. 6th Street was probably the most obvious example; A group of veterans returning to Night City after the 4th Corpo war to a home more ravaged by crime than ever, deciding to take things into their own hands. Inspiring people to join them and taking to the streets. Claiming they could do what the NCPD couldn't. But it didn't last. Eventually they started doing robberies. Getting involved in extortion and gun smuggling. They became just another gang the average person did everything they could to avoid on the street. Hell, they were involved in a full on gang war with The Valentinos now.
A preem example of the kind of upward mobility you could expect in Night City.
With every change implemented it felt more and more like The Mox were slipping into the same trap.
Lisa pressed her palms into her eyes. The cyberware was nice and cold against her eyelids. She remembered her very first mission. Some living scum of a guy who had cut up a joytoy while she was on the clock. The poor girl called the emergency number they used to give out to almost anyone before higher ups started getting paranoid. They caught him in the act. By Mox standards, punishment for that was cutting off their hands if they were ‘ganic. Cut off their dick if they weren’t. Lisa supposed she was lucky the scum's hands were still mostly flesh and bone.
She hadn't done it herself. It was just her job to watch the first time. ‘Initiation’ was what the girl she was paired with had said. ‘If you can't stand to see it, you can't stand to do it. And that means we've got no use for you.’
The guy must have been high out of his mind on black lace, because he didn't start screaming until his hands had been on the grimy carpet for a solid ten seconds. Lisa didn’t really know what happened to him after they left him there. She mostly just remembered desperately trying to keep her stomach until they got outside.
He got what he deserved was the mantra she repeated in her head. Over and over. Lisa had never seen him again. Maybe he changed for the better.
That first mission had messed with Lisa. She hadn't lost her stomach, which cleared her to move forward with initiation, but still. When she got home afterwards she got into the shower and stared at the wall until she remembered she really couldn't afford to run up her water bill this month.
The thanks she got from the cut up girl - Tracy, her name was Tracy - was what she kept coming back to. Tracy had clung to her and hugged her close through tears and smeared makeup and drying blood as she rambled endlessly while Lisa's ‘mentor’ did her work. She was new to the joytoy business, and she hadn't dealt with anything like this before. Lisa hoped she was doing alright now.
Because that was about all you could do in Night City, really. Pray you did something. She learned fairly early on from watching her parents drift through life that you either lived for nothing and died forgotten, or died for something and lived forever. It could absolutely be argued that people like David Martinez and Johnny Silverhand hadn't really made it too far in their personal vendettas, but their stories? It got people to pull themselves out of the muck. To stare in the face of their overlords in one small silent, direct moment of fuck you. FUCK you. And for some people that was everything. All the hope they would ever get.
She had been doing her own jobs for about a year now. The rippers she’d had installed were an adjustment at first but were comfortable, for the most part. Digging her cyberware into some poor innocent wall when she’d gone a while without being sent on a job was grounding on nights like these. She took a deep breath before opening her eyes again.
Lisa had turned this mess of problems around and around in her brain during the long hours of her shift. Tried to smile at people and failed half the time. Hours going by like this until she reached the final stretch of the night. She was so deep in her own thoughts she barely noticed when a stranger slumped suddenly against the wall.
Oh please, I do not need to be dealing with some fucking dorpher gonk right now. The guy seemed out of it. Maybe bar hopping? It wasn't unusual to see people who had been kicked out of other bars trying to keep the party going by finding a second option. He was about average height, just a little taller than her.. He was wearing what looked like a dirty set of mechanics coveralls underneath his jacket. His forehead had a sweaty sheen, like he was sick. Lizzies didn't have a trauma team subscription, Nora was very adverse to the idea of inviting corpo trash into her bar. It was a sentiment she could generally get behind but in this specific circumstance she was seeing the downsides.
The guy stared at his hands and started breathing heavily. Oh yeah. He’s way out of it.
Lisa really hoped he wasn't about to go cyberpsycho. She wasnt chromed up enough to take a psycho on. Not many in the Mox would be. The only thing worse than Trauma Team running in would be MaxTac. Word on the street was half their soldiers were chromed up with Sandevistans now.
God what I wouldn't do for a Sandy
The weird guy crossed the line when he started pulling an active monowire out of his wrist like it was dental floss.
“Hey!” Lisa shouted, “No live chrome in the bar!”
The guy’s face snapped up immediately and stared right through her as his monoware wound back up into his arm with a faint zzzzzwwwwhip. She could see him more clearly now that the light was hitting his face. He had sharp features. Handsome, but a little severe looking. Like he had never eaten enough even once in his life, honestly he probably hadn't. It was a story she had heard far too many times before. She could see the bags under his eyes even with the solid 10ft of distance between them. This guy was well and truly exhausted. Those same tired eyes started darting around the room after just a few seconds of looking in Lisa's direction. She was hit with a realization.
Lisa switched lanes right away. She walked through the saloon doors from behind the bar towards the guy and stopped when he flinched back. She lowered her head and raised her hands in surrender. It was a little stupid; a gesture meant to show she had no weapons while her hands actively were weapons. The blades that rested in her fingertips twitched.
Keep it down. Stretch later.
She started walking towards him again. Making sure to keep her steps consistent, and her pace slow.
“Hey, hey it’s alright. Sorry if I startled you earlier, I thought you were -” not helpful, “I just need you to follow the rules.” The guy kept glancing around. He seemed to have settled on one corner in particular he was staring at with a baffled expression. She needed to keep his attention. “Are you, uh. Doing okay?”
She was closer now and she could see a few new details she hadn't caught before. His right eye was swollen in that way new cyberware tended to cause. It tracked, considering the black sclera and yellow iris that was faintly glinting in the dim of the bar. Splatters - blood, most likely. oil maybe? It was too dark to tell for sure - covered sections of his hi-vis jacket.
“Cause’ you - uh. You don't really look okay.” It was true. He looked like he was going to cry. “Can I get your name?” She tried to add some levity to her voice. “Calling you ‘guy’ probably isn’t the best way to start a friendship.”
He stared at the ground, eyebrows knitting together. “It's Robbie,” he said, finally. Good. Talking is progress.
“Thats a good name,” it was an incredibly common name, “I’m Lisa.” The lights started pulsing again in their scheduled show and Robbie pressed his face against the wall, squinting hard. “Would you like to get out of here? I know somewhere darker. It's quieter there too, it's a back room just around the corner, you can sit and rest.” Keep steady, offer help, don't make him feel trapped. “You can turn around if you change your mind on the way there. I won't try to stop you.”
Robbie seemed to considered this. She could practically hear the ‘do not follow to a second location’ repeated over and over by any Night City parent. He reached a decision and nodded curtly in affirmation. “Okay,” she walked just a little closer until she was an arms reach away, “Do you need me to help you? Or are you steady enough to walk on your own.”
He took a shaky step backwards. “Don't.”
“Okay, that’s alright.” Fuck. Lisa didn't want to make any assumptions, but in her experience when people reacted that badly to touch it was for a few very specific reasons, all of them absolutely vile. Once she got him somewhere safe this was definitely a situation she needed to tell her boss about. Nora might send them out for a little justice if he was a night worker. “Just follow me. You can still get there by hugging the wall, it will just take a little longer.”
She was right, it did take a while to reach the back room, but that was fine. It allowed Lisa to watch and learn a little more about Robbie. The stairs were obviously very troublesome for him. He seemed to misjudge the distance between steps a few times, causing him to stumble and desperately grasp at the railing so he wouldn't fall. She kept waiting for him to ask for help but the request never came. Her new friend was obviously stubborn to a fault. He mostly looked at the ground and only glanced up occasionally to check that Lisa was still in front of him.
They almost made it to the back room without interruption. A situation that could have been entirely avoided, if Corman ever did any work. He was hired as a bouncer but he always insisted on skulking around the backside of the bar for ‘security reasons’. As if.
The girls defending the front entrance were the ones doing the real heavy lifting. They made sure people who needed to be kicked out stayed out and stopped people from sneaking in. Lisa had spoken with one of them before, Rita. She was nice and her hair was cute. Lisa had liked talking to her about her sculpture collection when she was off the clock yesterday. Rita had beat a man half to death two weeks ago with a bat.
“Ohhhhh finally going to put those cyber fingers to fun work, Lisa?” The man waggled his eyebrows at her.
“Yeah. Three inches into your neck and six inches deep in your mom.”
“Damn bitch, okay.” Corman, thankfully, moved away from the hall entry without any protest.
The back rooms of Lizzie’s Bar were added for a very… specific purpose. The room Lisa had selected, being the closest unoccupied one, made it very obvious. The neon sign with ‘Love’ spelled out in cursive above a large heart shaped bed was about as subtle as a bat to the face from Rita. But it was private and quiet, with an attached bathroom that had a shower. Robbie didn't really seem to know what to do with himself when they reached the room. He just leaned on the doorframe, looking confused. It could just be because of the pink LED lights everywhere but Lisa could swear he was blushing.
“Don't get any funny ideas. You can rest on the bed if you’re tired.” She pointed to the bathroom at the back of the room. “I'm going to get you some water and a wet washcloth so you can clean yourself up. I'll just be a second.”
The bathroom door slid open - motion activated. It’s not like people sharing this room were generally concerned about being seen naked - and she walked over the purple tiger print bath mat to flip on the sink. She heard a fwump sound that she assumed meant Robbie had made himself comfortable by flopping onto the bed. She rang out the washcloth until it was just damp, and snagged a bottle of water from a cabinet before walking back into the bedroom.
Robbie was sitting hunched on the very edge of the bed. Lisa went to sit on the floor in front of him so she wouldn't be looming overhead. He took the washcloth when she offered it and wiped it across his face. Then grabbed the water and chugged about half the bottle of water before she could tell him to drink slowly. The movement shifted his jacket enough for her to see ‘Canelo’s’ embroidered on the front of his coveralls.
“Oh hey, Canelo’s is in Vista Del Rey right? Are you from Heywood?” He eyed her warily and stopped his assault on the water bottle long enough to reply.
“Yep! Grew up right next door in The Glen.” That wasn't usually something said with a smile, but Lisa was so happy to have found something she could talk about that didn't sound like a wellness check.
Robbie's eyes narrowed. “South Glen or uh… North Glen.” ‘North Glen’ was said with disdain. Funny, considering it was usually southside that made people wary.
“South! Oh god, you didn't think I was some gonk from beaverville did you?”
Robbie spluttered, “Well, I mean, I don't know…”
“Noooo!!” Lisa said in overexaggerated distress. “Ugh. It’s the fact that I don't have any face tattoos, isn't it. I knew it. Well, this is the final push I needed, thank you for the wake-up call.” That got Robbie to snort.
Lisa stood up, “Alright, I’m going to give you some privacy so you can finish washing up. I just need to tell my boss you’re staying here so no one will disturb you. The lock on the door is 6969, yes okay I know I work with actual idiots, but it's easy to remember. I’ll be back in just a little bit.” She smiled at him as she stood outside the door. “So don't run off anywhere, okay?”
Robbie stayed sitting on the edge of the bed sipping what was left of his water for a good long while before finally getting up.
Lisa seemed nice. That could be a facade or it could be genuine. He wasn't sure he cared much to find out. He had bigger problems to address right now.
Robbie had cyberware he didn't remember getting installed. Even worse, it was high quality. You couldn't find shit like this on any random gonk walking the street. He hadn't gotten the chance to examine those wires very well but they did not look inexpensive. What exactly was he supposed to say?
‘Sorry I don't remember ever wanting these. Yeah if you could pull out this cyberware you just installed and give me a refund that would be great’
That sounded like a really good way to end up with a hole in your head. He sighed, and then winced as his ribs gave an uncomfortable twinge.
Time to assess the damage
He took off his jacket and started removing the top half of his coveralls. It seemed like he had gone right from Canelo’s to a ripperdoc. Did he spill something on himself during his shift? He didn't remember that happening but hey, he didn't remember going to get new chrome installed on a whim either. The red lighting of the room made it impossible to tell the original color but it was dark and pulled where it had dried, stuck to his skin.
Robbie forced himself to stand and used the bed to brace himself as he walked to the bathroom. He took off the rest of his coveralls and he could see in the blessedly non-colored light that blood soaked almost all of his white undershirt.
Oh fuck. Had he been stabbed? He peeled his t-shirt off and stumbled over to the mirror above the sink to look. His face showed the cyber eye he had managed to ignore when looking in the rear view mirror of the car he had driven here, but that didn't- he wasn't. He wasn't prepared for everything else.
Seam lines covered the entirety of his torso, starting along the contours of his collarbones and ending around his hips. The lines followed along his ribs and seemingly went around to his back. Each one was caked in half-dried blood, some were still dripping, droplets of red landing in the sink with little plaps. He was about to check the damage to his back when his eyes caught the more silvery seams along his shoulders. Then down to his arms.
They were the wrong fucking color.
It looked like someone had chopped up some white guy apart and frankenstein-ed his arms onto Robbie's body. The black pads on his hands and wrists were only the start of it. The same silver seams formed patterns all across his forearm. They seemed moveable.
Now that he was aware of it he could feel something under his skin. Deeper than under his skin. His bones were twitching.
Robbie’s panicked breathing became wheezing as his right arm split itself into multiple pieces. Unfolding and rearranging itself as something emerged. Synthetic muscle and tendons moved along with internal wiring to make room for a blade twice as long as his forearm and wicked sharp. There were serrated sections like the teeth of a saw near the base. He slumped against the nearest wall and let himself sink to the floor, all the while holding out the foreign limb as far away from himself as he could get it.
It raised and lowered itself like it was waiting for something to attack. Robbie winced at the movement and then yelped as it shot forwards with enough momentum to pull his back off the wall for a second. A motion that would have stabbed or sliced right through someone if they were standing there. It would have been an admirable piece of machinery if it werent fucking attached to him.
He needed it to go away. Now.
With his left hand he reached to try and guide the blade into folding back together. His fingers barely touched the metal before flinching away. It didn't hurt, but he could feel the pressure. He steadied himself and grabbed the base of the blade where its second joint was, then pulled down. That was a mistake. He could feel the inner workings of the arm being shifted around in ways they didn't want to move. Like someone had directly grabbed his muscles and was trying to puppet him.
‘That's really not how that works.’
Perfect timing for his other problem to make itself apparent.
Back on the main level of the bar, Robbie could swear he saw some glitching figure making itself clearer and clearer in the corner. Whatever it was, it seemed to have figured out how to assemble itself into something recognizable.
Leaning on the doorframe of the bathroom was a very slender man dressed entirely in black. He looked like a wannabe Corpo with his slicked back dark hair and EMP threading. People who wore that bit of cyberware were either falling for snake oil or just thought it looked cool. The effect of his form wasn't perfect, faintly glowing strands of light drifted off his form.
He looked entirely too smug for someone with a face so punchable.
“I'm going cyberpsycho,” Robbie whispered to himself. “Oh my god I’m. I’m losing my mind over mods I didn't even want.”
‘Hey you should be grateful.” The man’s face scrunched up in annoyance. It reminded Robbie of a child throwing a tantrum. ‘That is some premium chrome right there. Custom built. Nothing else quite like ‘em in the whole world!’
The pieces started putting themselves together in Robbie's head. The black and yellow cyber eyes that were identical to the one in his skull now. The realization made it feel like a tumor. The same silver lines on the man's forearms, only partly hidden by rolled up black sleeves. Black pads on the palms of his hands. “These are yours. These are your arms.”
The figure smiled. He seemed to switch between expressions incredibly quickly. It was like whatever was allowing him to project himself was experiencing some signal interference. ‘Damn right. Fabricated the combined mantis blade and monowire design all by myself, nobody even thought to do that before I came around! Never even jammed once. You're talking to a goddamn expert here, but don't worry about any fancy titles.’ He spread his arms wide and bent down in what Robbie guessed was supposed to be a grandiose bow, ‘Just call me Eli.’ The effect was slightly lessened by one of his hands clipping through the wall.
Robbie grabbed the sink with the arm that was still in one piece and dragged himself up until he was standing. “You did this?” He took the man's continued grin as a yes.
“You..You cut my fucking arms off.” Eli shrugged.
Robbie lunged at him and his splintered arm worked on automatic. The long blade went through Eli’s forehead and straight into the wall, piercing it all the way through to the other side.
Eli raised an eyebrow as he side-stepped out of the blade that was supposed to be pinning him to the wall by his head. ‘I like your enthusiasm, but again, that’s not going to work.’
Robbie tried to move towards Eli again but the blade kept him stuck in place. He glared at it and put his foot against the wall to try and pry himself free. It took multiple tries and he could hear Eli snickering at each attempt. When it finally came loose, it folded back into itself. Like it had never come apart in the first place.
‘Actually, great idea to test out the mantis blades. They've been sitting around for a while. It's good to know they won't need any maintenance work. I should probably give you a crash course anyway but-’
“Can you please just stop talking.” At least he knew what they were now. Robbie had never seen mantis blades in person but he had absolutely heard of them before. Mentions of them on the news usually followed gruesome descriptions of people cut into so many pieces that even a squad of Trauma Team couldn’t recover it all.
Robbie really did not want to find out what it was like to drive home with his arm broken into pieces. He had to try to find a way to make them stay closed. Or find a way to - to tie them down or something at least. Robbie was suddenly struck with the mental image of the mantis blades activating while trying to help Gabe move and felt his world tilt on its axis.
Gabe. Shit. What time was it? He pulled up the clock on his internal display and 7:30 AM oh god he was so late. Where the hell did all that time go?
He started scrubbing the blood off of himself. His shirt was already wrecked but maybe Lisa could get him a new one? They had to have spare clothes or something considering the, uh, unique room he was in.
‘Are you kidding me? You'll take the hooker's help but not mine?’
Robbie froze in the middle of trying to reach his back with the washcloth, and stared at Eli, who was flickering in the corner. He hadn’t said that. Just thought about it.
Robbie visualized a wall. It was a trick against netrunners that he had overheard at Canelo’s. Eli was obviously the result of something way weirder than a netrunner messing with his head, but he hoped the method would at least hold up a little. He tried to envision it as impenetrable, solid.
‘Stop doing that with your face, it feels weird with you scrunching it up like that. And don't just stand there! Don't you have, ugh what was his name, Gabe! Don't you have Gabe to get back too?’
Robbie did everything he could to imagine that impenetrable wall hitting Eli full force.
He scowled and started to say something before fizzling out of existence. He breathed a sigh of relief.
‘You dick. The fuck was that for?’
Sigh of relief rescinded.
‘Listen to me. You are having a breakdown in a strip club bathroom,’ that was true, ‘relying on the kindness of a joytoy for what to do next.’ That was maybe true, ‘You can't afford to turn down my help right now.’ That was something Robbie could deny for just a little bit longer.
“Lisa’s part of The Mox, that doesn't make her a hooker.” Robbie mumbled. It didn't really change much but it was at least one thing Eli had probably gotten semi-wrong. Plus, Lisa was nice. If he was going to insult her, he should at least make sure to do it accurately.
What was more troubling was that he could feel Eli’s confusion when mentioning The Mox. Counterpoint; he was also really not in the mood to think about the implications of that, so he instead focused on his clothing situation. He didn't really have time to wait for a new shirt and, now that he was thinking about it, asking for more help might be imposing on Lisa’s (maybe real maybe fake) kindness.
If he could rush to his room once he got home then he could avoid upsetting Gabe. The problem then became getting that far. People hadn’t seemed to notice anything off when he was entering the bar. Either that or they figured if he paid the fee who really cared what led him here. Putting his old clothes back on seemed like the best option.
Easy 3 step plan. Get dressed and get back to the car. Get these arms under control, or at least restrained. Then drive home … with the car he stole- borrowed he borrowed it he had every intention of just putting back before anyone noticed it was missing with no harm done.
The car he could for some reason feel waiting for him outside.
Robbie grimaced as he pulled his blood-covered undershirt back on. Once he looked semi-presentable he made for the door and punched in the code, ready to slip out.
Only to be completely unprepared when it slid open to reveal Lisa standing there, with one hand raised like she was about to knock and the other carrying what looked like medical supplies. Her eyes were wide, he hadn't noticed they had little hearts in them before. Custom cyberware. Cute.
‘Jesus fucking Christ you are unbelievable.’
Lisa blinked, “Did you punch a hole through that wall?” She pointed at the drywall separating the bedroom and the bathroom.
‘She's gonna tell you that you owe her.’
‘You're really not making this easier.’
Robbie didn't think he could get away with trying to say it had been there when they arrived, “... Yeah. I mean I didnt punch it I uh. I fell. I can-”
“Don't worry about it. You would not believe the state some people leave this place in, people will just assume the last couple in here got a little enthusiastic.” He was starting to regret taking a seat on that bed. “You in a rush to leave? You seemed pretty out of it earlier, I don't know if it's a good idea for you to leave right now.”
“I’m fine, really. Just a rough night.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Sorry, I didn't mean to delta without an explanation just, uh - Thank you for your help, I just-” he started moving around her to get to the exiting side of the hallway, “I have someon- something really important I have to get to.” She had given him a place to pull himself together, he owed her an explanation. Even if it wasn't an entirely truthful one.
“Okay? Oh! Wait, before you go,.” Lisa's eyes unfocused for a moment, orange lights flickering behind her iris, and Robbie received a contact request notification on his internal display. “Here's my number. If something happens again, like, you know, whatever it was that led you here tonight, just talk to me. I’ll see if I can help.”
That was so nice it bordered on suspicious, but he could always just block her later. Robbie accepted the request and hoped his final ‘thank you’ sounded genuine as stumbled away from safety and towards his brother.
Chrome: Cyberware or cybernetic modifications / installations.
Preem: Cool, awesome, great (derived from premium).
Ganic: short for organic.
Black Lace: Drug that causes a release of adrenaline and endorphins so strong that the person using it can stop feeling pain almost entirely for a period of time.
Dorpher: Drug addict, especially one with a Dorph habit. Can also be called a dorphhead.
Delta: Get away from somewhere quickly.
Beaverville: Derogatory term for Corpo controlled suburbs. Occupants are called beavers or beav. Comes from the 1950’s series ‘Leave it to Beaver’.
Ripperdoc: Someone who installs cyberware with… varying levels of quality.
EMP Threading: Chrome that runs along the front of someone's face. It was originally believed to act as a Faraday cage to protect from radiation or electromagnetic fields emitted by certain types of cyberware. After that myth was disproven, people mostly started wearing it as a fashion statement (fashionware).
Trauma Team: Cyberpunk 2077’s ambulance for the super rich. If you have a Trauma Team subscription, they will implant a device that monitors your health. If your health readings take a significant dip, a group of Trauma Team soldiers will be deployed to your location. They will collect you and kill anyone they deem a threat or hindrance.
MaxTac: “””Rehabilitated””” cyberpsychos that have been repurposed into elite soldiers for night city law enforcement. They usually go after rampaging cyberpsychos.
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