Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
uuuuuuuuuuuuck. Yeah. I needed that. And with time on the clock, phew. Those designer hormone side effects make it almost impossible to cum. I roll off of the lovely lovely doll and take a deep breath. Then I remember that I need a biiig puff or two from my vape and to probably also check the feeds I guess. I mean the smart runaway knows you gotta keep peeking out between the blinds. Or whatever. Puffity puff puff, clickety clack clack. Feed check security camera one, two, three, all going, but why is four the front? And why is the timestamp wrong?
Somebody has deleted camera one from the system and haphazardly let the automatic numbering system make the front camera (a backup recording from yesterday of the same time) the "latest added" camera. An amateur netrunner would know to leave the codeview looking like they found it. This is the sloppy work of a techie. Somebody's fucking with the hardware! Okay so front is down but the rest aren't, so they couldn't have penetrated the hotel beyond the reception. Receptionist laptop. Different subnet than the cameras sure, but has a webcam. Keep a part of my vision fixed on the sec cam codeview. Perks of Maelstrom eye tech, custom heads-up-display can focus on multiple targets simultaneously. Bit of a brainfuck at first, but you get used to it, although the average ganger gonk just focuses on getting high while firing a DB-2 Satara at his choombah or something.
Brute force daemon guesses the password in three seconds. Open webcam feed. Boom. Fuck. Boomfuck. It's my guys! Eenie, Meanie, Miney, and Moe. All of them looking even more pissed off than usual for dorph heads. One's fucking with the camera system wires, one's holding the receptionist hostage with a... fucking meat cleaver? The fuck? Meanie's fucking lost it. The camera resolution gives away the twitches. It's incredible the receptionist is still alive. They mean business, not pleasure or pain. Not yet. I make the laptop text to speech say "NetWatch has registered this crime. Officers dispatched to location." and twitch with satisfaction as they jump and swarm the laptop.
"Are you here, doll?" I ask the lovely lovely doll, knowing full well the countdown has gone down, it still flashing 00:00 on the HUD. The doll indeed is here, turns to me, looking lovely if a bit fuming for some reason. I don't think she's with them though, or they would've gotten into the room while I was mid-coitus and I'd be a stiff already. Phew. Life running on the edge, huh? Well dollie's gonna be a bit more fuming in a second. "Grab your shit, we gotta delta" I tell her, fullscreening the receptionist laptop webcam view. "Unless you're with these gonks..?" I continue, showing her Eenie, Meanie, Miney, and Moe, Meanie hacking at the keyboard.
"I have no idea what the fuck you're on about!", she kindly informs my borged-out netfreak ass. Hmm. A different approach then. I get up, check the actual "real life" blinds. Three stories. Annoyingly possible, but not a good idea. I get my grimey pants on, leave my tattered underwear wherever they've hidden. They already know I'm here, what will they do, get some bloodhounds? They can wank into those for all I care. I'll be long gone once I get this grimey shirt on and and these boots on and find a delta vector. Delta vector delta vector delta vector. Fire escape? Super noisy and vulnerable. Rooftop? How do you get down? Do you need to get down? I sit down on the bed and open the laptop. City map, satellite. I cringe as I enter my current position. I'm going through my own virtual private network, so NetWatch logging this won't help them right? And other soothing lies to tell myself when the drugs wear off.
Yes. Thank you Night Corp urban development and thank you whoever ignored fire safety to build this motel so fucking close to the huge fucking megagarage. "Hello? Do you mean your chooms are going to burst through that door any second now and you're looking for route info from the Net?" Okay. The real question. An ethical dilemma for the ages. How long should I stay and persuade the doll to delta with me? And if I don't succeed, should I feel bad about her having to meet a very pissed off gang of counting-out rhyme? "I'm not looking at route info, I checked the distance between the building edge and the parking garage next to us. We're going to the rooftop and we're jumping over to there. Coming?" I croak out in monotone, choosing honesty and transparency in these dishonest and opaque times. The doll looks at me, incredulous and incensed. I brace a lil bit, honestly expecting her to slap me hard enough to reboot my optics. Instead she pulls her tiny black dress on, grabs her stilettoes, and throws her head to the side to get her pink hair away from her gorgeous long lashes.
"Keep staring and I'll charge you by the second. We delta or what?"