I stepped through the gate. One moment, I was within the confines of my Hub and the next I was in a filthy city alleyway. Weak daylight filtered between the surrounding buildings. Early or late, I couldn't say. My sense of direction was completely shot. There had been no sense of transition, nothing to indicate that movement had occurred. I found that to be something of a conundrum.

  However my thoughts on the matter were rudely interrupted by a foul odor. I had not smelt its like since the Sinnamon incident. Someone was dead nearby, and had been for a while. Nothing new there. I shouldn't have been bothered by it, I knew what this place was like. It was a grinder, people went in one end and meat came out the other.

  "Fuckin' hell." I grumbled. My senses were obvious highly jacked compared to before. I couldn't ignore it, and time didn't seem to deaden the nose-hair curdling vapors. Might as well see what had happened and then try to get my bearings.

  I was suppose to be near the Afterlife, and I remember Megan... grr Velma saying that was where Rogue was. I'd wondered how much she's like the one we met in the Mana Sink? Though it'd be a shame to have to meet her without John in tow. I'd like to see that reaction, after the behavior of the other lady we'd encountered.

  I let my nose guide my feet and found the corpse of an older man. Coving my nose and mouth with my hand, I examined the body. He'd obviously been down on his luck, judging by the state of his attire. Maybe even living on the streets, if you can call that living. Hmm a single strike to the abdomen had dispatched him, leaving his entrails laying out for the world to see. I had no way to get any data on him, and his ports were empty. If he'd had anything in there to begin with, it was long gone now. I could detect no motive and he had made no discernable attempt to defend himself. No defensive scraping around his hands.

  Someone had killed him just to do it, insofar as I could tell. Though I could easily be wrong, not knowing too much about how to read a crime scene. Several seasons of procedural crime dramas aside.

  Mana flooded me as I cast a Purify on him. I arranged his remains as best I could, returning his insides to their proper place and placing his hands to cover the wounds. He had been there long enough for rigor to have passed.

  "Wherever your soul has gone, rest well." It was all I could offer without knowing more about him. Hell, my actions weren't really about him, were they? I was trying to maintain some dregs of my humanity. Ever since my overreaction to the betrayal of the ladies, I'd begun the wonder if I was broken beyond repair.

  Another Purify to clean my hands. At least, the first spell had removed the immediate stench. Now, the general bouquet of the city was noticeable. Acrid chemicals and human despair. I shook my head as I pondered the feasibility of casting a Purify on the whole fucking city. Leaving the alley. I saw that I was near by the river or was it a bay? Looked like a river from here, but I could be wrong. The close by roadway was busy, cars zipping by at a good clip. I scanned around seeing crowds of people roaming the sidewalks and the air was full of drones conducing who knows what business. Further up in the sky all manner of AVs were darting about.

  I growled at the sheer volume of noise and the weight of the sickly life that filled the area. I wanted to heal them all, and I wanted to slaughter the lot of them. I was beginning to think I was more than a bit cracked in the head. Maybe this whole debacle was a good chance to start over.

  "Nothing new there." I muttered to myself. I spied a few vending machines and decided to test whether my BTC could handle money transfers here. My choices were crappy burritos, shitty sodas or a one shot plastic pistol. I snorted. What a joke. As if you could put anyone serious down with such a piece of garbage. My stomach growled, I hadn't eaten my snack bars yet, and I was starving. Crappy burrito it was. I touched the machine and my BTC shook. One fake mylar wrapped bundle of questionable food was dispensed.

  Well that was a load off my mind. I've money even if I'd no interface with the NET. A NET Agent wouldn't be too hard to find, maybe a jaunt to Kabuki was in the near future.

  Hmm. Since I couldn't return to my Hub for days at a time, I'd need a place to stay. Rent or buy? Probably rent for now, until I got to know the city better. Maybe, I could find that Hotel I'd stayed at before. First, I had to figure out where I was exactly. I found a small shop nearby selling a variety of basic goods. I walked in and searched for something innocuous to buy. A section with a few varieties of earplugs caught my eyes. That would do. I found a pair that had a good filter on them. Reducing loud noise, while let normal sounds through. Perfect.

  The clerk was watching some pointless brainrot that passed for news here. Mostly loud screaming about opinions, from the little I heard. I did however manage to catch the time. 5:30 PM. At the counter, I asked the clerk the way to the Afterlife, and without even looking at me, he described the way. I touched my BTC to a scanner to pay, and it worked like a charm. I thanked the clerk who didn't bother to reply and left.

  I tried to move with the crowds and avoid the few picksockets I noticed in the press. I admit it was a relief to find the back service entrance the Afterlife and easy enough to work my way around to the front. In the enclosed walkway I put in my new ear pro and shifted my holster to the left side of my chest. A belt or leg draw with my long arms felt too awkward and thus slow. A good thigh draw would have my pistol on my knee. The cross draw while probably not the fastest, it still felt the best for now. I'd have to practice more until I found the optimal placement. I checked my pistol to feel the action and checked the mag to ensure it was indeed loaded. The caseless ammo threw me at first but I adapted quick enough.

  I nodded to myself, taking a few deep breaths to center my mind. I turned the corner to see the stairway. Suppressing my desire to clean up all the trash, and ignoring the stares from a few mercs hanging around, I descended. I'd noticed and avoided a few traps on the way down too. Old school ones. No electronics so not connected to the local net. A hazing ritual for the newbies or just a sadistic game?

  I hit the hallway to the club's proper entrance, stopping to scan the way. More traps and a borged out fella at the end of the hall. The obviously broken vending machines worried me a bit but I figured I should be alright as long as I paid attention. A moment later, I stood in front of the bouncer, who looked at me with a bizarre combination of respect and contempt.

  "I don't know you."

  Now I wasn't completely lost here, Sally and Megan... ugh, had mentioned a passcode if I found myself here without them. I really didn't want to say it.

  I whispered it to the bouncer, "Holes and poles showed voles the moles." Argh, so stupid.

  He smirked, "Older code, but it checks out." He stepped aside, "Have fun, newbie."

  I was a bit startled by the décor of the club. There where refrigerated storage compartments for corpses nearby. Some seemed defunct and others were blowing cool air into the area. A little too on the nose, but I could appreciate the darker sense of humor. I was just about the approach the bar when I was pushed aside by a behemoth of a man entering the club. I had clocked my height at somewhere around 7', judging by the height of most folks in the streets. This guy must have been 8 and half feet and was at least three time as wide as me.

  "Move aside, scrub. No time for gawking." He must of had a broken voice module. The sound was so cracked and grainy, I could have mistaken it as having come out of a gramophone. I focused my Aura on him. Shit, he was a full conversion job. His only meat left was just his brain rattling around in an armored case up top. Barely any of that was au natural either.

  No matter how much I wanted to mess him up, it was probably better to ignore the disrespect. Still... there was something I had been wanting to try since I had gotten Life Crafting. I used my Aura to shut off the connections from his brain to his chrome. Everything was still functional, but he had no way of directing his body anymore. No one had much protection from mana here, it'd proven to be no challenge to alter what I wished. I wouldn't want to do it in a fight, but with nobody trying to tag me, it was a piece of cake.

  His massive frame just shuttered to a stop. I returned a few connections to his eyes and ears. Hopefully, he didn't have some kind of crazy laser eyes or something. I walked around to stand in front of him. I plastered a friendly smile on my face, as I looked into his optics.

  "No need to be rude, Choom. That's how accidents happen. Play nice, or next time I'll leave you like this." I allowed him to regain control one limb at a time.

  "Haha, that's quite a trick, newbie, and a good attitude. Don't let any of these scumbags punk you." It was hard to read him, none of his features changed while he spoke. Borgs creeped me out. The only good thing about them is they don't seem to have those kinds of reactions to my mana.

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  "I'm the Medic." I held out a hand to shake. He latched on far more gently than I'd anticipated. I took a risk that folks might mistake me for a Ripper, but I recalled that the Nomads never called anyone healing them up a medic.

  "Oho, a medic. Not much demand for a fleshworker these days. Good luck, newbie! I'm Wrekt, see you around, maybe." He tromped off to one of the many darker alcoves in the already dark club.

  Me, I went to the bastion of light in a sea of shadow. The bar. The bar was empty, and no one was behind the counter. I took a seat, the area stayed empty for a few minutes. I didn't mind, it allowed me to reach out with my Aura and get a count on how many mercs where currently present in the building. The answer was, not many. A few upstairs and about a dozen scattered around the main bar room. Mostly where I couldn't see them from here. Was this the slow period or just a slow day?

  "You lost, kid?" A bartender had shown up. He was a gruff looking old guy, moderately modded. Very clean cut for all of that. He even wore a classic white shirt and vest combo with a bowtie.

  "Nope. Looking for work, and a neat water, purest you got."

  He grunted, and pulled out a faux crystal bottle. "I can't help you with the work, but this is the best water you are likely to find outside of some Corpo bigwig's home." He poured the water, by the finger and I tapped the nearby scanner. Fucking hell. I'll bring my own next time. Sure, it was nothing to my balance, but water shouldn't fuckin' cost that much. It was pretty good water though. Especially for this hellhole.

  I gave him a nod. "Thanks."

  He shook his head and started getting things ready for what I presume would be later customers. So, I'd just gotten here too early. The real question was, how was I going to make inroads with a decent team of mercs? Especially since my end goal was a meeting with Rogue. Fuck, I really had no clue. Sit around and wait for something to come up I guess. Maybe buy some liquid lubrication for anyone I liked the look of. Schmooze about for a few days and get to know a few people.

  I really didn't feel like I was in a hurry. Sure, I'd some payback to deliver, but they weren't going anywhere. I could take my time and really explore the city, make an accurate decision on what I needed to do in the future. Maybe not fuck things up this time.

  "Heya Choom, you okay?"

  "Hmm?" Turning the stool around towards the voice, I didn't see anyone. Until I looked down.

  She was small and cute. Pale greyish skin and an oversized dark hoodie, her turquoise hair dancing behind her. Her optics were a riotous mix of pink surrounded by neon green with red outside of that. Adorable. I felt like a bad person just being near her.

  "Yeah, I'm fine just trying to figure out how to find a good crew to work with."

  She hopped up into the stool next to me. "Hey Harry! Get me my usual." I heard the bartender snort. He stared at her with a smirk.

  "One pint sized virgin daiquiri for the pint sized virgin, coming right up." He quipped.

  She flipped him off. "Fuck you, Harry!" She was all kinds of feisty.

  "You wish, pipsqueak." He chuckled.

  She turned back to me, brushing the whole exchange off. "So what are you good at?" Like nothing had just been said.

  I offered her my hand, "Want to see?" I'd always offer folks a choice, that didn't mean I'd have to explain the choice.

  She gave me a skeptical look. "What can you possibly do with a handshake?" Then she shrugged and took my hand anyway. I pulsed my mana into her, slowly, carefully. She started to squirm on her stool. Hmm. Lots of old damage, she was also oddly still mostly organic. Easy for me to work with. I cleaned up some old breaks in her arms and legs, removed some scar tissue from old beatings. Abusive childhood? Was she raised on the streets? She was panting heavily and couldn't seem to stay still. A few more recent bullet wounds, a place where she had been caught by a blade. These needed a heavier touch. Damn, what had this young lady been up to?

  Her moans were starting to attract attention. I went over her RealSkinn, while I couldn't affect it, I could smooth out the neural connections and fix a few places were it didn't quite sync up right. She'd probably gotten the Skinn before she had finished growing. In fact, there were a lot of factors that'd stunted her growth. Maybe, I could fix those up, too? But not right now. She was already attracting a crowd. Her moans had turned into little yips and squeals. I let her down slowly.

  "I can fix more some other time if you want." I kept my face neutral. This wasn't about the naughty reactions I got from folks. Maybe I'm just lying to myself.

  "More... Ah, yes, please, more." She slumped down and rested her head on the bar. She was not really here anymore.

  I turned around to look at the crowd of mercs that had come for the show. Who all started cheering and clapping.

  It was good that I'd made an impression, whether it was a good impression remained to be seen. I gave a jaunty little wave to the crowd. A got a couple of whistles.

  "Good show, kid! When's the next act?" I heard Wrekt call out. I think he was having a grand ol' time. With a drink in each hand.

  "When I have my next volunteer." I could feel a smirk on my lips, despite my attempts to keep my face blank. Strangely I felt more comfortable with the attention than I'd have thought I would.

  "Maybe after work!" I heard a woman's voice call out, which started a new round of laughter. A round of higher pitch giggling and catcalling. Was it catcalling if you did it to a man? Maybe it should be dogcalling? Eh, maybe not.

  "I'll be around. If you have aliments of the flesh, or chrome rejection issues, maybe I can help. I'm the Medic." Message delivered I turned back to my water. I was trying to seem mysterious but not unapproachable. I heard a bunch of doubtful chatter behind me. More than a few hopeful mutters. Well, it might take some time to find brave takers.

  As the mercs started to filter back to their own business, one lady stood out. Mostly for her colorful pink and white small jacket, one of those kinds that's more for fashion than the intended purpose of a jacket. Her dark bodysuit was overly tight, showing off all her goods. I'd marked her as a netrunner. She had black hair and huge shit-eating grin on her face. Her gorgeous blue eyes with a pink ring were already dancing with unspeakable mischief.

  "Un Nya! Has little Rebecca been defeated? Without a shot fired no less." She stood beside the short lady I'd just demonstrated my abilities on, and rubbed her back soothingly. She hummed a soft and quiet little tune, into the ear of Rebecca. (AN: Yes, the lewdness of the statement was intentional.)

  Rebecca murmured something, "Sho... good... feeling nova." Her eyes were open but they were hazy. She shifted gently before nuzzling back into her arms on the bar.

  "You hacked her good, but could you do it to someone who can defend themselves?" The new lady had a mocking smile on her face, as she turned to me with a challenge. Her eyes were flashing dangerously. Yeah, good luck with that. She wasn't going to find anything to interface with.

  "You're making the wrong assumptions, but sure, as long as you are at least 20% meat. I can guarantee this result, less than that is iffy but still possible. But the pleasure is a side effect, a fringe benefit if you will. The healing is real." I made sure to look her in the eyes and kept my hands still. She seemed to think I had taken advantage of her friend for nefarious purposes. I could see that. I'd be protective of my friend too if I'd thought the same.

  "You're 'ganic!" She exclaimed. Her mind started putting things together, because you can't toss a hack on someone without a neural interface cyberdeck.

  "One hundred percent." At least, I thought I was. My status said I was, if it could be trusted.

  I smiled, and gestured to Harry to refill my glass. "Make it a double." I said as he came over and poured me the good stuff. I looked a question at my interrogator. She nodded. "One for the Lady." Harry nodded and poured another glass.

  "You're gene modded? And obviously wealthy." She stared the glass of water. Her voice held tons of suspicious overtones.

  "I have money, and other ways of making more. It's not why I want to help heal folks." I ignored the gene mod question, which was going to be my strategy on that topic going forward. People will probably come up with all kinds of crazy stories about it. Adding to the mystery of who and what I was. A good mystery could draw in a lot of folks. Maybe some of them would be the right kinds of people.

  "Help, is that what you're doing?" She got Rebecca settled into the next stool down and moved her drink in front of her. Then she plopped down next to me.

  "You want to see what it's like to be healed?" I asked once again, maintaining eye contact. Not that it was a chore, she had great eyes. I offered my hand.

  "Healing?" She still had her doubts, I understood. She tentatively took my hand, as if she was afraid it would shock her.

  "What did you think I was some kind of pervert?" I asked as I pulsed mana into her. I made sure to go slow, and not to get so focused on her that I wouldn't notice what was going on in the room this time.

  "Nyaa! It h-had c-rossed my m-mind! Auah!" She grit her teeth, trying to resist how the energies coursing through her made her feel.

  "It's sad to be so misunderstood." My tone was soft and mocking. I'd found a fairly recent bullet wound in her chest, I saw no reason to leave the scar tissue there and cleaned it up.

  She gasped, "What?! Ahn, Nya!" Yeah, she'd felt that. Hmm, I thought I'd made my point pretty well, so I pulled back and let her down slowly. I didn't want to accidently knock her loopy like her friend.

  "Well, how was that?" I asked.

  She tried to get control of her breath. She looked at me with wide eyes. I'd say her mind was struggling to catch up with the moment. "A-maz-zing!" Her body shuddered as she stretched. It was a very nice view.

  "I'm the Medic, and I'm looking for a crew, failing that gig work here and there." Make a name for myself to hide behind.

  "Why not start a clinic? You'd be a hit." She had begun to pull herself together.

  "Don't want to stay in one place too long, nor the hassle of running a business. Again, I don't need money, I need a network, connections, favors, people I can trust, maybe even some friends." Perhaps I was oversharing, but I had a good feeling about these two. Even if some of it was from how I thought they were quite attractive.

  "Well, I can put in a good word with my crew if you want." She'd noticed that Rebecca was starting to come out of her fog. "You okay, Chibi?"

  "Who are you calling Chibi, Whiskers!? I'll show you who's short when I shoot out your kneecaps!" The small lady was suddenly full of fire and vinegar. She'd a pistol out and already going low.

  "No iron, Becca! Or I'll kick you out again." Harry yelled from where he was serving a new group their drinks.

  "You ladies are old friends?" I noticed Rebecca's pistol, which was heavily modded, disappeared quick.

  "Yeah, we've run together a while now. Why'd you ask?" The short lady was the picture of innocence now, as if violence was the farthest thing from her mind.

  "He's looking for a crew." The dark haired lady answered while poking Rebecca in the cheek.

  "Hmm, what do you think Sasha? Would Maine take him on?" She sounded excited.

  "Would I do what, now?" A deep voice came from behind us.