Chrome Psycho
"Let's buy a new car once we make some money."
Rattle, rattle, rattle— The pathetic engine noise and stiff seats. Dust and mold blasting from the AC. And to top it all off, the faint whiff of corpse every time I took a deep breath.
I hugged my tail close, bracing my body against the car's lurching speed. If there'd been a proper backrest, I wouldn't have needed to, but with my tail, I had to recline it all the way back, leaving my body to shake like crazy.
"Or at least drill a hole in the seat for me."
"I told you already—no."
"Why not."
Thud— I buried my nose in my tail, whispering half to myself but loud enough for Enoch to hear.
"It's junk anyway. A hole in the seat wouldn't show."
In a cyberpunk world, everyone rides around in AI-driven cars. Self-driving and self-parking are basics. But Enoch's ride? Nothing like that. Manual gears, and the windows crank open by hand on the door—no buttons. If you're hitting a drive-thru, you gotta roll 'em down ahead of time to avoid embarrassment.
So I figured a hole in the seat on a heap like this was no big deal.
Groan— Signal changed; Enoch shifted gears, glanced at me, then smacked the wheel.
"It's the car my late mother left me."
"Oh."
That changed things. My tail curled up carefully.
"That pistol you like, the Moonlight? My father left it to me."
"Ah."
This time my tail fanned out wide. I'd raved about how cool the Moonlight was...
"And that coat you called a rag—the one I dropped off for repairs this morning? My little sister gave it to me."
"Oh."
Tail curled again. I blinked at Enoch. He shrugged, eyes on the road.
Guess I should apologize? As I eyed him and opened my mouth, Enoch cut me off.
"The coat can last a bit longer after repairs, and the Moonlight's still good... So after we get paid this time, let's look at some used cars."
"Huh?"
"And don't apologize."
"Why?"
"Because thanks to you, we're heading to Irina's office right now."
Enoch's words carried a lot of weight. When Chalcis betrayed me, if you hadn't been there, I'd be dead. I don't know why, but without the Hod you gave me, I'd have died to the Chrome Psycho. Even if I'd somehow killed Hakon, getting tangled with corps would've been a nightmare. You subdued Hakon, opening a path to survival. A connector called my name—that means I'm qualified for her jobs now. A shot at the big leagues. A path under Eden's moonlight, not neon signs—all thanks to you. And this after just one day... Well, four days really, but to Enoch, it felt like one. So no apologies. If anything, I owe thanks.
"Thanks, Soo."
Groan— Enoch shifted and floored it. The crappy engine rattled as the car jerked forward. I pulled my body back upright, flailing limbs to steady myself, then grinned and nodded.
"Yeah."
Sunlight filtered through buildings into the car. Engine still sucked, seats hard on my butt, tail uncomfortable—but my mood was pretty good.
"Hm."
In front of the office door, Enoch straightened his clothes instead of hitting the buzzer. One minute, two, three, five...
"Not gonna ring it?"
"I will."
"No voice recognition, sadly."
"...I will."
"You got this."
Enoch's eye twitched. Pulling a trigger with someone in front was easier than this damn buzzer. Sure, he was dealing with trash, not a person, but the buzzer felt heavier. I could've done it, but I handed the honor of knocking on a top connector's door to him. So he had to. And honestly, he wanted to.
"I'm ringing it."
"Yeah."
Deep breath. Trembling hand on the buzzer... Press.
A camera atop the heavy steel door whirred. Laser from the buzzer scanned us lightly. Then— Static.
"What the..."
The massive steel door—well-oiled, no creak—swung wide. Enoch nodded stiffly.
"...Dunno what that's about, but let's go in."
Irina must've watched him hesitate from start to finish. No other explanation. Her watching quietly was weird; his stonewalling till the end weirder.
Only normal person in this world is me.
I grinned proudly and followed Enoch inside.
Step— Step— Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle—
The entry was spotless. Mercs usually trash places like this, but not here. Walls in a subtle gray—not too dark. Marble floors. Lights flicked on automatically along our path. Landscapes on the walls felt like a gallery, not an office.
"Enoch, you into art?"
"No."
"Whaddya think? Expensive?"
I ask even though he said no. He eyed the painting I pointed at anyway. I'd long known he humored me.
"Doesn't look that pricey."
"I think it is."
"Probably not worth much. No real landscape like that exists—or ever did. Nature was never that grand. Low value."
"That's why it's cooler."
"Why stare at a poorly drawn fake when neural dive lets you experience the real thing?"
Neural Dive. Full-dive VR, basically. Feels real—touch, smell, everything. Forty percent of Eden's entertainment runs on it.
"Some things are cooler precisely because you can't touch or smell 'em."
"I see."
Enoch smirked, watching me, then walked on.
"I agree, but still... you're wired different from me."
"Too alike and we'd fight all the time."
I pulled my eyes from the painting and walked. Didn't take long. Hall ended as I got bored of the art. No hesitation now—talk with me loosened him up. Enoch turned the knob without pause.
"Sorry for the cheap paintings."
A clipped voice echoed in the office. Our eyes snapped there.
Gray room splattered with paints. No guards. In the center, a woman with drab white hair sat alone, painting. Not fully done, but obvious: a landscape.
"Yeah, in a world with neural dives, why the fuck am I scribbling trash like this?"
Icy blue eyes turned to Enoch—like a knife stab. Then to me: calm lake.
"Irina Tish Morozova."
"Hi, I'm Soo."
"Hello, Soo. Like my painting?"
"Yeah. Cool."
"Cooler because you can't touch or smell it... Heh, thanks."
She tossed brush and palette aside, stood. Her gray apron paint-splattered—like a rustic scene itself.
"That's Hakon?"
"...Yeah."
Enoch, glancing around, set down the golf bag on his back.
"Meek like that, still knocked out... Clean takedown?"
"Broke his limbs."
"Good. Safe then."
Unzipping the bag, Enoch scanned the room.
"No security?"
"Trust humans for protection?"
"Confident in your skills, huh."
"Skills second. I don't make enemies. Only safe jobs. Even if mercs fuck up, I only broker for trash too weak to come at me."
Zip fully open— splat— bloodied Hakon spilled out. Didn't dirty the paint-splashed office; the blood smears fit right in. But the faint blue mist from his body? Out of place.
Irina stared, chuckled dryly, lit a cigarette.
"Can't say that anymore. We're fucked now."
Hazy smoke, harsh scent. In a world where eighty percent of smokes were liquid vapes, this was rare, real tobacco.
"Smoke?"
Enoch nodded; she flicked him one casually. Worth a month's meals. He pondered, then lit it. That "greenhorn" jab echoed...
"Soo, you..."
She eyed me, lips twitching, then rummaged in her pocket.
"Caramel or candy?"
"Both."
"Smart kid."
A handful of each. I stuffed 'em in my pocket, munched caramel first.
"Now... we're in the same boat."
Cigarette for him, sweets for me—made it sound oddly sweet.
"A shitty sailboat that might sink anytime..."
I'd read smoking was just exhaling your sighs for others to see. Meant as a joke. But watching Irina? Not entirely wrong.
"Fuck, that blue mist says it all... Straight to business."
Heavy sigh from her.
"We're caught in Zailek and Luthien's childish pissing contest."
No sigh from Enoch. Forgot how, maybe.
Nom nom.
Only my caramel chewing filled the office.