“ THIS IS THE  KABUKI SUB-DISTRICT, WATSON. TRANSFER IS AVALIABLE TO 6A, 6B and 6D. PLEASE STAND CLEAR OF THE CLOSING DOORS, PLEASE.” 

Connie rubbed her knuckles tenderly, not even noticing NCRT security wading past the doors, hollering for everyone to get down and provide identification. Whilst everyone was busy handing out their identification papers and jacking in the local netrunner to verify themselves, Connie was tussling through the pockets of one of the gangoons that she had laid out on the floor along with the other dozen or so around her who were either unconscious, in pain or a combination of both. 

“ Didn’t think of you for a vulture, Zhang,” A cocky voice rang out, causing Connie to pause mid-looting and look up. The cop was burly, enormous shoulders hunched together like a log and with arms that looked almost freakish. Connie would’ve mistaken him for an Animal if it wasn’t for the laminated NCPD badge pinned on the ironed lapels of his work uniform. His eyes were mismatched, one a Kiroshi optic whilst the other was a solid ball of gold, velvet red kanji inlaid where the pupil would be located. 

“ Being picky doesn’t pay bills, Frank,” Connie mused, standing up to go. However, Frank wasn’t going to have any of that, crossing his arms, and looking at her expectantly as if she’d graffitied her school principal's aerodyne. “Look, nothing serious aside from a few epidurals and the guy whose nuts I crushed. Besides, good opportunity for you to get them singing while the paras hook them on benzo.” 
“ Connie.., ” Frank palmed his face in embarrassment “ I can’t keep covering for you in post-ops everytime you get into an incident. I get you’re still angry about how TT treated you but it’s been 2 years. Maybe, it’s time to move on?” 

Connie’s face became granite at the mention of her prior employer. Frank bit his lip, recognising a lost argument, before pulling on Connie’s shoulder and pushing her out the door of the carriage. 

“ Listen, I appreciate what you did for all of us in the department when you were a senior in TT. All of us do, but do this one more time….” 

“ What?”  Connie asked, hostility in her voice. “ Or you’ll call MAX-TAC on me? Ask me to sign up with the crazies?” 

Frank’s eyes widened, a hurt frown on his chapped lips. His fingers drummed the sides of one of the aluminum poles, unsure of what to say to his friend. 

“ Stay out of trouble, Connie.” 

The train doors shut and the security-holo tape sprouted from the station platform before Connie could get the last word in. The barrier of yellow warning signs and spastic red markers mirrored off Connie’s parka as security bots began ushering the general public out of the way. Connie waited until the platform was devoid of any onlookers before making her way out of the busy station.  She looked down at the scratches and flecks of dried blood that crusted the polymer coating of her right prosthetic arm. Rainwater would be pissed off about the damage she’d done to the polymer coating but the guy was naturally more pissed off ever since Bucks got iced earlier in the year. 

A light drizzle began to overtake Night City, her boots impacting the slick asphalt. Some took out parasols and others made their way for the cover to not let their 1000 eddie digs get ruined by a storm. Beads of rain ran down the hood of her refractive parka. The skyscrapers and concrete jungle of Night City seem to soften in the rain, almost forming an abstract painting in the sheets of gray that poured down from the gloomy skies above. Connie hunched up her shoulders, moving from alley to alley and taking care to avoid the look of any stalkers or roving gangoons. 

It was a good solid half hour of walking before she made it onto the ground floor of Yaiba. It was not the tallest skyscraper in Kabuki but it was a well hidden secret amongst edgerunners who frequented the area. The lower ground floors were commercial, a few start-ups and stores here and there who were taking advantage of the low rent offered by developers. The cracks of the concrete told of the building’s history, well before the Time of the Red, and the 2030 corporate architecture had been swallowed in a colorful tide of Watson’s street artists. 

Connie entered the elevator, entering in a specific combination of buttons that would seem random to anyone else who would happen to be in the elevator with her. The light over her blinked for a moment before the floor beneath her jolted and began ascending. The clear window in the elevator offered her a clear view of Watson. She could see the coast of Pacfica, the beams of light streaming out from the center of the Corpo-Plaza into the aether and the scarred expanse of the Bad Lands beyond. 

The elevator dinged and she walked out into Regina’s office. The fixer never seem to take a break. Everyday, Connie would find the former WRS news jockey parked on a chair with a thermos full of recaf on her table and her eyes glued to multiple monitors displaying news feed across all of NC, the Euro Theatre and the Pacific Rim. 

“ Back early.”  Regina remarked, not even blinking at Connie’s disheveled, soaked appearance. “ You got the mark?” 

“ Part of him, “ Connie dipped into her pocket and flicked 

“ Ah.”  Regina shook her head in mild disappointment as Connie hid her bangs too late to hide the grievous red cut that ran on her cheek.  “ You should get that looked at.” 

“ I’ll glue it.”  Connie’s thumb scratched her palm nervously, trying to judge Regina’s passive expression. Was she mad? Angry? Unbothered by the fact that Connie disobeyed her instructions?  “ You got any more gigs to give me, boss?” 

“ I do. However - “  Regina froze Connie’s excitement with that single-eyed glare of hers. “ I’m not sure if I should give it to you.” The issue isn’t how you handled this job. It’s the fact that this isn’t sustainable. Look at you, Connie. How long have we known each other?” 

“ One year,” Connie admitted. 

“ One year. You’ve been slummin’ up more contracts than any other merc, all just to make sure you’re staying on the right side of the line. I only know one another choom who had the same type of ethic you had. They only had six months left to live. What’s your excuse?” 

Connie looked down, away from Regina’s penetrating stare as the weight of her left prosthetic felt heavy. As much as she hated to admit it, Regina had a point. She wasn’t bought, forced or coerced into joining Trauma Team International. If she was angry about being axed, what did she have to cry about? Plenty of corpos were dropped off when the stock price fell or their floor was on the verge of bankruptcy. 

“ I needed structure in my life. TT gave me structure. This is the only way to have it.” 

The two continued staring at each other for 30 seconds before Regina balked and rolled to the other side of her desk, snatching a data sheet to give to Connie. 

“ Well, hopefully, this is the last gig that I give you. I got a tip off from a contact in the Afterlife. Fixer there’s doing a headhunt for mercs. Someone with your skill set would stick out from the crowd. You’ve spent most of your life saving other lives, Connie. I’d reckon it’s about time you start focusing on saving yours.”