While I breathed in the oceanic night air in on my lonesome, still glowing from my recent victory with Jin, something was still on my mind like an uneasy itch.

  And to my pleasant surprise, it wasn’t that I had gotten some gonk-kid adrenaline-addicted to my XBDs. No, my only feelings in that case was flattery and an inflation of ego that probably wasn’t healthy for me.

  [Inflated egotism leads to an overestimation of one’s capacities and abilities which can end poorly. Luckily for you, I can remind you of your limits, and you will believe them because that is the rational thing to do.]

  David: Hmmm. I don’t know about that. When your ego is big, you won’t listen to reason, even coming from the most trustworthy source of them all.

  [Very well. Then prevention is the answer. How will we do that? By systematically tearing down your self-esteem once it crosses certain boundaries?]

  Ugh. I hated what she was getting at, but I couldn’t deny that she was right.

  David: I suppose so. Just… stick with the facts. Don’t tear me down unrealistically.

  [Very well: your chances of death in the line of duty as an edgerunner is astronomical compared to the average person. Your continued survival can be attributed to luck as well as your own skills, and should you fall for your own myth of personality, you will undoubtedly die.]

  I didn’t like hearing that.

  [That you are not special?]

  Especially not that.

  Ugh. More worries on my mind, but still none of them was about Jin. He could jack off every night to how cool D was, I didn’t care.

  What bothered me was my only avenue of upward mobility according to Alistair: the case competition. I had joined it so it would make my CV look good and open doors for my future. What I hadn’t ever entertained was the possibility of winning.

  That was just because I didn’t know what was at stake.

  And that was status.

  By winning the case competition, I could stay relevant without having to rely on the friendships of kids with higher-up parents. I could stand tall on my own merits, protected and made to grow by Arasaka itself.

  It was still a risky path, though. Become too useful, and I would never be anything more than just a tool. Usefulness wasn’t always power.

  Still, it was the first sliver of self-determination in Arasaka I had ever had an opportunity to reach. I couldn’t squander it.

  For better or for worse, I had to win this.

  That meeting with Nakajima on Friday, I would have to bring in my A-game. Maybe even use my considerable amount of money to hire some spies or netrunners to figure out what our competition was doing. Or maybe get to doing that shit myself, so I could outdo them.

  School had long-since lost its ability to challenge me, and all I really busted my ass on these days was edgerunning, but now I had to work hard.

  That was for later.

  Right now, I still had to get through these children’s games, and maybe make some pocket money betting ludicrous amounts on a game that I would learn on the spot and then eventually master, because people had a terminal habit of overestimating their underdeveloped, granite-smooth polish pea-brains, and underestimating me.

  [Despite your increased rate of cognition and your other mental enhancements, there are still ways to blindside or outsmart you, especially if you do not remain vigilant against such attempts.]

  David: Don’t worry about that. All I do is suspect and worry.

  [As you continue to master your surroundings, you become less inclined to putting your mind through something as stressful as constant vigilance.]

  David: True.

  As more and more people emerged to the main deck out from the media room where Jin would be trying to press every one of his cronies into watching my BDs, I decided to go to Allister’s table where there was still some booze.

  I recognized some of his friends talking amongst each other, but him and his attack dog Walter weren’t around yet. Knowing him, he’d probably volunteered them both to enjoy Jin’s BDs in order to get closer to him.

  I ignored his friends and just took a seat, slowly sipping my drink, wondering who I should call in the crew. Or should I call anyone? What if the cruise had some kind of fucked up wiretap machine? Nah, best not get too cocky. My two lives were separate, and I didn’t need to blur that separation.

  “How do you do it?”

  I heard the voice projected in my direction, which was a surprise because I knew that I was the only person in my direction. I looked towards it and saw Minako, that girl who had told me off for ‘talking down’ to Allister.

  “How do I what?” I asked, putting some hint of exasperation into my words. How else was she going to get a meaningful answer without specifying what she was talking about? Yes, I knew it was a verbal hook to make the listener more interested in hearing out the line of questioning by building up anticipation, but it was so tired. And annoying.

  “How do you watch all those BDs without caring?” she asked.

  “Minako,” one of her little friends, another girl, murmured to her nervously. Like she was asking her to stop poking some wild animal.

  “The trick is in liking the stuff,” I said with a shrug. I was going to elaborate, but Allister’s reminder to be an aloof and mysterious figure shut my mouth.

  “You like what you see in BDs? You want to kill people?”

  Ah, was she trying to verbally trap me or something? Maybe record myself saying something fucked up so she could hold it over my head. “Of course not,” I said. “My BDs are educational,” which was true. I was learning the ways of the solo while recording that last BD. “That’s nothing anyone should shy away from?”

  Minako gaped at me. “You mean becoming a cyberpsycho and killing dozens of people is educational to you?”

  “Of course not,” I said. “Where are you getting that from?”

  She blinked owlishly at me. “You know you are selling XBDs, right?”

  “That’s a blatant lie,” I said.

  “Minako,” her friend said, pulling her arm. Minako just pursed her lips and crossed her arms in front of her chest defensively. I probably shouldn’t have opened my dumb mouth.

  I gave Allister a call. After a few seconds, he accepted it.

  David: I think one of your friends is trying to entrap me.

  Allister: Did you say anything?

  David: Of course not.

  Allister: She was more likely trying to blackmail you. But you’d have to be naive to think it was going to work. Whatever. Is there anything actually important? I’m fighting to hold down my dinner right now.

  David: Well, if it isn’t anything important, good luck. By the way, was it the JK you watched first or the other one?

  Allister: No, it’s the one Jin calls ‘Wraith Killer’.

  David: How did you find it?

  Allister: Horrifying? I’m not exactly enamored with the idea of spending time in some demented edgerunner’s brain mid-mission, especially not when he has the mental urgency of a salaryman going through his last tasks before his shift is done.

  David: But it makes you want to hurl?

  Allister: There’s something wrong with it. Jin seems to like the ‘feature’, but I think it’s a ‘bug’-’bug’. Guy thinks way too fast. Is that supposed to be normal?

  David: First time viewing a BD where someone has mental enhancements? It’s normal.

  Well, it wasn’t. But I’m sure my advantages weren’t unique just to me. Had to exist someone like me out there somewhere.

  Allister: With any luck, the psychopath dies before there are any more installments.

  David: Hahahah. I hope you’re talking about the edgerunner

  Allister: I’ll be up in a second. Just… stop talking to Minako, or whoever it is. It’s probably Minako, right? Do you want me to give her trouble?

  David: I don’t really give a fuck, choom. Just thought I’d ask you for advice.

  “Don’t think you’ve won or anything,” Minako said with a sharp grin. “Soon you’ll outlive your usefulness to Jin-sama, and then you’ll be just another gutter rat trying to claw their way up only to get stomped on.”

  Okay, but…

  Realistically speaking…

  Who could I target or kill that would make Minako’s life a living fucking hell?

  I’d never killed a corpo before, mostly because our circles never intersected when I was working. But what would stop me? What could stop me? And if Minako was Allister’s bitch, then that meant her folks were probably reachable to D. Faraday had Maine’s crew and I breach a fucking executive’s limo.

  Her parents couldn’t be that much harder to reach.

  Well, unless Minako eventually got to find out that I was behind it, then it wouldn’t be a very satisfying retribution. And others needed to know as well, so they would speak to me with the respect I was fucking owed.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  But I wasn’t about to blow my cover over some disrespect tossed at me here and there.

  But maybe it wouldn’t have to blow my cover? Corpos hired edgerunners all the time to do their dirty work. And dead men tell no tales. Dead parents were no different. All it was, in the end, was a matter of money. The school knew I had it. My peers did as well. Maybe it was finally time that I ‘spent’ some of it getting rid of a rival and getting some fucking respect, finally?

  I scanned Minako Ito, found her full name and Arasaka Academy ID. Nothing else on her. To find that, I’d need to connect to an Arasaka network. Like this ship for instance.

  I probed through its defenses, and found that I’d have better luck breaching through an access point than wirelessly. Unfortunately, I had left my personal link cable at home.

  That was a piece of machine that could just as easily be made into chrome: a cable connected to my wrist, like most netrunners had. I’d had to get on that soon.

  But in the end, my plans were foiled. Not by my own inability, but just because I had encountered the briefest of inconveniences. Just for that, Minako’s parents got to live.

  I smiled at her.

  “What?!” she barked at me.

  “Give your parents a good, long hug next time you see them,” I said. Minako sputtered at that, and before she could ask for clarification and continue digging herself a deeper grave, Allister strode up with Walter, looking a little green in the gills. Walter looked fine, actually.

  Maybe he had combat-training? Maybe it took that much to become a vassal for the great Takeuchi clan of the Westbrook province, subordinate to the illustrious Tanaka and Ryuzaki lineages, whose storied escapades could be dated back a whole ten years since the unification wars. Such ancient and important powers.

  They didn’t even fucking exist when I was born. Felt that much more stupid for me to care about such a young hierarchy. But that was the trick of the powerful, wasn’t it? They made it seem like their ascent was only obvious, because they possessed some ineffable quality that poor people couldn’t possess. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be poor.

  Oh well. Far be it from me to educate my enemies on taking me seriously. All the better if they didn’t.

  I raised my glass to Allister, who just gave a tired chuckle sigh. “Excellent production. Give the director my regards.”

  Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all week.

  Allister pitched a conversation with me trying to gas me up to the others. Coincidentally enough, he asked me ‘how I did it’ about me being able to handle XBDs.

  So I fed them some cock and bull about facing reality and conquering fear, but really it was just some good old trust fund baby bait. Living a boring life like theirs made them itch for any sort of excitement. It was what gave some of them such a strange tendency to slum it with the poor and do what they did. It also gave them a tendency to get hurt being in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong mindsets.

  They were the worst gonks of Night City by far. Jin was no different. He probably styled himself as some kind of superman, an elite given his position through some quality of his that elevated him above me in his mind. The worst thing about him, though, was how fucking convinced he was of that fact. Convinced enough that he had gained an addiction for relating with a subset of people that lived a life he could only dream of—literally. Jin should focus on being a company boy, but instead he was too swallowed up in his dreams to do anything about it.

  Was he putting himself at a disadvantage in terms of school and career with his XBD viewings? Maybe. Or maybe it all mostly boiled down to people hating to party with him, which would have its own consequences down the line. Or maybe he was working towards some greater goal.

  It didn’t matter. He could fall or thrive for all I cared: I just needed my eddies and my social capital.

  He could fall once I was done using him, once he had outlived his usefulness to fucking me, not the other way around. He wasn’t the one in control here. He wasn’t the one sporting mil-spec chrome that could air out this bitch in a fucking second if I was ever inclined. I clenched my jaws slightly and flexed some fingers, trying to work out my frustrations.

  Maybe I didn’t need to kill her parents? Maybe I just really needed to fuck Katsuo’s girlfriend again?

  But it did help my nerves to think about who to kill to get a leg-up in this world.

  I received a notification on my agent: a public announcement, localized to this yacht, had been sent out about some kind of a… speedboat race through the night ocean. This looked dumb.

  But it hushed all conversations. If I recalled correctly, which I had to after what Nanny had done to my brain, this was a private party, meaning no non-Arasaka allowed. According to Allister, that usually meant things were more brutal because of the hierarchy and the fact that no one was around to watch the higher-ups dick around their juniors.

  Thankfully, I had managed to avoid the brunt of that by being in Jin’s good graces.

  But did this little game mean that I once again had to be involved?

  Katsuo stepped up into the center of the deck, clinking a fork against his champagne glass obnoxiously. “Attention, everyone!” he said. “Who would like to race me through the obstacle course for a cool one-hundred thousand eurodollars?! Though I will have you be aware that I am no ordinary foe.”

  Jesus. Who the fuck would volunteer to do something that stupid?

  Katsuo’s eyes widened in glee as he made eye-contact with me, and I got the message loud and clear from his body language. His intent was truly crystal clear: he’d press me into the game somehow.

  It might take time, but eventually, he’d mount a set of points that detailed exactly how it was impossible for me to refuse without paying a much steeper price.

  Maybe it was worth it to just wait his little blackmailing spree out, to learn about my vulnerabilities, rather than just trust that he had them? Or maybe he would announce them out loud, which would give everyone an opportunity to fuck with me until I had patched my weakness up? Or maybe he was bluffing all along, just pretending to have something in store for me unless I acquiesced?

  Or maybe I could just breach him, like a netrunner would?

  I did.

  I activated the Sandevistan to get the manual portions of the breach out of the way in an instant, and in doing so, I cracked open all of his local files.

  And there was some… weird shit in there. A blacksite that was perfect for assassinations. A weapons dealer. Contacts with gangsters. What the fuck?

  Where was the blackmail material?

  …Ah. There it was.

  My fucking case competition project.

  Katsuo Tanaka had gotten his hands on my case competition project: all our progress, all our breakthroughs. There, for him to sell to the highest bidder in the competition.

  I was going to wring Nakajima’s fucking neck for this. Goddamn that gonk! What the fuck was he smoking?

  Fuck. Katsuo would obviously have a backup. He wouldn’t just carry the only copy on him.

  I leafed through the copy and sighed. This really was everything.

  And I had zero expectation that he would do the honorable thing and delete it if I did what he asked. No. This project was burned. I’d have to start from the ground up.

  Better than before.

  And we could do that. Because I was different now. Smarter, faster, better.

  But for now, I raised my hand, just as Katsuo ringed me.

  Katsuo: Oh, are you volunteering? I’ll have you know that one-hundred thousand will be required of you by law should you agree. Which you should. You have no idea—

  David: You have my case comp files, I know. I saw it. I don’t care. I’m just gonna play with you to crush you.

  Katsuo: Oh? Even though you know I have your balls in a vice grip?

  David: Katsuo, you’re a talentless fucking waste of time. I’m going to do the nicest thing I’ve ever fucking done and warn you: you do not want to get into it with me. Not now. But you know what, Katsuo? I do want to get into it with you. I want to fucking crush you into a powder and fucking snort you. And you know I can.

  Katsuo’s victorious grin turned ugly at that, and I just stood up.

  “Let’s get this shit overwith,” I said. “Hundred thousand, you said? Let’s make it two, if you’re not a pussy.”

  Katsuo grinned. “Fine, then! Two-hundred thousand! It will be a competition for the ages!”

  I didn’t waste any time doing something as meaningless as shaking his hand or some shit. I just waited for the seamen to point us to our little speedboats. The ship’s side illuminated the ocean so that the others could watch it, and dotted around the surface were a bunch of glowing buoys bound by rope. I got a look at Katsuo’s body language, and it screamed supreme confidence.

  It didn’t take me a fucking second to guess why. The game was rigged. How? The seamen showed us to some ladders that lowered us each to the waiting speedboats beside the ship. I was very purposefully led to one speedboat, and got on it.

  I Breached it.

  The code was jumbled and weird, so rather than try to decrpyt it, I just saved a full backup and reset it to an earlier version. The code changed, the memory allocation had reduced, and from what the diagnostics tool had given me, the performance was better across the board.

  Was this the right set-up or just a red herring?

  I breached Katsuo’s speedboat just in case, and found that our codebases were pretty much the same, considering we were operating the same machines.

  Eh. I decided to also throttle Katsuo’s speed, so he wouldn’t get that much of a lead on me. Weirdly enough, there were no autopilot modules he had installed. Perhaps he had actually rehearsed for this instead of just pinning all his hopes on cheating? How cute.

  A loudspeaker sounded from the main deck. “This is a race across the ocean! You must drive across each buoy at your designated route and cross the finish line before your opponent does! A buoy must be crossed in a five-meter radius for your race to count as valid, and each of you will have your own finish lines equally distant from each other!”

  I read through the user manual and tried to put all my knowledge into reality by staring at the controls. The umpire continued going on about some common-sense rules that I only paid half an ear of attention to.

  As I settled into the driver's seat of the speedboat, my eyes scanned the array of controls before me, each button, dial, and lever beckoning for my touch. The cockpit was a symphony of technological prowess, with sleek screens and illuminated panels casting a soft glow against the dimly lit interior.

  My fingers traced the edges of the control panel, feeling the smooth texture of the buttons beneath my touch. Each one seemed to hum with latent energy, waiting to be activated at my command. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the task ahead.

  At the center of the panel, a large touchscreen display blinked to life, casting vibrant hues of blue and green across the cockpit. Icons and symbols danced across its surface, indicating various functions and settings. With a tap of my finger, I accessed the main menu, revealing a plethora of options to customize and fine-tune the speedboat to my liking.

  To my left, a series of knobs and sliders controlled the boat's throttle and speed. With a deft twist of my wrist, I adjusted the throttle, feeling the boat respond to my touch with a low hum of anticipation. Beside the throttle controls, a row of switches toggled various auxiliary systems, from navigation lights to onboard sensors.

  On the right side of the panel, a joystick protruded from the console, serving as the primary steering mechanism. Its smooth surface fit snugly in my grip, offering precise control over the boat's direction and trajectory. I tested its responsiveness with a gentle nudge, watching as the boat's digital display reflected my movements in real-time.

  Above me, a series of overhead displays provided vital information on the boat's performance and status. Gauges and indicators flickered with life, tracking everything from engine temperature to fuel levels. I made a mental note to keep a close eye on these readings throughout the race, ensuring that the boat remained in optimal condition.

  As the umpire's voice echoed through the loudspeaker, the anticipation on the water intensified. Contrary to my expectations, my body was doing the opposite of my mind. My heart beat steadily, my breathing even and controlled, like all of my emotions and nervousness had lost control over the pure professional that my body had become, and my fingers hovering over the controls as the countdown began.

  "Three... Two... One... Go!"

  With a surge of adrenaline, I slammed my foot down on the throttle, feeling the speedboat leap forward with explosive power. The wind whipped through my hair as I navigated the waves with precision, each buoy marking my path toward victory.

  Beside me, Katsuo's speedboat lurched into motion, but it was clear from the start that he was struggling to keep pace. His boat wobbled erratically as he fought to maintain control, his frustration evident in every movement.

  Meanwhile, I activated the Sandevistan, feeling time slow to a crawl around me. With heightened perception, I steered the boat with unparalleled precision, each movement calculated and deliberate. The world seemed to move in slow motion as I effortlessly maneuvered through the water, leaving Katsuo in my wake.

  Despite his attempts to catch up, Katsuo's efforts were in vain. With each passing moment, I widened the gap between us, my skill and determination propelling me toward the finish line with unstoppable momentum.

  As the race progressed, I made strategic use of the Sandevistan, slowing down time at key moments to navigate tight turns and avoid obstacles with ease. With each buoy I passed, victory seemed within reach, a testament to my mastery of the cybernetic technology at my disposal.

  And as I crossed the finish line, the cheers of the crowd washed over me, a chorus of triumph and celebration. I had emerged victorious, proving once again that nothing could stand in the way of my success.

  I drove the boat to the hull of the ship and climbed up the ladder without giving the race even a second of my attention. I didn’t care nearly enough to pretend at this point. Two hundred thousand was well and good, but that didn’t erase the progress I had made with Nakajima. I sent him a text.

  ‘The biggest asshole I know got a hand on our project. We’re starting from scratch.’

  No use doing anything else but ripping the bandaid off cleanly.

  I received an answer almost instantly.

  ‘FUCK! I was going to talk to you about somebody having accessed my files in the network. So we’re done?’

  Done? What the fuck was he talking about?

  ‘We’ll meet on Friday.’

  I’d finish this entire project on my lonesome if I had to, but ‘done’? That was loser talk.

  And was I a loser?

  “Congratulations, winner!” Jin strode up to me and put a drink in my hand and a pat on my shoulder.

  “Thanks,” I said. Then I made a call to someone.

  David: I hope I don’t sound needy when I say this, but it’s been a long one hour since I got here, and I really need to fuck your brains out.

  Fei-Fei: I thought you’d never ask!