Neodrius (Cyberpunk Noir) - Chapter 36 - The Burden of Tomorrow

https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/127344/neodrius-a-cyberpunk-novel

Nataly winced at the pain in her temple. The pang of pain never left, always a distraction whenever she needed to focus. She knew it was the stress, but still wished it was just something she could take a pill for.

The attack on the Ascendants would begin tomorrow night, and she'd not felt so distraught about killing someone... well, ever. Thousands of innocents would die, with no way to fight back. Okay, not without a way to fight back, she chastened herself, feeling like a fool for thinking something so brazen. There would be hundreds of gang members with weapons, and all of them would be better equipped than the Decks or the Flames. They were from the Middle City, after all. They had more money, more resources than all of the others from the four. While the Decks focused on making their own technology, and the Flames focused on hit-and-run tactics, the Ascendants were just... soldiers. Like a militia, their soldiers were better trained than any others. She had to remember that.

Even if it didn't help them against the Spike-enhanced soldiers. The experiments these days put the Decks at the forefront of pure battle power. There were about fifty soldiers in the Decks with a Spike implant shoved in their skulls, all of them tested and proven. The weapons would be what decided who won tomorrow. If there were no complications, it would be her turn to get an implant next. She feared it almost as much as the thought of using it excited her.

Spending these last two months with Viktor, she'd heard about spike several dozens of times already. How the world felt beautiful after, how every smell of the city stopped smelling of rot and rusted steel, how every neon light seemed beautiful. The thought excited her, but she didn't feel like losing her touch with reality. Even if reality seemed so daunting.

She pressed the blade from her arm into the side of her stomach, the small cut dropping small droplets of blood. The pain gave her something to focus on, something to silence the thoughts about tomorrow night. She'd have to be a killer, a soldier that listened to orders. There wasn't much else she could do if she wanted her revenge to be over.

She walked toward the coffee machine, the late-night lights shining on the empty halls of the Silver Decks' base. How serene, when there weren't so many people here. She remembered the evening here a few nights ago, the talk with Martin, and felt herself flush. She'd not shown her fear to anyone, ever in her life, and felt embarrassed to have done that to Martin. But she felt relieved, too. It felt weirdly good to let her inner thoughts out, to talk about them with someone, even if the person she was talking to was the biggest dummy in the gang.

She giggled, remembering Martin's not-so-romantic confession. He'd basically all but admitted that her feelings were reciprocated. It didn't explain what exactly they were right now, but she was alright with that. She could feel her mouth involuntarily slide into a smile. Even if they didn't name it, she appreciated the connection she'd found in Martin. She didn't need them to be anything official, something that would need a name. Just being with him was alright. Enough to make her feel good.

She finally reached the coffee machine and clicked on a button that said Belgian coffee. Perhaps the alcohol would be the final nail in the coffin that would put her to sleep. She hated drinking, but something small like this would hopefully be fine. Giggling, she remembered the first time she'd drunk since her limbs were torn off by that Ristard. Martin brought a bottle of Vodka to George's room, saying they needed to blow some steam off after some operation Nataly couldn't even recall anymore. She got hammered after two shots and could barely remember the rest of that night. Only flashes of laughter, her arms trying to grab more drinks, and other silly memories remained.

Apparently, it's not that good of an idea to drink when half of your body weight is missing.

Sipping on her coffee, she giggled and aimed for Martin's lab. He'd not be asleep yet, she was sure of that. Sleeping wasn't in his resumé. She wanted to lecture him on the importance of sleep many times over these days, but she couldn't even find that in her, not when she saw the desparation in Martin's eyes, looking over one schematic or another. The same desperation she'd felt. He'd been pumping new gadgets left and right these past few weeks, and she wondered every time how he'd even come up with half of them. If only he didn't explain in a way that nobody but he himslef understood.

Her steps clinked on the floor as she made another turn, toward the labs. She could make her feet soundless now, with the new augments, but she liked the sound. She was used to it after years of hearing the repeated sounds, and she couldn't find it in herself to just stop now. Even making her feet silent when they were in the midst of battle required a smidge of her concentration. The few raids she'd been on have all been successful, each one less memorable than the first. Hundreds of soldiers, some weird creatures they didn't know, and voiceless humanoid automatons, as she'd come to call them in her mind nowadays. It felt like the Ristards weren't even trying to protect their buildings. If they didn't wake up, the Decks would sweep the floor with them. Unless they had a hidden ace in their sleeve.

Finally reaching the lab, she looked inside through the small glass on the black door. Martin was hunched over his computer, his posture reminding Nataly of a shrimp. He clicked sluggishly, browsing something she couldn't see. Without knocking, she slid the door open and entered.

''Hey there.''

Martin jumped and stiffened for a moment until recognition came, and then turned on his chair to face her. ''You scared the shit out of me. Good evening.''

''Evening? It's about three in the morning, dummy.''

''Really? Damn, I should really go catch a nap.''

''You should.'' She didn't even wait for him to say anything else, but just walked closer to where he was, and promptly sat in his lap sideways. She laid her head on his chest, hoping that he'd not mind. She needed a hug, as much as she hated to admit it. She didn't feel prepared for tomorrow. Not a bit. Whatever would come, she'd have to go through with it, and she had enough nightmares even without that on her conscience. When this was all over, would she feel any different? Would it be release, knowing it was all worth it?

Martin stiffened, but didn't push her away. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her waist and waited in silence.

''Martin, I'm not... ready for tomorrow.''

A short pause followed, replaced by Martin's steady, albeit a bit raspy, voice. ''None of us are, Nataly. But we'll manage.''

''You don't understand, Martin. I'm going to do the exact same thing they did to me, all those years back.'' She felt the tears bead on her eyes, but couldn't find it in herself to care. Not now, not with him. ''Do you think they'd approve, if they knew that it was needed to... I just don't want to become the thing I despise.''

''You will be fine, Nataly. I don't think they would understand, not at first, but... there's no other way. It's all of us, every human that will ever be born, or just them.''

Nataly waited, just listening to his steady heartbeat. She knew what he'd said already. It didn't make her feel any better. ''Did I ever tell you what happened to my former gang, Martin? Why I despise the Ristards so much?''

Martin tensed even more than before, gulped, and she could feel him staring at her face. ''No. And I never asked you to.''

''I want to tell you, though. Will you listen?'' She could barely believe what was coming out of her mouth now, but the need to tell someone felt like a primal urge that could not be stopped.

''I will. Tell me. Anything you need.''

And so she did. She talked for at least an hour, telling him of her past in the middle city, how her family died in a gang shootout, how she'd found a new family in the gang. How the Ristard killed her gang, and tore off her limbs in a sadistic 'experiment'. He'd listened through it all, asking a question for clarification here and there, but never interrupting her story. By the time she'd finished, she could feel herself slipping into sleep, the void behind her eyelids promising a release.

It was the first time in years she'd not had a nightmare.