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Mac drove through the streets of Rancho Coronado, one hand on the steering wheel of his Thornton, the other on the grip of the auto-pistol resting on his thigh. No part of Night City could accurately be described as safe, but this area was especially treacherous, even more so lately with the war between 6th Street and the Valentinos getting hotter every day. The war was part of the reason Mac had chosen to base himself deep within R.C for now. He figured if he kept his work to the city; mostly in Valentino and Maelstrom turf, it would be a lot less likely for loose ends and bullets to find their way into his home if home was where bangers belonging to the aforementioned groups couldn’t go without a serious fight.

Typically he didn’t much give a fuck about people with grudges trying to end him. It was a part of the merc life best accepted quickly and if they were going to try, best to get it done ASAP whilst he actually remembered what they wanted him dead for and whilst he was still quick on the trigger. He’d seen way too many poor bastards in prison get iced by some distant figure from their past who’s girl they’d fucked, cousin they’d killed or even people they’d just bullied a little too much as a youngen. Folk had long memories, short tempers and easy access to weaponry. All of which culminated in a historic high for revenge killings. That was just his typical standard though. Sometimes, like now, circumstances changed and he vastly preferred his hideout not to be fucked with.

He continued driving deeper into 6th Street turf, driving up a hill and into a neighborhood that was closed in by a dam. The further up the hill he got, the better the weaponry the bangers on the corners and on the rooftops seemed to be holding. He was now within one of the most defensible 6th Street territories in R.C. On corners and down alleys burnt out cars littered the place, with the occasional still burning vehicle lighting up the area. Illuminating the fact that every wall, roof, road and even the dam itself was covered with gang tags.

Finally he reached his destination and pulled into a driveway. Before him lay a 21st century style suburban house. Not the biggest nor nicest of abodes, but pretty damn far from the worst. He tucked his handgun back into its holster and picked up the plastic bag on his passenger side seat before stepping out of his vehicle to the sound of a high pitched whistle coming from the nearby corner. He’d been staying in the area long enough now to know 6th Street code by ear. The whistle he’d just heard indicated that he was a known entity in the area. Had he not been he knew he’d be ducking bullets in a few seconds, if not before he’d even gotten out of his truck. Wasn’t unlike these military-esq fucks to have snipers stationed on rooftops, ready to headshot any encroaching faction they deemed hostile.

With a brief yet almost friendly nod to the lookout posted on the corner on the opposite side of the street he turned around and walked into what currently passed as his home, the door hissing open to welcome him. He found pretty much the same scene he’d left a few hours earlier, except the [url=https://i.ibb.co/qRCR3RN/Nic-Aisling-Iceni.jpg]young woman[/url] he’d left sleeping on the sofa was now laying awake.

[color=6ecff6]“Not your blood, I hope?”[/color] She asked as if already knowing the answer, an English accent much the same as Mac’s clear in her words.

[color=39b54a]“Not this time, no.”[/color] He replied tiredly, moving to the sofa. She moved her legs, allowing him to sit.

He placed the plastic bag from the truck in her lap. [color=39b54a]“Got you a burger and fries from some hole in the wall joint in Watson. Let me know if it’s any good, I’m still trying to track down a decent meal in this shithole of a city.”[/color]

She stood from the sofa, momentarily placing the bag down on the coffee table before stretching, her arms going wide as she moved her hips from left to right to also straighten out her legs. Mac’s eyes fixated on the small of her back for a second or so longer than he was comfortable with, he pointedly tore them away as he felt them drifting lower, staring at whatever nonsense was on the T.V instead. He awkwardly scratched at his shadow of a mustache as his conscience criticized him, grateful when she picked up the bag and headed to the kitchen.

[color=6ecff6]“With an endorsement like that, I’m sure it’ll be the best thing I’ve eaten in yonks.”[/color] She spoke dryly. 

Returning not a minute later with a bowl of water and a roll of paper towels she seated herself back opposite him. [color=6ecff6]“Let me see your face.”[/color]

He sighed but did as she asked, shifting enough that they were face to face. It felt off, weird and somehow almost wrong to appreciate her physically, but he couldn’t deny that she was beautiful.

He looked into steely gray eyes that were somehow warmer and more expressive than his own brown ones. Eyes that had seen and experienced so much of the same pain he had, but somehow hadn’t lost their warmth. He flinched as the warm, wet paper towel in her hand brushed against his cheek, softly at first, then with a little more effort. He almost chuckled as he watched her bite her lip, her expression becoming one of concentration.

[color=6ecff6]“Are you proud of what you did in the P.L?”[/color]

[color=39b54a]“Fuck no!”[/color] Mac grimaced, pulling back slightly. Somewhat shocked at the suddenness of the question.

[color=6ecff6]“What’s with the face ink then? You’re a merc, if you haven’t made enough to have them removed many times over, you should consider a career change… I wasn’t going to say anything, but they’re kinda ruining your only asset.”[/color] She spoke with a soft, disarming smirk. He raised his eyebrows in return, huffing and shaking his head slowly.  

[color=39b54a]“What’s the point? Removing them won’t change anything I did. You don’t remove a scar and conveniently forget what hurt you in the first place. It’s still there, visible or not. Part of what makes you, you.”[/color] He replied, trying to keep frustration from his voice.

[color=6ecff6]“I think you’re ignoring a lot of the psychology at play there, darling. Looking into the mirror every day and not immediately seeing a reminder of something you’re ashamed of would definitely have a positive impact on your general mental well-being.”[/color] She spoke whilst continuing to wipe blood off his cheeks.

He huffed again, this time slightly amused, the expression on his lips becoming less severe. 

[color=39b54a]“Call it a moral decision then… I made a choice, many choices actually. I chose to do things every part of me knew were wrong, but for reasons I can live with. Be happy with even. I would make the same choices today in a heartbeat but that doesn’t mean they weren’t immoral, and I don’t get to just wipe them off and pretend I’m not the man who made them.”[/color]

She continued cleaning the blood streaks off his face, warm water spilling down his cheeks. [color=6ecff6]“Fair enough…”[/color] She said, matter of factly. [color=6ecff6]“But I forgive you. Mac Sean and Michael forgive you. Nic Alys is damn near eternally grateful… You’re her hero. Only person left to forgive the choices you made for us is you.”[/color]

[color=39b54a]“I’ll forgive myself when I forget myself.”[/color] He quoted.

[color=6ecff6]“Your da was a prick. You couldn’t take after him if you tried, so don’t.”[/color] The warmth left her voice for the first time.

[color=39b54a]“Sorry.”[/color] He spoke, nodding apologetically. [color=39b54a]“For what it’s worth, your new face addition didn’t ruin anything… You’re still the prettiest girl I ever saw in the isles.”[/color] He smiled at her, his face as close as he could get to charming, which wasn’t close.

She laughed hard, letting her ball of paper towel drop into the bowl of water. [color=6ecff6]“Fuckin’ please. Just cause ol’ lady Nuala isn’t here to grandmother us, doesn’t mean you have to take up the role for her.”[/color]

Mac laughed with her, laying his now clean face back and letting out a refreshingly deep breath. 

[color=39b54a]“You going to tell me what happened to your face?”[/color]

[color=6ecff6]“Maybe…”[/color] She said simply.

[color=39b54a]“The cunt who did it. They breathing?”[/color] He asked.

She once again started laughing, almost as hard as she was previously. [color=6ecff6]“The fuck you think?”[/color]