『Felix Karl Grimm』
Do you know the common saying?
'Aim where they are going to be, not where they are.'
Which is always solid advice. If you pull the trigger on where a moving target currently is, you are almost certainly going to miss. One of the most important things about shooting is prediction. A skilled sharpshooter is so skilled because they know where you are going to shoot and where you are going to dodge before you even do it.
But... what if you cheat that skill?
Feat Achieved! hit 25 targets in a row at the shooting range.
+1 Bronze Skill Gacha Ticket
"Damn kid, you are a natural at this. You don't even have optics."
Wilson commented on the side with a nod as he watched me nail target after target with my unity. I had largely stopped missing shots after the first 30 minutes.
As it turns out, Elite rarity abilities are good. With the moving targets in the range, I found out that I didn't need to predict where a target was going to be; I knew where it was going to be. Using precognition kinda looked like phantoms of the objects moving around, showing where they were going to go, and I just needed to shoot at the projection shown to me by the Precognition and bang!
If I were pointing at the Precognition spot, I didn't need to calculate anything; if I pulled the trigger while aiming the barrel there, it was a hit. It was playing marksmanship on easy mode. Even then I didn't think it would be so easy. Was Precognition calibrating itself to what I wanted to see? Other than though, the Strong trait made me able to handle the recoil of a handgun easily.
"I'd say you are a natural shooter, kid, most folk round here can't hit targets at 5 speed like you do."
I rubbed the back of my head as I took my finger off the trigger and laid the gun on the table.
"Heh, thanks, my dad taught me how to shoot." He didn't. "I may be good at a shooting range, but I'm trying to get a handle on protecting myself, y'know? Shooting a moving target isn't worth much when I panic and fumble in a real fight."
The large man nodded again.
"Yeah, most gonks see themselves going good on the range and start thinking they are hot shit, start picking fights and have to get mopped off the pavements by the meatwagons."
He looked around for anyone before speaking again in a quieter voice.
"Look, kid, I like the look on you. If you are looking for some real experience in protecting yourself or zeroing a gonk, what you need is a Militech Training Shard. Those may be a hard find, but I know a friend who knows where to get some. I can get you one for a decent fee. Let's say... a 1500 Eddies will do. I'm only taking a 200 cut here."
That made me pause. I remembered that thing from the game, that would be really useful for me; it would let me practice in a somewhat real environment and not waste bullets. But 1500 was a good chunk of my money. Would it be worth the price?
I turned to him with a blank stare.
"Do I really look like I can just throw around that much money?"
"Look, kid, I'm doing you a favour here. These things aren't easy or cheap to get, I can't just-"
"Because I can, get me that shard, please."
Wilson blinked as I folded from my poor attempt to haggle and played it off as a joke. I could make back the money anyway. Money was not that important, but time was.
"Well, uh, alright then. Come back here tomorrow, same time."
Before he could head back, I posed a question.
"Say, I don't have any chipsockets or a neuroport, you reckon I can still use that shard?"
"Yeah, most Braindance Clubs should help you with that for a fee. Not everyone has a Neuralport, but everyone needs to use shards and all."
I nodded to the man and walked out of the 2nd Amendment. This would make my life a lot more convenient. I'll probably start my mercenary career after I finish with that Militech Training Shard.
Once he was gone, I willed the Bronze Ticket I got for hitting the targets into my hands. Noticing that nobody else could actually see the ticket made me relieved. And this was a Skill Ticket, according to the pamphlet, the type of ticket I got was mostly related to what I did to achieve it. I quickly tore the ticket with some excitement, my first skill.
Rolling Bronze Skill Gacha...
An Uncommon Skill!
[Intermediate Interfacing]
|Uncommon Skill|
You are a tricky one, you know how to pick locks, pick pockets, figure out the kinks in mechanics and have a feeling for knowing your way around things. Your fingers may get a little restless.
I winced as I felt years of experience make their way into my head, how to pick pockets, lift phones off peoples pockets, and other such tricks that needed considerable finesse, I now had the muscle memory to do. I quickly made my way to my room before and opened the door before pulling out my gun and spinning it around my finger, throwing it into the air and catching it with another finger without the spin faltering for even a moment.
Pretty cool.
Now then, to pass the day while Wilson gets me my shard. I guess I could taste the delicacies of Night City, pretty accessible too, considering they showed a vending machine in every room.
✧―✧―✧―✧「」✧―✧―✧―✧
『Felix Karl Grimm』
Fuck this city.
And fuck me for forgetting about the food in this place.
It looks like meat, it feels like meat, but it does not taste like meat. It tastes like rat meat soaked in motor oil and left out for a day.
Why? I looked it up, and apparently, the burrito I ate was made of ground and processed insect meat.
Now, I was not a fine diner, 90% of my meals were instant ramen, bland chicken or rice. So I was not a picky eater. But this was fucking foul. And it gave me diarrhoea, thankfully there was a pharmacy here that sold very effective anti ass ripping medicine, but that did not stop my toilet taking a while spray of digested synth meat.
After that, I spent most of that day just researching the web and my possible avenues. There were 2 fixers I was going to try to contact. Regina Jones or Wakako Okada, one of the only moral people in the city, or someone swimming with a Tyger Claw leader.
Regina is actually reliable for moral gigs, while Wakako would be much more willing to see an 18-year-old throw themselves into the fire and flames for a few eddies.
Speaking of eddies.
I looked at the little chip, or, "Shard" in my hand before tucking it into my deepest, safest pocket.
"Thanks Wilson."
The overweight man nodded.
"And thank you for the eddies. Remember me when you need to use the guns you are training with. See you later kid."
I nodded to the man and quickly moved with haste towards the megabuilding elevator that I rode down to the ground floor before taking a step out.
"So conflicting..."
A large grandiose view, several stalls were set up in front of the megabuilding, under its protective shade. And beyond that view was the peak cyberpunk view. Dozens of towering buildings, billboards and ribbons of light carrying advertisements. People going about their business with chrome in their arms, hands, head, etc. The view was almost overwhelming before I snapped myself out of it, It looked so pretty from the outside, but so ominous knowing what built it.
I snapped myself out of it and slapped my thigh with Unity holstered. The weight of iron reassured me.
I wouldn't die to some thugs harassing me. I had Precognition slotted in 24/7; anything that would kill me instantly, I'd see coming.
The place I was going to was a quick walk that I had already memorised the route of after having asked Wilson of a safe joint I could go to. Back straight, facing forward, jaw squared, walking with a purpose. Not an easy target, I projected a sense of "Don't mess with me" that I noticed a lot of the citizens carried. The walk was not far, which was what I preferred the most.
I stuck to the sidewalks of the main road as closely as possible until I found what I was looking for. A rather unassuming building called 'Dance me Brain Baby, Oorah.'.
I don't judge.
I lied, I judged a lot. Who the hell names their business that?
Shaking my head, I went into the building and found multiple people with their pants pulled down, sitting on a sofa with headsets on their heads. Tt was a rather small place, thankfully there were booths. I went up to the person next to the door behind the counter whose eyes were glowing, probably watching something, trying to get his attention I tapped the counter, making his eyes stop glowing before he lifted his head and addressed me in a dry manner.
"Yeah?"
"Need to use a shard, but I don't have a neuroport. Just a heads up, I might take a while." I glanced at the guys jerking off publicly with a grimace. "And I'd like some privacy."
The man looked at me with such disinterest I'd be surprised if he could distinguish between me and the background.
"Uh huh, take booth 3, 8 eddies an hour. Cleaning fee if you make a mess is 10 eddies, so don't be an animal and use a fucking tissue. Or at least aim at the fucking trash bin to make my job easier."
My eyes went wide at the implication.
"Oh, I uh, I'm not-"
The man held up a hand.
"Look, Choom. I really, really do not give a fuck. Go crank it for 5 hours straight to XBD's or whatever. As long as you don't hose all over my walls and you give me my eddies, we are preem. Now fuck off."
I nodded and turned around to head into the pod, feeling too embarrassed to continue saying any more words, the man made his stance clear anyway. The inside of the pod was rather small, like a porta-potty with a headset wired into the wall. After making sure the door was locked, I took the headset and slotted in the shard before putting it on my head.
Suddenly, I was overtaken by a feeling of weightlessness as static filled my view, and then I was suddenly on another ground. A strange feeling of unreality and confusion made me blink as I looked at my surroundings. It looked like I was in a hyperrealistic simulation with even a sense of touch rendered even though I could differentiate between it and real touch.
Everything around was made of sleek black rectangles except for the white pathway that led up to a platform and the giant Militech logo.
"Let's begin with Basic Combat Training. This Session will be recorded for Subsequent evaluation."
All of a sudden, a training dummy wearing military equipment with a loud, distorted voice popped into existence in front of me, making me startle and go for a gun I did not have on me. The virtual Drill Sergeant did not respond and instead popped out of existence just to re-emerge on top of the platform, making me chase after him, and note that instead of my hoodie and pants, I was wearing a set of Militech Combat Fatigues.
"This course is designed to reinforce your fundamental combat abilities and hone your reflexes. The skills you gain here will help you survive, even excel, on the battlefield."
I felt a twinge of nervousness as I faced the holographic instructor; hopefully, this wouldn't be too bad.
A/N: Again, Night City is a horrible place to live, like, really bad. Even Fallout settlements might be better living than in there. The only source of protein the average choom can afford is Locust meat and bioengineered slop. That, of course, does not apply to mega light-bendingly rich zillionaires.
Militech Training Shard, baby! For all that Cyberpunk sucks ass, its tech, especially the mind stuff, is unbelievably good. You can get life and death training without the consequences of life and death encounters, which is great for a traveller on a mission. What did you guys think about this setup? I'd love to hear.