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Sasha: Jax, you up yet? Sasha: Found a place. Better than that tin can you're in. Sasha: Why aren't you replying? (cat scissors hand emoji)
Jax opened the message, squinting at the timestamp. Ten in the morning. He barely had time to process the text before the metal door of the container rumbled open. Sasha stood there, her silhouette framed by the harsh morning sun, looking at him with an expression that said his lack of punctuality was officially noted.
"How did you and the message arrive at the same time?" Jax asked, his voice thick with sleep. He yawned, rubbing his face. The hangover from Maine's industrial-strength whiskey was still a dull throb behind his eyes.
Sasha had ditched the tactical gear. Today, she looked like she belonged in a different city entirely—or at least a much nicer part of this one. She wore a blue denim jacket layered over a t-shirt featuring a stylized Danger Girl logo, simple pants, and pink heels. She looked like a high schooler on a weekend trip, a disguise that would be terrifyingly effective against anyone who didn't know she could melt their brains through a toaster.
"I sent it while I was riding over. My place isn't far," she said, tapping the cat-ear ornament on her head. She offered a slight, playful smile. "I spent the morning scanning the listings. Found exactly what you asked for. It's in Rancho Coronado, close to where I live. Figured I'd show you the goods."
Jax nodded. By four this morning, the crew had scattered to their respective boltholes. He'd spent the last two days being babysat by Maine and Dorio, but after the Biotechnica stunt, the air had changed. He wasn't an outsider anymore. He was becoming part of the furniture.
"Where's Maine?" Jax asked, cracking his neck.
"Scoring the payout with Pilar," Sasha said, sitting on the edge of the sofa. She reached into her pink bag and pulled out a bottle of water and two energy bars, tossing them to him. "Breakfast. Don't say I never did anything for you."
Jax caught the bars, checking the wrappers. Legitimate company logo. Good. In Night City, unbranded energy bars were a gamble—sometimes you got protein, sometimes you got sawdust and recycled "mystery meat." These were the standard, soy-and-worm-paste variety. Tasted like sweet, wet cardboard, but they did the job.
"Maine and Dorio are talking about expanding," Sasha continued, watching him eat. "They want a new Netrunner and a driver. They're serious about making this crew a top-tier outfit."
"Netrunners don't just grow on trees," Jax muttered between bites.
"No, they don't. Most of the real talent are lone wolves or corporate slaves," Sasha agreed. "But Pilar and Rebecca know every gutter-rat and street-doc in the district. If there's talent hiding in Santo Domingo, they'll sniff it out."
She watched him finish the second bar with a focused intensity. Jax felt a flicker of that "subtle shift" Maine had mentioned. Yesterday was life and death; today was... domestic? It was strange, but he didn't hate it.
"Ready to see the house?" Jax asked, standing up to stretch.
"Go? Jax, it's 2075. We don't go places to look at them." Sasha reached into her bag and pulled out a sleek, pink Braindance wreath adorned with cat ears.
Jax stared at it. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Twenty-three thousand eddies, buster. Limited edition Danger Girl collab," she beamed, holding it like a trophy. "I've never had anyone to show this off to before. Now sit. I'll run the demo."
Jax sat. He felt her cool fingertips on his temples as she lifted his hair, securing the wreath. She sat down beside him, her shoulder bumping into his, her body heat significantly lower than his own. She smelled faintly of sugar and cherry blossoms.
"Supports multi-user," she whispered. "Experience is a bit lower for the secondary, but you'll get the gist."
She initiated the link. A flash of white light blinded Jax, and then the world resolved.
He was standing in a darkened room.
"Open the window," Sasha's voice echoed in the simulation.
Jax walked over and threw back the digital blinds. Sunlight flooded the space. It was a high-rise unit in Skyscraper H4. The view was mostly concrete and other towering monoliths, but the height gave it a sense of scale that the container lacked.
"Rancho Coronado," Sasha said, appearing beside him in the virtual space. "Twenty-two hundred eddies a month, including the 'protection' fees and utilities. Call it twenty-five hundred if you want the high-speed data link and repair insurance. Standard Night Corp layout—minimalist, efficient, small. But it's yours."
Jax walked through the space. It was identical to a dozen other middle-class apartments he'd seen, but it had a kitchen, a real bed, and a door that locked from the inside.
"The other three options are similar, but the lighting here is better," Sasha added, leaning against the virtual wall.
Jax looked at the quiet, digital version of the woman standing next to him. He didn't need to see the others.
"This one," he said. "Let's finalize it."
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