Virgo Vega

opal wasn’t necessarily one to ever need help when it come to fighting. she may have looked tiny, but she was one hell of a fighter. the tyger claws had made sure to keep her well up to date in her training so there was no way of her slipping. but she was grateful for the woman wanting to help out. otherwise the valentinos probably would have done more, being the flirts they were. she nodded at the woman’s question with a small smile, “yeah, i’ll be alright. and thank you for that. sorry you had to step in though.” she held out her hand to her. “the name’s oppie.”

Virgo took the hand, shaking it once up and down, “I’m Virgo.” she said, a playful lilt in her voice, “It’s no problem, really. Got worse in Jig-Jig Street by far. Gotta look after each other, ya know?”

She heard footsteps before she saw the man, and barely managed to duck out of the way of a gold-fisted suckerpunch, twisting away and feeling it connect with her shoulder rather than her head.

She raised her fists instinctively, ignoring the throbbing from the punch and the fact this man had a foot and 100 pounds of cyberwear on her, and struck out at her assailant, saying “you boys really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Fane extended his right hand to take the mug. He didn’t always trust his cyberlimb not to crush things held in his hand. He’d lost a few good cups because of it. “I’ll conceal them to the best of my ability,” Fane promised, sipping from the coffee before setting it down to pull off his gloves. She’d see the shiny metal of his cyberlimb, but he wasn’t trying to hide it from Virgo. She needed to know that he had mods and enhancements that he planned to use for her safety.

“It’s alright to be scared,” Fane said, removing his jacket. He started fitting the smaller, easier to conceal weapons to himself, doing his best to go light enough on them that he wouldn’t scare anyone that worked her, but heavy enough that he could appropriately protect Virgo. “We ain’t human if we ain’t allowed to be afraid.”

He often wondered if he was all human. He was modded to the eyeballs, but plenty of people with cyberware still felt fear. His modified Berserk chip almost obliterated Fane’s fear. There wasn’t much of the humanity left in him, then, he supposed.

*

She couldn’t help but stare as Fane removed his gloves, exposing his cyberarm. It was a rather nice model from what she could see, probably combat ready, though basic limbs were lethal in the right hands. Most everyone had cyber-somthings these days, so she couldn’t help but wonder why he hid it, but she pushed the through aside for later.

Virgo found herself calming significantly around the bodyguard as they chatted. He was a lot kinder than his job would have indicated, most of the guards she hired were gruff, and impolite, and boring, but he was downright pleasant. Nice to have around.

After a time she went back to doing her job, a few joytoys poking their heads in to ask questions and eye Fane wearily, and things seemed to be going well. Until one of her girls, Riley, brought her another note, written on the back of a receipt. She felt her stomach drop.

Fane stepped into the room and frowned. He realised that she’d probably spilt her coffee because of him and he winced in sympathy. “Sorry,” he said softly, gesturing to the spilt cup.

He reached out to shake her hand and smiled in kind. “I’m Fane, but I think you might have known that,” he said, stepping back to give the office a once over. “And any time you need someone to watch your back, well, you’ve got my number. Unless I already have a job, I’ll be here as quickly as possible. But… a coffee sounds nice, thanks.”

Fane set his arsenal bag on the floor and unzipped it. “Does your establishment have a weapon policy? And how much do you want that to apply to me?”

*

Virgo waved her hand at him, both as a response to his apology and an offer to sit, and went to her coffee machine while he spoke. It was an old thing left behind when Irina died and she couldn’t bare to throw it away and buy a better model. She loaded a capsule into the top and it loudly sputtered to life once more, beginning to dispense a shot of synth-coffee into a mug branded brightly with the neon pink heart of Lovelace.

“We’re pretty strict with our no weapons policy, makes all of us nervous, but you’re free to carry when you’re here,” she picked up the fresh mug of coffee and handed it to him, “so long as you’re subtle about it. I don’t want you spooking my people too bad.” She’d meant the words to come out a lot more jovially, but found it hard to conjure the right mood.

It’s my party my body my business

It's my town  and my crown and my hitlist

opal was finishing up her shift at the ramen shop, her body needed a good cracking session and her head needed some serious medication. her tee shirt and jeans were soiled from having an angry customer throw their boiling bowl of ramen at her. thankfully she had managed to keep her cool instead of slamming his face onto the table to break his stupid cocky smile. now here she was, walking back to her apartment were her younger sister was waiting for her when some valentinos got caught up in her way by catcalling and whistling at her. about to say something, the young girl was interrupted when a woman yelled at them from across the road. the four of the rival gang members stared across from her to the other woman, having them screaming at her to mind her own business. oppie looked over at the woman then back to the boys. casually she walked towards them and clashed their heads together. “stop yelling. you fucking crows will give the whole goddamn neighborhood a headache.” she growled before crossing the street absentmindedly towards the woman. “you better finish that ramen quickly before they’ll be heading this way in a moment.”

Virgo couldn’t help but chuckle. Of course she wouldn’t need help. Few people in Night City actually needed others to look out for them, but she would never forgive herself if she didn’t step in during the few times they couldn’t help themselves.

She threw her ramen bowl back on the counter, a little of the broth sloshing onto the polished wooden surface and making the cook give her an unimpressed look.

“Nice moves,” she told the girl, turning to face her, “you going to be alright now?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Fane promised, already thinking about the train to take to get to Westbrook quickly. He hung up when the line went quiet and grabbed his bag of weapons. He figured he could keep things in her office if he needed to be more subtle. It was better to be overequipped than underequipped.

A few trains later, Fane was walking into the backdoor of the Lovelace Brothel. He frowned at the lack of security but thought maybe they’d been moved off so that he could get in without a third degree. He found the owner’s office and knocked. “Ma'am, this is Fane O'Fannain, I don’t want to barge in,” he called through the door. Both because he never quite felt comfortable in a brothel and because he didn’t want her to think that he was an assailant come for her.

*

Even with an announcement, Virgo jumped a mile in the air when she heard a loud knocking on her door. Unfortunately for her, she was holding a freshly brewed cup of synth-coffee, and the words pouring out of her mouth as she shook the boiling tar-like substance off her hand would make a Maelstromer blush.

“Come in!” she called out, wiping her hand on her denim shorts, still swearing under her breath. She considered grabbing a bandage or something, but the damage seemed minimal despite the searing pain.

Before she agreed to his price, the hesitation told Fane that he might have to compromise with her on that. Fane would do it, too. He had in the past. He didn’t like to mention that in negotiation, though.

He nodded to himself, grabbing his jacket and sliding it on before following up with a pair of gloves to cover the black and gold plating of his cyberlimb. “If you need me tonight, I’ll leave right now,” Fane answered, digging out his weapon bag and starting to choose which he would take with him.

He went with smaller weapons, as they’d be easier to conceal. “I ain’t about to let you go without security tonight if you were concerned enough to call,” Fane continued, strapping his knives under his jacket. “So, I’ll take off right now, just tell me where.”

*

“I appreciate it. It’s Jig-Jig Street, Lovelace Brothel. There’s a big neon heart over the doorway, you shouldn’t miss it.” She hung up, managing to flick him a quick message with her schedule for the next week before letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding.

Fane raised an eyebrow. The woman on the other end of the line sounded surprised that he answered. Maybe she’d meant to call someone else? Then again, Fane hadn’t received a wrong-number call with this number before. So he waited her out.

He took a moment to wet a cloth. He didn’t figure he’d have time to get his shower, but he needed to clean up at the very least. Fane ran the cloth under his arm, holding the Agent to his ear with his shoulder.

A problem? Now, problems are what Fane specialised in. His whole business thrived on people always having problems. “I start at three hundred eddies a day,” he said, heading towards his closet. “I’m negotiable if you only need a few hours, and that’s also just the rate for base security and body protection for one client. Depending on the situation, I may charge more.” Not that he ever had. He knew his services weren’t exactly cheap, to begin with, and he hated the idea that he was gouging people that needed to be kept safe.

*

Virgo did a bit of head math, trying not to take too long. Her savings were healthier than most, but definitely not infinite, and it would chew into her “get out of Night City for a couple of weeks” fund. 300 eddies a day was a hell of a lot of money for her to drop, but she glanced once more at the note. Her mind was made up for her.

“Three hundred a day is fine,” she said, “I’ll need you to watch out for me when I walk to work, at work, and afterwards when I do some digging into who it is. I don’t know how dangerous it’ll get, but I can pay you whatever you want if things go south. When can you start?”

Fane held his Cyberlimp aloft as he did the last of his pull-up sets. He had to keep his human form somewhat in shape for his work. Well, his somewhat human form. He wasn’t sure how much really counted as human anymore.

He hit the floor after he finished, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. Lifting himself plus his deadweight of a limb was a hell of a workout. Fane stopped to grab a protein drink from his fridge before heading towards his bathroom to shower.

Fane was interrupted as he started the water by the chime from his Agent he kept for jobs. That wasn’t a personal call, so Fane grabbed it, glancing at the number he didn’t recognise and answered. “O'Fannain,” he said by way of greeting. “What can I do for you?”

@fane-oh

"Oh, uh, hi." It wasn't that she was shocked there was an answer to her call, she just suddenly realised she wasn't exactly sure what she was actually asking.

She fumbled for a moment, looking down at the note again, finding the uncomfortable feeling of fear, then took a deep breath to begin again.

The ramen at the little stall near her apartment megacomplex could be described as “waxy”, “flavourless”, and “not good”, but after a long day of bullshit, the salty broth and uncomplex noodles were exactly what Virgo needed. All she wanted was to melt into her sofa, not think about anything more than tonight’s episode of Watson Whore and take just enough sleeping medication to make her drowsy, then drift off so she could wake for her once-in-a-blue-moon day off and actually get things she’d been putting off done.

But the familiar hollering of some ne’er-do-wells who hung around near the lobby of her apartment building across the street from the ramen stall made her pause, she knew something was about to go down. 

She lifted her head, slurping up another mouthful of noodles, and watched as four Valentino boys whistled at an extremely pretty young girl, walking by, saying something loud and rude, and annoying her to no end.

She probably should have waited for the girl to speak up for herself, but Virgo felt herself fall quickly to her anger, much quicker than usual, and yelled across the street without thinking.

For Virgo, nights like these were close to normal. Slide into the closet she called an office, hear the complaints of at least three of her workers, blacklist another half-dozen clients, another goddamned thing shouldn’t throw her off kilter.

She didn’t want the note stapled to the door of her brothel to bother her.

“YOU’RE A DEAD FUCKING BITCH, VEGA. YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME. I WILL GET YOU.”

It was unsigned, like the other two that had been left over the past week, and it wasn’t the first time threats had been left in her years of working at Lovelace. But this was the first time she’d felt eyes on her on her walk home, or felt the need to draw her curtains in the middle of the day.

She was unnerved.

She wasn’t willing to face the walk home alone anymore, a genuine fear spiking her heart rate at the thought of being stabbed in the back, or grabbed, and becoming another girl who went missing and became a page 5 story in the screamsheets.

There were few people who one could safely rely on in Night City, merely people who didn’t kill previous clients, and luckily for her, she knew of a handful of these people.

She scrolled through her agent to find the number of a bodyguard she’d gotten the info of a while ago, from someone, somewhere, at some time. Right now that didn’t matter, if it was in her agent, she was reasonably sure they were okay.

  …// (Alice Medina/“Virgo Vega”, cis female) has entered Night City. She is 34 years old and looks a lot like Martha Higareda. You can usually find her working as the owner of Lovelace Brothel somewhere in (Japantown). Some would describe her as (Loyal and Protective) as well as (Quick-tempered and Sarcastic). Her aesthetic is often described as (Shotgun on her desk during hostile meetings, holding the hands of girls as broken as her) and she’s known as The Caregiver. (Lou, 25, They/Them, UTC+13) \\…