Chapter 4: A New Life Starts Today
[Gig Completed: Security]
[Reward Granted: Cool +0.05]
In the basement of Lizzie's Bar, Rhys leaned against the wall, processing the reward from his internal interface. He pulled up his stats for a quick review.
His five core attributes now stood at:
Body: 9.05
Reflexes: 8.06
Technical Ability: 9.02
Intelligence: 4.1
Cool: 8.25
Not bad. As far as Rhys was concerned, any random reward was acceptable as long as it didn't dump points into Intelligence. Although, to be fair, the Cool attribute wasn't much use to him right now either...
Cool determined one's tolerance for pain and mental strain, which directly translated to how much chrome a person's body could handle without going psycho. But Rhys didn't have the eddies for new implants, nor did he know a reliable ripperdoc with a conscience... actually, that wasn't true. He could probably find Viktor.
They'd never met, but Vik's reputation was solid gold. The entire netrunner community considered him "Pops" for a reason.
Because of this, Rhys always preferred stat boosts to Body, Reflexes, or Tech—attributes that directly increased his combat effectiveness. Whenever a gig offered a free attribute point, he'd split it evenly among those three.
SLAM!
The door ahead was slammed shut with force, snapping Rhys out of his thoughts. He pushed off the wall and looked over.
A woman in a tank top was storming out of Susan's office, a furious expression on her face. She had short purple hair with streaks of color in the tips, which caught the dim hallway light with a faint green sheen. Tattoos adorned her pale neck, and the side of her head was shaved, revealing the silver scar tissue around her temples from cybernetic surgery.
"Judy," Rhys called out.
Judy spun around, her anger momentarily replaced by surprise when she saw it was Rhys. "You're just in time," she said, her eyebrows raised. "Susan's in there waiting for you."
She walked over to Rhys, took a deep breath, and continued, her voice still laced with frustration. "You did the right thing, Rhys. I'm with you one hundred percent on that one."
"Caution, caution, it's always fucking caution," she ranted. "Jesus, at this rate, the Mox are gonna be history under her leadership!"
"Evelyn was right to leave. Susan has no goddamn vision!"
Finding a sympathetic ear, Judy let it all out. She'd just been chewed out by Susan, who had basically ordered her to cut ties with Evelyn. Susan had said the woman would get herself zeroed sooner or later and that Judy needed to stay away to avoid bringing trouble to the Mox.
But Evelyn had just left the gang. How could Susan say something like that so soon?
Rhys just smiled faintly, not responding to her tirade.
Seeing that Rhys wasn't going to join in, Judy got the hint. Besides, she'd joined the Mox later than Rhys, and his relationship with Susan was... complicated. It wasn't something you could unpack in a few sentences.
"Whatever," Judy said with a wave of her hand. "Go on, get in there and take your medicine. I'm going home. My shift was supposed to be over hours ago."
"Okay. Stay safe on the way," Rhys said softly.
Judy grunted in acknowledgment and headed towards her workshop. In the Mox, she was a big deal. Nearly every braindance sold at Lizzie's had been edited and polished by her. Because of this, she was one of the few people, besides Rhys, who dared to get in Susan's face and argue.
But there was a difference. While Rhys bitched about Susan, he ultimately respected her decisions. When Susan told him to lay low at Lizzie's, he stayed put in the basement without a single complaint.
Judy thought the Mox were doomed under Susan? The reality was the complete opposite. Under Susan's leadership, not only had the Mox survived, they had thrived. Sure, major threats like the Tyger Claws were a constant, simmering problem. But secretly, Rhys knew the Mox had acquired several new warehouses, a chop shop, an underground radio station operating out of Dogtown, and had even launched their own clothing brand in Night City.
When Susan first took over, the Mox had nothing but Lizzie's Bar. And back then, Lizzie's wasn't the premier BD joint it was today; it was a cheap strip club, a place for flesh-peddling. Susan was, without a doubt, an outstanding leader.
Thinking about Judy's storyline from the game... high-minded but shortsighted. That was Judy in a nutshell. After Evelyn Parker's death, she tried to replicate Elizabeth Lizzie's success by liberating Clouds. And the result? If V hadn't been there, she wouldn't just have gotten herself killed; she would have dragged all her friends down with her. Telling the dolls at Clouds to go independent? The outcome was predictable. It was a miracle Judy even thought such a plan could work.
Shaking his head, Rhys walked to the door and knocked gently.
"Come in," Susan's voice called from inside.
Rhys pushed the door open and saw Susan sitting in her swivel chair. Her left hand rested on a pistol, her chrome legs spread apart as she watched him with a calm expression.
He closed the door behind him and sat on a nearby metal crate, watching her in silence.
Susan said nothing. The dim lighting and the cramped space made the silence feel heavy and oppressive.
After a long moment, Susan sighed. "When are you leaving?"
"Today," Rhys replied.
"..."
"You don't have to be in such a rush. Tomorrow... no, the day after is fine," she said.
"If I have to go, might as well get it over with," Rhys said, holding out his hands in a shrug.
"Heh, you little bastard. Are you trying to piss me off?" Susan let out a soft laugh. She raised her hand, lifting the pistol.
"What's that for?"
"This is for you. The Omaha was from Korna. This one is from me," Susan said, giving the gun a little shake.
Rhys walked over and took it. It was Susan's personal sidearm, an upgraded version of the Omaha—the true "Lizzie." It had the same pink finish but with different details. The grip featured a cute decal, and it had a charge-up function that could fire a five-round burst. Combined with the Lizzie's innate ability to fire extra projectiles, this pistol was a handheld shotgun.
"You'll need more than one pistol if you're gonna be a merc," Susan said, rolling her chair over to him. She patted him down, tugging at the hem of his jacket.
"Look after yourself out there. I know you're strong, Rhys. Give you some time, a full set of top-tier chrome, and you could own this city. But you have one very serious problem."
Susan looked at him, her expression serious. She raised a finger and tapped her own head. "Empathy. You have too much of it. You stick your nose in things that aren't your business, do things you shouldn't."
"A strong sense of empathy isn't a bad thing. It lets you handle more chrome without ending up a rambling mess like Anna, helps you stay human. But having too much of it will also bring you a world of trouble."
Rhys pursed his lips, watching her quietly.
"What, you think I'm nagging you again? I've only said a few things," Susan said, rolling her eyes at his complicated expression.
"I just... this doesn't sound like you."
"Don't act like you know me so well. With this much chrome in my body, sometimes I don't even know who I am, what I'm doing, or where I am. How could you?"
"You told me to talk to you nicely, so I did. Now you think it's weird. Fine, I'll switch back."
Susan leaned back in her chair, her expression hardening with impatience. "Rhys, get the hell out before I lose my temper."
"Get out of Watson. Find a place to stay. Eat well, sleep well, and wait for my call."
Rhys smiled. He tucked the pistol into his waistband, turned, and pulled the door open, heading up and out of Lizzie's Bar.
Outside, Rhys breathed in the early morning air of Night City. The smell was, as always, nauseatingly bad. He was just starting to wonder where he was going to sleep when he heard someone call his name.
"Rhys!"
The voice was rough and boisterous. Rhys looked up and saw a two-meter-tall giant in sunglasses standing down the street, a bottle in his hand. It was Maine.
A car was parked behind him. Dorio was crammed into the passenger seat, her massive frame barely fitting as she leaned out to look at him. Sasha was in the back, waving out the window.
Rhys was stunned for a second, then shook his head with a smile and walked over.
"Korna told me you were leaving the Mox today," Maine said. "If you've got nowhere to go, come with us. Starting tomorrow, we're a crew."
"Maine, you're driving drunk," Rhys said, looking up at the big man.
"There are a lot of cops who want to bust me, but it definitely won't be for a DUI," Maine roared with laughter. He held out a massive fist to Rhys.
"Welcome to the world of mercs, Rhys."
Rhys raised his own hand. Maine's fist was bigger than his head. The two fists bumped lightly.
"I just hope this new life doesn't disappoint."