WiP: Solo X Introduction

This is the WiP intro to a "Cybernoir" story called SOLO X. I wrote this a while back and for some reason couldn't get past this point.

SOLO X

INTRODUCTION

Night City is a dangerous place even when the Sun is at it's highest, but when it's namesake covers the often rain-slicked streets even the air will try to kill you. But in a town like this the air is the least of your worries; Cops, Ripper Gangs, Freelance Soldiers purchased by the highest bidder. Any one of these could be the last face you see before your life slips away in a dark alley off of 14th street. This is a town that either swallows you whole or chews you up on the way down. I wouldn't live anywhere else.

So what made this night different than any other night? The neon lights of the shops made psychedelic rainbows in the acid rain puddles, just like every night. The sound of sirens two blocks down cut through the din of the clubs and street hawkers, just like every night. No, it was the air this night that set it apart, it felt electric. Like a static shock from your head to your toes that brought everything into focus despite the steam rising from the quickly cooling asphalt. It was the air tonight that was different, that and the .50 caliber hand cannon pointed right between my eyes.

“You mind pointing that howitzer somewhere else for a while?” I asked the chromed-up giant in front of me. He looked like a regular Dynalar catalog model, that is, if their models were Six-foot Eight and as wide as a small car. There wasn't a square inch visible that wasn't chrome-plated and twice the size it probably used to be.

“He'll point it where I tell him to point it boy-o, and until you tell me what I want to know that's right between those pretty blue eyes of yours.”

The little guy with him was quite clearly the brains of the outfit, though seeing as how I figured they shared one it wasn't saying much. He was a weasel-faced man in a mixture of at least four of last years hot fashions that looked like they were dug out from under a dumpster down by the docks, and from the odor that wafted towards me that guess wasn't far off. His only visible cyberware a pair of inputs and an old chip slot on the side of his neck.

“So I'm gonna ask one last time,” the little guy's voice grated on your aural receptors like nails on a chalkboard. Assuming, of course that you were born a hundred years ago and actually knew what a chalkboard was. “Where's the shell the dame hired you to recover? We know you got it, We know you killed Topper to get it, and we know you haven't given it to Finn yet. So, if you hand it over right now we just might let you go with all your limbs still attached.”

I've heard it all before over the years, empty threats from two-bit cyber thugs who were in way over their heads. The gun to my head was new though, I don't often let them get that close. The simple fact was that I was distracted. The job went just fine but even before the two goons got the drop on me I had a buzz in the back of my skull saying something wasn't right.

As the runt continued to play me with threats I accessed my chip-recorded video of the night and played it back across my mirrored shades.

~~~~~~~~~

I think i've figured out where to go with it. I was orginally going to have this part be completely unrelated to the main story and simply act as an intro to the character of The Solo. But I think I'm going to tell the story of what just happened in kind of Flashback form instead.