Eroking
patreon
Chapter 87: Gloria
🕑 Added 2025-11-15 13:01:10 +0000 UTCChapter 87: Gloria
In this procurement process, a key asset played a vital role—Gloria Martinez.
Gloria was an Emergency Medical Technician working for the Night City Trauma Center. In her late thirties, her face carried the permanent exhaustion of a life spent in overwork, the dark circles under her eyes too deep to be hidden by makeup. Her hands were dry and pale from constant washing and medical gloves. She was of average height, slender, yet possessed a wiry strength from hauling gurneys and gear.
She typically wore a faded blue medical uniform under a multi-pocketed utility vest, stuffed with trauma-supplies and personal items. She was a single mother, raising her middle-school-aged son, David. To give him a better life, she worked twelve-hour-plus rotating shifts, her sleep schedule a chaotic mess.
She lived in a low-to-mid-range apartment in Heywood, where the rent was cheap but the security was questionable. Her single, driving ambition was to get David into the prestigious Arasaka Academy, to lift him out of the gutter, a goal that required a mountain of eddies for tuition.
To raise this money, Gloria worked a side-hustle, a gray-market job that exploited her position: she was a body-harvester.
Unlike the psycho-scavengers who would zero a living person for their chrome, Gloria's code was strict: she only harvested from the confirmed-dead. Using her technical skills and access, she would carefully, and quickly, extract valuable, intact cybernetics from the deceased before the official medical-retrieval teams or the NCPD processed the scene.
It was a job that walked the knife-edge of legality and morality, and it was filled with risk. She had to avoid the suspicion of her colleagues and the law, confront horrific, bloody scenes, and deal with black-market buyers. But she had no choice. This "side-hustle" was the only way to pay for her son's tuition.
Maine's crew had established a connection with her months ago. Gloria had been on a night-run when a gang of gangers tried to hijack her harvest. Maine's crew, on a nearby gig, had intervened.
Afterward, they realized the value of her steady supply of "fresh" chrome, and she realized the value of their fair, reliable payments.
As Maine's crew, now under Joric's directives, increased their demand, Gloria worked harder. She took bigger risks, using her access at the trauma center to monitor every incident-report that might yield "high-value" parts. She was like a vulture, arriving first on the scene or getting inside-intel on morgue-transport routes.
"Got another one. 'K-Tech 4-series' Sandevistan. Some scorch marks, but the core unit should be intact." At a quiet, back-alley meet, Gloria handed a sealed, refrigerated case to Maine. Her voice was tired, but relieved. "Pulled it off an Animal sub-boss. Caught a stray round to the neck during a firefight with the Moxes."
Maine opened the case. The neural-booster, submerged in bio-preservative, looked complex and valuable, even with the damage. He nodded, handing Gloria an envelope thick with non-sequential euro-bills. "Good work, Gloria. Upped the price ten percent, like we discussed. These are in high demand."
Gloria quickly counted the cash, her face breaking into a rare, genuine smile as she secured it. "Thanks, Maine. That's... that's another piece of David's tuition." She paused. "Heard things are hot in Charter Hill. Some NetWatch suit was found in his apartment. If you're interested in that kind of 'hardware,' I can... see what I can find out."
"Keep us posted. Encrypted channel, usual rules," Maine said, not asking for details. "And be safe. You smell trouble, you walk away."
Gloria nodded, zipping the envelope into a deep inner pocket. She had already mentally allocated the funds: tuition account, rent, utilities, David's after-school tutors. She rarely bought anything for herself. The jacket she wore was three years old, the soles of her boots worn smooth. But every time she saw David's grades, or noticed he'd grown another inch, it was all worth it.
On the way back to her post, Gloria checked her own gear. A small-caliber pistol was hidden at the bottom of her med-kit, a self-defense measure she'd been forced to adopt. As an EMT, she knew better than anyone how fragile life was. As a mother, she had to be strong enough to see David through.
Maine's crew returned to the desert bastion with the new harvest.
They delivered the Sandevistan, along with other modules, cyberdecks, and reinforced limbs they had acquired, to the designated drop-zone at Joric's sanctum-entrance.
They never lingered. They simply left the "tithe" and departed, not daring to disturb the entity within. They could feel that Joric approved of these offerings. Occasionally, he would send a directive via a servo-skull, requesting a specific type of cyberware, or noting a particular interest in one of their deliveries. When that happened, the crew would hunt for it as if on a holy quest.
This work was not without its own price. They were drawn deeper into the city's shadow-conflicts. Once, while picking up a set of "Gorilla Arms," Rebecca and Pilar were ambushed by a rival crew. A high-speed firefight erupted at another derelict gas station, and they only escaped thanks to Rebecca's plasma pistol and Falco's driving.
"We're on the radar," Maine summarized afterward. "Not just the corps. Other crews. They're noticing our haul. They either want a piece, or they want to know who we're working for."
But they didn't stop.
The burning desire for their own custom augmentations, and their profound awe of Joric's power, drove them to continue the hunt. Every time they delivered a new, high-grade piece of chrome to the sanctum, they hoped... maybe this would be the tithe that was finally enough. Maybe this time, the "Boss" would summon them, and begin the transformation he had promised.
Their new bastion in the desert was becoming a true, fortified home. But they all knew their real security didn't come from its thick walls. It came from the silent, crimson-robed figure in the sanctum next door, and the impossible, transcendent power he commanded.
(End of Chapter)
