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Strong Enough 4.5
🕑 Added 2025-09-16 20:34:56 +0000 UTCShot Caller 4.5
<Target is move-moving>
Taylor straightens, hand ghosting to her new revolver. The grip feels sinful in her palm, a shame she only now has cause to use it.
âIs he leaving?â Taylor asks.
Sasha doesnât reply for a long second. Then she sighs over the call.
<Negative> Lucy says. <Just taking a shit>
Taylor groans, leaning back in her seat.
âStakeouts never lasted this long in the sims,â Emma grumbles. Sheâs âdrivingâ today.
âNever thought you would pick the counter intel track,â Taylor replies.
Itâs good that she did, because this job has been all intelligence gathering. They wait now for the culmination of a month and a half of effort. Theyâve run down leads and hacked into servers. Theyâve threatened people and killed them. All that remains is the final task, the culmination of all the effort that led to this moment.
Except Aaron Lombard wonât go to the whorehouse.
Emma sighs. âThis would be easier if we could just hack Ruby Dreams and see his appointments.â
<Do-do you want to piss off the Tyger claws?> Lucy asks.
âIt would still be easier,â Emma replies.
Ruby Dreams is Lombardâs favorite doll house. He goes there once or twice a week, and spends more than Lucyâs entire rent each time. The amount of money the man siphons out of one building to pay for fake love and neo-kitsch suites amazes Taylor. If he regularly did anything else at all, Taylorâs crew wouldnât have to deal with this ridiculous stakeout.
Taylor adds two more people to the call with a blink. âDavid, Becca. Howâs your spot?â
<Cozy-cozy, choom!> At least Becca sounds happy. <Course, me ân Dimples could just bust into the guyâs apartmentâŠ>
Taylor sighs. âYou know why weâre not doing that.â
<Yeah. Donât-donât wanna traumatize him>
They donât have a jammer that can stop Lombardâs biomonitor from calling Trauma Team, like the ones Maelstrom used during the Storm. Thatâs the type of thing Taylor might be able to get from Wakako, if they had the money.
Taylor sighs. âI know you wantââ
<Target is leaving the penthouse. Repeat, target is leaving the penthouse!>
Taylor snaps up. âDrive.â
Emma pauses, hands on the steering wheel. ââŠTaylor.â
Taylorâs eyes slash towards her friend. âWhatever it is, later. Goâgo!â
Emma goes. Her fingers are clenched tight around the wheel but she goes, eyes flicking towards Taylor all the while. Their Quadra peels out of their illegal parking spot beneath the overpass and zips up onto the highway.
Taylor can feel the thrumming engine push up through her feet, eager and sharp. It mirrors the beating of her heart against her ribs. Fingers squeeze tighter around her gun.
Taylor can feel Emmaâs eyes on her, desperate to talk, bright green reflected in the glass. Taylor doesnât say anything, because now isnât the time and Emma should know, but theyâre a minute away from Lombardâs exit when Emma decides to break the silence anyway.
âAre you sure?â she asks.
âOf what?â Taylor doesnât even look away from the windshield.
âTaylor, this isnât some job from the Lady of fucking Westbrooke, okay?â Emma shakes her head. The car shivers slightly, sharing her anxiety. âEven if we pull this off, it will follow us forever. This type of hit, without a fixer, on the son of a C-Level employee?â
âLombardâs a CEO too,â Taylor replies.
âOf his own shitty housing company!â Emma huffs. âDonât be obtuse, it wonât be Lombardâs lawyers coming after us.â
It will be wet-work teams.
Lombardâs father is part of Civenti, a European CHOOH2 giant, but like every corp theyâve drifted into arms dealing. As far as targets, Civenti is much softer than Biotechnica and doesnât have as much presence on this side of the pond. As far as reprisal, taking a swing at the kings and queens of the world will never go unpunished if they get sniffed out. But Emma doesnât believe theyâll get caught. Sheâs the one that set up the shell corps, sheâs the one that bribed admins at the tower. In many ways, this job only went forward because Emma gave the all clear. Sheâs not worried about the punishment.
That can only mean one thing.
âYouâre worried about the message.â
Emma stiffens in a way that means confirmation. âGod dammit.â Her voice comes out in a soft hiss. âI forgot how good you were at reading me.â
âPour some soda in my hair,â Taylor thinks but doesnât say it.
She wonders, as the car tears away from their old lives and into something entirely new, if sheâll ever stop thinking those words. Will her first response always be to hit back twice as hard? Maybe it will.
Maybe, thatâs fine.
Taylor isnât thinking about Emma Barnes right then. Something far greater has taken far more from her.
âYouâre worried about what will happen when we take something back from Night City,â Taylor says.
Emma bites her lip. âBecca was right about the last time we had rent riots. Was part of the Mox ones, when the Tyger Claws killed Lizzie Borden. I know now everyone just talks about the Moxes, but it got bigger than that. And the City isâŠâ
Tense. Taylor hears it.
âLizzie Borden took an axe,â she says. âAnd gave the Tyger forty whacks.â
Emma swallows, finishing the rhyme. âAnd when they saw what she had done, they came and gave her forty-oneâŠâ She takes a breath. âIt could be more this time.â
Did she really smash the three claws at her bar forty times total? The Claws believed it, because when they came back, they killed forty patrons at the bar, plus one Lizzy, to make it even. Business as usual.
Night City always takes. It takes and takes until itâs scraping the ligaments from your bones, plucking at little bits of sinew between your joints, more and more and more until someone finally screams too much. Taylor looks out the window and she thinks she can hear a scream building, rumbling even louder than the engine of her Turbo-G Quadra.
The first gig she ever ran herself was stealing a car, now sheâs stealing a company. Emma had a problem with both of those things.
But the problem isnât the stealing, just like itâs not the danger.
âYou donât care about forty whacks,â Taylor says. âAre you worried about you?â
Emmaâs fingers tighten on the steering wheel.
Sheâs Arasaka born and bred, enmeshed with the towering monolith of corporation in ways Taylor still doesnât understand. An attack on that structure threatens the very foundations of Emmaâs existence.
Emma swallows, her eyes trace Taylorâs face, reading her own expressions just as easily. âI know itâs too late to stop the car, butâŠâ
But Emma never had to fear for her life, until Maelstrom came and plucked her out of it. Now, she has a reason to feel that fear all over again. Maelstrom cracked the edifice of corporate invulnerability, and now Emma stands with her hand on a sledgehammer, ready to give it one more blow. Itâs not about the rent going up, itâs not even about Aaron Lombard. Itâs about an idea.
If a group of nobodies, kids with guns and one and a half adultsâ supervision, can reach out and touch someone like Aaron Lombard, what does that mean for Emma?
Will the Cityâs poor and teaming masses claw for her neck just like Maelstrom did? Any sane person would be afraid.
Taylor isnât
The only thing she feels is the cool metal of her revolver beneath her fingers. A thumb spins the cylinder like click-click.
âThereâs our target,â she says.
Emma swallows again. âRight.â She turns, eyes catching Lombardâs rear bumper as it pulls on to the highway. He drives a toxic green Caliburn, another ostentatious display of wealth, with a cracked autopilot that weaves through traffic like Lombard wants to meet god.
Today, Taylor plans to answer that prayer.
To Emma, she says. âIâll keep you safe.â
Emma laughs. âSafe as this?â
âSafe as diving into the eye of the Storm,â Taylor replies. âNow hit the gas.â
Emma pressed down. Her eyes flash as her agent reconnects with the team call. âSash, take the wheel. Weâre following the target.â
<In position> Lucy replies.
<Ready when he pulls up or when he pulls-pulls out!> Becca chirps.
Emma takes her fingers from the wheel as Sashaâs pilot program takes over with the netrunnerâs guidance. They follow in Lombardâs wake, cutting close enough to other cars to catch someoneâs fingers. Taylor could drive with the Sandevistan, but sheâs not a racer. She has another role to play.
Her hands leave her revolver for the first time since the car took off. She flips up the lock on the door.
<Ten seconds till the tunnel> Lucy says.
Taylor unclips her seatbelt.
<Nine. Eight.>
She ties back her hair.
<Seven>
<Six>
âGood luck,â Emma whispers.
<Five>
Taylor laughs.
<Four>
âThe only thing I needââ
<Three>
ââis right here.â
<Two>
Taylorâs fingerâs trace the metal of her Sandy. Ahead, around a tight bend, the mouth of a tunnel gapes wide over the road.
<One>
Lombardâs wheels cross into the shadow of the tunnel.
And then fire races down Taylorâs spine and tear all the colors away. The door, already unlatched, slides slowlyâgently, open to her touch. The cars stand still, frozen tail lights leaving contrails in the air. An affectation, a trick of her mind.
Taylor steps out of the car, and into the road, faster than even Lombardâs souped up Caliburn can go. Into the shadow of the overpass, where the graffitied neocrete cuts off the rest of the city for one long moment, and all of the traffic cameras are smashed to bits.
She reaches into her motherâs coat and pulls out a slim metal disk with spikes covering one of its faces. She slides forward, stepping around a burst of thick exhaust that hangs shroud-like in the air. Then she bends down and slips that disk beneath the carâs rear bumper, right below the tail lights. The spikes push into the body of the car like a finger passing through water.
Caliburns boast a very robust set of security protections. Unfortunately, human errorâor in this case human intervention can cut through the many myriad layers of security and deliver a virus right into a systemâs most protected networks.
Right now, Sasha and Lucy have complete access.
Taylor relaxes the Sandevistan ever so slightly. The cars edge forward, letting her slide back to the passenger door, still open in the wind. With graceful, almost dainty steps, Taylor slips back into her seat. She pulls the door after her, bringing it to a complete stop just ever so slightly open.
Beyond the window, she sees a city frozen in black and white.
Taylor lets go.
The wind pushes the door shut, and the chair creaks beneath her as it settles back into place. Color crashes into the world, the vibrant green of Emmaâs eyes almost shimmering as she stares at Taylor from the driverâs seat.
âWhat?â
âI thought I saw you flicker, on the road,â Emma says.
Taylor smiles. âHe didnât see.â
<Is the jack in place?> Lucy asks.
âYeah.â
<Accessing. Man, this guy never updates his wheels. Iâll be through the ICE in forty seconds.>
Sasha chimes in. <Peeling off for the rendezvous now.> Taylor hears the smile ringing in her voice.
Sasha takes the Quadra off the highway while Lucy compromises Lombardâs auto pilot to send him off course on the way to Ruby Dreams. With the car compromised, it would be easy to for David and Becca to tranq him and get him from the rendezvous to the warehouse where Lucy was waiting with the rest of their setup.
After that, only the extraction remains, and they have two of the best Netrunners in NC waiting to crack open Lombardâs skull. This time tomorrow, theyâd be the new owners of one (1) run down, overpriced apartment block.
Then Lucy says <His car missed the exit>
Taylor sits up. âWhat?â
<Iâm in the system. Heâs continuing past the-the exit to Ruby Dreams>
<Must be goinâ to Clouds today?> Becca said <Men, never reliable>
<Hey!>
Becca ignores David. <We gonna reschedule?>
âWe canât,â Emma says. âClouds takes privacy seriously. Much more seriously than Ruby Dreams. Theyâll scan the vehicle and heâll know weâre tracking him.â
Sasha giggles nervously. <Whoopsie, what do we do, boss?>
Taylor grunts
<I can still divert his car> Lucy says. <It will just take longer for him to get to the pickup point>
âHeâll call security. Fuck.â Taylor shakes her head. âWe can try to find a place near Clouds? We donât have the camera coverage mapped out, though.â
Her prints are probably on that disk too.
<Better I crash him into a wall> Lucy says. <Still fixes my rent-rent>
Taylor almost gives the go-ahead.
<Hey, Scar> Sasha says. <Can you do the-the thing you pulled on our first job?>
âThe thing?â It takes Taylor a second to catch up with what Sasha is suggesting. Then she remembers her very first job with Maineâs crew, and how she saved it. Taylor sucks in one last breath and puts her thoughts in order. âLucy, slow him down, but try not to make it obvious. I need one minute.â
âThe thing?â Emma asks.
Taylor turns to her. âI need your blazer.â
âWhat?â
âNo time!â Taylorâs back flares hot, and she races through the same half remembered updo from the last time she had to intimidate someone. When she drops back into real time, the car jolts, running a red around a tight corner as Sasha takes control. Three other cars blare their horns, a jacked up six wheeled pickup that cannot be street legal almost flattens the hood of Emmaâs car.
Taylor starts blinking through the interior lighting menu. âDoes this thing have a conference call mode?â Her eyes flick to gob smacked Emma, still frozen from the near miss. âEmma!â
<Leave the call to me, nya!> Sasha says. She tints the Quadraâs windows, and a second later the internal lighting changes color to a sharp, almost actinic white.
Emma has finally started to take off her corpo-chic blazer even as Taylor tosses her lab coat into the back seat. âBecca, I need you to grab me something that looks offensively Arasaka for me and bring it to the rendezvous.â
<On it, boss!> Becca giggles. <Oh boy, are we doing the Scarlet Special again?>
<Scarlet Special?> David sounds almost as confused as Emma.
<Just watch-watch, Dimples. Youâre in for a hot show!>
âBecca, today,â Taylor says. The two of them drop off the call to find an overpriced boutique. Fortunately, theyâre the closest to the rendezvous; Taylor just has to get Lombard there before he realizes something is wrong.
Emma hands over her jacket, leaving her only in a thin white blouse. âLet me fix your hair.â She reaches out without waiting. âYou always mess this one up.â
âTen seconds.â
Emma rolls her eyes. She does work faster.
She is also better at this hairdo than Taylor.
Taylor shrugs into the blazer, ignoring Emmaâs practiced fingers smoothing tucking away stray hairs, pulling the loops into a more symmetrical shape. Somehow, she coaxes Taylorâs hair into another inch of height before the time runs out.
Then Emma pulls off her own elaborate jade hairclip and affixes it to Taylorâs hair so that the three circles of Arasaka are clearly visible.
Taylor jolts.
Emma grabs her by the back of the neck, holds her still. Taylor stiffens in an entirely different way. âDonât ruin my hard work!â
Taylor swallows, nods. Then she says, âLucy, start routing him to the rendezvous. Can you hack his agent?â
<No-no interior cameras> Lucy says.
âGot it.â Taylorâs eyes flick over. âDone?â
Emma smiles. âYou look ready for the boardroom.â
Taylor huffs, looking away from Emma and from the odd flutter in her chest. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to drag her focus back to the mission, not toâŠwhatever that moment was.
âLucy, send him our way. Sasha, set up the call. Weâre gonna need to be more convincing this time.â
<Donât worry, Scar> Sasha replies. <Youâll be-be picture perfect>
Fortunately, their car does have a camera. They spend a few frantic minutes fixing the passenger seat of the car so it can pass as the backseat of a corporate limo. Then Lucy calls again.
<Heâs getting annoyed. Half a minute before he stops paying attention to my error pings and calls someone dangerous>
Taylor lets out a breath and straightens. When she does, her eyes are red. Not just the iris like she prefers, but once again a flat marble of brilliant scarlet. She pulls her lips into a displeased mou and says, âPut me on his carâs holo display.â
<Why would it have a display for calls and no camera?>
Taylorâs lip twitches. âBecause itâs a Caliburn.â
Lucy sighs, but she must find it because she doesnât contradict Taylor. Once more, she counts down from, <Three>
âCounting on you Sasha.â
<Two>
Sasha sends an affirmative ping, as well as the dossier they put together on Aaron Lombard.
<One>
Taylorâs call goes through. She canât see him so she doesnât pretend or prevaricate. Instead she looks directly forward, bored and displeased, the ur-counter intelligence grunt, making yet another work call outside of normal business hours.
At this, she has far more practice than sheâs proud of.
âMr. Lombard,â she says. âA pleasure to make your acquaintance.â
She canât pull any ticks from his expression, or the way he might shift in his chair. All can get is his voice, filtered as it is through Night Cityâs own special brand of high quality VONPâvoice over net protocol.
So sheâs surprised when Lombardâs first words are.
<Fucking cock sucking whore. Does Yorinobu have a ping set to my car?>
Taylor flash-freezes the world so she can gape in surprise. She spends a full two seconds of relative time getting her expression under control and making sure she didnât actually move before she can listen.
Lombard continues with <Tell him to just fucking marry the bitch for me, yeah? Maybe the Emperor will have a stroke>
Comments
Joseph Marcia
Find out Next Time on Taylor's Adventures with Friends!
Simon Kellis
Cliffhanger, hanging on a cliffâŠ.
Joseph Marcia
Glad you liked it!
Biff Alexander
Haha, lovely.
