I was half-dozing on my couch in a too-big T-shirt, thighs bare except for a flimsy pair of panties, when my apartment door slid open with a jarring hiss. At first, I nearly jumped out of my skin, fingerswrapped around my gun as I aimed at the person that broken in. But the loud, furious voice that followed killed my confusion quick.
"What the hell, choom?" That was Pilar. He stomped in, face twisted in anger, the overhead lights glinting off his cyberarms. "You go on the news like some psycho, and you think we wouldn't figure it out?"
Behind him, Rebecca hopped in as the door slide shut, shotgun slung across her back. She looked equal parts livid and worried, big eyes glinting with leftover adrenaline. "For real, Yum. You're out there slicing scavs alone? You got a death wish?"
I swung my feet off the couch and sat up, while lowering my gun. I guess they did watch the news. Damn but of course, the red cat mask was basically a giant neon sign. And Pilar had built it himself, so there was no fooling him.
I forced a half-shrug, ignoring the dull throb in my side. "Didn't plan on it being front-page news," I muttered, trying for calm. "Wasn't exactly a publicity stunt."
Pilar snorted, voice thick with scorn. "Coulda fooled me. That was your mask, right? The one I made? Or, let me guess, some choomba wearing the exact same piece of custom plating?"
Rebecca let out a bark of laughter that wasn't remotely amused. "Gonk move. Because who else do we know stupid enough to fight an entire scaver nest on her own?"
I didn't immediately respond. A part of me bristled at their tone, though. I was alive, wasn't I?
Finally, I sighed, arms folding over the oversized T-shirt. "Pilar, don't act like you gave me that mask for free," I said. "I paid for it with that, with what you asked for, remember?" My cheeks warmed slightly at the memoryof my own braindance. Nudity and all. That had been his only fee, the pervert. But hey, he'd done good work, so I'd shelled out.
He scowled, crossing both cyberarms. "Yeah, yeah. So what? You nearly got yourself flatlined just so you could… what, be some hero? Shit. Now there's a bounty on your head from scavs who didn't like you trashing their ring. You think they won't come after you?"
Rebecca rolled her eyes, stepping up to me. "We get it, scavs suck. But, Yum, you better not pull that lone-wolf crap again, or I swear I'll beat your ass myself."
I took a breath, letting the worry in their eyes sink in. "Look, I found a kid and freed him. That's all that mattered."
Rebecca's steely façade flickered. "Yeah, that part's… preem. But your face was all over the morning news. They're spinning it like you're some psycho killer. That corp doc on the feed was labeling you as an insane vigilante."
"I know." I tried to keep the tremor out of my voice. "I didn't plan for cameras."
Pilar swore, pacing the length of my living room. "You keep messing with big scaver operations, you'll have bigger problems than cameras ya hear. Organized ones put out hits. They've got eddies to burn. And guess who they come after first?"
He left the question hanging. I forced a nonchalant shrug. "Let them come. I don't exactly regret shutting down a chop shop."
Rebecca stared me down. "Choom, you got a bounty, you're battered to hell, and half the city's net's talkin' about the 'cat psycho.' Don't be flippant about it."
Pilar gestured wildly at me. "She's wearing nothing but a T-shirt and panties, like this is a lazy Sunday!"
"My place," I snapped back. "I can dress how I want."
He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Yeah, yeah. No shame in that. Just… c'mon, you gotta be more careful. Next time you want to stage an organ-harvest massacre, maybe ring me or Becky first, eh?"
Rebecca snickered, though the sound was tense. "We'd at least bring a plan. And more guns. And some bombs." She pressed her palm to her face, exhaling slowly. "Listen, forget it. We came here to call you out for being an idiot. Now that's done, let's get hammered. I'm serious. We were heading to the Afterlife. Figured we'd drag you along, keep you in sight so you don't do anything else stupid."
I perked up despite myself. "The Afterlife? That's that big merc bar near the old corp zone, right?"
Pilar grunted. "Yeah, my friends, some preem edgerunners, no big names yet like to chill there. Not as fancy as the big suits' clubs, but better than hole-in-the-wall dives. We can meet them. " A short smirk crossed his lips. "Don't worry, we won't blow your identity. Just gotta keep your mask off."
I eyed them both, unsure if I had the energy for a night out. My body still ached, but then again, maybe a stiff drink was exactly what I needed. Plus, I kind of owed them.
"Fine," I relented. "Let me change first."
Rebecca's face split into a wry grin. "Atta girl. About time you join us. Also, please, put on something less…basic than a T-shirt."
"A few things," I rummaged in a half-unzipped bag from one of my Mox runs.
Finally, I pulled out a bundle of clothes: a long sleeved fishnet mesh undershirt, a sleek black leotard, black booty shorts, and black sports shoes.
Rebecca eyed the items with an unimpressed look. "That's your clubbing gear? I was expecting more neon."
I shrugged, feeling a little grin tug at my lips. "Ive never gone cllubbing before so I didnt know what to buy." My gaze flicked to Pilar, who was very unsubtly trying to look like he wasn't paying attention. "You guys can turn around if you're gonna be squeamish."
Pilar snorted. "Squeamish? I've seen better on the holo."
The corners of my mouth lifted in something close to mischief. "Oh, so you don't wanna look at all, huh?"
Rebecca barked a laugh. "Pilar's definitely lookin'. Don't let him fool you."
I stripped, my body bruised in some parts. I felt Pilar's gaze on me. "Damn," was all Rebecca said, eyebrows climbing. "You do love showing off, don't you?"
I gave a casual shrug. "Nah, just not shy," I said. "Got nothing worth being proud off."
As I tossed the T-shirt aside, I glimpsed Pilar's face turn a shade of pink muttering under his breath. Rebecca, on the other hand, leaned back casuallyon my bed.
"Better move fast, or we'll miss the good seats at the bar," Rebecca pointed out. "Times a-wastin', Yumi."
I held the fishnet undershirt in front of my torso. The mesh was practically worthless at hiding anything, the pattern wide enough that my skin would be on display.
I slipped it over my head, carefully threading my arms through until it settled against me. The net was snug, stretching across my chest, but obviously showing… well, everything beneath. No bra meant it left nothing to imagination. The friction against my bruised skin made me hiss a soft breath.
Next came the black leotard. This one wasn't glossy or flashy, but it had a deep cut in the back and rode high on the hips. As I bent down to step into it, I felt the cool air against my backside. I shimmed it up, smoothing it over my waist and hooking my arms through the straps, the fishnet lines visible above the neckline.
Then came the booty shorts, As I slipped them over the leotard. I ran my hands down my hips, checking the fit. It was tight, highlighting curves I didn't have in the past.
Pilar found his voice, though it was thick with forced casualness. "Yeah, that's definitely a… look."
Finally, I grabbed the black sports shoes, tugging them on. They weren't nearly as flashy as Rebecca's but they'd let me run if I needed to. Not a bad idea, given my knack for trouble.
Rebecca hopped off my bed, clapping once. "All right, let's bounce. You sure you can walk without limping?" She glanced at the bruises blossoming along my side.
I tested a step, wincing a bit. "I'll manage. A drink or two, and I'll be right as rain."
With that, we headed out of my apartment. The hallway's harsh lighting made me aware of just how tight the white yoga pants were, the faint outlines of the leotard beneath on display. Some neighbors paused, eyes bulging, but I just threw them the middle finger.
We crammed into the elevator. Outside, we hailed a battered aerocab. Rebecca slid in first, pulling her shotgun across her knees. Pilar followed, half-watching me out of the corner of his eye. I flopped in last, hooking my foot around the door to pull it closed behind me.
"Afterlife," Pilar told the driver. Then, quieter, he turned to me.
I settled back, glancing at my reflection in the window, My hair falling below my ass, maybe it was time for me to cut my hair? I smiled, half-lidded.
As the aerocabcame to a stop at the Afterlife, I felt the bass reverberate through the hull, promising a night of throbbing music. Pilar led the way with a confidence nodded to the bouncers without so much as a weapon scan. He dropped a name, flashed a grin, and the doors just parted for us.
"Stick with me," he muttered over his shoulder as we stepped into the smoke-thick atmosphere. "Most of crew's in the back. Don't say anything stupid."
Rebecca snorted beside me. "That's rich coming from you."
I didn't say anything. Just adjusted the mesh of my fishnet undershirt and tried not to wince when the beat vibrating through the floor sent a jolt through my side.
The place reeked of oil, sweat, and neon dreams. Exactly what you'd expect from a merc bar with a rep built on legends and kill counts. I could feel the stares.
Pilar led us past the booths, where solos leaned over tables whispering, past the bar where a chrome-plated bartender served drinks that looked like really fucking good. We reached the back corner where a circle of bodies lounged around two pushed-together tables.
Maine was hard to miss. Broad, with that big booming laugh you could hear over the music. Dorio was seated to his right, arms crossed and watching the room like she expected someone to try something. Kiwi leaned back against the wall, her eyes tracking every movement. Beside them, a woman I hadn't expected: slim build, sharp jawline,black short hair.
Sasha Yakovleva. She looked up when we approached, and her mouth pulled into a smile.
"'Bout time, Pilar," Maine called out. "This the girl you said was a 'fun kinda psycho'?"
Pilar grinned. "Yeah, this is Yumi. Chill, smart, and not dumb enough to say the wrong thing in front of the wrong people."
"Wow," I muttered striking him in the arm before folding my arms. "You make me sound so lovable."
Maine laughed again, deep and easy. "She's got bite. I like that."
Rebecca slid into a seat next to Dorio. Pilar took the open stool near Maine, and that left me awkwardly eyeing the only other free spot, next to Sasha.
She patted the empty cushion. "C'mon. I don't bite unless you ask."
I raised an eyebrow but sat anyway, dropping into the seat with a muffled grunt. Up close, Sasha didn't smell like oil or booze. She smelled like mint probably some perfume laced with neural enhancers. Her blue eyes turned toward me as she took a sip of something green.
"You look like you've been through hell," she said.
I smirked, running a hand through my hair. "oh you know same old stuff in night city."
She tilted her head slightly. "You freelance?"
"Sometimes," I replied, dodging the real answer. "Not big enough for any gigs worth naming."
"Mmh." She watched me a second longer, like she knew I wasn't saying everything but wasn't going to press. Then she nodded toward my outfit. "Fishnets and combat boots. nice outfit"
"You should've seen the T-shirt I was wearing before this."
She chuckled. "Lemme guess. Cat on the front?"
That caught me off guard. "What?"
"Your vibe screams cat-person," she said, lips twitching into a smile. "And not in the annoying way. More like… the kind that feeds strays but pretends not to care."
I blinked at her. "You—how the hell did you guess that?"
Sasha shrugged. "Takes one to know one. I've got two. Dumpster rescues. Little bastards hate anyone but me."
A smile tugged at the edge of my mouth before I could stop it. "Yeah… I had one back in Gotham. Named him Chainsaw."
Sasha barked a laugh. "Chainsaw? What, did he claw your face off or something?"
"Only once," I said with mock solemnity. "RIP my moms couch."
We talked. About cats. About Night City. About how people thought she was Russian mob, even though she barely spoke the language. I didn't know what I expected when I sat down next to her, but this wasn't it. We clicked.
I caught Rebecca watching us at one point, smirking like she'd expected this all along. It was comforting, seeing her amusement. Me hitting it off with Sasha was apparently prime entertainment.
"Gotham, huh?" Kiwi finally broke the silence, voice flat yet intrigued enough to indicate genuine curiosity. Her lips curled slightly upward behind the haze of cigarette smoke she exhaled slowly. "Can't say I've heard of it. Nomad town?"
I stayed silent for long enough to seem thoughtful rather than evasive. "Something like that. Small, isolated. Had more rain than sun, more corruption than eddies, and more psychos than sane people."
Dorio chuckled deeply, raising an eyebrow. "Sounds like Night City's long-lost twin."
"About the same," I shot back, leaning comfortably against the worn upholstery, enjoying the surprising ease of their company. "Imagine all the scavs and cyberpsychos here, but less chrome and more theatrical insanity."
"Sounds like fun," Maine said sarcastically, laughing as he tipped back a large glass of something amber. "You sure know how to sell a hometown."
Pilar snorted, drumming his chrome fingers lightly on the tabletop. "Yumi's hometown stories always sound like they came straight outta some cheesy B-movie. Next she'll say they got dudes dressed up like bats jumpin' rooftops."
I bit my cheek, suppressing an ironic laugh. "Funny enough, there actually was a guy who dressed like a bat, his name was Batman."
Sasha's eyes sparkled with curiosity, leaning forward just slightly. "You're making this up."
Rebecca snickered from her seat, taking a sip of her neon-colored cocktail. "Trust me, she ain't. Makes Night City seem almost...normal."
"Normal's relative," Kiwi murmured dryly.
Maine's brow creased thoughtfully. "Guy in a bat suit beatin' thugs? Sounds cyberpsycho-adjacent. How'd that work out for him?"
"Surprisingly effective," I said casually. "Though it didn't change Gotham much. Place still ate people alive, with or without a vigilante."
Dorio shook her head with a low chuckle. "Shit, almost sounds worse than Corpo Plaza."
"Im not sure about that," I replied evenly, letting a hint of seriousness seep into my tone. "Imagine living in a city so fucked-up, where the most trusted person around dressed like a bat."
Sasha laughed, her voice light and musical despite her dry humor. "Can't decide if you're joking or traumatized."
I smirked, meeting her gaze evenly. "Little of column A, little of column B."
"Damn," Pilar said, mock sympathy in his tone. "Explains why you decided Night City was a good alternative."
"Felt familiar," I shrugged. "But with more neon and less psychopaths in clown makeup."
Maine raised his glass, grinning broadly. "Cheers to leaving psycho clowns behind, then."
The others lifted their glasses with a chorus of chuckles and murmured agreements. Rebecca winked at me, clearly enjoying the direction this conversation had taken.
"So, Yumi," Dorio leaned forward, elbows resting comfortably on the table, voice genuinely curious, "what brought you here? Gotham sounded rough, but Night City's got its own kind of sharp edges."
"Needed a fresh start," I admitted, choosing my words carefully. "Figured anywhere new was better than old haunts."
Sasha nodded thoughtfully. "Fresh start, new trouble. That's usually how it goes."
I met her eyes and smiled faintly. "Exactly. At least here, the trouble's got style."
"Fuck yeah," Pilar declared, clinking his glass dramatically against Maine's.
The conversation shifted naturally after that, turning lighter and easier. Sasha shared anecdotes about Blitz and Halo, her dumpster rescue cats, and Maine gave an animated, if exaggerated, retelling of one chaotic job.
Rebecca leaned toward me conspiratorially at one point, whispering with a wicked grin, "Told you you'd fit right in."
I rolled my eyes playfully but couldn't deny it. It felt strangely good, easy. My injuries faded into a dull ache in the background, overshadowed by laughter, teasing.
After another round of drinks, Maine stretched, glancing toward Pilar and Dorio. "Got some biz in Heywood tomorrow, chooms. Better not overdo it tonight."
"Since when do you follow your own advice?" Dorio retorted dryly, making Sasha chuckle beside me.
"Touché," Maine grinned. "But I got a feeling we'll need clear heads for once."
Gradually, the group started drifting apart, standing and stretching, exchanging casual goodbyes. Sasha lingered, her gaze thoughtful.
"You should stop by sometime," she said casually, almost off-handedly, eyes glancing down at the table. "Blitz and Halo might actually like you."
I raised an eyebrow, lips quirking upward in amusement. "You sure about that? From what you said, they hate everyone."
She smirked slightly, blue eyes sparkling with quiet humor. "Exactly. maybe you will be different."
"Alright. Sounds good. I'll take you up on that."
Sasha gave a quick nod,we extrached holo info before she pushing to her feet. "See you around, Yumi."
"See you around," I echoed, watching her slip through the crowd toward the exit.
Rebecca leaned her chin on her hand, shooting me an exaggeratedly smug look. "Making friends already, Yum?"
"Apparently," I murmured, feigning annoyance but not hiding the slight smile tugging at my lips.
"About time," she teased. "You need people besides me and Pilar, you know."
"Debatable," Pilar shot back, feigning offense. "I'm worth at least three normal friends."
Rebecca rolled her eyes dramatically. "You wish, gonk."
Laughing quietly, I settled back against the cushions, the tension and exhaustion finally easing out of my muscles. Tonight had turned out better than I'd expected.