Kriss Kernza: “You know this won’t get you anywhere right? You know I’ll find you. Fuck Trauma Team, a bunch of overhyped insurance squads. I’ve got my memory banks implanted into multiple bodies scattered throughout the city.”
Maelstrom Leader “Yeah, sure you do. You don’t have the eddies. Either way, you won’t remember this. You’ll only remember the last thing you backed up. Hate to tell you, but this is it. You either tell me what you know, or I cap you here and now.”
Kriss Kernza: painful chuckle/maniacal laugh “You willing to bet your life on that? I’ve never been broken.”
Maelstrom Leader: “Tch, cocky prick”
Gunshot boom
The Maelstrom Leader with the bloody remains at his feet looks over and yells at his goons. “Clean this shit up! See if you can slang his implants to some bottom-feeding fucker. Contact the scavs, let-em know this prick’s got some implants, that should fetch us some decent eds.”
Misty pulls up to the building Kriss had messaged her. An abandoned, run-down warehouse surrounded by fencing and barbed wire. She steps out and shuts the door behind her. She grabs the iron she has holstered in the beltline of the small of her back. Her hand shakes, wondering if she was too late. Kriss has always told her, “it’s never too late.” He’s never been wrong, she hopes he isn’t this time. She begins to immediately scan the outside area, quickly hacking into cameras and turrets, looking for Kriss’s vitals. Nothing. Her heart skips a beat.
Kriss: “About time.”
She looks over her shoulder, a small tear beginning to form on her eyeline.
Kriss: “Took you long enough,” he says, walking out of a nearby alleyway. “Time for these motherfuckers to pay up.”
Night City Stories 
Leave a comment