Chapter Text
Only a handful of people were brave enough to wake Ochako Uraraka up before noon, especially on a Sunday morning. Either it was an emergency, or she’d somehow won Night City’s lottery and could finally pay off her ever-mounting debt to her ripper doc. Ignoring the first few pings, she squeezed her eyes shut as best she could, blocking out the mid-morning rays pouring in from her skylight. By the fifth ping, she sat up with a frustrated growl, answering the call without checking the name. “What?” she snapped, hoping that whoever was on the other end understood how cranky she could be without sleep.
“Morning to you too, Ochako,” Izuku’s voice sing-songed through the call, chipper as ever. “Long night?”
Ochako glanced at the scrolling news feed projected on her wall, noting the nine am hour. “You know I worked last night,” she groaned, throwing her blankets back. “Got home at five.” There’d only been two shootings in the four hours she’d been asleep, a record-low for Watson.
“Funny, that’s about the time some guy wandered into the station saying, and I quote, ‘a crazed Mox bitch beat the shit out of him.’ Wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Throwing her feet over the sides of her pallet bed, she stood, stretching out sore muscles. “Sixth Street? Real tall? Can tell he thinks he’s really special?”
“That’d be him.”
“Never saw him,” she teased, walking into her bathroom.
“Ochako,” he said in his flat dad tone.
“Are you asking as my friend, or are you asking as the youngest lieutenant in NCPD history?” she questioned before shimmying out of her underwear to pee.
Izuku sighed on the other line. “You know I’m asking as your friend.”
“Well, then as your friend—”
“Best friend,” he corrected.
“I’ll tell you that he should have kept his hands to himself.”
“He didn’t touch you, did he?” Izuku asked, his tone dropping.
“No,” she answered. “Drunk jerk got handsy with our new hire Rita.”
“Did you have to beat him with a baseball bat, though?”
“Did he have to call me a short slut? No. But these things happen. He ran his mouth and disobeyed the rules. Meeting Betty would have been the least of his worries if Eijirou had been around.”
“Betty?”
“My new bat,” she said as though it were obvious, standing to flush.
“Wait. Are you going to the bathroom right now?” Izuku asked in an offended tone as though she’d never done it before.
“If you didn’t want to hear me pee, you shouldn’t have woken me up,” she said, moving to the sink to wash her hands.
“You’re gross.”
“And you’re judgy.” Ochako glanced in the mirror, making a face at herself before checking the weather and daily news report on the surface. She needed a shower and a haircut, her jaw-length bob having grown unruly and less than flattering in the last month. Pulling her chestnut locks back with an elastic, she poked at her puffy cheeks before blowing a raspberry, turning her mirror off.
In a world where you could look however you wanted to both inside and out, provided you had the eddies, Ochako only wanted to be herself. Well, for the most part. With the exception of her various tattoos and the thin silver line of tech running perpendicular to her ocular bone, everything on the outside was natural-made. It was what was on the inside she’d deliberately put herself into debt for.
Military-grade Karoshi optics. Sub-dermal armor with a Supra-dermal weave. An Arasaka Mk. 4 operating system. And ballistic smart-links in either hand.
All of which was a fancy way of saying that she was good at her job. Really good at her job.
“Anything else, Officer Midoriya?”
“Don’t do that.”
“What? Call you Officer Midoriya?”
“You know I don’t like it.”
“Then come home, dummy. You were the best surveillance tech we had.”
“You have Kyouka,” Izuku reminded her.
“Not the same, and you know it. You could always see the things we missed.”
Izuku took a deep breath. “This is where I’m meant to be, Ochako. Protecting people.”
“I know.”
“And you have to stop beating guys up every other week,” he lectured. “One day, I won’t be able to save you.”
Ochako scoffed. “You’ll always be there to save me.”
“I hope so,” Izuku said, his smile audible. “I should get going. You stay safe, okay?”
“Promise.” Ochako hung up before smiling at a photo of the two of them on the wall taken two years prior at his graduation from the police academy. She’d been so proud of him that day that she was unable to bring herself to feel upset when he moved out, leaving his old life behind.
Izuku, like the rest of Ochako’s found family, had lived with her in the abandoned fire station across from the bar for the better part of a decade, running the odd job to keep the lights on and their bellies full. Lizzie’s Kids. That’s what they’d been called. Ochako, Mina, Izuku, and Hanta: all orphans she’d given second chances to before she died.
After Susie took over ownership of the bar, she allowed the then-teenagers to stay in the only home Ochako had ever known under the protection of the Mox, provided they earned their keep. In Night City, that was more than a fair deal. Over time four became five: a techie named Kyouka joined the fold, editing BD’s for the Mox when she wasn’t busy net running. After that, a nomad named Eijirou showed up, looking to settle down, rounding out the group of delinquent kids.
For a while, life had been perfect. But then they grew up. Hanta was the first to move out, opening a tattoo studio not far from the megacomplexes. Then Eijirou left, taking Mina with him. They hadn’t moved far, finding a studio over a garage where he worked during the day less than ten minutes from Lizzie’s. Kyouka had been next, taking up residence in the bar’s basement where Susie supplied her with ample server space and the bankroll to tinker.
With Izuku working for the PD, it left Ochako all alone, the last of Lizzie’s Kids. Not that her friends didn’t visit, trashing the place anytime they had a party. The scent of old beer hit her as she opened her bedroom door, evidence that entirely too many people had been over the night before. Slipping on her sneakers to avoid sticky floors, she slid down the pole to the first floor, finding Eijirou half-dressed, sprawled across her couch. Beside him in the recliner, Hanta snored away, his signature mohawk spray-painted various shades of neon yellow undoubtedly due to Mina’s handiwork. It’d wash out…hopefully.
“Mornin’ sunshine,” Mina called from the kitchen, the scent of coffee cutting through that of stale booze. Following her nose, she found her best friend in Eijirou’s missing shirt bravely barefoot as she threw together breakfast from whatever was left in Ochako’s fridge. “You’re up early.”
“Izuku called,” she yawned, while Mina handed her a mug of freshly poured coffee. “Some Sixer from last night tried turning me in.”
“Heard you hit that guy pretty hard,” Mina laughed, her entire face lighting up. Ochako understood why the woman was one of Susie’s most sought-after dancers, from her bubblegum pink curls to her completely natural body; Mina Ashido was a walking, talking fantasy. “Dude shouldn’t have touched Rita.”
“That’s what I said!”
“You know Zu is just worried about you, babe.”
Ochako blew out her cheeks in a childish pout. “I can look out for myself.”
“No one is saying you can’t. Zu just wants to make sure that your feisty little mouth doesn’t get you zeroed one day. We all worry about you.”
“That why you guys all crashed here last night?” Ochako asked pointedly.
Mina shrugged. “My legs hurt. Oh, hey! Look what Hanta did,” she said, setting down her mug before lifting her shirt, revealing Eijirou’s name freshly tattooed under the curve of her breast. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
“Susie’s gonna be pissed,” Ochako grinned, leaning closer to inspect the flawless font, all sixteen letters of his name perfectly spaced apart.
“Nah, tit covers it,” she said, dropping her arm for effect. “Anyone who gets that close will have to deal with him.” She pointed toward her sleeping boyfriend. Ochako rolled her eyes before taking a sip of her coffee. “Hanta drew up some chest pieces for Ei. Imagine this face across that chest.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“—ly in love,” Mina added. “And one day, you will be too,” she said, bopping Ochako on the nose as she let her shirt fall back down. “This breakfast is trash wanna go get—?”
“Hey, hold on,” Ochako said, setting her cup down, a call incoming. “It’s Kyouka.”
“Early for her,” Mina said, her smile disappearing.
“Hey, hun,” Ochako answered the line. “What’s up?”
“Got a hit on a weapons shipment,” Kyouka said, her voice flat anytime she talked side jobs. “Maelstrom. Want in?”
“Cut?”
“Lazarus is offering 40% of the sale.”
“And Arasaka? Todoroki Tech?”
“Thirty, each. You know how they are.”
“Stingy jerks,” Ochako scoffed. “Call up Neito at Millitech and tell him we want 45%. The fact that Lazarus even lost shipment to those chrome heads means that whatever they got is worth the price.”
“You’re the boss.”
“No,” Ochako objected. “We’re a team.” Kyouka sent her the details before hanging up. “Morning run?” Ochako asked with a greedy grin as the Mina scraped her now-burnt food into the trash.
“Only if we hit a vending machine first.”
Job runs were always simple: Kyouka ran point from her secure location beneath Lizzie's, Ochako drove, Mina shot things, and Eijirou was there to act as the muscle, should they need it. Everyone had a role to play, and as a result, everyone got an equal cut of whatever they earned.
Provided the job went smoothly.
Chugging her coffee, Ochako ran down to the basement, agreeing to meet Eijirou and Mina at their garage in twenty. For as chaotic and eclectic as her home was, there was one room that was meticulously organized for speed and functionality. Protected with biometrics, the basement to the fire station had been converted into an armory, every gun in Ochako’s arsenal neatly displayed on the walls. Pistols to light machine guns, assault rifles to katanas, Ochako had them all. What money she didn’t spend on food went into her weapons.
Quickly changing into her armored stealth suit, she grabbed her two favorite pistols: the never-miss Yukimura with self-guided projectiles and her Genjiroh; guaranteed to electrocute her target on impact. Not as compact as other models, but they had yet to fail her. Custom holsters on her thigh and waist held them close to her body without hindering her movement in the special-made suit. Slipping an “oh-shit” knife into her boot, she reached for her midnight menpo mask before heading back upstairs, locking the armory behind her.
Being the driver meant that another good portion of her money went into her ride, her baby. A Type-66 Cthulhu, custom-built to feature an extended rear footwell; comfortably seating four. Tuned and maintained by Eijirou, Ochako easily had the fastest car in Watson, if not all of Night City. Which was a damn good thing, too, considering how many times that extra horsepower meant survival.
Hopping in the driver’s seat, she melted into the well-worn leather, anxious fingers gripping around the steering wheel. Luckily the Mox didn’t store much at the firehouse, so Ochako was able to keep her car inside rather than pay for parking. Having wired a relay from her ignition to the garage door, the firetruck-sized bay opened the second she flipped the switch.
The lifted coupe roared to life, the vibration beneath her making her giggle with excitement every time. Her baby wasn’t just fast. It was fun. Barely letting the door open far enough, she stepped on the gas, peeling out onto the street. Zero to sixty in the blink of an eye, the two-second car zipped down the road, effortlessly weaving through traffic toward Eijirou’s garage.
Arriving two minutes early, she found Mina already waiting, wearing a matching bodysuit, her pink menpo pulled up on top of her head. “Hiya, babe,” she grinned, waving with her newest submachine gun, an anniversary present from Eijirou. “Ready to make some eddies?”
“You know it,” Ochako cheered through the window. Waiting for Eijirou to finish getting ready, Ochako called Kyouka, opening a secure line for the duration of their job. Fiddling with the nav, she punched in the coordinates to a rundown hotel in Westbrook, their entry and egress simple enough thanks to an underground parking garage. If it had been any other gang, they’d have hit them at night, but Maelstrom was a special breed of amphetamine-driven cyber psychosis, meaning that they were fully paranoid 24/7.
“Chako Chip!” Eijirou roared from the stairwell leading up to their apartment. Wearing his classic cargo shorts and flame-accented crocs, he flexed through a cut-off Eezy Beef ™ t-shirt, his red menpo wrapped around his fist. Unlike the two women who preferred armored stealth, Eijirou chose comedic graphic tees and comfort. After all, there was nothing stealthy about the 6 foot 7 inch, 300-plus-pound man. Opening the passenger door to let Mina crawl into the back before squeezing himself in, the pure wall of muscle caused Ochako’s car to dip slightly to the right.
“Remind me to have you take a look at the suspension,” she said with a smirk before putting the car in reverse. Not wanting to draw attention given the sheer number of firearms between them and the matching masks that screamed ‘We’re up to no good, officer,’ Ochako kept it just above the speed limit as they cruised through the streets of Night City.
There was an undeniable aesthetic to the city she called home. No matter the borough, no matter the street, Night City was a place that made a person dream big. Ochako was a dreamer above all else. She dreamt of comfort and security, of maybe finding her parents one day, and of finding the kind of love that Eijirou and Mina had.
But she was also a realist, and she knew that no man wanted a woman who regularly beat guys down with a pink aluminum bat named Betty. The first to admit her faults, she was stubborn, reckless, and had a sweet tooth big enough to put NiCola’s synth-sugar refineries to shame. The likelihood of finding a man who was willing to deal with all of that was slim.
“Looks like rain,” Eijirou said, craning his neck to look out the top of the windshield. “S’bad luck.”
“Says you,” Mina scoffed, fiddling with the safety on her gun. “Streets could use some water. Starting to smell like hot sewage around the bar lately.”
“Says the one that’s inside in the aircon all night,” Ochako countered, glancing at her in the mirror.
Eijirou grinned over his shoulder at Mina. “She’s got a point.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you wanted your dick sucked tonight?” Mina teased, sticking out her tongue. He shot Ochako a sympathetic look before shrugging, sinking into his seat. “We should have a party tonight.”
“We just had one last night,” Eijirou whined.
“No, y’all had one. At my place. Without me. Because some of us have to work,” Ochako glared at Mina through the rearview mirror.
“Start dancing, babe, and you can afford to take the night off,” Mina shot back, blowing her a kiss. “Besides, your place is already kind of trashed from last night. What’s a little more? I’ll help clean up.”
“You never clean up.”
“I super-duper pinky-promise I will this time,” Mina pleaded. “C’mon. Couple of Valentino boys keep coming in, real cute. I could invite them. Or maybe call up Denki?”
Ochako cringed at the name but not because she didn’t like him. Denki Kamanari was an absolute sweetheart. And a quasi-famous joytoy that she’d drunkenly hired during a devastatingly long dry spell, trading a subcompact Ruger to the man for what was undeniably fantastic sex. He was a professional, after all. Sure, sex for trade wasn’t outright solicitation, but it still left a bad taste in Ochako’s mouth the following day.
“I don’t know,” Ochako groaned, making a face. “Things are weird.”
“Only because you’re making them weird.”
“I shouldn’t have slept with him.”
“See, I disagree. I think you should sleep with him more.”
“Ei, a little help here?” Ochako looked to the redhead, who was clearly trying to stay out of the conversation. As much as she'd rather not think about him having sex, the feeling was mutual; their sibling-like bond making certain topics awkward.
He turned, his frame pushing the Cthulhu’s alignment with him. “Babe, you know Chako here plans to retire to Saint Mary’s.”
Ochako smacked at his arm, hurting her hand more than his bicep. “I’m not a virgin, dummy.”
“Not yet,” Mina said. “Give it a few more weeks, and it’ll grow right back.”
Ochako smacked him again, Eijirou trying and failing to back away in the cramped car. “What was that for?” he cried.
“Control your woman,” Ochako laughed.
From the back seat, Mina crooned. “Babe, I’m as much your woman as I am his.”
“Not my name under your tit,” she snorted.
Eijirou laughed. “Saw that, did you? Tried to get her to put it above her p—”
“Hey,” Ochako shushed him as the nav announced their destination. “We’re here.”
Slowing their speed, she circled the block once before heading into the garage, everyone pulling on their masks and double-checking their ammo reserves. “You still there, Kyouka?”
“Unfortunately,” her voice came through loud and clear for all three to hear. “Camera’s haven’t shown any movement in or out in the last hour, and I doubt they cared enough to override the feed. Means whatever Lazarus wants is still in there.”
“Alright,” Ochako took a deep breath, pulling her keys from the ignition. “Nice and easy. Quiet drops. I’ll handle countermeasures. Eijirou—”
“Yeah, yeah. Choke ’em out. Hide the bodies.”
“Mina?”
“Watch our six. Try not to get shot.”
“Or stabbed,” Eijirou added.
“Or stabbed,” she agreed with a grin.
“Let’s do this.” Ochako was the first to get out, reaching for her Genjiroh. Just because they were trying to be stealthy didn’t mean she was stupid enough not to be prepared.
Trusting Maelstrom would booby-trap the elevators, they always took the stairs, Ochako taking the lead to sweep for mines. Her optics had cost her a pretty eddie, but their variable settings allowed her to see things like explosives residue and other various chemicals were more than worth the price tag.
“Infrared is pulling signatures from the seventeenth floor.”
“Ugh,” Mina groaned, her objections to climbing that many stairs obvious.
“Any civilians?” Ochako asked.
“Not picking up anything else. Got a sizeable rodent infestation, but that’s about it.”
“Great,” Mina muttered through the comms.
Not exactly thrilled about the overgrown carnivorous rats either, Ochako pressed forward. Round and round they went, worn carpeted stairs leading up to their prize. Even without knowing exactly what type of weapons Maelstrom got their hands on, the fact that all three para-military corporations wanted it meant a big payout for Ochako and her crew. She hoped it would be enough to at least pay down a portion of her debt to Hitoshi.
“You’re getting close. You’ll have two in the hallway. Old blueprints say they’re in room 1523.”
Finally on the seventeenth floor, Ochako stopped, peering around the corner and down the hall. Sure enough, there were two bodies about halfway down. She looked to Mina, who simply nodded, reaching over her shoulder to pull a compact rifle from its holster. Equipped with a silencer, Mina crept behind an overturned Spunky Monkey vending machine, mounting her gun before taking aim at a hanging light fixture on the opposite end of the hall. Squeezing on the exhale she shot, the glass shattering to the floor in spectacular fashion.
The men abruptly jerked toward the direction of the noise, their movements awkward and cumbersome as they went to investigate. If Ochako had to guess they were likely high on Glitter or Taz.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Eijirou charged as quietly as any raging bull could, quickly smashing together the guards' heads, knocking them both unconscious. Turning back, he grinned, giving the girls two thumbs up. Mina silently blew him a kiss that he caught and stuck in his pocket.
Ochako shook her head in amusement, walking down the hall until she hit room 1523. Quickly hacking the lock and deactivating the alarm, she slid it open just enough to peer inside. “How am I looking?”
“Just one body in the first room.”
Motioning to Eijirou, he pried the door the rest of the way open, Ochako standing back to let him through. Shadowing him, Ochako followed leaving Mina to close and secure the door, erasing evidence of their break-in. Eijirou made quick work of the first guy, dumping him in a chest freezer that was, for some reason, in what would have been a living room.
“Uh, guys?” Mina’s low voice came through their links. “There’s body parts.”
“What?” Ochako stopped, looking back at Mina for visual confirmation, finding the woman pointing to a bloodless arm haphazardly strewn across a small table. While Mina had no problem shooting a person, she couldn’t stomach the gore that came after, the decay and composition that began the minute a body went cold.
“I hate this job,” Mina whined.
“Don’t think they’re harvesting, do you?” Eijirou asked.
“Who knows?” Ochako answered. “If we find anyone alive, we’ll call in Trauma.”
He nodded before moving forward, ducking under a human-sized hole in the drywall. The hanging plastic sheeting didn’t exactly inspire confidence that there’d be anyone left alive to rescue. Typically when bodies were being harvested, they were having their cyberware ripped from them while they were still alive. With exception to hardcoded data, the tech that made its way back to the black market had an organic shelf life, meaning that once the host body died, the tech died too.
Hitoshi had explained to Ochako just how scopmunchers pulled it off using cryogenic chambers or ice if they were in a hurry. This was before he assured her that everything he’d installed in her came straight from the manufacturer and not some unfortunate soul’s corpse.
“Three in the next room.”
Eijirou looked back at Ochako, silently explaining that she’d have to take at least one out. Slinking past him, she went for the furthest, coincidentally the shortest, her suit activating to make her nearly invisible. Far enough back to not be heard, Mina counted quietly in their comms. “Three. Two. One.”
Ochako jumped, wrapping her arm around the man’s neck, squeezing as tight as she could to render him unconscious. He flailed in her hold, trying and failing to scream as she clamped her hand over his mouth. Beside her, Eijirou took out the other two with ease. Once the man went slack in her arms, she lowered him, dragging him back and out of the way, hoping no one would find him before they escaped.
The small hall they were in ran in two directions, a door leading left, another hole leading right. It wasn’t ideal to split up, but it’d proven necessary more than once. Eijirou opted for the door while Mina and Ochako took the opposite route, confident that both paths met up in the apartment labyrinth. Anytime they had to separate, Eijirou always became the one-man team, the girls sticking together to watch one another’s backs. Their advantage was speed and stealth, whereas his was size. In the event that shit went sideways, each team could hold their own until backup came.
Stepping into what used to be a kitchen, Ochako nearly threw up; the stench of human decay coupled with the skittering of cockroaches made her instantly regret not having chosen the door.
“I’m going to be sick,” Mina gagged.
Ahead a woman hung from a meat hook chained to the ceiling, beaten and bruised, her optic nerve hanging down from where her eye should have been. “Is she?”
“Dead,” Kyouka answered, saving Ochako from having to check.
“Come on,” Ochako said, grabbing Mina’s hand to lead her out of the room. Switching optics back, she kept an eye out for more traps, her grip on her pistol tightening as they went. Something felt off. “Anything?”
“Clear.”
“Ei?”
“Just fine, Chako Chip,” he said, his voice calm yet wary. If Ochako had to guess, she’d say it was years of co-dependence on the man that left her feeling antsy.
“I’m gonna need a shower after this,” Mina said, gagging again.
“When we get home, baby.”
Ochako focused on how overbearingly adorable her two closest friends were rather than the blood-splattered walls and rats running to and fro. She was so distracted that she missed the tripwire leading into the next room, a piercingly loud alarm screaming the second her boot hit it.
“What happened?” Kyouka all but shouted, her voice barely audible over the incoming gunfire.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Ochako dove, finding cover.
A shotgun blasted in the next room over. “One down!” Eijirou roared. “How many we got?”
“Picking up seven more heat signatures.”
Mina shot Ochako a feral grin that would have made any reasonable person question the woman’s sanity before standing. “It’s my time to shine,” she cheered before unloading lead on the men in the next room. With a wicked laugh, she walked forward through the door that had tripped the alarm. “You’re gonna die, you ugly shits!”
Never one to be left behind, Ochako charged in, noting that Mina had already dropped two men as she pulled the trigger to zero a third. “Behind you,” Ochako snapped, firing off two shots — one to kill, another for good measure.
“Thanks!”
“Incoming.”
Ochako spun, reaching for her other pistol to dual wield, firing four more shots in succession, the two men stupid enough to barrel through the door, dropping to the ground in a lifeless heap. “That’s six.”
Another shotgun blast came from the other room, a body hitting the wall so hard it knocked dust from the ceiling above them. “Seven,” Eijirou added.
“Looks like you’re all clear.”
“Good. Let’s get the cache and get out of here. My skin is crawling,” Mina whined, shimmy-shaking dramatically.
Eijirou stepped into the room, mask pulled up onto his head, motioning for them to follow. “In here.”
Ochako holstered her guns, surveying the room with a look of disgust, pulling off her mask in the process. “Sorry guys,” she apologized, looking back at the tripwire.
“Don’t sweat it, babe,” Mina grinned. “It’d’ve been a boring run if all I got to shoot was a light.” Ochako returned the smile before heading to check out the already stolen weapons they were re-stealing.
“Hold on a second.” Kyouka seemed hesitant, which was never a good sign. “There’s someone else.”
“Maelstrom?”
“No. Ran another sweep to be safe. Body temp is so low I only caught the heartbeat on echo. Think you might have a survivor in there.”
“Go ahead and check it out,” Mina told her. “We’ve got this.”
Ochako nodded before heading into the last room, covering her face with her elbow as she entered. Sourcing the scent of decay they’d been following, she was greeted with piles of limbs and bodies on top of an old bed, rats and maggots following nature’s order. She wondered if her parents had ended up in a room like this, their fates met by scopmunchers. Death was commonplace in Night City, though scenes like the one before her were rare and only found by those looking for them. It was moments like this where Ochako honestly considered quitting the merc work to become a dancer like Mina.
“Looks…lovely.”
“I hate this. Wanna trade jobs? I sit in the comfy office, and you come deal with this?”
“Not a chance.”
Forcing herself to look away, she moved toward the ensuite bathroom, preparing herself to find more unfortunate souls no one would claim. Instead, she was met with one fully intact body halfway submerged in a bathtub full of ice water. It had to be whoever Kyouka picked up on the scans.
“Crap!” Ochako ran toward the tub, her gun clamoring to the floor as she assessed the situation. The man was too tall, too large for her to try and move herself even with her latest bone upgrade. “Eijirou!” Grabbing the blond by the face, she forced an eyelid open, dilated pupils proving unresponsive.
“You have to be quick,” Kyouka spoke. “His pulse is dropping.”
Eijirou burst into the room, Mina hot on his heels. “Shit,” he swore, tossing Mina his shotgun before plunging his arms into the ice water. Pulling the body out, he laid the nude soon-to-be-corpse out on the bloodstained floor, reaching into his cargo pocket for an airhypo before slamming it into the stranger’s chest.
“Ochako, you need to jack into his biomon and find out who he is. With any luck, we can save him.”
“Right, yeah,” she said, focusing on the task at hand. Flexing her wrist, she pulled her data link free, snaking it out just far enough to port in behind the man’s ear.
“Name is Katsuki Bakugou. Trauma team platinum.”
“Holy shit,” Mina whistled. “Dude must be loaded.”
“Yeah? Then how’d he end up in this cesspool?” Eijirou asked with a frown.
“Heart rate still dropping.”
“Another ‘hypo will kill him,” Eijirou said, voice panicked.
Mina fell to her knees beside them, equally freaked out. “Have any Surge or Trauma 1? Stim even?”
“Wish I were a pharmacy, babe.”
Ochako took a deep breath before bending, her lips meeting the blue ones of the strangers, forcing air into the man’s lungs. Pushing out everything she could, she sat back up, bringing her hands to his chest to begin compressions.
“Something is jamming the transmitter sig. Check the neuroport. Gotta be a shard muting his biomon.”
Mina reached behind his ear, feeling for an extra chip where it wasn’t supposed to be, while Ochako continued her compressions. “Got it!” she shouted victoriously, pulling the deck out.
Katsuki’s biomonitor began to speak. “Greetings, Katsuki. If you are conscious, assume recovery position now. An emergency evacuation unit has been dispatched and is due to arrive at your location in approximately five minutes.”
Ochako froze, her optics blacking out for half a second before pixelating back in. “The hell?”
“You alright?” Eijirou asked, eyes darting between her and the man whose sternum she was breaking, his biomonitor rattling on about how his insurance plan would pay for his rescue and treatment.
“Fine,” she assured him, no time to worry about herself. She wasn’t about to let this man become another body left abandoned. Taking another deep breath, she willed the life from her lungs into his, silently praying to a God she didn’t believe in that the man would live.
“Trauma is on the way.”
Ochako began compressions again. “Trauma won’t make it here in time.”
“He’s flatlining.”
“Fuck!” she roared. “Ei, ‘hypo!”
“It’ll kill—”
“He’s gonna die anyway!”
Eijirou yanked the cap off with his teeth before slamming the pneumatic needle into his chest. “Anything?” he asked Kyouka.
“No—”
A loud gasp came from the dead man beneath Ochako’s palms, the man sitting upright so fast it knocked her back. Mina reached for her gun on instinct, Eijirou balling his fists, but Ochako sat frozen as the blond turned his head toward her. Shock and desperation marred his face, crimson eyes silently pleading for help. She was transfixed, still surprised she’d managed to revive the man.
Before she could speak, the man’s body went limp, passing back out again, his head smacking against the filthy tile.
“Trauma arriving in two. NCPD responding to the gunshots.”
“We’ve gotta move,” Eijirou barked, scooping him up to carry him out. “Mina, grab the cache.”
Ochako watched them both leave the room, still unable to move. “You have to get out of there, Ochako. Izuku can’t get you out of this if they find you.”
Snapping back to reality, she scrambled to her feet, moving through the rooms to help Mina secure the cache. “Holy shit,” she said, stopping short of a tactical case large enough to hold three to four people comfortably. “How are we going to get this out of here?”
“Neito is enroute with transport. He’ll have men to help you load it.”
“Doesn’t do me much good when we have to get it down seventeen floors,” Ochako snapped, trying to out-think her current problem. The blaring sirens of Trauma arriving weren’t helping matters.
“Hope you’ve got a plan,” Mina yelled, trying and failing to budge the container.
“Not really.”
Eijirou bound back into the room. “Trauma has the guy. They just left.”
“NCPD is four blocks from your location.”
“Shit!” Ochako grabbed the handle, attempting to lift. She was strong, but she wasn’t that strong. “What’s our roof access look like?”
“Non-existent.”
“Elevator then.”
“Inoperable. Likely rigged to blow.”
“Not helping, Kyouka!”
“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to scramble communications, so they don’t call in backup.”
“Fine. Fuck. Okay. Elevator it is.”
“She just said—”
“This case was designed to withstand a nuclear blast. If Maelstrom has enough explosives rigged to destroy this thing, the whole building comes down.”
“Not liking those odds, 'Chako.”
“We have no other way out,” she said flatly. “I get that you can survive a seventeen-story jump, but we can’t.”
“Nineteen. Car is parked in the sub-basement.”
“Mina and I will drop through the laundry chute. Should get us close. We’ll meet you in time for the exchange.”
“I hate splitting up,” Eijirou growled, grabbing the handle of the container. “The hell do they have in this thing anyway?”
“Shipdeck only lists it as classified.”
He dragged the hulking container out of the room with an unimpressed grunt, Ochako and Mina locating the quickest route to the elevator within the apartment maze. She knew they’d have to move fast, trusting Neito to be waiting for them at the bottom so everyone could make a quick escape.
“Chute is about nine feet away from the elevator. Comes out on the second floor.”
“Crap. Okay,” Ochako scanned the elevator door, quickly hacking the panel to open the door. “Mina and I will have to go first.”
“After you,” Mina bit sarcastically, throwing her hand toward the laundry chute.
Ochako frowned. “When did we decide I always go first?” she asked, opening the handle to peer inside.
Eijirou dropped the container with a thunk. “Rules are rules.”
“Besides, gives me one last chance to kiss you goodbye,” Mina said, stepping toward him to tip onto her toes.
“Get a room,” Ochako scoffed, trying to find the best angle to crawl inside the small metal tube.
“Don’t need a room,” she giggled. “We have your couch.”
Sticking her tongue out at the pair, she let herself drop, containing the scream threatening to rip itself from her throat as she sped down the pitch black slide. Bracing herself for whatever was at the bottom, she tensed up, pleasantly surprised when she landed in a pile of sheets and towels that clearly hadn’t been washed in decades; more rats squealing as they fled.
“You look like shit.” Ochako looked up to find Neito Monoma standing above her, the cherry of his cigarette glowing brightly as he took a long drag. “Where’s my cargo?”
“Hi, Neito,” Ochako laid on the charm with a bright smile. “How are you? I’m ducky. Thanks for asking.”
“Cut the crap, sweetheart.” He snapped his fingers at one of his men who came over and unceremoniously picked her up, setting her upright on her feet. Half a second later, a screaming Mina dumped out of the chute before bursting into hysterical laughter. “Oh, great. She’s here.”
“Part of the crew,” Ochako defended her.
Bright cerulean eyes unsubtly took her in, scanning her body with a smirk that set her on edge. “What I’d give to have you running ops for me.”
“Keep looking at her like that, and the only ops you’ll be running is figuring out how to piss with no dick,” Mina bristled, stepping between the two of them.
“Ochako, please put your pet whore on a leash. We really have no time for this.”
Before Mina could lunge, the building shook, a series of explosions becoming increasingly louder as the container freefell through the elevator shaft toward them. Grabbing her friend, Ochako quickly ducked behind a Millitech truck, waiting for the cargo to land. The doors to the elevator shot open, metal shrapnel exploding outward, instantly impaling the exposed agent beside them. Mina screamed, Ochako pulling her away to avert her gaze.
Eijirou’s booming roar was heard echoing from above as he jumped down after the container. Peering beneath the vehicle, she saw where the cargo had lodged itself into the concrete, Eijirou landing on top of it two seconds later with a triumphant holler. “Worth every eddie!” he laughed, patting his thighs. The bionic joints and fortified ankles he’d splurged on saving him from fall damage.
“Baby!” Mina cried, pulling free of Ochako’s hold to hug her boyfriend. “That was amazing!”
“You dented my case,” Neito sneered, motioning for Eijirou to get off of the container so his men could load it into the back of the truck.
Ochako stood, watching their struggle, digging into her front pockets for the keys to her car, NCPD sirens closing in. “Our payment?”
Neito turned and smiled. “You know these things take time, doll. You’ll get your eddies once I verify that the asset hasn’t been damaged.” He snapped his fingers again, his detachment of men loading up.
“Hey,” Ochako stopped him. “What’s worth all the hassle?” She pointed toward the truck already pulling out of the parking garage.
“Tell you over dinner?” he offered with the same smirk that made her uneasy.
“Gonna have to pass.”
He climbed into the passenger seat of his waiting truck, flicking his cigarette out. “Yeah, well, when you wanna stop living like some street kid trash, you let me know.” Not waiting for a response, he slammed the door shut, the truck peeling out to follow the cargo.
“Asshole!” Mina shouted after him, giving him a two-finger salute.
“Come on,” Eijirou laughed. “Let’s go home.”