Created G.H.O.S.T. System - A Cyberpunk Story

The setup of the new clinic was coming along slowly, bit by bit. Since purchasing the building, Sevorah had been having everyone move all the extra equipment she had purchased for Ko inside it.

It was the day after the meeting at Pushman's apartment, and the day that Ko's new business manager was due to arrive. It had taken several phone calls with Stick-Point, but eventually, the man had found a manager who was willing to take a chance on a young, newly graduated mender like her.

"Have you found a new receptionist to replace Anna?" Trace asked Sevorah as he and Monroe carried in an advanced vitals monitoring device.

"Place that in the corner for now," She directed them. "I've left Anna in charge of hiring her replacement. The only stipulation I had for her was that whoever she chose should be older this time. I'm getting older, and I think Anna will be my last mentee."

The two worked together under her direction to get the room in order. There were still more items that needed to be purchased and brought over before the room was finished. It was the same for the rest of the rooms on the floor and the clinic as a whole. The place had a long way to go before it would be up and running.

Part of the role of the manager would be in helping the clinic succeed. That meant securing channels for materials and supplies. Usually, these were shared with their mentor, and that was still the case here. However, managers brought their own unique channels to a business, and that included getting loans.

It was something everyone wanted to avoid. Corporations charged obscene interest rates and were no better than loan sharks themselves. In many ways, they were worse. Taking out loans from the various gangs had actually become the preferred method for most people for several reasons. One of which was that occasionally the gang in question would suddenly vanish, and along with it, your debt. Granted, that didn't happen often, as usually only the larger gangs loaned out any significant amounts, but it had been known to happen.

The second reason was far more important. The gangs generally kept it civil. If you owed them money, that was where the issue stopped, with you. They might intimidate your family, even injure them a little, but that was it. The debt belonged to you, and no one else. If needed, they would sell you off a piece at a time to recoup their losses, but again, anyone not involved with the matter wouldn't be seriously touched.

The corporations had no such qualms. You might be the one who signed the dotted line, but as far as they were concerned, the debt belonged to you, your family, your business, and, if needed, even your best friend. Whatever it took to get what they were owed back in their pockets.

If you missed one payment, then suddenly you were missing a limb. Miss two, say goodbye to your little sister or brother. Only the truly desperate or stupid ever took out loans from the corporations.

The manager was there to make sure that didn't happen. Of course, in a best-case scenario, there would be no need for a loan at all, and truthfully Ko came closer to that than many new menders. The unfortunate truth of the matter was that clinics were prohibitively expensive enterprises to open. The only way anyone ever managed without hundreds of loans was with help from caring mentors.

Some performed the exercise better than others, and those that did had proposed scholarships to the oversight union. Each time it had been shot down by the less involved menders, or those without mentees who didn't want to pay into it. As a result, they were perpetually left with the crappy system that had failed them all.

Trace followed Sevorah out of the room and down the stairs. "How's Hannah doing? Ko has been rather tight-lipped about the old-bats' recovery over the last few weeks."

The older woman sighed; her eyes downcast. "It's a little hard to say. In many ways, she is doing better than I thought she would be. That isn't to say she is in good shape though, only that I don't think she will be going cyberpsycho. It was close in the beginning, more so than I care to admit, but she has calmed down somewhat. Now, all she does is lie there, doing nothing. She doesn't talk, doesn't move, nothing."

She ran a hand down her face, suddenly tired. "Come on. That was the last of the items in your truck. Devko and her manager should be here in a few minutes to begin running through everything. I'll stay to help her with that, but you two can head on out. Didn't you have a job?"

Monroe nodded, pulling up his HUD. "We have time, but it would be better if we headed out now anyway. Got to get the semi and trailer, and then head into the distribution site in Denver to get it loaded up."

Their job this time was to deliver supplies to a few of the scarpo towns around the area. Word had gotten around about what happened to the people of Manitou Springs. For the moment, few of them were willing to send their own people in for supplies. With Monroe's truck and trailer, they would be able to actually bring the towns more supplies than usual, though it would put a mark on their back.

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Each town usually cultivated its own supply routes. However, as edgers working official jobs, they had their own options. Honestly, he was surprised that more of the scarpo towns hadn't thought of doing this before. Typically, edgers didn't live in scarpo towns, but surely they could have just worked with someone they trusted… Like they were doing now, or even just inside the city. There must be a story there, just not one he knew.

A short time later, they were back at the warehouse and Trace quickly equipped his stealth suit. He hurried down into the basement and topped up Deckard's nutrient mix. He also checked the large vault door to ensure that it was still locked and securely in place. It was, and he doubted there would be any issues with it, but since it was a new install, the urge to continually check on it was still there.

Running back upstairs, he grabbed his bag, along with the four extra guns he was bringing. Two were strapped to the bag itself, while the other two were placed in a hardshell carrying case. The ever-trusty suppressed scout rifle and his equally suppressed shotgun were on the bag. While the railgun and the suppressed sniper rifle were in the hard case.

He couldn't exactly say why he was bringing so much firepower, outside of it was better to have it and not need it than want it and not have it.

It was for that reason that Trace had eventually given in and sold the large minigun to Monroe for a steal of a deal. The gun was too heavy for him to use without the emplacement, however, for Monroe, he could carry it around normally if he wanted to. Granted, that was only if it was empty. Carrying the gun and its ammo around would have been just ridiculous. Even if it had been doable, everything would have become far too unwieldy at that point.

Regardless, it was lying on the floor of the truck, next to several cases of ammo, just in case they ran into some real trouble.

Monroe glanced over at him as he climbed inside the cab with him. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yup, let's get the trailer hooked up, and then pick up these supplies. We have five scarpo towns to visit." Trace cracked his neck. "You realize this will only be the second time you'll have made proper use of the trailer since we brought it back?"

"That's not true," Monroe protested, backing the truck into position. "We used it to haul the vault door back. Oh, and don't forget, there was also that job last week."

"Fine, the fourth time and last week hardly counts. It ended up being a single crate. We could have done that with my truck."

"Yeah, they really lied about the amount of stuff we needed to move for them," Monroe grumbled as the trailer connected with the fifth wheel. "At least they still paid the promised amount."

Trace glared at him. "Yeah, after we threatened to shoot them."

Monroe sighed and nodded. "That's what we get for taking a job through a transport agency instead of working through a job broker. How was I supposed to know that an agency that specializes in transporting goods is worse at their job than the job brokers?"

Job brokers did their best to make sure the jobs they offered their edgers were legitimate and worthwhile. They even had teams that worked to confirm the information they had been given for jobs. That said, there were a lot of jobs being submitted and only so much manpower. No matter how hard they tried, or how good they were, things inevitably slipped through.

Still, the transport agency hadn't even done that much.

A short while later, they were on the highway, headed toward the distribution center.

"Have you heard the latest news about the old Blood-Dog's territory?" Monroe asked as they drove above part of it. The elevated highway looked down over some of the buildings that had been ruined during the fighting a month before.

"No, I've been busy. Focusing on helping Ko and working on my own stuff. Did another gang finally lay claim to the turf?"

The bald-headed man nodded. "Yup, the Chromatic Crusaders have absorbed it into their territory since they were closest."

Trace's brows furrowed in thought. "I… don't know much about them. I've heard the name, of course, but I've never had a reason to interact with them before. On a scale of Midway Gang to Blood-Dogs or Blood Swords, where would you rate them?"

The Blood Swords was the gang that pretty much owned the north end of the city. They styled themselves as sword masters, and like many things in life, were complicated. They definitely had a dark side. Every gang did. However, to the people under their protection, they would go surprisingly far for them. Rumor had it that they had even fought against corpo hit squads in the past for the right protection price.

If you weren't under their protection umbrella though, well, they had their augmented fingers in a lot of businesses. It would be all too easy for them to either track you down inside the city or to simply make your life miserable.

"Oh, they're definitely more dangerous and far larger than that piddly little group you took care of. Most of the stories about them are pretty tame. They do a lot of art and seem to worship cyberware. The people in their gang are usually pretty tatted up and have some form of art on their augments. They also usually are pushing the number of cyberware implants or replacements they can handle. Their people have the highest number of cyberpsychos in any of the gangs."

"So, how violent are they as a whole?"

"Not very, at least up until they go psycho, then, well, you know how that works. Up until then, they're actually fairly middle of the road as far as gangs go." Monroe gently pressed the brake as they slowed for the coming exit.

"Weird, but okay."

They kept talking back and forth, covering the man's relationship with Sabrina as well as the small amount of progress he had made on his mobile fortress.

"So, the real reason you wanted this truck and trailer was so it could haul your mech around in the future." Trace joked as they pulled into the back of the towering distribution center. "I see how it is; your girlfriend really has inspired you." He finished with a laugh.

Monroe rolled his eyes and switched on all the cameras as he began backing up to one of the doors. "I admit, seeing her set up definitely made the decision to get this more appealing. But it was only one factor among many."