Cyberpunk: REDLINE [3]

Gloria left her apartment and adjusted her work bag. David was asleep inside and it was time for a night shift again.

She’d spent the last month pinching every eddie she could. Still—at this pace, it wouldn’t be enough for David to make it to Arasaka, it would never be enough.

As Gloria looked to the side she stopped.

The apartment beside hers had boxes stacked outside the door. A lot of them, taped shut, lined up neatly.

Someone moved in?

Before she could think more, the door opened.

A man stepped out—tall, like actually tall. Around 185cm. Asian, pale in the sick hallway lighting, with black hair cut clean and simple. No gang ink on him, no weird chrome catching the light, no stupid colors. Just a plain jacket that fit him too well, like it was made for his shoulders.

And his shoulders were something—broad without looking like he lived for the gym. The kind of build that came from training, not drugs. When he reached down for a box, his hands were big and steady, fingers long, grip firm. He lifted it like it weighed nothing, forearms tightening for a second under the sleeve.

Then he looked over.

Gloria froze for half a beat.

His eyes were red. Not tired-red—red red. Crimson, too even to be natural. Like the color had been dialed in on purpose. Implants, probably. Expensive ones.

She realized she was staring. Carajo.

“Sorry,” she said, quick, because her mama raised her right even in Night City. “Didn’t mean to. I’m Gloria—Gloria Martinez. I live next door.”

His face didn’t really react. No smile or frown. He was just calm kind of blank in a way that made him feel distant. He gave a small nod.

“Aka,” he said.

Gloria blinked.

“…Aka?” she repeated, because her brain did that thing where it lagged for a second. Like—”Aka”? What? Was that a sound? Did he just—did he just speak Japanese? Or—

She blinked again, then it hit.

“Wait—that’s your name?” she said, half-laughing despite herself, because it came out before she could stop it. “Aka.”

Another small nod. Like yes. Like obviously.

Gloria cleared her throat, tried to put her face back in place. “Okay. Aka. Nice to meet you.”

Her eyes flicked to the boxes. Helping crossed her mind—then she killed it. He didn’t look like he wanted company, and she didn’t have time to play neighborly. She had a shift to get to. Rent to keep up with. A kid sleeping in her apartment.

“Welcome to the building,” she added, more out of habit than anything.

Aka nodded once more and turned back to the boxes like that was the whole conversation.

Gloria headed down the hallway to the stairs without looking back.

…

It’d been shaping up to be a quiet night.

Gloria was halfway through restocking a cabinet when the call came in over the comms.

“REO unit, respond. Possible mass casualty. Suspected scav den. Trauma Team already on scene.”

For a second, the room went quiet—just letting the words register.

Priska muttered, “Of course it’s scavs.”

Gloria shut the cabinet and pulled on her jacket.

The ride out was short and tense. No one felt like talking.

They rolled up on a half-lit building with barred windows and a front gate that looked like it had been reinforced. NCPD had a patrol car out front. An officer waved them in, barely glancing at their IDs.

Inside, the smell hit Gloria the moment she stepped through the door.

Stale sweat. Old food. Something bleachy. And under it—blood.

Priska’s face tightened. “Jesus.”

They moved down the hallway until it opened into a workroom that was trying very hard to pass as medical.

A surgical chair sat in the center. A body—dead—was strapped into it, chest cavity pried open. The straps were still cinched tight; bruising around the wrists showed the victim had been awake and struggling at some point.

Off to the side was a rolling rack of monitors, green and blue lines crawling across cracked screens. Some cords dangled loose; others ran straight into the chair, patched together in a rushed mess.

On the folding tables near the edge were trays and tools, all streaked dark with blood.

Buckets under the chair. More buckets by the wall.

Plastic sheeting had been taped up in strips—on the floor, around table legs, against the tile—but it didn’t cover enough. Blood had splattered past it anyway.

Priska stared at the chair for a long second, brows creasing.

“Fucking scavs,” she said. “Every time you think you’ve seen the worst, they go, ‘Hold my beer.’”

The new hire—Maya—hovered near the doorway, eyes flicking from the chair to the tables to the buckets. She looked like she was trying to ignore the smell.

“…Scavs?” she asked, voice small. “Like—what are they, exactly? I mean, I’ve heard the word but—”

Priska let out a short, humorless laugh. “They’re not a gang-gang. More like… roaches. Crews. Whoever wants quick eddies and doesn’t care who they ruin to get ’em.”

Maya swallowed. “They do this… a lot?”

“Enough,” Priska said. She nodded at the monitors and the cords. “They snatch people, drug ’em, strip the chrome out while they’re still warm. Sell it. Sometimes they don’t even bother keeping the person alive through it.”

Maya’s face went pale. “Why doesn’t NCPD—”

“Because it’s Night City,” Priska cut in. “And because scavs don’t stay in one spot. They pop up, they disappear. You’re lucky if you catch ’em at all.”

Maya’s eyes darted toward the dead man in the chair. “How did Trauma Team…?”

“That’s the one good thing tonight,” Priska said, and there was real bite in her voice. “Heard one of the victims had coverage. Silver or higher. Scavs tried to block the signal—gonks botched it—and Trauma Team came in and wiped the room.”

Maya hesitated. “Isn’t Trauma Team… kind of—”

“Yeah,” Priska said, not letting her finish. “They’re a corp. They’re expensive. They’re the reason REO’s always getting squeezed, ‘cause management keeps trying to ‘compete’ with people who show up in AVs with miniguns.”

She jerked her chin at the bodies. “But when it’s scavs? When it’s this? I’m not gonna cry about it. Let TT do what they do.”

Maya stared at her, caught between shock and something like relief. “So… everyone here—”

“Dead,” Priska said. “Good.”

Off to the side, Gloria didn’t join in. She kept her eyes on the floor and the corners, counting the bodies the way she counted pills at home—steady, quiet, automatic.

“Twelve,” she said under her breath, then stepped around a smear and checked behind a table. “Thirteen.”

Priska glanced over. “You got a number?”

Gloria didn’t look up. “Gimme a sec.”

She moved methodically—corner to corner, then into the side rooms.

“Sixteen,” she murmured. Then, after checking the back room and a narrow hall closet that smelled like bleach and old sweat: “Seventeen.”

She straightened and tugged her gloves once at the wrist.

“Seventeen. That’s what I got,” Gloria said.

Priska exhaled through her nose. “Should’ve been more.”

After that, it turned into work.

REO workers moved in with collapsible stretchers and body bags, grunting as they shifted dead weight off stained tile. One guy swore when he slammed his boot into the wall. Another kept muttering about “scav funk” under his breath.

The rookie tried to help and almost tripped over a loose cable.

Priska caught her by the elbow. “Easy, chica. Watch your step. This place’ll bite you if you let it.”

They hauled bodies out in pairs, loading them into the REO vans parked out back.

On the last body—some scrawny guy with cheap-looking chrome and a bullet hole through his head—Priska hooked her hands under the bag and jerked her chin at Maya.

“Alright, rookie,” Priska said. “You’re up. Help me drag this gonk.”

Maya blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” Priska shifted her grip. “You wanna learn, you don’t learn by standing there lookin’ cute. Grab the feet.”

Maya’s face pinched, but she moved in, crouched, and took hold.

“Don’t yank it,” Priska warned. “Lift. One, two—”

They pulled together. The bag slid with a wet scrape.

Maya gagged and turned her head fast.

Priska didn’t let go. “Don’t be dramatic. These scav fucks don’t deserve your stomach.”

They got the body down the hall, out the door, and into the van. Priska slammed it shut with her shoulder and wiped her gloves on her pants like it did anything.

“See?” she said. “Not so bad eh?”

Maya swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Priska pointed at the van. “Now get in—before I decide you’re hauling the next one solo.”

The crew loaded up, tired and cranky, already talking about food and showers. Someone called back at Gloria, “You coming?”

Gloria shook her head. “Go on—I’ll catch up. Gimme a sec, ’kay?.”

Priska gave her a look—half warning, half understanding. “Don’t be long.”

Gloria nodded once.

Most of the vans pulled off, taillights fading down the street. One—Priska—stayed behind. The building went quiet again.

Gloria stood in the hallway for a moment, listening.

No footsteps. No voices.

She adjusted her mask, checked her gloves, and went back in.

The main workroom was emptier now—chair still there, tables still there, stains still there. Without the bodies, it almost looked cleaner, and that somehow made it worse.

Gloria turned and followed a side hall she hadn’t walked all the way down earlier. The air got thicker the deeper she went—bleach trying, failing, to cover rot.

At the end was a door with a keypad that looked like it had been ripped out and put back in wrong.

She tried the handle.

Unlocked.

Gloria pushed it open.

It was a storage room. Shelving along the walls. Plastic bins. A couple coolers. A worktable under a hanging light.

And there it was.

Chrome.

Loose cyberware piled in trays and bags—optics, arms, joints, ports, small modules sealed in labeled zip sleeves like someone had been keeping inventory. Some pieces looked new. Some looked used. Some still had dried blood caught in the seams.

Gloria stopped in the doorway, staring a beat too long.

Her grip tightened around the flashlight.

…

Priska and Maya were already in the van when Gloria climbed into the back.

Maya looked up right away. “Hey—why’d you—”

Priska didn’t even turn around. “Nah. Don’t start.”

Maya blinked. “I was just—”

“Don’t,” Priska said, but it came out more tired than sharp. “Just sit. We rollin’.”

Maya hesitated, then slid into the seat and looked away.

Gloria eased the door shut behind her and gave Maya a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry, mija. Thought I dropped something back there. Had to check.”

Maya’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh.”

Priska huffed a quiet laugh under her breath. “You good now? ‘Cause I’m not tryin’ to sit out here all night.”

Gloria nodded, already settling in. “Yeah. I’m good. Let’s head back.”

…

Gloria walked up the stairs in the megabuilding, one hand brushing her jacket now and then to reassure herself.

At the top, the hallway opened out under ugly green fluorescent lights. Puddles sat in the low spots, reflecting the glow.

Gloria slowed.

Something’s off.

Usually there was someone posted up by the wall or someone asleep on the floor. At least a guy leaning in the corner with a can, watching you like you owed him eddies. Tonight there was nothing.

And the trash…

Well, it wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t piled like usual, either. Bags were tied up and shoved closer to the bin. Loose wrappers weren’t everywhere. The barrel that always sat on its side had been set upright.

Gloria frowned, scanning the hall once, twice.

Then she saw him.

Aka.

He was out in front of his unit with a spray bottle and a rag, down on one knee like he’d been at it for a while. He’d cleaned the stretch of the floor and walls in front of his apartment—then kept going. Past his door, along the wall, right up into the space in front of her apartment.

Gloria stopped halfway down the corridor, staring.

“Hey—” she said, then corrected herself, still squinting at the rag. “Aka.”

He looked up.

Aka still had the same blank look on his face. His red eyes a big contrast against the ugly green light.

Gloria gave a pointed look at the rag. “You’re really cleaning out here?”

Aka nodded once. “Yes.”

She glanced at the empty corner where the usual bums hung around. “Okay… so where’d everybody go? The guys who post up here—where they at?”

Aka’s gaze flicked down the hall, then back to her.

“Gone,” he said.

Gloria blinked. “…Gone where?”

Aka didn’t answer. He stood, wiped his hands on the rag, and set the spray bottle down by his knee like it was nothing.

Gloria took a step back—more habit than fear. Her hand slid into her jacket pocket, closing around something metal.

“You ask ’em to move along or something?”

Aka’s eyes dropped to her pocket for a moment, then met hers again. “Yea.”

Gloria let out a small, tired huff. “And they actually listened.”

Aka gave a small nod, like that was obvious.

Gloria looked at the clean strip by her door, then back at him. “Why you doing all this?”

Aka held her gaze for a moment.

“It was dirty,” he said.

Gloria shook her head once, half disbelief, half resignation. “This building’s always dirty.”

Aka didn’t react. He just picked the rag back up and went back to wiping.

Gloria watched him a second longer than she meant to.

He dropped to one knee again, the black t-shirt tight across his shoulders. When he scrubbed harder, his sleeve rode up and she caught the flex of his forearm under pale skin—controlled, steady. Even his hands drew her eye: large, firm, so careful, like he’d done this a thousand times.

Gloria realized she was staring and clicked her tongue under her breath.

She turned away quickly, walking to her door. The lock chirped, and the door slid open.

Gloria didn’t look back, but she spoke anyway—softer than before.

“You don’t gotta do my side,” she said. A moment. “…But thanks. Gracias.”

Aka’s voice came from behind her, still flat. “Okay.”

…

Aka watched as the door behind Gloria slid shut.

For a moment, the hallway was just the buzzing of the lights and the soft scrape of his rag on cement. Then voices leaked through the door—muffled, but clear enough in the quiet.

“Mom?” a boy’s voice—teen, half-asleep.

A pause, then: “Who were you talking to out there?”

Gloria answered right away. “Just the new neighbor. Go back to bed, mijo.”

“A neighbor?” The boy sounded more awake. “We got a new neighbor?”

“Yeah,” Gloria said. “Next door.”

“What’s he like?”

“Quiet,” Gloria said. “Keeps to himself.”

“…Is he, like—bad?” the boy asked, like he didn’t want to say it too loud.

“Dee.” Gloria’s voice tightened—warning. “No. Stop.”

“I’m just asking…”

“And I’m telling you to stop.” Her tone dropped a little right after. “Go back to sleep, mijo.”

The voices faded as they moved deeper into the apartment.

Aka lowered his gaze back to the floor.

Then his vision flickered—an internal jingle.

A call.

SHIORI: red
SHIORI: i got something interesting for you

Aka didn’t show any reaction on his face. He simply stood, folded the rag once, and set it down.

SHIORI: you got a minute?

AKA: yes

SHIORI: good
SHIORI: so it’s about…

Aka glanced once at Gloria’s door, expression unchanged.

Then he turned, stepped back to his own unit, and walked in as his door slid open.

—

AKA | ????
INT ? | REF ? | DEX ? | TECH ? | COOL 6
WILL ? | LUCK ? | MOVE ? | BODY ? | EMP ?

A/N: HIIIIIIIIII okay chapter 3 is now out huehuehuehu you may be asking whos AKA? actually no ones asking that people are asking SHIORI? WELL ITS BECAUSE SHIORI ALSO MEANS BOOKMARK OR GUIDE, I DEF DIDNT JUIST CHOOSE SHIORI BECAUSE OF HOLOLIVE!!! NO SIRREE WILL I BE BASING HER APPEARANCE OFF SHIORI?? LETS NOT TALK ABOUT THAT its ufnny because there’s another shiori in a diff novel :sob: it hasnt been made public yet because a certain SOMEONE hasn’t finished my website NUDGE NUDGE WINK WINK anyway yeah a character named shiori is there too :sob: oh right about the chapter

okay so yeah i spent a lot of time describing aka, but had to keep like rewriting because too horny you feel? anyway gloria didn’t say much this chapter, it’s mostly because of the pressure tsk tsk did u guys know reo is trying to compete against trauma team LMAOOOO LMAOO anyway uhhhh fuck scavs, whenever i see them in game i kill them i dont care bout nothing i just kill them and fucking dogtown is FILLED with scavs its crazy