Neon Cowboys

Chapter 1: Psy

They call Freelancers “the sword of the rich.” The Freelancer Union (FLU) claims they can decide entire conflicts. From corpo resource wars to the small conflicts among gangbangers. Rated from 0.1 to 10.0, Freelancers have found gigs across the Galactic Federation. Legends have come and gone across time.
New Federation Era 842 ushered in the same death, corruption, and repeat cycle. Neon Dallas in a lot of ways never changed, never changes. From the Underground, a human’s rights violation underneath the city, to the corporate megabuildings, which pack millions of employees and residents of the city. A city that sprawled 8.3% of the planet’s surface.
Few make a name here. Fewer make it to their thirties. Psy blew out the small holographic candle in front of her. The small cupcake signaling her 19th birthday. Psy sighed, throwing the overly sweet gift in the trash.
“Hey!” Her boyfriend and interning fixer, David, said. “I spent a lot of money on that.”
“I can’t stand how sweet they are.” Psy said.
David pouted and dug it out of the trash. “At this price, I’m willing to eat it myself then.”
David pushed a few food bits from Psy’s lunch off the cupcake before taking a large bite out of it. Crumbs fell to her floor, the cleaning bot mashing the crumbs into the carpet, vacuuming up maybe 10% of it. Psy watched the bot return into the wall.
“David?”
“Hmm?”
Beep, beep, beep
The question would have to wait. The single office’s door had a visitor. Psy was in a small business, cornered in Megabuilding 0909, there lay the P.I. firm known as “Jacket 90” a Freelancer subbranch of the much bigger: “Neon Cowboys.” It was a private investigator firm for one of the largest Neon Dallas Freelancer team ups. Neon Cowboys had earned a name for themselves by being small time specialists. You’d never find a Neon Cowboy strapping up for a dangerous heist or a gangbanger raid. No, this…the life of Neon Cowboys was fuming in the small gigs. Stuff that paid the bills, stuff that kept them alive. Just one more day in Neon Dallas.
The Neon Cowboys had grown so large, specialists began webbing out. The FLU helped these teams set up and remain a strong force among Neon Dallas. At the cost of a “monthly fee.” Those monthly dues sucked a lot out of each private eye’s paycheck. Psy and her twelve colleagues had put up bunkbeds in the back. It wasn’t great living, but it kept them off the streets. It was much safer to live where one worked.
“Come in.” David said for her. He sat down in a corner chair.
Psy leaned back in her chair. A forty something man walked in, her door scanned his resident chip. “Dr. Daniel Mal. What brings a vacant into my office?”
“I’m a working man.” The Doctor said. “I have a month before AeroDome’s contract on me expire.”
“The repomen still haven’t gotten you?” Psy mused outloud.
“No.” The doctor shook his head. “But my life as a rogue…a free AI…”
Psy made bopping noise with her mouth, waiting for the Doctor to continue.
“I have been working for MedTact,” Dr. Mal sat as Psy gestured for him to. In the chair that rose from the floor. “I…I am a field surgeon for them.”
“Paramedic, AI, AeroDome repomen after you…” Psy leaned on a cheek. “I’m not a security specialist. I have a friend I can refer you to.”
“I – ” Dr. Mal furrowed his brow. “I don’t think I need protection. Psy Wahrsager, P.I.”
“Is this going anywhere?”
“I need a new body.”
“A shell?” Psy laughed. “A fucking shell? You want a new body? What’s wrong with the one you have?”
“If I can’t switch soon, AeroDome may close in on me.”
“Ah…” Psy leaned back in her chair. She rubbed her temples. “The gig, Dr. Mal?”
“I just need you to scout out a seller.” Dr. Mal’s leg was tapping. “I need to know if he can be trusted.”
“What’s the bounty on you?” David asked.
Dr. Mal jumped, not noticing the man who had frozen in place once the doctor had walked in. “Who-who the hell are you?”
“He’s a friend. Would you be worth more if we turn you in?”
Dr. Mal’s face grew serious. “I was told you were…you were a good person.”
“Dangerous title to earn here.”
“Please. I’ll pay you.”
“What’s a MedTact field surgeon make these days? And how much of that wealth can he give to a Freelancer such as myself?”
“100 sticks.”
“100,000.” Psy smiled, her loan could be settled. “What’s your client rating in the FLU system?”
“7.8.”
Psy whistled. “Real big player, I would be remiss not informing you I’m a 5.1 Freelancer. FLU would advise you find someone else.”
“You are the one I want.”
“Big pay day babe. One more step toward you own office…your own firm.” David opened the window. The advertisements lit the room up with a rainbow of colors. “What’s the gig parameters?”
“Find the Freelancer trinket vendor by the name of Frag. Find out what you can.”
“You want to know if this seller is legit. Possible shell lined up?”
“Yes.”
“I could just steal it for you.” Psy offered a skill she wasn’t great at.
The Doctor stood. “Just find out if Frag is a good man. Keep to your specialty.”
“And if he’s not?”
“You get paid to find out.” Dr. Mal shrugged. “I’ll find another seller if not.”
“You sure you don’t want me to connect you to my friend? Real talented Freelancer…celebrity security specialist. Name’s Elika – ”
“No. I’ll be fine.” Dr. Mal interrupted. “Is…is there a reason you don’t use Fixers?”
Psy pointed to David. “We got some low-level Fixers interning in and out of this place. Gives them experience at a much cheaper price for us. Less off our bottom line.”
“Ah…” Dr. Mal smile. “I’ll let you get to work.”
“Thanks…”
Psy and David watched him leave. David strolled over to the desk and leaned on it. “We can turn him in? AeroDome pays high quality for runaway AI. Maybe that shell he’s in…was stolen too. Double the bounty.”
“I’ve already accepted the gig.” Psy said, she stretched her arms up. “This should be easy. Real easy.”
Psy gathered her coat and went out of the office. She told her boss, Mericus, she was going on a case. Mericus gave her a half nod and continued about his own work. Psy went to the Frag’s trinket shop. Her vehicle landed, she hopped out and it took off for the nearest parking garage. Psy pushed in through the doors and found her man.
The man named Frag straightened up seeing Psy. “Hey, girlie. You here for some Freelancer trinkets?”
“In a way.” Psy said. “I’m looking for a shell.”
“Shell?” Frag rubbed the back of his neck. “Full body? Skull wrap? …You’re not a Repoman are you?”
Psy smiled and made her way across the room, she made a show of looking at the trinkets on the wall. “I need a full body. No more, no less.”
“It’ll cost you.”
“I can pay the price. Can you provide the tech?”
“What’s it for?”
“Me.”
Frag laughed. “What’s your name girl?”
“Psy.”
“Psy.” Frag’s eyes started glowing, the signs of a person using their HUD computer. His eyes faded back in a few seconds. “With your FLU public Freelancer rating, I doubt you have the money to afford a shell.”
“Let’s say…I came across some money. And I want to help a friend.”
“I’m not a part of that Railroad Lantern shit.” Frag shook his head and waved his hand dismissively.
“But…you are a buyer and seller of goods. You value money…right?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was being questioned. You…must be a P.I. One of those dicks.”
“That’s me.” Psy gave a melodramatic bow before pushing her hands into her jacket pockets and rocked back and forth. “Listen, Frag. We can play grab ass all we want. I just need to know…if I need a shell. Will you sell it to me?”
Frag pursed his lips. “AeroDome…Spartan Security. They have a lot of spies.”
“Lot of bounties, too.” Psy shrugged. “Too many. If I was looking to throw fuck someone over, it wouldn’t be a trinket salesman. It’d be one of the more dangerous monsters out there. Someone worth betraying.”
“Those bounties have become life changers.”
Psy blew raspberries looking away. “A life…for a new life. Could you live with yourself?”
“In Neon Dallas, you’re already dead. And you know what they say. Money is money is money.”
Psy let out a small laugh. “Okay. I think…I think I know what your answer is.”
“But…that goes both ways. If I could get a hold of a shell for a rogue AI. What could you give me?”
“90 sticks.” Psy bluffed, she didn’t know the price for illegal AI shells.
Frag turned his head. “You can leave, I thought you were a real player.”
Psy nodded her head. She understood this simple man. He thought his money first mentality was unique, it wasn’t. “I see. Thank you for your service. What can I get for five sticks in this shop then?”
Psy knew it was best to shop, information wasn’t free. Frag leaned back. “You need a gun?”
“What do you have?”
“I have a finicky Joon-19.”
“The legendary pistol of choice for Salt?”
“And the Wannabe Salt.”
“Elika?”
Frag let out a big laugh. “You do know her.”
“Rising star.” Psy shrugged, her old friend had been growing lately. “Heard she killed that asshole on Reo. Is this where Elika got her Joon-19? You?”
Frag laughed. “Wannabe Salt. In a way. Her friend, Renaldo, came in. Gave me a lot of money.”
Psy smiled. “10 sticks.”
Frag nodded. “I do have a Joon Falcon-SMG. 35 round, extended magazines. Single fire or automatic.”
“8 sticks for the SMG and I’ll send a high paying customer your way.” Psy crossed her arms with her most playful smile.
“Deal.” Frag had a huge grin. He placed the Joon Falcon down and the Joon-19.
Psy walked up and turned her head.
“I’m throwing in the Joon-19 for free. Call me a fan of a good barterer.”
Psy took both. “You just landed a repeat customer.”
“I know.” Frag’s sly smile, made Psy feel uneasy. This gig was as simple as she thought. Frag was a simple trinket seller. “I’ll see you around Psy.”
Psy put the SMG over her shoulder and out the Joon-19 in her hip holster. “Frag…is it short for something?"
"Fragmented." Frag’s eyes lit up. “It was from a different time in my life.”
“I can only imagine.” Psy shook her head. “See you around.”
Psy exited and waited for her ship to return. She saw a homeless man being beat across the street by some Policewomen. Blood splattered across the street as they beat his head in. The cop’s politician handlers watched on, bored with the show. She shook her head while she stepped into her vehicle. Psy returned to her office. David wasn’t there. She lit a cig, the small pack a gift. She blew out the smoke into her office.
“Fuck me…” Psy sighed. “You here to kill me?”
The cracking noise of an active-camo cloak deactivating came from behind her.
“How’d you know it was me?”
Psy turned to see Daniel Cinza. “Dani…what’s an AeroDome grunt doing here?”
Dani shook his head. “I’m an Elite now, Codename ‘Scorch,’ if you could.”
“Pretty later bloomer, 46?” Psy knew he was. Scorch was her contact into AeroDome, spent a few of his birthdays at local bars. “Okay, Scorch. What the fuck you are doing in my office?”
“Heard a rogue AeroDome AI made contact with you.”
“And?”
“And…and I wanted to know if you wanted your bounty in AeroDome credit for 150% the original price or Fed Creds.”
“What?”
“We got a call from this location. Turning in a vacant called Dr. Mal.” Scorch scoffed and turned his head. “You…you weren’t the one to turn him in.”
“No comment.”
“That’s okay. We always find them. It’s not illegal to help out a vacant. AeroDome…we never forget when we’re slighted.”
“Oh, you’re like a petty ex.” Psy laughed.
“You really want to be put on our shit list?”
“Rather there than on your brown nose list.”
“Quarter mil.” Scorch offered after a long pause. “AeroDome gets a bad name when they let those free-thinking AI get citizenship.”
“I don’t know anything.” Psy said evenly. “Unless you got a gig for me Dani…then you can get the fuck out of my office.”
Scorch shook his head and stood. “You’re making the biggest mistake of your life…”
“I get told that a lot.”
“You…you always have a security specialist you recommend.” Scorch walked over to the door. “What was her name?”
“Yeah, here it is.” Psy flipped off Scorch.
“Elika…Elika Priest.” He smiled. “How unfortunate. She’ll take the gig. She always does. The wannabe always is trying to prove herself. Think she’ll take the quarter mil?”
Psy shrugged. “There’s a reason I’m 5.1 and she’s 6.8.”
“I’ll see you around Neon Cowboy.”