"That'll be 1200 Gibsons, chambo." The air-taxi driver, a man with an apparent aversion to both shaving and showering, flashed a grin at Astarion. "Or I can drive you directly to Ultracorp Police," he added, seeing his indignant glare.
"Fine, enjoy your bribe."
"Bribe? Oh, no, that's just a fee for cleaning your blood off the seats."
"They're blood-resistant," Shadowheart said, tapping on the synthetic fabric, completely missing the point. Astarion rolled his eyes and tapped on his wrist, activating his cyberinterface. It was an older model, less capable and ironically more secure. Perhaps he was too old-fashioned to install an all-encompassing system like Cyberlink in his brain. After he paid the driver that criminal sum, they walked outside. The air-taxi was parked on a ramp connected to a skytower, and they crossed it swiftly under pouring rain. The torrent drenched their clothes and skin in the seconds it took to run inside. Street level, far below, was invisible under the thick fog and rain. All he saw was the blinking lights of air vehicles and of the cars zooming past on a sky highway.
Back when he was a child, living on a high floor meant being far from roads. Those days, some highways reached up to the 80th floor of towers; others had been built running through buildings. In the past, he was paid to advocate for such despicable constructs, and those ad campaigns still left a bitter taste. He needed the money, though, and the exposure they'd provided.
The skytower's elevator panel was missing floor eighty-one. Officially, an engineering mistake had left the entire floor unlivable, but in truth, it hosted all sorts of shady businesses that preferred to operate unnoticed. The landlords made extra earnings on those deals, so everybody benefited. At the moment, though, Astarion needed those benefits the most.
"Hey, slow down!" Shadowheart grabbed his arm—the wounded one—and he whined in pain, folding.
"S-sorry. I didn't mean—"
"Just... stay two steps back." He pointed impatiently. "I'm already not sure what you are."
She huffed a chuckle. "What do you mean?"
"Accurate, deadly... What were you before you started recording streams for Gibsons?"
"None of your business." Shadowheart crossed her arms, pouting. He had no time for arguments while his precious blood was dripping on the exposed concrete floor. Dust dirtied his Vixerius evening shoes as he walked to the fourth unmarked apartment on the left and linked his cyberinterface with its entrance system.
"Ah, Councilman," said a dry, high-toned voice. "And you've brought a friend."
"I'm not in the council yet, Doctor."
"And I'm not a doctor... yet." The metal door slid open with a creak, and Astarion pushed inside. Shadowheart's hesitating footsteps followed him into the flat, which could've passed for a garage at first. Cybernetic parts of every shape and size sat beside containers with suspicious bloody marks on them. He had turned to the ripperdoc whenever he didn't want the media to learn about injuries or embarrassing diseases he'd incurred, and an aspiring politician had to avoid those tabloid hacksters even more than a handsome celebrity.
A surgical chair sat in the apartment's back, surrounded by sharp instruments, fresh blood stains glistening on its blue padding. Before it stood the ripperdoc, a lanky man with a thin auburn beard and a thinner hairline. A metallic visor covered his small dark eyes, and his left arm was more machine than flesh. A dirty white coat, sitting over a blue shirt and pants, gave a rather poor impression of a medical professional.
"Sit, please," he said to Astarion, his voice thick with a Kayserian accent. "I believe you know the drill—pun intended."
"Shadowheart, I'd like you to meet Gunther Shiv. What he lacks in looks and humour he makes up for in surgical skills."
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Cybergate 2027 - A Baldur's Gate 3 / Cyberpunk 2077 Crossover
FanfictionGet ready for a cinematic experience! In a Cyberpunk-style alternate version of Baldur's Gate, Astarion Ancunin, a top celebrity and aspiring politician, meets a popular influencer called Shadowheart in a fundraising party. But an unexpected crime s...