Honest Company. Abandoned Toy Factory
"Faster-faster-faster!" Tony didn't know who he was shouting at—himself or Eva. But definitely not Jackie, because right now nothing depended on him anyway, as he was slung over Stark's shoulder. "Had to stuff yourself so much!" That was for Wells. He weighed nearly a hundred kilos with his height and muscles, and while Tony was an eccentric genius far stronger than an ordinary man, mass and energy were still a thing, which is why the car was skidding on turns.
"The plan was shit!" Eva declared, leaping as she ran, spinning in the air, firing behind her, completing a full circle mid-air, and resuming her run. And she somehow managed to shoot one of the pursuers, slowing down the armored brute and buying them a couple of extra seconds. "But I like it!"
As one might guess, the plan failed. Well, not entirely—part of it was executed. They released the gas, and while everyone was coughing, they got closer and covered more than half of the uninvited guests, starting to shoot the rest, which wasn't particularly difficult. Unfortunately, due to his inexperience in battles in this world, Tony didn't account for the specifics of local fighters... which turned out to be very important.
In the world of cyberpunk, the axiom "The more chrome you have, the stronger you are" is a self-evident truth, understood even by children. And since it wasn't empty boasting but the ultimate truth for everyone, it was no surprise that it influenced combat tactics. But we're not interested in modern small-unit tactics, but one simple fact: the strongest fight separately. That's it. And while his idea worked and they managed to send many gang members to the next world, each of the survivors was enough to handle a couple of meat bags with a wounded man in tow.
"Less talk, faster run!" Tony ordered. "Why did I leave home without my full loadout?!" he exclaimed in frustration. If he had his armor and machine gun, he could have taken down all this gangster rabble without much effort, but as it was, even his little hammer was useless, since the enemy, if they got within striking distance, would simply be faster due to their sandies.
"Taste some shrapnel, boys!" Eva tossed the grenades she'd picked up behind her.
"To the car!" Tony burst out into the open air, thanking all the gods he knew (and had even partied with some) that the autopilot had worked and his baby had pulled up right to the exit. Remotely opening the door, Stark shifted Jackie from his shoulder to his arms in one motion, grabbed his collar and belt, and, without ceremony, tossed him straight into the open door.
"Ow..." Wells clearly expressed his displeasure at such treatment. He landed exactly as Tony intended—neatly on the passenger seat... albeit upside down.
"Jump in!" Tony urged Eva, already in his seat, slapping his knees. Unfortunately, being a sports car, the vehicle only had two seats, but right now, Tony didn't mind. If they were going to die, it might as well be with a beauty on his lap.
Barnes didn't reply, silently sitting on Tony's legs, her back to the wheel.
"Roll down the window, I'll cover the pursuers."
"You think there will be any?" Tony asked, accelerating, while admiring Eva's front assets. Well, what could he say—some melons were smaller than this beauty's chest, currently pressing into his clavicles.
"Saw a Sixth Street car on the way. Modified with built-in weapons and armor."
"Damn."
Eva's words turned out to be prophetic. No sooner had they driven away from the factory exit than an angular vehicle of indeterminate model, roaring its engine, burst through the gates and actively pursued them.
Initially, Tony wasn't too worried—the pursuers had something more like an armored personnel carrier than a proper car, while he had a sports car and could easily outrun them. Not immediately, but once he got onto a proper highway, not this maze of alleys, turns, and exits to who-knows-where. But the problem was that the Sixth Street gang drove shamelessly on sidewalks, callously running over pedestrians and ramming cars, while Tony swerved around them. The pedestrians were obvious, but the cars were because of his car's fragility—it wouldn't survive such stunts. When the headlights of the pursuers' vehicle spread apart, revealing machine gun barrels, things got really bad. Stark had to weave like a mouse in a house full of demented cats that forgot to feed their seven kittens.
"Damn, the windows are armored too!" Barnes grumbled, emptying the entire magazine of the guns she'd picked up into the Sixth Street's car. "Hey, handsome, got anything more lethal?!"
"No!" Tony replied, sharply jerking the wheel, sending the car into a skid, trying to somehow fit into the sharp turn. "Never leave home without my full loadout again!" he swore to himself. If he had his armor and machine gun, he could have taken down all this gangster rabble without much effort, but as it was, even his little hammer was useless, since the enemy, if they got within striking distance, would simply be faster due to their sandies.
"Then..." Eva said much more calmly, setting aside the gun and reaching for Tony's pants.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Tony was stunned, even forgetting for a moment the situation they were in.
"Shut up!" the Mox snapped. "I don't want to die a virgin!" she replied, blushing slightly. "And losing my virginity to my savior, who's also a natural hunk, is something not every girl in Night City can boast!"
"What's going on in your head?!"
"Shut up and enjoy," Eva said, more actively fiddling with the belt, determined.
"Why do you even think we're going to die?!" Tony didn't understand.
"It's fifteen minutes to the nearest highway, and in that time, your wreck will definitely be torn apart, and then they can take us alive," she shared her reasoning.
"..." What Tony wanted to say remained a mystery, as at that moment, everyone heard the sound of police sirens.
The Night City Police generally weren't eager to do their job, and there were quite objective reasons for this. Starting with the pervasive corruption at the top of the police force, ending with a small budget that forced law enforcement officers to seek income elsewhere. In fact, the Night City Police were just another gang, only they at least tried to maintain appearances and had support from the city authorities, intervening in civilian affairs only when the interests of corporations, the administration, or themselves were affected. But even they couldn't ignore the huge column of flame in their own city, the explosions, and the chase through the city with a bunch of victims. No one liked troublemakers, especially on their own turf. Not only because they brought nothing but losses and a lot of noise, attracting unwanted attention, but also because it forced them to drop everything and deal with them.
"Ironically," Tony noted, barely squeezing between two police cars at the last moment. "We came to deal with the Scavengers who'd lost all restraint, and in the end, we became the troublemakers ourselves."
With the arrival of the police, the situation improved. The Sixth Street gang, heated by the chase, the fight, and their losses, couldn't come up with anything better than to open fire on the law enforcement vehicles, drawing most of their attention, while the Honest Company's transport received residual attention. And, despite the fairly sturdy body and good engine, the police cars didn't have built-in weapons, and the cops could only shoot from them with their personal weapons, but they didn't even do that, preferring to ram. Which was completely ineffective against a speeding car driven by Stark, who had quite professional racing driving skills. So getting onto the wide highway and flooring the pedal, reliably leaving the pursuers to eat dust, wasn't a problem.
"Okay, now we just need to take our friend to a ripperdoc, and we can rest," Stark decided. "There's a powerful stimulant in the glove compartment; inject Jackie. We need the address of a ripperdoc we can trust."
"You think he knows one?" Eva doubted, though she obediently carried out Tony's order.
"He's from the Valentinos; gangs like that must have their own doctor to patch up wounds and install chrome," he shrugged, dreaming only of a good swig of whiskey.
Same Honest Company. Esoterica Mystic. Twenty Minutes Later
"Very comfortable chair," Tony commented, sinking into a rather strange but extremely comfortable piece of furniture. A kind of chair-bed with soft upholstery, next to which they had also placed aromatic sticks, slowly smoldering and filling the room with the scent of lavender.
"Yeah..." Eva drawled, lying in a similar one nearby.
And, as if by unspoken agreement, they both took a swig from the beer bottle. In Tony's opinion, it was pretty bad, tasting like burnt plastic, but after such a nerve-wracking experience, even that went down well.
"Thank you," the owner of the chairs, a young girl, smiled.
Tony couldn't call her a dazzling beauty, but he was quite the spoiled brat. In his bed had been models, leading news reporters (and thus pleasant to the eye), superheroes with perfect bodies, and even a couple of goddesses. Overall, Mystic's face, the owner of Esoterica Mystic where the pair of unlucky solos were resting while the second was being patched up by the doctor, was unremarkable. Perhaps slightly cute due to a soft smile and kind eyes, but nothing more. What did attract attention were her bright blue eyes and a dandelion hairdo, which was already an achievement in the modern world where dressing like a freak had become fashionable and the norm. As for her figure, Tony couldn't say much—baggy clothes, though soft-looking, completely hid her figure.
"So you're friends with Jackie?" she tactfully asked after letting them catch their breath and rest a bit. Tony appreciated it—the girl was clearly not indifferent to the Valentino and was generally ready to talk about anything and do anything just to not think about whether he would make it or not.
"No, we just met today," Tony waved it off. "A joint job from the Valentinos. They urgently needed someone to deal with a gang of Scavengers, so I signed up, and Jackie was, so to speak, 'reinforcement'."
"Good reinforcement," Eva noted. "Whose shot-up ass did we have to save."
"Just bad luck," Stark replied. "It happens to everyone."
"Yeah, but you, as you like, I've used up all my luck for the rest of my life in one day."
"That happens," he nodded in response. "Though it all ended relatively well. The mission is complete, we've made a name for ourselves by surviving an encounter with two elite squads of two leading gangs, and we've even snagged some of their guns. If only my baby hadn't been shot up, everything would have been great."
"Yeah, your car took a beating," Mystic glanced slightly toward the door. How it managed to get to Vic's clinic, she didn't know, but the trunk needed to be completely replaced—there were more holes than metal.
"Just needs a good engine overhaul, lubrication where needed, tightening what should be, and the car's durability will increase immediately."
"So you're a mechanic?" Barnes stirred slightly, even opening one eye.
"Mechanic, engineer, nuclear physicist, chemist, a little bit of everything," Stark didn't go into details.
"And how good are you?" Barnes persisted.
"Well..." Tony thought. By the standards of his old world, he was one of the best—literally, there were only about ten people who could compare to him, and only a couple who could truly surprise him. But by the standards of this world, he wasn't entirely sure. Yes, he was self-taught, but he had only touched implants in theory, more interested in local tools, material base, and programming. "...I designed and assembled those grenades myself," he decided to simply show an example.
"Wow," Eva was impressed, nodding respectfully.
"I take it you're not asking just out of curiosity."
"That's right," she didn't deny it, "I'm with the Moxes gang. Heard of them?"
"Mmm... no, sorry. I'm new and only know the main gangs in the city."
"Not surprised," Eva smiled slightly sadly. "We're not that big a gang; we don't even have our own territory, just business. Bars, brothels, braindance clubs, and prostitutes."
"In short, sex," Stark concluded.
"Yeah. We protect the girls, and they pay us for protection in return. Of course, not everything is smooth for us, but we regularly clean out the Scavengers, the main threat, and if we can, we rescue their victims."
"And you need a mechanic?"
"As I said, we're not a big gang. We're more like guards than full-fledged bandits, and that, as you know, doesn't add to our popularity on the streets, so we have to hustle. Giving newbies combat databases, arming them at our own expense, helping with the first combat implants—all to strengthen our not-so-numerous fighters."
"You don't look like you have much chrome," Mystic noted.
"The Moxes paid for my eyes," Eva pointed to them for clarity. "They also upgraded my nervous system and implanted something in my brain to improve my reaction time."
"You don't know what they put in you?" Tony asked in surprise.
"My brother is a talented mechanic," she shrugged. "Actually, he chose what to install in me, based on my preferences. And though he's a real screw-up, in this matter, I trust him."
"Why not ask him then?" Tony asked a fair question.
"Well..." she hesitated. "If briefly, he's an idiot," she declared. "The girls are sharp, and he just doesn't see when he should stop. At all. When I finally dragged him into the gang, I had to save the fool—he managed to piss everyone off in two months."
"I see. Well, I don't mind discussing work terms with your boss," Tony admitted honestly. After all, he needed someone to act as a roof anyway, so why not the Moxes? Help them with equipment, set up information trading, and from a second-rate gang, they'd quickly gain strength. "But not today."
"Pfft, obviously," Eva snorted. "I'm only resting today. And tomorrow too."
"Maybe we can go somewhere tomorrow?" one playboy cast his line.
"Tomorrow?" Barnes asked.
"Tomorrow. After all, in the car, you were quite convincing," Tony smirked mischievously, watching as a blush spread across the Mox's face.
"Well, okay, as a thank you for saving me, I'll keep you company," she replied, lifting her nose haughtily.
The budding flirtation was interrupted by a pair of women bursting into the room. The first was already of age, though her face had no wrinkles, but the complete lack of makeup easily revealed the burden of years in her eyes, and gray hair completed the picture, indicating that their owner was at least in her fifties. However, nothing else spoke of her age—her blouse and jeans showed a quite slender and fit figure, something between an athletic person and someone on a diet.
"Either an implant for calorie control with periodic training, or physical labor with an unregulated diet," Tony quickly determined.
The second individual was a hot Latina. Legs up to her ears, big breasts, a fiery look in her brown eyes, wavy hair down to her raised buttocks, and sheer vulgarity in her clothing. Mini shorts, open-toed high-heeled shoes, long nails, black manicure and lipstick, a tied-up T-shirt serving as both top and bra, and tattoos. If this individual had any chance of attracting Tony's attention as a girl, the standards of fashion and morality in Night City were noticeably lower than in the rest of the world, which already couldn't boast of puritanical morals, but the tattoos immediately ruled that out. Stark wasn't a prude by any means, but he didn't like seeing tattoos on girls' bodies. Even mediocre drawings on burly men didn't always look appropriate, let alone delicate female skin, which evoked associations with something soft and velvety. A small quote on the forearm or a little rose on the ankle was fine, but a bloody tiger's mug across the entire back looked not only tasteless but unnatural.
"Where's Jackie?! How is he?!" the older woman asked, looking only at Mystic, not even trying to hide her anxiety. To be fair, the girl who came with her wasn't much different—bitten, bloody lips and smudged mascara clearly hinted at that.
"With Vic," Mystic replied immediately. "He was just brought in," and she indicated with her eyes Tony and Eva, receiving a reproachful look in return. He already knew what would follow.
Stark's Apartment, Omnissia's and Lucy's. Two Hours Later
"Ooooh..." bursting into the house, Tony immediately began undressing, heading for the bathroom. The extremely tense shootout, chase, and then the conversation with the extremely wound-up women had exhausted him. Not to the limit, but significantly, so Tony just wanted to take a shower, grab something tasty from the fridge, and lie on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Alas, his hopes were in vain.
The first thing Stark noticed as he took off his annoying jacket was the silence in the house. Despite the extremely eventful day, it was only lunchtime, and Lucy should have been home, but the characteristic noise of working servers wasn't heard. Deciding to look for the missing person, just in case putting his hand on the revolver's grip, Tony began to walk around the apartment... and found her quite quickly. She was sitting in the living room in an armchair, arms crossed, and drilling him with a look like a disapproving wife whose husband had strayed. And Omnissia stood next to her in the same pose, for clarity even lowering her faceplate and also burning him with an accusing look from her synthetic eyes.
"So how was work?" Lucy raised an eyebrow, narrowing her amazing rainbow eyes.
"Uh... normal," he knew that lying, resisting, and evading were useless, but hope springs eternal, and he tried.
"Hmm?" Omnissia spoke up, dramatically snapping the fingers of her raised hand, simultaneously activating the TV.
"Show-off," Stark thought, but all his thoughts quickly left his head at the sight of the picture on the screen. And there... there was a pretty journalist standing against the backdrop of the aftermath of their adventure: a factory burned to the ground, whose foundation had even cracked from the heat. The fire department lazily hosing down the still-smoldering remains of the building looked especially surreal against this backdrop.
"And what's this?" the cursed piece of iron continued to corner him.
"I don't know." Tony replied. "A festival?" he asked in the most honest tone he could muster.
"And this?" But now Lucy joined in, opening her laptop with a photo from the city camera. There, quite clearly, both he and Eva could be seen speeding along the highway.
"Photoshop?" he continued in the same tone.
"What's with this chick?!" Lucy hissed like an angry kitten, shooting lightning from her eyes.
"And how's her heredity?" Omnissia immediately chimed in. However, she immediately earned a couple of reproachful looks. "What? My main directive remains the same—development and life realization of the subject, and a large offspring from different females is the main indicator of successful gene transmission."
"Oh, Kitten," Tony smiled tenderly, but with a clearly discernible tinge of guilt in his eyes. "Come here," and he moved her onto his lap, hugging the upset child tightly. Omnissia sat on the left, embracing both with her steel arms, resting her head on Tony's shoulder but in such a way as to press her nose into the snow-white crown. "I promise, I'll never leave you," joining Omnissia, Stark promised.
"Promise-promise?" the little one asked, clutching Tony's shirt with her hands.
"Promise-promise," he smiled against his will, so cute and touching was Lucy's behavior now. Stark differences with her usual behavior, behind which one could forget that she was such a vulnerable person.
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100 power stones= 1 Bonus Chapter
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