In one of the booths sequestered in a corner of the Afterlife, you see a man drinking alone. He's got a story to tell but it's not his. The story he tells is of a Night City legend from the Time of Red.
A Solo Netrunner with a heart of gold, a gambler who keeps pushing her luck, a deadbeat sister, a caring fiance, a retired cop, and a corpo heiress. All this describes one person, and you doubt half of these monikers are true. The only thing you know is her name:
Cermia Ranka.
And apparently, she's the type to stick her head in a lion's jaw and smile.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
So you gonk for brains wanna hear about one of the greatest netrunners in Night City? Cermia eh? Look at you noobs; took a couple steps in the Afterlife and now you're busy nosing around. Well, lucky for you, I'm something of a Night City Historian, but drinks are on you, yanno how the throat gets parched, hehe.
Now where to begin, ah!
First, any aspiring netrunners here should not follow Cermia's example. She began and died a solo netrunner; sure, she's teamed up a few but remained mostly solo. Lemme tell you how stupid and high off some good chrome ya gotta be to do that. There would be no one to help you out during a bad op and anyone could come into your set-up and --BANG-- just like that, heh. So don't netrun without a team, got it? Not if you're Rache Bartmoss, but eh, 'nother story that. So anyways, no matter what, you're going all-in all the time. So there's no such thing as a smart Solo Netrunner, only difference between a good one and a bad one is luck. And baby, Lady Luck was her bitch.
Used to be NCPD, that gal, back in the early-40s, and before that, some kind of Arasaka blue blood, like those old money types. Never really got why she ran off from the good life, eh, but what do I know? Corpo politics is messy. Things get muddy the further we get, and I'm guessing y'all don't want the whole biography. Hmmm. Let's start with how she did the one thing most NC legends couldn't do...
Like any good legend's, her story begins in some dingy off-the-grid shack near a town called Laguna...Bends? Used to be a thing before the new dam was built. Eh, whatever, it's all swimming with the fishes now.
This shack we talking bout was.. well ransacked, like some booster gang holed up in there for a day or two. But yeah, it was this abandoned, middle-of-nowhere thing out in the desert. Perfect place to plan and hide and get chromed up by a discrete Rippderdoc if you got the eddies, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
It was one of those odd days where Cermia took a deal directly from a client rather than a fixer. She was arrogant and ballsy like that, and if you were as good as her, then fuck it, ya had the right to be. So there she was at this shack, and -despite how shady this meet-up started to look- she walked in.
The door creaked with its rotting bones, its hinges exposed to the air and rust, threatening to give way. Cermia seemed out of place here, with her leather jacket and black uniform with the words NCPD barely legible, eroded by time. Her wild red mane practically shone within her dark and drab surroundings, depleted of colour and life. It was quiet too, like the grave. Whatever memories this place had were buried and forgotten, just like the rest of y'all be the longer you stay in this city. The Netrunner took small steps as her custom-made optics took it all in, the dented fridge, fallen cupboards, and missing planks. For all intents and purposes, it was empty until--There! Footsteps, two pairs leading into the basement, a trap? Bah, she'll spring it and shake some eddies out of the ambushers. With her hand on her gun of Malorian make, she slowly walked down the stairs leading into a dark abyss. Her optics found nothing, so she kept walking in.
"Yooo," she called out to the gnawing black, "last chance to play nice, 'nnounce yourselves 'fore I blow a hole in both your heads."
"Here" was what Cermia could barely make out, didn't help that it sounded muffled. The lone Netrunner descended and let the abyss swallow her. Eyes alight with scans, she walked towards where the voice was. And if she could just squint her enhanced eyes, Cermia could spot this island of light surrounded by a cloying black sea. Within the island was an equally dark figure, beholding a white tip, hair maybe?
Cermia walked closer, but gradually, shifting in the dark with hand on iron. "You the client?"
"The Night Markets never shut up about you," The mysterious client spoke again with that muffled voice. "Lots of stories, lots of rumours. You the real deal?
"So you are the client, well whatever stories you've heard from those chrome junkies downtown are an understatement. Half the shit I pull off, no one knows. Need info outta something real secure, or do you want all the cameras off while you do your thing, well, I'm your runner, best of the best, and that service comes at a premium," she gloated.
The figure seemed to regard Cermia's pitch for a few moments before something flew from the island, small and imperceptible. Cermia caught it and scanned-- a credit chip. 2000 honest to god EuroDollars.
"Hm, we'll see," the client gestured at the chip, "payment in advance, more to come after," the client said.
Cermia's grin widened to a smile, "well, I like you already." Hand still on the iron, she walked evenly towards the light and got a closer look at the client. It seemed that the client was a she, though half her face was borged up like Smasher. If she looked closely, Cermia could notice burns coming out of the edges of the borged half, like it was trying to seep out of the black metal plates. Her nose and mouth were covered up with a mask, which had armoured tubes coming out and leading into some contraption at the client's back. Her hand was borged up too with one of them gorilla arms, reflecting the single lamp with a bright sheen. Her other half, Cermia noticed, seemed pretty 'ganic, showing a delicate face wrinkled with a lifetime of scowls. Her skin was pale and white, almost incorporeal like a ghost, though her 'ganic hand seemed course and rough, used to the harshness of the earth.
Course, it wasn't just the client she noticed, but the plethora of scalpels and wrenches all around the client's chair. And the dead body.
A pretty heavyset one too, or so I've heard. From what people say they've heard 'bout the coroner's report, the poor gonk's face had been melted off. Anyways--
"And who's this lucky guy?" Cermia asked.
"Him?" the client asked, eyebrows raised before crunching in focus, "Some Ripperdoc I no longer had any use for," she spoke nonchalantly.
Cermia's grip tightened on her iron, "So am I gonna end up like him after we're done?"
The client had the gall to look annoyed, "Not if you're stupid, no. Besides, me and him... the fat lard had it coming," The woman's eyes lit up as windows appeared on Cermia's screen, "I'm sending you the detes for your first missio--"
"First mission, whoa, slow down. What do I look like, some kinda "contractor" to you, and who calls it mission anyway? You a suit? Cause my rates are higher for Corpo jobs, and no teams and bodyguards, get it?" Cermia declared. Being a former Corpo meant she knew how they treated mercs like her. She remembered when Arasaka Counter Intel gunned down a merc that another department of the megacorp hired. Had security personnel teamed up with the poor bastard and shot him after a job. Tying loose ends, they called it. Screamsheets were alight with a Cyberpsycho attack on Militech a day later. No mention of Arasaka's involvement.
But that was ancient history, back when Cermia worked security for the NC Division of Arasaka R&D back in '39, that was when her sister used to run the department. It was amusing to read about in a report, but now that she was a merc, Corpo skullduggery became a more present danger. They at least gave you a modicum of consideration if you donned the suit, but mercs were used and tossed out like rags.
"I assure you," the woman replied, "I'm very well alone."
"We'll see about that, choom." Cermia took her hand off her iron, "if I smell something's off, were done. Now, whaddya got for me?" Cermia asked while scratching the back of her neck.
A request lit up for data transfer within Cermia's hud. It was mildly impressive but expected, considering the eddies she's been given in advance. Since the 4th Corporate War, the surviving Local Net architecture was still in recovery, meaning data transfer from one neuralware to another was done through interface plugs, DataTerms or other analog means. That didn't mean wireless transfers were impossible; only that neuralware that could do it securely came at a premium. Cermia's curiosity grew evermore.
She accepted the transfer, and schematics popped up on her HUD. Building plans, files, recorded messages, profiles, the works. The target was a Raven Microcybernetics warehouse in Heywood.
"It'll be a retrieval op," the client said, " a data chip they have no right to own. You in?"
Cermia scoffed, "With what you're paying me? Course I'm in."
"Nova," the client spoke, "name's Jeanne, and we'll be seeing each other a lot if you pull this off."
Cermia grinned. "The best kind of reward for good work is more, eh? Only if you got the eddies for em."
"You will be paid handsomely."
"Preem."
Cermia delta out of there after some haggling but didn't get to work immediately. Instead, she consulted a good friend who just happens to be her ripper doc. One Eirin Yagokoro. The good doctor's clinic was holed up in some small corner in the Watson development district, which would later become Kabuki. Back then, there were several small clinics there, popping up left and right, and Eirin's practice was one of them. Called it: Eientei, House of Eternity. Pretentious if you ask me, but that's what you get with those eccentric academic slobs. It wasn't even connected to any major roads, but secreted within back alley after back alley, had to go through a maze of homeless tents and slums before reaching it.
Those with little to no eds to call their own loved Eientei, with their great prices and sometimes even free meds. It was a breath of fresh air from all the two-bit practitioners selling their stocks with massive markups. But if you gonks ask me, I doubt Eirin did any of it out of the goodness of her own heart; from what I've heard about the good doctor, she didn't come off as some Mother Theresa type. And the thing about homeless people was they didn't have any medical records except for the ones kept by her. No one bothered to make one but her, and any way to check now is impossible, considering she left Night City. Look, I'm not saying she's tested em like guinea pigs, but I wouldn't be surprised if some poor bastard died of a mystery illness.
That was the sort of friend Cermia kept after her tenure in the NCPD.
Cermia entered the pristine interior of Eientei, filled with all types of patients: jittery vets, kids with stumps for arms, and chrome junkies. Several clerks walked to and fro, grabbing prescriptions and writing them up. It was hard to hear her own thoughts in the controlled chaos of a crowded clinic as arguments and complaints popped out left and right, melding into a grumbling cacophony. A somewhat flustered woman nearly bumped into the netrunner with a crate full of meds for a truck, delivering it to who knows where.
"Sir, I-I'm afraid we don't have any more in stock--"
"How the hell am I supposed to make it through the week!"
"U-um, if you had followed the dosag---"
"New chrome arms kid, excited?"
"Hmm."
"Cheer up; it'll be better than your old 'ganic one for sure."
Now you might still be wondering what made Cermia such a special netrunner back then? It's a fair question. So far, I've only shown her acting like some hotshot solo with some preem Neuralware. Now, remember what I said about custom-made eyes? Well, it allowed her to access Net Architecture without the need for virtuality goggles. Coupled with a one-of-a-kind cyberdeck hidden in her neck to get into access points inconspicuously. So yeah, she wouldn't look out of place with the netrunners of today, with their slim decks and such. Which meant she was ahead of other runners in '45. Not too shabby, eh? But if you wanna know what made her NC legend material...then listen on.
The world dissolved into mere lines of code, waxing and flowing to form the clinic's own NetArc. The local architecture was unusually preem for something dedicated to a control node for cams, but Cermia had jacked into Eirin's clinic enough times to not be surprised. It was something of a ritual for her and good practice. Ever since she first hacked into the clinic and encountered a Kraken Black Ice that nearly fried her, Cermia knew there was something more to this "doctor". Clinic Net Architecture are generally secure but not corp facility secure, and curiosity kept getting the better of her. So she resolved to find the architecture's root however she could. And besides, what's a little hacking between friends.
After a bit of pathfinding, Cermia took out some Skunks Black Ice with her Sword program and proceeded to reach the next level. But an interruption made her jack out and return to the 'ganic realm.
"Cermia!" A purple-haired girl called out, sporting permanent bags under her eyes.
"Reisennnn, hows biz?" Cermia replied back affectionately.
"Never better," though from her tone, it sounded like she wished it was worse as she bounced with nervous energy. Poor girl needed some shut-eye, but Eirin was ever the harsh taskmaster. "Yagokoro-sama will be seeing you soon."
Ding!
The light above the door leading into Eirin's office pinged green. Though above that very light was the unopened plate of the ceiling turret. Welcoming, but cautiously so.
"Ah, oh, she'll be seeing you now, then!"
"Fucks this?!"
"There's a line bitch."
"Probs got some kind of premium package or some bull."
Poor Reisen looked even more nervous, but Cermia gave her a consoling pat on the shoulder and went ahead.
The moment she entered Eirin's office, the door closed automatically, and silence reigned. It was as if she entered a world wholly separate from the one outside. A world in which Eirin was its god.
The first and most overwhelming thing Cermia noticed was the air, so sterile and cold you could almost taste the refrigerant spilling out of the AC. The interior itself was a blinding white, but lacked the sleekness found in Corpo medical centres. Practical and straightforward without any pretension, which completely clashed with the clinic's own name. On her shelves were unbranded drugs in bland white casings, with the names written in a thick black font. The doctor preferred to make her own drugs when she could, and considering the turnout outside, she was good.
The complete blandness of her office made Eirin, scribbling something on her desk with her red and blue suit, stand out all the more.
"Business or pleasure?" Eirin asked, eyes still on her desk. Her voice sounded quite pleasant to Cermia's ears, a mix of crisp and ethereal, like an angel in a suit. It twinkled the neurons in the horndog parts of her brain, and though she figured Eirin was probably single, it was a gamble she had little to no chance of winning. Though it didn't stop her from pushing her luck.
She started small and subtle, leaning onto Eirin's desk, "Both, baby," she spoke with a smooth grin. The doctor stopped writing and stared blankly in thought. For a short moment, there was only silence, one that raised Cermia's anticipation. Had she finally gotten through?
Click!
Eirin had pressed a button underneath her desk, and the walls behind her slowly unravelled to reveal a sight Cermia was very used to. The operating room. Eirin looked up at Cermia with a raised eyebrow.
"This again?" the doctor asked.
The netrunner replied with a shrug, "Just shooting my shot," she said, still grinning.
"Then shoot better."
Cermia's excitement rose, "That means I got a chance?"
"No," Eirin spoke matter of factly, "but it would make it more tolerable."
The runner's head fell in defeat, "Ughh, I might as well not shoot at all," she whined.
Eirin gave Cermia a small mocking smile, "You can always do that." The doctor rose as Cermia groaned, "come." Eirin lead the merc to the operating room. It was as sterile and white as her office, though much more crowded. Sleek machines of every type and medical use filled the room to the brim, and Cermia had to consciously remind herself that she was in a back alley clinic, not a research facility. Eventually, she'll reach the root, and Cermia will finally find out where the hell Eirin was getting all this preem gear from and how someone like her turned into a back alley doc. She figures Eirin had to come from some megacorp and still had some old friends backing her, though likely not Arasaka; her old contacts in the corp's NC branch had said as much.
"Not even a little?" Cermia asked.
"I'm afraid you're much too young," Eirin replied.
"Oh thats gonk; I'm 27!" Cermia said as she got onto the operating chair, "how old are you anyway?!"
"A rather rude question," the doctor spoke before donning her mask and gloves. She grabbed for a tray with a multitude of sophisticated power tools, and cybernetic limbs, "and speaking of, don't think I haven't noticed you hacking my systems again. I didn't upgrade your cyberware just for you to use it on me."
"Yeah, but eddies are eddies, eh? Still haven't punished me yet." Cermia spoke with her cocksure attitude, pushing her luck as usual.
"What is there to punish? No harm had or will be done. It is simply an annoyance."
Cermia's eyes took a dangerous glint, "s'that a challenge?"
"If you wish it to be," Eirin sat on her stool and grabbed her PDA, causing the machines around her to whirl to life, raising their scalpels and drills. A small roomba-like machine pulled a large cart of cyberware as Eirin initiated a diagnostic, "your plug, please."
Cermia did as she was told and lifted her hand towards Eirin, revealing her interface plug to the doctor. Eirin jacks the PDA into the plug as it lights up with data.
"Your cyberdeck is working optimally; hotspots are within acceptable ranges. Your eyes require a driver update, but the rest is working adequately. Would you like an upgrade?"
Cermia gave it some thought, "got a heist coming up, any reccs?"
Eirin clicked on her PDA, "I have a salvaged Militech Ghostsuit in storage; I can have it restored and have my associate improve it to current standards." Ah, right, associates...Eirin had a lot of associates.
"Estimate and ETA?"
"Above 10k, and 4 days if all goes well."
Cermia shook her head, "don't got the edds or the time. S'there anything 2k can get me now?" What's left unsaid was that she had 10k eddies a week ago but gambled it off.
Eirin tapped rapidly on her PDA, "I can improve your eyes, increased magnification alongside improved control node detection."
"Improved how?"
"Longer range and the ability to detect connected devices without needing to hack an access point. Is this to your liking?"
"That it does, doc. Won't do anything to the Cyberdeck will it?"
"Not in any drastic way, no."
"Nova," Cermia shifted herself and braced for the descending machines with their implements of torture or medicine, depending on your perspective. With a bit of anaesthetic, the removal of her eyes was painless and smooth despite the sudden loss of sight.
She hears metal clicks and claps as Eirin dissects Cermia's eyes. "Now, about business..."
"Ah, right..." Cermia intoned, "got hired by this client, called herself Jeanne. White hair, borged up on the left side, 'ganic on the right. Got a profile on her?"
There was some silence in the room as Eirin paused to think, "I'm afraid I do not, but perhaps one of my associates does."
"Which associate is this? Knee-High, or They-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named?"
"The Informant, Cermia," Eirin softly chided since the answer was obvious. The doctor had little patience for useless questions, even rhetorical ones.
"Right, Knee-High. You should send me her contacts; reaching her like this is a hassle."
"It is not mine to give; why not ask her yourself?"
"You know she won't."
"And neither will I."
Cermia felt a jolt of electricity course up her spine and into her head. With a sudden flash of light, her sight returns and normalises. In her HUD were lines of code floating from one part of the room to another, leading to a control node connected to many more lines.
"Works like a charm, doc," Cermia praised, handing Eirin her credit chip.
"Good," Eirin said as she cleaned up, "the associate will meet you behind the clinic." Then, as Cermia rose towards the backdoor, Eirin called out to her, "You know Cermia, if you'd like earn 100 thousand Eurodollars you can always lend me your Cyberdeck." Cermia gave Eirin a guarded look as her hand covered her neck. " The ability to upload demons into a Body-Area-Network is...unique, and I would like to examine your sister's work and learn to replicate it."
Cermia shook her head without hesitation, "Nah doc, 'Deck's not for sale."
The good doctor leaned forward towards Cermia, with an eyebrow raised, "but I thought, "eddies were eddies, eh?"" Eirin shot back.
"Can't risk you tampering with it and breaking it. Not a chance."
For the first time, Cermia saw a nearly imperceptible hint of bewilderment on Eirin's face, "A surprising thing to hear from you."
"Get used to it, 'cause I'm full of surprises," Cermia gloated, the corny bastard, with her hand at the back of her neck. Eirin gave Cermia a scrutinising look before acquiescing. When the runner reached the empty alleyway behind the clinic, no one was there. So she leaned next to a wall and waited; Knee-High loved to come in her own time. It didn't matter if Cermia had to wait for hours or even days. It didn't help that she had a habit of--
"Yo."
-- Sneaking up to people.
Cermia forced all her energy into her composure to not flinch at the sudden presence. The runner tilted her head down to see one Tewi Inaba barely surpassing Cermia's stomach in height. The girl was as cute as a button, but her personality was anything but.
"Knee-High!" Cermia exclaimed with mocking affection.
"Wastrel!" Tewi shot back with a smile before getting serious, "Eds first and then talk. Make it fast, caught me in a busy time."
Cermia took out a bundle of Eurodollar bills and passed them on to Tewi, "Least you didn't leave me up to dry for a day this time."
The girl shrugged as she grabbed the bundle, "You just happen to be close by," she counted the bills to make sure they were right. And they were, 250 eds she counted, which was her base "consultancy" fee. Tewi's primary profession was unknown to Cermia, but her side hustle was trading in information. The girl had a knack for knowledge and had ears everywhere. However, she didn't give out information wholesale to any buyer, which would be bad for business. Instead, she gave out intel piece by piece, starting from vague hints to those who paid the base fee, and if you wanted to know more, you had to pony up. Of course, someone with that scheme wouldn't attract any buyers, it's practically extortionate, but her intel was that good. Hell, Cermia wouldn't be surprised if the intel she had during her Corpo and NCPD days came from Tewi.
"Jeanne, that name ring a bell?" Cermia asked, " borged up on the left--"
"-- and 'ganic on the right? I've heard of her," Tewi said. Great, this simplifies things. "Big name in Shinjuku, last seen living it up with some Corpo prince who styled himself as King Arthur before the bombings." Ah the Shinjuku Bombings...Hit the screamsheets a couple years back, some sort of Yakuza turf war gone wrong, gone terroristic even. Cermia never bothered looking it up since it was half a world away, but with Jeanne here, she might need to revisit. "Had blonde hair back then; both of them did," Tewi elaborated, "was all 'ganic before the bombs, which seemed weird to me. Can't get that high up the ladder without some chrome; maybe they went for bioware instead, but I didn't see anything obvious, so who knows.
"That explains the burns," Cermia remarked.
Tewi nearly jerked with surprise, "you've seen her?"
"I'll tell you only if you answer one question, on the house," Cermia offered.
"Sure."
"Is she part of a corp or some type of org?" Cermia asked.
Tewi scrunched up in thought, her eyes lighting up, "Back then, yeah, she was, but now?" she shrugged. "Used to work under some old dude called Artisan Mori, migrated from England before Arasaka and Militech's tussle escalated into a shooting war. Other than that, I got nothing on organisation, survivors, and what they were doing. Nothing. They were thorough," suddenly she perked up, "She did have a nickname, though, in the Yakuza world rather than the public one, I mean."
"And they were?"
"Ah-ah," Tewi tutted, "tell me how you saw her first."
"Tch," Cermia had half-hoped Tewi would forget, " Got a call from her, and she hired me for a job."
" I see..." Tewi's cybernetic eyes light up, staring out to the street. "Right," Tewi continued as her eyes dimmed, "money first if you wanna know names."
"But my info has got to be worth two questions!"
"Debatable, but we only agreed on one anyway," Tewi beckoned Cermia for more cash, and with a sigh, the Netrunner gave Tewi a smaller bundle this time, Tewi accepted. "In public, they called her the "Golden Saint", which she earned during her modelling career. Yakuza knew her as "The Witch of Shinjuku." Mainly due to her brutality, and this is before getting borged up. Fits with the Police reports involving a spike of barely recognisable corpses in Yakuza establishments. Bodies were either charred or had their heads squashed like a melon. " Ominous, but Cermia's used to ominous.
"Thanks, Tewi. I--"
"You know you're not the first to ask about her in Night City, right?"
Cermia widened her eyes, " Who else?"
Tewi wiggled her eyebrows and brought her hand up. That was the annoying part about her, sending in bait like that. And Cermia knowingly falls for it hook, line, and sinker cause she can't help herself. Another bundle landed on Tewi's hands.
"He didn't come to me, but my Rabbits saw the guy asking around in the Night Markets. Dark skin, short white hair, and held a pair of guns my girls had never seen. There were blades attached to the barrels, so it must've been custom-made. Looked like a hardened solo, but the way he walked and talked screamed spook. Girls said he "practically glowed in the dark.""
"Cause spooks glow, huh?" Tewi nodded, "guy had a name?"
"It'll cost ya," Tewi spoke with a greedy smile. Until they heard a car swerve and crash. Moments later, they hear the report of gunfire and the shouting of demands, mainly for immunosuppressants. Tewi groaned in frustration, "another booster gang raid...why don't you just pay for it, you fucks. Too busy for this shit."
"I can flatline them quick and clean. No edds needed; just give me the name." Cermia offered.
Tewi gave a sardonic smile and chuckled, "You slimy sonnuva... fine, the name's Emiya. Go crazy."
"Preem," and with that, Cermia sped out into the street.
She was greeted with the sight of a smoking truck, its contents spilling out from the back. Several of Eirin's employees crawled out of the truck, bleeding, while some ways away were Maelstrommers shooting into the sky. Their ramshackle car was driving towards the truck while one Maelstrommer was busy looting.
Remember when Eirin talked about Body-Area-Networks? Let's just say that the booster gangs stood no chance against Cermia.
Cermia's neck became scorching hot as her deck worked overtime; demons seeped into one of the gangers and caused a short circuit. The ganger slumped to the ground and collapsed.
"Ha!" One of the Maelstrommers exclaimed, "that's why you don't cheap out chrome choom!"
Boom!
The gang's driver sported a new fist-sized hole at the back of his head. His over-chromed neuralware had blown up like a grenade in his skull. Without a driver and a corpse's leg at the pedal, the car crashed into the middle of the street.
"Holy mother-shit!" Cermia took out her Malorian and plugged the confused ganger full of lead. Four loud and deafening bangs echoed throughout the street, drowning the death cry of a dying man. What fell on the ground wasn't a body but a flesh-like beanbag covered in red mulch. The last thing the ganger saw was Cermia's wide grin. She lived for this shit.
The last ganger, the looter, came out of Eirin's truck and, within seeing Cermia, immediately brought up his gun to shoot. The Netrunner didn't bother to dodge, as a particularly nasty demon finally rezzed up within the ganger's cyberware. He froze up, his red metal eyes rapidly moving about in confusion until his hand grew a mind of its own and pointed his own gun at his head. From that came distress; luckily, he still had control of his vocal cords, but he could only voice his confusion and despair. To salt the wound, Cermia smiled and placed a finger-gun to her head and--
Bang!
Now you gonks know how she became a legend? Let me spell it out for the people that just came here. The motherfucker had figured out quickhacks in '45!
