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Naomi is watching the bloodsports going on. Somehow you're not shocked at this. She's rubbing at a sore, reddened spot on her neck; You assume that's where she installed her implant.
"So, Naomi, how'd the talk with your mom go?" It's a bit of a rough opening but you are curious.
"It was a long talk. There were some grievances we had with other. Stories about what I used to do, what she used to do." She takes a moment to recompose herself before talking. "The exact details don't matter but we both knew we were going to die soon. What use is there dying with unresolved grievances?"
"Considering how long it took for you two to reunite, I imagine it couldn't have been pretty."
"It was not. I...thank you for leaving while you did." An uncharacteristically pathetic sounding laugh comes out of Naomi. "Felt like a little girl being yelled at again. It was rather undignified."
"I assume that was over your past as a Silver?"
"Indeed. Though, I suppose it's not my past anymore." She lowers her hand to reveal the mangled spot on her neck she sliced open to put the implant in. It's taking a while for it to seal shut, presumably due to her old age.
"Guess this must've been a good mission for you then, huh? Being able to regain your old glory and all of that."
A sadistic smirk crosses Naomi's face. "Indeed. I feel younger than I've ever felt in my whole life. I have to admit, you were a gamble to work with on first but you've certainly proven yourself to be a worthwhile ally."
"Calm down with the smile, you look like a supervillain."
Naomi's smirk immediately deflates. "Feh."
"I'm glad you're regaining some of that lost glory without, you know, being a threat to me."
"Betraying you would not be worth it. My former allies would still hate me, I would have more threats against me, and you're FAR more useful than my old allies anyways." She glances back up at the ring. "Seems like it's your time to shine. Prove me right."
The boxing ring is now empty. The first one to step into the ring is a man that's a mountain of muscle and tattoos. He looks like he's a gang leader or something and given all of the scars covering his chest, he's seen a few too many fights over his life.
You gulp. Even with all of your cybernetics and training, you're not exactly the best hand-to-hand fighter. You pull out your phone to make a quick phone call before entering. The Handler immediately picks up.
"Heyo. Done with the mission?"
You promptly ramble into the speaker about everything you've done over the last, what, eight or so hours down there in that godless facility?
The only response you get at first is a single low whistle over the phone. It takes a moment for him to process everything. "Hm. Hot. Gotta say, Nicky, all of this shit you keep pulling <span class="mu-g">is gonna send your name to the stratosphere.</span> Shit, I heard some dudes over at fuckin' B-Corp talking about you."
[SEEKER OF THE CITY] Wait- B-Corp? Part of the Head? That B-Corp?
