I woke up to the shrill buzz of the doorbell echoing through my apartment, my head pounding so fiercely I swore I could feel the vibrations in my teeth. The faint glow of the sun through the window, it must be morning.
My entire body felt heavy, pinned beneath something… or someone. That's when I realized Rebecca was splayed out on top of me, her face pressed firmly between my tits, one arm wrapped around my waist. Her hair tickled my chin, and she was definitely snoring , a husky, unladylike snore that almost made me laugh if my skull wasn't splitting from the hangover. The smell of stale booze clung to both of us.
Gently, I shifted sideways, trying not to wake her while I untangled myself. Her grip slackened just enough for me to slip free. She muttered something under her breath, then resumed snoring. My cheeks grew warm at how cozy she'd gotten, but I brushed it offand winced at my shoulder pain.
Another ring at the door.
I groaned, stumbling off the couch and nearly tripping over some empty noodle containers from last night's dinner. My head throbbed in protest, but I managed to reach the small security panel by the entryway. I rubbed my eyes before tapping the screen.
A grainy feed popped up, showing two older women waiting outside in the hall. One of them I knew all too well: Mama Welles with a big container of what had to be food balanced in her arms. Standing beside her was another Hispanic woman, shorter, with a warm smile and several large bags in tow and what looked like a rolled-up rug.
I hissed a curse under my breath. Great. This was exactly how I wanted to greet Jackie's mom for the first real day in my new place: with a raging hangover, a half-asleep friend drooling on the couch, and absolutely zero energy to be polite. I forced a smile anyway and pressed the button to open the door.
The panel beeped, metal sliding aside to reveal the two women. "Buenos días, hija," Mama Welles greeted me, voice full of warmth but tinted with unmistakable disapproval when she took in my bloodshot eyes.
"Morning," I managed, stepping aside so they could enter. The other woman followed, hauling her hefty bags across the threshold.
Mama Welles surveyed the cramped living room with a critical eye. Her gaze snagged on the half-eaten food containers, a couple of empty mugs, and my friend sprawled on the couch in disarray. She sighed. "I see you've been…settling in quickly."
I cleared my throat, wishing my head would stop pounding. "Sort of. Didn't expect visitors so early."
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she set the container of food down on the tiny kitchenette counter. "I thought you might be hungry. And I wanted to bring some things to make this place feel more like home." She gestured to the older woman. "This is señora Alvarez, she's a friend from Heywood. She gathered up a few essentials for you."
Señora Alvarez lifted one of the bags in greeting. "Hola," she said with a smile. "Clothes, towels, small rug, you name it."
I mustered a grateful grin. "That's… that's really nice of you. Thanks."
Meanwhile, Rebecca started stirring on the couch, grumbling incoherent half-words. She rolled over, groaned, and finally cracked an eye open. "Ugh, my head…" she muttered, squinting at the newcomers. "Who's… oh, hey." She propped herself up. "We got guests?"
"Rebecca," I said, trying not to sound too exasperated, "this is Jackie's mother, and señora Alvarez."
Mama Welles inclined her head politely, but her eyebrows rose at Rebecca's unabashed morning-after look. "Hello."
Rebecca dragged a hand through her messy hair and straightened up. "Hey. Name's Rebecca. Didn't know we'd have, uh, company so soon." She rubbed at her eyes and flashed me a crooked smile. "Next time, give a girl a warning, yeah?"
I shot her a look that said I had no clue we'd be invaded by well-meaning older ladies either. "Right. Mama Welles brought some supplies."
Rebecca's expression shifted to mild curiosity. "Cool. Thats nova of them," she said, nodding to the women. Then she cringed, pressing a palm to her temple.
At that, Mama Welles's expression turned gently reprimanding. "Hungover on your first day here, hija?" She shook her head. "I'm disappointed you overdid it. Drinking is not the best way to celebrate, you know."
I felt my cheeks burn a bit. "We didn't plan on going that hard," I mumbled defensively. "It just… happened."
Rebecca let out a raspy laugh, either ignoring or not caring about the scolding. "Yeah, well, no regrets," she said with a shrug. "The drinks were cheap and the night was young. Could've been worse, right?"
Mama Welles gave her a mild frown, but señora Alvarez stepped in, clearing her throat to break the tension. "Let's see if we can get these carpets and clothes set up, yes?"
I nodded hastily, eager to move on. "Sure thing."
Between the four of us, we managed to clear a small space near the window so señora Alvarez could unroll the new rug, a rich, woven piece with warm colors that made the otherwise drab floor pop. Mama Welles started pulling out folded blankets and fresh towels from one of the bags while I did my best to tidy up the living area. The noise of rummaging and occasional chatter filled the apartment.
Rebecca, seeming more awake now, prowled over to examine the rug. "Not bad," she remarked, brushing a foot over the fibers.
That earned a brief, approving nod from señora Alvarez. "Well, good. A home should feel lived in." She turned to me, gesturing at the leftover trash on the coffee table. "Shall we, ah… take care of that?"
"Right, sorry." I gathered up the crumpled takeout bags, piling them into a trash bin I'd scrounged from the corner. Next, I found a place to stash them so the main area looked less like a bar after last call. While i stored the empty bowls after cleaning them.
"Much better," Mama Welles remarked. She took a step back, surveying the minor improvements: new rug spread out, neatly folded clothes stacked on the couch, and the fresh towels draped over a chair. "It's good you have the basics now. But promise me," she said, fixing me with a firm stare, "you'll keep the place tidy. No more boozing yourselves into oblivion."
Rebecca smirked from the couch, but she kept quiet for once. Instead of defending our late-night partying, she picked up a towel and tossed it between her hands. "Nice quality," she commented, as if to change the subject. "Way better than what we had last night for napkins."
Mama Welles pursed her lips, but I caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She clearly had her reservations about this friend of mine, but she wasn't going to make a scene about it. "I suppose it'll do," she said. "Now, I brought food, too."
She opened the container she'd set down earlier, revealing warm tortillas, beans, and some hearty-looking stew. My stomach growled audibly.
"Oh, man," I breathed, stepping closer. "That smells fantastic."
Rebecca's eyes lit up. "Fruck yeah. That's some real chow."
"Help yourselves," Mama Welles said, gesturing for both of us to grab plates. She might've been disappointed at our hangover, but that wouldn't stop her from feeding us.
We each piled some food onto plates I rustled up from the kitchenette. The savory aroma alone was already doing wonders for my headache. As I took my first bite, I almost moaned at the flavor, warm and comforting.
Rebecca tore into her portion with enthusiasm. "Yo, this is preem," she said through a mouthful of stew. "Never tasted something like this."
Mama Welles offered a small, satisfied nod, evidently pleased to see the food appreciated. "I'm glad. And the name's Guadalupe, dear. But you may call me Mama Welles."
Rebecca grinned. "Alright, Mama Welles. Pleasure's all mine."
A comfortable lull fell over us, the only noise the soft clink of forks against plates and the hum of the building's ventilation. Señora Alvarez joined in, nibbling a small portion while she pointed out how the new clothes might fit me, or how the rug's colors would hide dirt.
When we finished eating, Rebecca set her plate aside and leaned back, patting her belly with a satisfied sigh. "I swear, if you cook like that, I might become your new best choom."
Mama Welles raised an eyebrow at me. "Looks like you attract quite the characters, hija."
I chuckled, ignoring the flush on my cheeks. "She's harmless… mostly, rarely."
Rebecca just shrugged, neither confirming nor denying. With her arms folded behind her head, she lounged in total ease.
Eventually, señora Alvarez checked her watch and murmured something about errands back in Heywood. Mama Welles nodded, turning to me. "We should go, too. Let you rest and… recover." The unspoken "from your hangover" was clear in her tone, but I appreciated that she was gracious enough not to lecture me further in front of Rebecca.
I walked them to the door, the older women gathering up their now-empty containers and double-checking I had everything I needed. "Thank you," I said earnestly. "For the food, and the clothes, and, well… everything."
"You take care," Mama Welles said, patting my cheek gently before stepping out into the hallway. "And try not to let your new friend lead you into more trouble, yes?"
"Too late," I teased, shooting Rebecca a smirk over my shoulder. She just gave a lazy salute, still sprawled on the couch, and said "no promises."
After the door slid shut, the apartment fell quiet again. I let out a long breath, leaning against the wall. My head still throbbed, but the warm meal and the new sense of hominess in the place made it all feel a bit more manageable.
Rebecca cleared her throat, drawing my attention, stretching her arms above her head. " Jackie's ma is alright. Bit old-school, but she's got style, y'know?"
"Yeah," I agreed softly, letting a faint smile creep onto my face. "She does."
I cast a glance around my living room. The newly laid rug, the stack of fresh clothes, the faint aroma of real home-cooking still lingering in the air.
Rebecca and I had sat around the small kitchen island, sipping coffee. My head still ached slightly, but it was manageable, and my shoulder only throbbed occasionally. Small mercies, I guess.
Leaning against the countertop, I brought up my HUD. My vision filled briefly with the familiar blue overlay before settling into a crisp, minimalistic display. Funny part was it was able to link up to my bank account, displaying my current balance.
13,800 eddies.
Not bad. After dropping cash on four months' rent upfront, the deposit, and bribing the landlord to look past my non-existent background check, the stash had taken a hit, but I was still doing alright. That said, I'd have to be careful; funds wouldn't last forever.
"Whatcha staring at?" Rebecca asked, eyes narrowing with playful suspicion.
"Just checking my balance," I said, blinking away the display. "Figured I'd see what I have left after all that."
Rebecca leaned back, stretching luxuriously and letting out a small groan. "Bet those digits took a beating. Four months up front ain't cheap. Still, you got enough eddies left for some fun upgrades?"
I shrugged my good shoulder. "I can probably swing getting the holo TV hooked up today. Maybe even spring for a decent PC setup. Beyond that, we'll see."
She grinned mischievously. "You know what you should seriously consider, right?"
I rolled my eyes, already knowing exactly what was coming next. "If you say 'armor implant' again—"
She threw her hands up defensively. "Hey, I'm just looking out for you, choom! You'd be thanking me if you'd had one of these." She tapped her chest firmly.
"You mean the armor implant that turned your skin—"
"Yeah, yeah," she interrupted, waving me off. "Mine was experimental, okay? Prototype shit always comes with a catch. But listen, they got way better versions now. Won't mess up your skin tone or nothin'. Just tougher dermal weave, maybe reinforced plating beneath the surface. Might stop the next bullet from ruining your day."
I sighed, conceding she had a point. "Maybe. I'll look into it once I heal up."
"You'd better," she insisted. "I'd rather you alive and healthy, Yumi. And not just 'cause I'd be short a drinking buddy."
I snorted, giving her a mock salute. "Thanks for the heartwarming sentiment."
She winked, hopping off the stool. "Yeah, yeah. I'm gonna shower off the smell of booze. Feel free to peek, but try not to drool on your new carpet."
"Oh, shut up," I laughed, tossing a dish towel after her as she walked towards the open bathroom alcove. This apartment was nice but whoever designed it clearly didn't think much about privacy. The bathroom area had no door, just a partial divider wall that barely hid the sink and toilet from the rest of the apartment. The shower was even worse, practically in full view, only obscured by frosted glass panels.
Rebecca clearly didn't care. She stripped down quickly, not bothering with modesty, and stepped under the stream of water. I tried not to stare, but couldn't help sneaking a quick glance as she tilted her head back, letting the water soak through her short hair and run down her small frame.
Shaking my head, I turned back to the kitchenette, busying myself with rinsing our dishes. My thoughts drifted back to my HUD and Rebecca's advice. As much as I hated admitting it, getting that armor implant wasn't such a bad idea. Night City didn't exactly give second chances, and I'd gotten lucky once already. Luck wasn't something you could afford to rely on around here.
The sound of running water cut off abruptly, replaced by Rebecca's voice breaking my train of thought. "Hey, Yumi, you got any decent soap? The stuff in here smells like a corpo's funeral parlor."
I laughed, leaning against the counter. "It's whatever the landlord left here. Didn't exactly have time to stock up on bath essentials yet."
She emerged from behind the frosted glass, towel loosely wrapped around her waist, steam still curling off her pale shoulders. "Yeah, well, add 'soap' to your shopping list. Maybe some shampoo too."
I rolled my eyes again, unable to suppress a grin. "Noted."
She moved towards the clothes we'd neatly stacked earlier, rummaging around until she found a simple tank top and shorts. Pulling them on quickly, she shot me an exaggeratedly disappointed look. "Aw, no second glance? Thought you'd at least give me the courtesy of pretending not to stare."
"Sorry, I was busy being a responsible adult, budgeting my eddies."
Rebecca snorted, shaking her head. "Responsible? In Night City? You've got jokes."
I stepped away from the kitchenette, wandering over to the window and gazing out across the sprawling urban chaos below. Neon billboards pulsed gently, advertising. The city never really stopped, no matter the time of day. Below us, people moved like colorful blurs, all hustling to make enough eddies to keep their heads above water.
Rebecca joined me by the window, leaning casually against my side. "So what's the next move? You planning on laying low until that shoulder heals up, or gonna start hitting the streets again?"
"I'll give it another day or two," I answered honestly. "Can't exactly run jobs with one good arm, and I don't wanna push my luck."
She nodded slowly. "Smart. Tell you what, I'll scope out a few of my contacts. See if any of them can hook you up with that implant without gouging your wallet too hard."
I turned to look at her, genuinely touched. "Really? You'd do that?"
She punched my arm lightly, the good one, thankfully. "Course I would, you gonk. Friends watch each other's backs, right?"
"Right," I echoed, smiling softly. "Thanks, Becky."
She grimaced playfully at the nickname but didn't protest further. "Just don't let it go to your head."
She dropped onto the couch, tossing the damp towel carelessly onto the cushions next to her. Leaning back, she gave me a curious look. "Hey, Yumi. I just realized somethin' never asked where you're from originally. Like, you don't exactly scream Night City native."
I paused, glancing at her as I checked the newly activated holo-TV interface. The question threw me off for a second, catching me unprepared. I'd never really talked about Gotham since ending up here, no point, really. Nobody even knew it existed.
"Gotham," I answered slowly, watching her face. Predictably, she just stared at me blankly, eyebrows knitted together in mild confusion.
"Goth-what?" She tilted her head, looking genuinely puzzled. "That some kinda small-time outpost out in the badlands? Corpo town?"
I shook my head, feeling a bittersweet ache tug at my chest. "Nah, it's uh... it's okay, Becky. You wouldn't know it. Far away from here, trust me."
She shrugged, unfazed, settling back comfortably. "Whatever you say, choom. Sounds pretty preem, anyway. Gotham, got kind of an ominous ring to it. Sounds like a good place to raise hell."
I laughed softly, unable to help the small smile creeping onto my lips. "You have no idea."
Rebecca grinned broadly, clearly enjoying the little glimpse into my past, even if she didn't fully get it. "Maybe I'll look it up sometime."
"You won't find it," I said quietly, my voice a little distant. "It's... complicated."
She gave me an exaggerated eye roll, snorting dismissively. "Girl, what isn't complicated in this city? Relax. Wherever you're from, you're here now. Night City's lucky to have your cute ass."
I laughed, grateful for how easily she brushed past awkward moments, always keeping things comfortably casual. "You're impossible."
"Impossible?" she shot back playfully. "Nah. I'm fuckin' delightful."
Rebecca lounged on the couch, stretching her arms lazily behind her head, a curious look settling onto her face.
"Hey, Yumi," she began casually, glancing sideways at me as I fiddled with the holo-TV settings. "You ever had family back in that 'Gotham' place?"
Her tone was easy, almost playful, but the question hit me harder than I expected. I paused for a second, fingers frozen mid-air. Then, remembering how she was always blunt and direct, I let out a slow exhale and matched her energy.
"Yeah," I replied simply. "I had a younger brother."
Rebecca shifted slightly, eyes narrowing as she watched me closely. "Had?"
"Yeah," I said again, trying to keep my voice even. "He... he died about four months ago."
She sat up straight, eyebrows knitting together sharply. All the casual teasing vanished from her face, replaced with genuine surprise. "Damn. Sorry, choom. Didn't mean to dig up something heavy."
"It's fine," I assured her, but even I heard the slight crack in my voice. Even if the details were only half-true. "It was gang shit. They beat him nearly to death, left him in a coma. I did everything I could, but he didn't make it."
She shook her head, expression darkening. "Fucking gonks. You ever get back at 'em?"
I couldn't stop the bitter smirk tugging at my lips. "Oh yeah. Took them out, **every last one of them**"
Her eyes widened slightly, but instead of shock or judgment, there was a spark of approval. "Preem move. Bet that felt good."
I nodded, feeling a bit lighter. It felt strangely good to share this. "Yeah, it did. Except I got reckless. Nearly got zeroed myself."
Rebecca let out a soft snort. "Sounds familiar. That how you got sent you here?"
"Yeah," I said, deciding to stick as close to the truth as possible without letting on about the god who had brought me to Night City. "After I took down that gang, things got too hot back home. Had this... guy, a friend of my dad's, come outta nowhere and offer to get me somewhere safe."
"Safe?" Rebecca echoed with a skeptical lift of her eyebrows, gesturing around at the city beyond the window. "And he picked Night City? Dude either had a twisted sense of humor or didn't know shit about this place."
I laughed dryly, shaking my head. "Believe me, I wondered that too. But he said nobody could ever find me here. Guess he wasn't wrong."
Rebecca leaned back again, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Still, Gotham or whatever must've been pretty fucked if Night City looked like an upgrade."
I shrugged slightly, trying not to let the memories drag me down again. "It was complicated. You do what you gotta do, you know?"
Rebecca snorted softly, nodding in understanding. "Fucking yeah. But hey, at least now you got me watchin' your back, right? Whatever corpo-rat or street-scum tries to mess with you here, they'll eat lead first."
I smiled, genuinely grateful for her straightforwardness. "Thanks, Becky. Means a lot."
She flashed me one of her fierce, reckless grins. "Don't mention it. 'Sides, I kinda like your messed-up ass. Would suck if you got zeroed on me now."
We both laughed quietly, the heavier mood dissipating into something easier. I realized, then, how comfortable I'd become talking openly with her. Even though I'd lied about Diego being dead, it wasn't really a lie, I'd never see him again, and the world he'd wake up in wouldn't have me in it. In a way, it felt true enough to ease the guilt.
"You ever miss Gotham?" Rebecca suddenly asked, genuinely curious.
I shook my head slowly, considering my words carefully. "Sometimes, but mostly I miss him. Place was rotten anyway, wasn't really home anymore after Diego was gone."
We were silent after that for a while. Until her eyes started glowing blue, I'd have to guess she got a call.
I watching as Rebecca got up from the couch and stretched, her joints popping softly as she sighed. She glanced around the apartment, her gaze lingering on the clean windows that overlooked Night City's sprawling skyline.
She smirked, flipping me off good-naturedly. "Thanks for last night, giving me a shiny couch to crash on."
"Glad my sofa meets your rigorous requirements."
Her expression softened slightly, and she glanced away for a moment. "Anyway, I'm heading over to Pilar's. Gonna see if he'll let me stay awhile. Maybe join up with his crew."
There was an undercurrent to her tone, but I couldn't place it.
"Good luck," I said quietly. "Tell Pilar I said hey. Try not to start any fights this time."
Rebecca snorted, adjusting her jacket and checking her guns out of habit. "No promises. Pilar pisses me off by breathing half the time."
"Yeah, sibling can do that," I replied dryly, though the faint pang in my chest reminded me how much I wished I still had that problem. "Just try not to blow anything up. My couch is still here if things go south."
She hesitated briefly, then turned, offering me a half-smirk. "I'll keep that in mind, Yumi. But don't go getting your hopes up, he's my brother, not my parole officer."
"I dunno," I teased, crossing my arms again. "From what I saw at dinner, he might enjoy cuffing you to a radiator."
"Sounds like fun," she retorted sarcastically, winking. "Maybe ill ask him to do that to you."
I rolled my eyes, pretending to gag. "No thanks. I'm good, your brothers not my type."
She laughed, a genuine sound that echoed then moved toward the door. As it hissed open, she paused briefly and glanced over her shoulder. "Take care of yourself, choom."
"Always," I replied simply, my tone carrying more warmth than I intended.
"Ba bye" With one final, sharp grin, she stepped out, and the door sealed shut behind her. I stood there for a long moment, alone now in the sudden silence. The apartment felt emptier without her laughter or sarcastic comments filling the space.
Sighing softly, I shook off the lingering thoughts and headed toward the bathroom. Stripping down, I stepped under the hot spray, letting the warmth wash away the tension I'd been carrying since our conversation about my brother. The memories still ached, but I forced them down, focusing instead on the here and now. I'm also glad she didn't end up using all my hot water.
The hot water sluiced over my shoulders, sending wisps of steam curling up toward the ceiling. Even with the bullet graze still healing in my shoulder, the warmth was soothing, a welcome change from all the past couple of days. I could stay under this as long as I wanted.
After I was done, I toweled off lazily and slipped into a pair of men's underwear Mama Welles had tossed in with the clothes she'd brought by, presumably Jackie's, judging by the size. I'd go top less for a now, as I didn't really want to lift my arm up. And since I was on the forty-eighth floor, it wasn't like a horde of voyeurs were gonna get an eyeful. Plus, my chest wasn't exactly a showstopper. B-cups at best.
Now, alone in a quiet apartment, I sprawled on the couch in nothing but the boxer briefs, letting the morning sunlight flood through the squeaky-clean windows and land on me. The holo TV I'd already paid for droned in the background with some vapid daytime show, perverted commercials popping up every so often to hawk "enhancements," sex implants. Night City, gotta love it.
I flicked the channel aside with a quick wave, then opened up my system interface. I'd been itching to check out the store page for new shards, specifically ones that could help me in tech and gadget-building. I might be getting better at netrunning (thanks to Futaba) and have some muscle from Kitrina's training, but tinkering? That was a hole in my repertoire.
My vision overlaid with the sleek neon design of my personal interface, a menu spinning up in the corner of my eye. Immediately, a list of potential shards scrolled by:
– Winry Rockbell: Novice Rank (FMA) – mechanical repair, automail, prosthetic basics
– Tinkerer: Adapted Rank (Marvel) – advanced gadget modification, weapon customizations
– Lucius Fox: Expert Rank (DC) – high-end R&D, corporate-savvy engineering
– Ted Kord: Expert Rank (DC) – advanced gadgetry, stealth tech
– Bulma: Adapted Rank (DBZ) – wide-ranging mechanical genius, large-scale projects
– Morgan Blackhand: Master Rank (Cyberpunk) – legendary Solo, rumored to be a top-tier tech operator (off-limits for now, the cost alone would bankrupt me)
-Tony stark: Master Rank (marvel)
(yeah fuck no, I don't think I'd have enough money even after two year)
And that was just the short list. I noticed Scarecrow's name flicker in a separate category (not strictly tech so much as chemistry with a side of psychological warfare), but I filed that away under "future mischief." With my current bank balance... definitely not going to blow it all on the big fish. Morgan Blackhand was out of the question, anyway. Not that I minded. One day, maybe, but not now.
My eyes lingered on the Tinkerer for a moment, adapted rank was tempting, but the price was steep. Lucius Fox and Ted Kord, both experts, were even pricier. Winry Rockbell, though... that was more in my current paygrade. The cost hovered in bright numbers that'd nearly drain me, but at least I could still eat afterward. Well, maybe I'd have to hustle a few more deliveries. Such is life in Night City.
I let out a small sigh, half-lounging and half-rubbing my aching shoulder. I'd only just finished paying out the nose for the holo TV hookup, plus the deposit, plus the furniture spree I planned. My eddies were not unlimited.
((Moving very soon so this week might be less then normal for chapters if any at all.))