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Having checked over what you have available in the apartment, there’s really only one thing left to get eyes on; dad’s Quadra. It’s parked a few blocks away, not a long walk, but you haven’t gone to check on it for a week. The spot it’s in is relatively safe, but a determined thief can leave with just about anything if they really want to, secured garage or not, and by Night City standards even a slightly scratched up Quadra is a pretty preem set of wheels. Yeah, definitely best to check.
Wary of danger after the car chase earlier today, you put on the shoulder holster rig and slide your father’s Nue into it… <span class="mu-i">your</span> Nue, you correct yourself mentally. It’s going to take a long time to get used to all of his things being yours. The Nue is a bulky gun, full sized and firing a beefy round, but with the jacket you got from Dakota it almost vanishes when you holster it. You practice drawing it a few times, getting used to the motion. Satisfied, you load up the spare mags and slip them into their pouches as well, finally adjusting everything to a snug fit.
Looking in the mirror, you don’t see yourself. That’s not the Kai you know, not the one that left for a funeral this morning. The blue jacket, the shoulder rig, the <span class="mu-i">gun</span>... No, this is a new you. It has to be, at least until you can figure out some other way to pay for mom.
Heading out the door, you bump into one of your neighbors, she’s a Mox you think, but you barely even say hello - not the friendliest building. The walk to the multi-level parking garage isn’t eventful, and you check in at the security gate with your father’s codes, a bored guard eating buck-a-slice pizza lazily waving you through when the green light flashes. Stepping into the garage’s dirty elevator, you try to ignore the ads covering it from floor to ceiling and tap at the controls; third level.
<span class="mu-b"><span class="mu-i">O-O-O-ORGIATIC! AN EXPLOSION OF FLAVOR!</span></span>
God, you fucking hate those commercials. Makes you want to smash screens or set a S.C.S.M. on fire every time you hear it, consequences be damned. You don’t, of course, but damn that’d be cathartic. The elevator dings open at the third floor, and you step out into the mostly empty level - overhead lighting, concrete pillars, ramps to change levels… It’s basically every other garage in Night City. A couple of other cars are parked here and there, a silver convertible Mizutani Shion catching your eye for a moment - Nova ride, but not yours.
