Thursday 12th of July, 2079, 8:20am, Watson:
After my breakfast with Kendrick and a less than ideal encounter with Vincent Cawriss, Kendrick leaves my apartment for work 20 minutes for before I walk downstairs to the second floor of my apartment building and knock on apartment 12.
The second floor looks pretty much the same as the top one apart from a single change to the structure, a small, firm wooden plank leading to the nearby roof of another building.
"Kiera, You in there? Gotta speak to you. Mind openin' the door for me?" I ask with a serious yet neutral tone, putting one hand in my hip and subconsciously putting the weight on my right leg, quickly raising an eyebrow because of the response I recieved, or lackthereof. I sigh before firmly and loudly knocking again.
"Kiera, open the door. We need to talk." I state but this time with more of a demanding and incessent tone, crossing my arms with annoyance. She's not in. Fantastic.
"Of course. Of course she wouldn't be here, the one time I need to speak to her. What could she possibly be doin' at… 8:20 in the bloody morning..?" I murmur as I wipe my closed eyes out of frustration, trying to dial Kiera's number on the OS.
Meanwhile in Arroyo, Santo Domingo:
"Our deal was on 2500." A cold, calm and calculated Burgundy suited man with short Grey hair and a serious expression states in a large industrial area lf Night City, surrounded by giant factories and production facilities which dwarfing smokestack spewing grey smoke in the distance, with 4 armoured guards on both sides of him whilst he smokes a cigarette in front of a woman.
"Don't even start with that shit choom. Our initial deal was on 2500 but you promised a clean job, you didn't mention he'd be backed by 6th street. I want more." She demands confidently as the guards raise their guns, the man holding up his hand.
This woman, a 22 year old shorter brown eyed woman with shoulder length light brown hair stands before the man in front of her with a firm expression, wearing navy blue jeans and a black crop top with 2 straps over the shoulder and an unbuttoned black leather jacket and holding a M2308 Tactican power shotgun.
"3000." He offers in compromise, raising his offer after some hesitance, holding the lit cigarette in the valley of his slightly curled index finger almost in unison to the smokestack releasing more carbon just behind him and his car.
"Hell no. 5k or I drop you here'n now, no witnesses." The woman pushes with a growing frown eccentuating her obviously pissed off look whilst she toys with the shotgun in hand.
"3200, final offer, we're quicker and better shots than you Kiera." He responds with now an equally pissed off look, clearly not liking the woman's disobedience and deviance from the original deal.
"Yeah? Well fuck you, you rich corpo bastard. Tryna rip me off like you cunts always do. Well how about this?" She asks before throwing a flashbang, blinding the 5 enemies in front as she loudly cocks her semi-automatic M2038 Tactican power shotgun, blasting 2 guards with it before sprinting and sliding into nearby cover whilst gunshots begin to light up her frame.
Almost as if on cue, she receives a call by "Chels", she shoots a shot of her shotgun with a new window of opportunity now that they are reloaded and hits one of the guards in the chest; 1 of the 2 guards killed. The injured, burgundy suited corpo begins sprinting away as his bodyguard maintains pressure on the roadblock Kiera hides behind.
"Now's not the Time Chels'. Kinda in the middle or sum'n here!" She says as she accepts the call, popping out behind cover and firing back at the other injured guard with careful precision.
"Hm… That right?" I ask boredly over the OS call, not particilarly bothered or sympathetic to her current situation due to the problematic scenario she left me in this morning; hearing loud shotgun sounds on the other side.
I receive no response for another minute or 2 outside of loud gunshots before finally hearing it cease, Kiera's voice finally breaking the silence over the OS.
"Well not anymore. What is it?" She speaks with caution, slightly out of breath, stepping toward the 4 dead guards with her shotgun still raised to ensure she can't get jumped by the dead guards.
"Well I'll cut to the chase then. I just got a visit from Vincent. Remember that Choom? He said you were trespassing again. Do I even need to ask or will you just come clean?" I comment frustratedly as more of a statement rather than a question, maintaining my calm composure for now and displacing it into slow pacing outside of her apartment door.
"Yeah, so? Since when do you give a shit about Vincent? I had a job, plain and simple; Client had a guy in there I needed to Flatline so I tried to go in. Assholes stopped me though, had to get him through the damn skylight. I was pretty proud of how I got up there actually." Kiera respond over the OS with a small proud grin, clearly not seeing the problem because she didn't really care for Vincent for justifiable reason.
"Yeah, maybe. But you're making my job much harder than it already is by rattling the fuckin' hornets nest. Bastard turned up at my apartment and I got woke up by him and 2 guards with assault rifles pointed at me. I think you can understand why that's Suboptimal Kiera." I explain though mildly present annoyance laced in my tone, seething through because of the already existing frustration.
"But I don't see why you don't just zero the prick. Or why you can't yet. If he's such a problem just bring the perverted choom to the early grave where he belongs. You do it with everyone else so why not with him?" Kiera argues with confused questiong. Like usual, knowing her typical disobedient and "guns-ho" tone for everything.
"Sure, coulda done. Coulda made him drop dead on the spot. But then I have a sizeable borged up militia with bulletproof armour and assault rifles from his side of the Ghetto on my ass, storming me 20 minutes after his dick sucking guards realise he ain't back yet; knocking down my door like it's fuckin' halloween. And I don't know if you've realised it Choom, but I'm not exactly able to fight a small armoured miltia with nothing but a pistol, Tier 1 Cyberdeck and a good for nothing thorn in my fuckin' side. Id'a have to've fled Watson for at least the next 6 months, and that's assuming they don't go looking." I lecture her in direct rebbutal to her dismissive, disobedient tone.
"Sure but you have people too. It ain't like you're alone are you? Let's go, right now. You, me and all of your guys. We'll go kill him right now" She boldy offers with loud arrogance, clearly not appreciating my lecture or understanding the gravity of what she as caused.
"Are you fuckin' stupid? First off, I have RAM capacity dipshit, If I overclock it, the cheap piece of hardware'll melt and hot silver and gold with be frying my brain like a cracked egg in the Australian desert. Secondly, I doubt any of the people here would be willing to fight some irrelevant war to them for us. I may be strong but I ain't no rebellion leader. Thirdly, We're going against a fucking Malitia and Fourth, You are not a good enough shot NOR a skilled enough fighter. That'd literally be suicide and you know that." I retort, pinpointing 4 of the many problems that would arise in the event I did try to kill him to her, but her ignorance remains evident.
"Find a way then; why do you use such shitty tech if you get pissed off that it's shitty? Ain't my problem you ain't rich enough to get better equipment. Ain't me he's coming for." She spits back, refusing to take accountability and pinning it on my personal problems.
"No, it isn't. But it IS your problem that you're causing more issues than you are solving them. And you know how I feel about loose ends that causes problems for me Kiera. I haven't got a deathwish unlike you, so unless you wanna start funding my weapons or tech or start providing me bodies, buck up your fucking ideas because if you ain't careful I'll sell you out to the Scavs to rip the cyberware out of your fuckin' body. We clear?" Kiera goes silent on the other end of the call, her eyes wide and stunned into a fearful shudder. Very quietly, I can hear a terrified and intimidated swallow partnered with louder, staggered breathing on the other side. One thing is for sure, She didn't expect the Harsh, serious, aggressive and pissed off ultimatum that I had just presented her.
After a couple more deafeningly quiet moments of silence, she stammers a fearful, nervous apology.
"O-okay- Sorry Chelsea…" She apologises fearfully, having nothing else left to say.
"Good. Don't make me call again or Vincent won't be the only sadistic cunt you'll be hiding from." I demand before ending off the call as Kiera stands shocked and fearful in Arroyo