Molly lights a fresh smoke as she paces back and forth waiting impatiently... Manny posted near the car behind her. Her entourage of cult loyal misfits either stand by her side or lay positioned in a tactical setup they could neither execute nor' think up themselves. Just a… gathering of people... ones that Molly has affected in ways never seen before down in Santo. She learned pretty quickly in her time here the level of issues that are present and unsolvable with money alone… the slums of Night City proved to require a far more hands on approach. Applying her training to the matter only got her so far… adapting to her environment became essential. A raid here, a public street execution there… turns out the poverty class of Night City doesn't bend the knee so easily. Molly Isabelle has never really been quite fond of 'by the book'... probably what's gotten her so far. Her unorthodox mentality and style... her willingness to bend policy and parameters or outright break them... her humanity. These are traits uncommon to the upper echelons of corporate power... making them daunting, intimidating forces up in those ivory megabuildings… however down here… that couldn't be further from the reality. A lot of time and busy work has gone into this bullshit and she's long over it... although on thin ice... the bitch can't help but tap dance on it.
With time running out... the scent of the trail steadily fading... her reputation on the line... and the all too familiar powers that be stood over her shoulder..."this needed to work... It was gonna work." She thinks to herself.
Her angsty thoughts are abruptly halted by the sound of approaching engines.
Marcus Santello arrives in a small caravan with what remains of his crew... they make their way past Molly's setup with a traditional parley.
Marcus hops out of his Cortes... his ride or die chooms at his side. He approaches Molly with confidence... and a feeling of frustration. There can only be so many results that bare fruit when everyone involved's plans dont seem to involve progress toward their goals... nearly grinding to a stalemate.
"Molly Seeker." Marcus greets... his deep voice serious. His bodybuilder frame imposing.
"That's Mama to you baby." Molly's signature grin on her face.
A pause lingers as Marcus takes a few moments to glance around at Molly's setup. Outnumbered and outgunned... he recognizes the countless faces around him. People he's known and come across throughout nearly his entire walk of life... whether good or bad, they're familiar. It sends him to a place very personal... the numbing feelings of inevitability course through his mind. The instability... the fleeting afront of loyalty looming in the air alongside the tension of an all or nothing situation. His choices... his actions... this is where his life has brought him.
"You've been busy." His voice raises. "I hope you know your business in Rancho is burnin' bridges... rustlin' feathers in all the wrong places. You were-"
"-You know..." She chimes, cutting him off. "Something tells me the way you've played this isn't just a result of... 'fighting off an invasion'. I mean... all this preemptive life and death busy work you've been putting in just for little ol' me? You've been pullin' some serious strings around here trying to kill me... hell even just to get me hurt. Hm... you escalated this before I even got here... if I was a bettin' woman i'd even go as far as to say... you already knew I was comin' here for-"
"-There's proud people here in Rancho, corpo..." He slowly paces back and forth. "See, that's your problem... you think you understand this place having done the basic leg work of some corpo hussy playin' Night City fixer. Chuckin' company budgeted cash around like wedding rice. Little do you know, the devout following you tote around is as fleeting as the time it takes for them to spend those eddies you've been shoveling them."
"You think I give two shits about the dealings of a place like this?" She snaps... the various faces of the locals focused on the tense situation glance around at each other.
Molly takes a step forward... a serious tone of conviction.
"Look.. fixer... fuck the poverty... I couldn't care less how much money someone has or doesn't have. From every corpo gonk, to every street tough i come across is never judged on what they have or dont have... only what they can or can't do. You gutter rats wear shit like honor and respect like trophies... superficial pride in the location you were born in, ha... clinging to the little you have like a crutch while using it to victimize yourselves at the same time. Then someone like me comes along, waves a few eds in your faces, and all of a sudden... all those excuses draining your dignity... your motivation to get the fuck up and get shit done go out the fuckin' window! All this energy in people just SUDDENLY comes back!... all these resources, all these connections just COME OUT OF THE WOODWORK!... practically falling out of the fuckin' sky!... just like that! Hm... Money." She scoffs" I see the system plays its part sure…. but at the end of the day? tch….. Its yourselves holding you back."
Marcus fields the sentiment with arms crossed, still slowly pacing. He comes to a stop.. resting his hand on his chin.
"That's your other problem Molly... you think you understand us. Why we are who we are or... do what we do. Like its just some fuckin' math problem to be solved with ridicule and pessimism... another project with a box for you to check in your quarterly report."
"You don't know shit about me-" She mutters defensive.
"-I know enough. A corpo as high up on the ladder as you with THIS level of free movement..? Moving and sacrificin' pieces like its the military? Only to then care for a single mother runnin' a fledgling daycare. Hm.... Corpos are always of the mind of order over chaos. Yet here you stand... with a heart for us of all people."
Molly catches the sentiment silently. Displeased with its level of accuracy. Marcus picks up on it... continuing with a nod.
"Walk away Molly... through your actions alone I can feel the conflict in you... growin' cracks amongst the seems of your own morality. The culture you barely understand workin' its way deep into your bones like the heroin of yesteryear. A story as old as time itself for people like you that come to this town. Just to throw you a bone... from one native to an outsider... the more you resist..... the more it wants you. Struggle serves as a sweetener for her." He pauses.. glancing at her in the eyes. "Hm... I can see she has you." He mutters... an unexpected tone of sympathy she doesn't quite understand.
Molly gazes at Marcus in full focus... doing her best to tamper down the effect of his words slung like lead. She can see his claims... his cryptic messages to her in the way he's played this entire war... now verbalized to her face. She doesn't respond... so he continues.
"You see... you can't apply your corpo methods to an unfiltered place of chaos like this. That's something I knew someone like you would never learn bein' here. You corpos end up all bein' the same... you fall for the same false promise... the same illusion. That you can somehow... gain and retain control... of anything."
He turns forward to face her... looking her in the eyes about five yards away as the tension peaks.
"Just too. Many. Variables." He snaps his fingers. Molly gasps... her eyes widen.
A piercing shot from a rifle in the distance rings out… shortly after… the kinetic energy of the round hits Molly right in the neck... the momentum of the impact spins her before she drops to the ground with a heavy thud... not so much as a twitch.
The sniper nested in her position watches Molly drop to the ground with a sure shot... a look of finality on her face... as much money and opportunity as Molly had given her... it wasn't enough to take away her personal loyalties to Marcus.
"MOLLY!!!!!!!!!!" Manny screams at the top of his lungs… cracking his voice feral as he sprints toward her as fast as he can.
"MAMA!!!!!!" Several of her people scream out at the same time as everyone scrambles... lighting up the last of Marcus' crew during their best attempt at a hopeless last stand. Barks and booms from dialed in commence on a sunny day. Lives being claimed for disregarded purposes.
In the midst of this, Marcus immediately dives on top of Molly amidst smoke and gunfire
.
Up on a distant rooftop overlooking the meeting, the sniper rolls over onto her back from prone position and is met by the barrel of a PetroChem revolver drawn by her shocked partner nested alongside her. The journey and depth of a harsh and unforgiving life at an end... a sacrifice for a lover and a friend. The booming iron fires.
Marcus lands on top of Molly's motionless body and squeezes tight. His entire body tenses up as he braces for an explosion.
A moment passes... nothing.
Another moment passes... no explosion.
A final moment passes with the sounds of gunfire and his crews screams of death slowly fading away.
He abruptly opens his eyes... realizing... he's still alive. Fear and disbelief strike him to his core... his adrenaline surges.
Hes suddenly yanked off of Molly's body with full force and tossed several yards up the lot effortlessly by Manny without looking.
Manny drops to his knees and gently cradles Molly while her crew begins to relentlessly beat the shit out of Marcus with fists and boots.
Manny yanks what looks to be a sharpened probe out of Molly's neck... Molly's Santo street netrunner Connie slowly walks up... a distraught look of shock on her face. Her paranoia combined with her ability to anticipate has graced the young gifted runner today.
Manny yanking the probe out immediately causes Molly to wake back up... letting out a deep inhaling gasp... as if resurfacing from under water after nearly drowning. She coughs uncontrollably before throwing up on the hot, sunbaked pavement. The sensation of her implants rattle her to her core as they throb and shift temperature chaotically. Manny cradles her tightly, rocking back and forth as she convulses in his arms… shaking uncontrollably... gasping and trying to catch her breath.
Connie looks down at Molly and Manny before turning her attention to the bloody probe laying on the ground. She squats down and picks it up... getting a closer look at this custom made, bullet shaped piece of tech... holding it up to the bright sunlight.
She looks over to see Molly slowly being helped to her feet after being injected with a corpo grade dose of bounceback. Her breathing stabilizes... the neurological chaos in her body begins to subside.
"Mama...?" Connie's soft voice mutters. "I... I got his vest before he could trigger it. Are... are you ok?"
Molly still off balance starts to gather herself... rage steadily building.
The crew relentlessly beating Marcus down suddenly stops... moving out of the way for a slowly approaching Molly gingerly assisted by Manny. Some of them disperse in various directions to secure the area and pick over spoils.
Molly looks down at the bloody puddle Marcus lays barely conscious in with a nearly unrecognizable face... broken limbs and a short unsteady breath.
She falls to her knees over top of him… head spinning with a burning sensation and uncontrollable heart rate... feeling the heavy affects of whatever the fuck he had her shot with.
She grabs him by the throat making him squeal.
"H-HOW THE F- WHY THE FFFUCK ARE YOU DOING THIS!!!!!!" She screams cracking her voice. She raises her fist with what little strength she has and punches him... the impact sprays blood on the dirty concrete. "HOW THE FFUCK DID YOU DO THAT!!!??" She punches him again even harder. "WHO THE FUCK!! DO YOU WORK FOR YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!!! W-WHO THE!? WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU… YOU TRYING TO!!... KILL YOURSELF FOR!!!????" She punches him again. "WHO!!!!!!!!! "She screams completely feral as Manny, Connie and various members of the crew look on... some checking their gear and ammo. Without waiting for a response she begins to squeeze his throat relentlessly without hesitation... an overwhelmingly blind rage absent of priority, forethought or control.
She's been finally broken.....
Fuck the operation... fuck the corpo optics... fuck success. All she can think is... he needs to die now.
An exhausted break in the throat squeeze allows him to let out the feintest of squeals with an inaudible whisper.
Hearing this sends a sudden wave of unfamiliar optimism through her... she releases the choke's pressure.
Deep in the depth of the Night City gutter... she grips him by the collar... pulling him in close with her eyebrows lowered. "What..? what did ya SAY!?" She desperately grunts through her teeth. Marcus barely raises an eyelid on his crushed and blood covered face.
In hopes of now sparing his thought to soon be over life... he lets out an exhale with a barely audible name.
"B-... Br-... B-Brian Varga..."