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In the quiet of Room 604, David sat across from his mother, picking at a dinner that tasted mostly of preservatives and disappointment. The silence was punctuated only by the mechanical hum of the apartment's ventilation.
The conversation had started with the usual—Arasaka Academy, grades, the crushing weight of expectations—but it eventually drifted to the new occupant of 603.
"David, you can talk to Jax if you need to, but stay far away from that woman, Sasha," Gloria said, her voice dropping into a tone of maternal warning that brokered no argument.
David looked up, a piece of synth-protein halfway to his mouth. "You're the one who made me bring them food. What changed?"
Gloria sighed, looking at her son with a weary, knowing gaze. "Don't think I haven't found those braindances you hide under your bed, David. I know you're curious about the 'Life.' But I know an edgerunner when I see one."
She had seen it the moment Sasha smiled. It was in the way her eyes scanned the hallway, the subtle bulge of a holster beneath a jacket that was far too cute for a civilian, and the callouses on her hands. Sasha was a professional—a ghost who lived in the wires and bled for eddies.
"You went through my room again!" David snapped, his face flushing. He was nearly sixteen; privacy was the only thing he had that didn't belong to Arasaka or his mother.
"Sit down," Gloria said sharply. "I'm not judging you for watching them. But watching is a fantasy, David. Interacting is a death sentence. Your future is in the high-rises, in a suit, working for Arasaka. You aren't like them."
David bit back a retort. He looked at his mother's faded uniform and the bags under her eyes. She was heading back out at 7 PM to scrape more bodies off the pavement just to keep him in a school that hated him. He looked down at his plate, the fire in his chest dying down into a cold, familiar embers.
"I know how they treat you," Gloria whispered, her voice softening until it barely carried across the table. "But the Corp is the only way out. It's the only way to... freedom."
She sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as him. She stood up, ruffling his hair with a forced smile, and disappeared out the door into the neon-choked night.
David sat alone for ten minutes, staring at the empty chair. Finally, he stood up and began clearing the table, his movements mechanical.
"Whatever," he muttered, collapsing onto the sofa. "It's not like I have dreams anyway."
Skyscraper H4, Room 603.
In the apartment next door, the vibe was entirely different. Sasha was draped over the sofa, her head hanging off the edge, black hair sweeping the floor. Her eyes were pulsing with a steady, orange-yellow light—the universal sign of a long-distance neural link.
The light flickered out, and she flipped herself upright, sitting cross-legged. She looked at Jax, who was finishing the last of the meat rolls Gloria had brought over.
"Maine's bringing a new recruit by tomorrow morning," she said.
"Why here?" Jax asked, wiping his hands.
"Because you're car-less and Pilar is busy. He took a contract to pull some poor bastard out of a 6th Street garage. A hundred and twenty thousand if he's breathing, fifty thousand if he's just a bag of meat."
"Fifty thousand for a corpse?" Jax's eyebrows shot up.
Sasha gave him a look of weary exasperation, pointing to her temple. "It's not the body, Jax. It's the data on the shard in his head. Corpses don't talk, but they sure as hell record."
"What time?"
"Seven AM. We're scouting the area, and Maine wants us to get 'acquainted' with the new girl. Wants to see how two netrunners play together in the sandbox."
Jax paused. A cold realization began to settle in his gut. In the timeline he knew, Maine only recruited more runners—Kiwi and Lucy—after Sasha was gone. But here she was, eating his neighbor's food.
"Why the extra muscle?" Jax asked. "You're the best ghost I've seen."
Sasha smiled, but there was a trace of something vulnerable behind it. She liked that he said "our" crew. She had decided Jax was like Rebecca—hiding a heart behind a wall. Rebecca used rage; Jax used a quiet, stoic distance.
"Maine thinks I need a backup," Sasha said, her tone light but defensive. "Thinks that on big jobs, one person in the chair isn't enough. One to dive, one to watch the physical perimeter and the local ICE. After what happened at Biotechnica... I'm not exactly in a position to argue."
Jax nodded slowly. The butterfly effect was in full swing. If Sasha lived, the crew's structure was shifting.
Wait, he thought. If Kiwi joins now... will there even be a spot for Lucy?
The future of Night City's most famous tragedy was drifting off-course, and he was the one holding the rudder.
"Anyway, it's late," Sasha said, standing up and reaching for her pink heels.
Jax stood as well. He looked at the door, then back at her. "Want me to walk you back?"
Sasha paused, her hand on the doorframe. She looked back at him, her eyes narrowing playfully. "What's this? Worried about me, or just trying to find out where I sleep?"
"If you don't want me to—"
"I didn't say that. But you don't have a ride. How are you going to get back? Walk through Rancho Coronado at midnight?" She tossed something small and metallic toward him.
Jax caught it. An electronic key fob with a Maneki-neko—a lucky cat—charm dangling from it.
"Use my bike," she said, her cat-smile returning. She had already synced her data to his door; she could walk into his life whenever she wanted now. "Come on, rookie. Don't keep me waiting."
Jax looked at the key, then followed her out into the hall. He passed Room 604, wondering if the boy inside knew that the "normal person" his mother liked was currently armed with a corporate-killer's pistol and the keys to a netrunner's heart.
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