PRIVATE Major Crimes

“Redline”
Eddies
3,732


Charter Hill, Night City
After "Calling All Cars"



The engine of Night City thrummed beneath their feet, through the alleyways and over a couple fences. Sirens rang in the distance, flashing lights bounced off glass towers, and the air grew thick with heat and sweat, the aftershock of the bank job still burning in Ryan's veins. Every second wasted was a second closer to getting boxed in by the NCPD. They barely made it out alive from that psycho freak @Ivo "Ironhand" Lasko, let alone @MaxTac's arrival. With the money shards bagged in hand, some likely damaged from the crossfire and tell-tale burn marks in the bag, at least the two last men standing in their crew was the same duo that started out from El Coyote Cojo.

Ryan moved with purpose, his boots striking pavement as he scanned the parking lot of some overpriced corporate housing complex. The kind of place where suits parked their high-end rides, trusting the city's security systems to keep them safe. That trust was a mistake. He jerked his chin toward a sleek, dark Chevalion Emperor parked under the glow of a flickering streetlamp. Quiet, sturdy, unassuming, perfect. "There," he muttered, already moving. A quick glance for alarms, then he pulled out a small breaker chip, jamming it into the port beneath the door handle. The interface lit up, glitching for half a second before the locks popped with a soft click.

Usually,
the corpos had an advantage here. Especially with their rides often low-jacked or loaded with some primo security that would get you flatlined by a hit squad soon after. Charter Hill was middle-management though, not worth the trouble, their vehicles were fair game and thanks to the well equipped, privatized police force, it was never a thought. Ryan swung the door open, sliding into the driver's seat. His hands moved fast, rewiring the ignition, hotwiring the beast into a low, purring rumble. A trick he learned from @Nessa Graves long ago during their booster days. "Get in," he barked, eyes flicking up to check for any watching eyes.

As the engine roared to life, he dropped the bag of hot money shards onto the center console. "Hope you like ridin' dirty." Then, without waiting for a reply, he slammed the accelerator, the tires screeching as they tore out onto the neon-lit streets.


 


His teeth hurt.

Little dusted bits of his molars stained his tongue as he tried to grind his teeth into nubs. The 'dorphs and the cocktail of other combat stims he'd indulged in before their arrival were all on the come-down now, and no amount of uppers could forestall the inevitable crash. Nonetheless, he took another long drag off his vape as they jumped another fence. The glittering miasma filled his lungs and delivered another spurt of energy into legs that threatened to give out beneath his weight. The runner spat a curse as he hit the ground wrong, rolling on his heel and into the concrete.

He wasted little time in scrambling back up to his feet and following after Ryan. He didn't know where they were going, their netrunner wasn't responding, and the getaway car that had been promised never materialized. They'd been forced to gun their way out the back of the bank and it was only by the grace of God that they were both still breathing, and even that wasn't guaranteed.

Nyx gasped for air with lungs that did not exist as she pushed herself to her absolute limit. She blacked out any cameras they passed long before they did so, muted microphones, and sent false dispatches to NCPD to throw the cops off their trail. All the while she was carrying on three separate conversations with dispatchers in an attempt to convince the police that the duo was heading out toward Pacifica, to varying results. They were starting to catch on to her game, but they'd not pinned her yet, a small blessing.

"
No shit," Vex muttered on autopilot as he felt his heart leap into his throat. A stupid grin plastered across his face as he slipped into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut behind him. He wasted little time in unjamming the round that had clogged his .50, his mind a blur as the inertia sent his head back into the seat.

"
Good fucking Lord! Riding dirty my ass! Мы павінны быць мёртвыя дзесяць разоў! / / We should be dead ten times over!" He said-shouted. The runner braced a hand against the door, drew in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, his eyes drifting shut in the process. A few heartbeats passed before his eyes opened again, his tone far more at-ease now. "My netrunner's got them thinking we're heading to Pacifica, though I don't know how long she can keep that up." His gaze darted toward the money bag. "Hope you've got a good bolt hole."

@Ryan Graves


 
Ryan didn't answer right away, too busy ripping out the steering column's casing with practiced efficiency. Wires spilled out like exposed veins, a tangled mess of outdated security that barely slowed him down. His hands were steady despite the aftershock of adrenaline still buzzing through his limbs.

"Yeah, well, dying ain't on my itinerary tonight." He twisted two wires together, got a half-second of resistance before the dash lit up in surrender. The Emperor purred to life. "Neither is rotting in an NCPD cell."

He slammed the panel back into place, eyes flicking up to Vex just as the kid was steadying his breath. Ryan caught the glance at the bag, the weight of it heavy between them, a bag of hot money shards that would be either their salvation or their death warrant depending on how the next few hours played out.

Redline's eyes fell on the road, weaving through Charter Hill's winding streets, head on a swivel for drones or unmarked pursuit. He kept the Emperor steady as they pushed past traffic. Neon billboards flashed overhead, advertising the usual bullshit chrome implants, corpo insurance, and promises of a better life that neither of them would ever qualify for. They hit the underpass toward North Oak, the high-rise luxury apartments fading behind them as they cut across the bridge leading out of Westbrook.

Ryan's grip on the wheel was tight, jaw set as he ran through the mental checklist of every possible tail. The NCPD would be slow to respond here, too much corporate money keeping the peace, but they weren't out of the woods yet.

"Check the mirrors," he ordered, eyes flicking between the road and the rearview. "Let me know if you see anything trailing us."

They cut through a side road near the Columbarium, its towering walls holding the digital ghosts of Night City's dead. He didn't spare it a glance. "We get past Rancho, we're golden." he muttered. He reached for his pack of smokes, knocking one loose with his thumb before sparking it up.

"Good, tell her to keep at it. Yeah, I know a place."



@Vex Kiranova
 


Comedown was always the worst.

He felt his high slipping through his fingers even as more of the glittering vapor filled his lungs. The chemicals intermingling in his private cocktail weren't designed to be administered in such concentrations and Vex was struck with a violent coughing fit as the vapor cooled into the lining that coated his esophagus and lungs. The metal of the door bent beneath his synthetic grasp as he tried to right himself and blink the tears away from his eyes.

"Just the devil," the words wheezed through Vex's chem-stained lips as he leaned back into the seat, spent. His 'ganic eye trailed lazily toward the mirror, "Looks like he's pretty far behind too."

Nyx did her work well. The theft of their car hadn't been reported yet - they were ghosts, far as NCPD was concerned. Pleased, the runner allowed himself the slightest of smiles and indulged his inner world as his eyes drifted toward the kaleidoscope of shapes and color flying by just out the window. His consciousness merged with Nyx's own, the organic feed of his oculars meshing with a dozen other unseen eyes stretched across the city. He watched their car fly across the bridge through a streetcam, clicked his teeth and switched to another angle, then blinked again and returned to realspace.

"Nyx says we've lost them." He added, just as the silver skull that served as her body sputtered to life from its housing his coat. Tiny cerulean engines growled as she hovered a few inches between the duo, compensating expertly for each shift in the car's intertia with tiny bouts of concentrated fire.

"That I do," her voice filtered through a dozen layers of compression, sounding like tin cans banging into one another in just such a way as to resemble language. "Though I imagine our window is of anonymity is closing rapidly. Wherever we're going, get us there quickly," a pause. "A shame about the others."

"Fucked is what it is. Shame is an understatement. Those guys died just to make our pockets richer," Vex's upper lip curled with disgust. "Not a fair trade if you ask me."


@Ryan Graves
 
Ryan kept his eyes on the road, knuckles tight around the Emperor's worn steering wheel. The city lights faded behind them, replaced by the industrial husks of Rancho Coronado's half built megastructures and forgotten factories looming like skeletons in the night. The Emperor's engine growled beneath him, the low rumble a welcome distraction from the weight pressing on his chest.

"Fair doesn't mean shit, Vex." Ryan muttered, glancing in the rearview. Empty road. No tails. "They knew what they signed up for. Doesn't mean it ain't fucked, but we don't get to cry about it now."

The Emperor cut through the dark, neon glow giving way to dim halogen streetlights as they neared the outskirts. He spotted the old rundown inn in the distance, the one everyone called 'The Sunset Motel', a relic of the Badlands where Nomads still traded, fixed their rides, or laid low when Night City heat got too hot. For a second, he considered pulling off, but no.

Too close. Too risky.

Ryan pressed on, the air growing heavier, dust kicking up under the wheels as concrete gave way to cracked asphalt and finally, hard-packed dirt. The Badlands stretched ahead in an endless, barren desert. He flexed his fingers against the wheel, tension settling into his shoulders.

He took a drag off his cigarette. Relaxing a little.

"We'll make for Rocky Ridge," he said finally, gaze locked on the horizon. "Ghost town. No eyes, no one poking around unless they're looking for trouble. Hell, half the time there's no power. Just gotta hope it ain't crawling with Wraiths or Shiv."

Ryan smirked dryly, shifting gears as the Emperor roared forward into the desert.

"And if there is, we'll improvise."



@Vex Kiranova
 
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