Connie couldn’t tell whether it was day or night by the time she made it back to her apartment unit safely. Evenings and mornings were blended together for TTI medics until they became one and the same. Only a schedule of mandated corpo melatonin formulas and caffeine allowed her to maintain the inhuman circadian cycle required for a TTI operative. Without her corporate pills, Connie’s body ached and screamed, every muscle pleading with her to go to sleep. Her heart pounded like a drum in her head and her bones were jelly. Only pure spite towards Regina’s sympathy kept her awake as she walked in the hallways of the sparse Mega-Building. The vendors were busy wheeling away their carts to take a rest before tomorrow’s hustle and a couple of reefers were puffing out hoops in an abandoned ice rink. Her heavy footsteps echoed through the concrete halls as she tried to recollect her apartment number.

[i]Was it 876…..892…..no, I think it was…..[/i]

Her fingers pawed the biometric sensors of a door and it slid open. Stumbling into her room, her sleep-deprivation and punch-drunk state combined to form a potent clumsy cocktail as her hips slammed into the countertop. Bottles of synthol fell onto the ground with dull clinks as she navigated her way through sheer instinct to the bathroom. Her apartment had been a mess ever since she moved in. Bullet shells and cigarette butts were scattered like ants on the apartment floor, her boots crunching them underfoot as she strode forth. 

As she splashed warm water on her face, she could already hear ma ma telling her how unclean her room was. How she wasn’t eating enough. That she needed to find a real corpo job instead of working as some back alley mercenary. She guffawed at the thought. If only she saw what being a TT medic really was like. Some merc jobs were easily more stomached than the type of grisly shit she heard employees pulled in companies like Biotechnica or Militech. Her naive self made the mistake of thinking that TTI was different and where did it get her now? Living from contract to contract in a shitty overpriced apartment was hardly the ideal of the American Dream that every newscaster seemed to hump to. 

The TT uniform was off in a series of swift practiced motions as she shimmied out of it. With both her hands on the rim of the sink, Connie looked at herself. A stitch of bruises ran up her belly up to the middle of her breasts. Her fingers traced a tiny one, dark and purple, over her heart. The tenderness brought back the memory of how she earned that one five days agao, when a Tsunami nekomata nearly cored through her upper lung. The ablative kevlar plate on her uniform managed to deflect it.Her mind continued to fill in the blanks, as she opened the mirror cupboard. She ignored the sharp peaks of stinging pain as she sutured back in a stitch that she had torn open during her fight on the train. 

Possible subdural hematoma…….bruising for five days……….superficial frontal cuts……..sprained wrist…..all in all, not bad, Connie

The in-built receiver in her mirror began to ring quietly. Connie recognized the number. Her fingers hovered briefly over the green ‘ACCEPT’ button, unsure,  before pressing it. 

“ Mom.”

“ Hui Liang….”  Her mother’s pursed countenance could be heard through the receiver. Her voice carried a sharp edge to it as she continued speaking. “ ……Are you well?” 

“ Yeah,” Connie lied, grinding her teeth to muffle the yelp of pain as she pulled a shard of glass out of her shoulder.  “ ….Sorry if I haven’t called you enough. I’ve been busy at work -” 

“ Connie, Frank told me about today. How could you not tell me that you’ve been fired from Trauma Team International for six months!” 

“ It’s not like I was fired. I was…” Connie stumbled as she searched for the exact bullshit excuse her supervisor told her. “....put on reserve.” 

“ And getting involved with the underworld of Night City? We raised you to be a responsible, law abiding individual, not associate yourself with brigands and hooligans - “ 

“ Well, I’m dealing with it. O-”  Connie yelped as she applied too much pressure on a shell she was pulling out. 

“ What was that?” 

“ Nothing. Nothing.” Connie palmed one hand over her eye in frustration before replying back. “ Is there anything else you’re here to complain about, ma ma?” 

“ It’s your father, Hui Liang.” The softness in her mother’s voice made her skin tingle in fear of the next words. 

“ He’s dead.”