[Story] Dead Job (page 4)

The trip back to Asher's wasn't the worst nightly stroll I'd ever done. No one shot at us, tried to run us over, or tried to kidnap us for parts, so all things considered: probably one of the best walks the City's ever let me have.

Asher lived out in the 51st Ward on the 28th floor a couple doors down from Sharpe. They'd known eachother long before he'd gone off and come back from the war. He was the closest thing she had to family after corpopolice scorched her whole neighborhood as part of some botched no-knock raid on some ganger hole. She became a runner not long after that, and we met a few years later running a contract to pull some wageslave out of his cube for some rival corp. I guess her and the rest of the crew is the closest I've ever had to family as well.

This wasn't the first time I crashed at her place, and as much as I didn't want to wear out my welcome, we both knew it wouldn't be me last. Her pad wasn't half bad, all things considered: a living room, kitchen, couple couches and a little alcove where she kept her fold-out bed. Standard megabuilding appartment, but it beats the hell out of sleeping on the streets.

She told me not to blame myself for any of this. How could any of us have known, right? She asked me to get some rest, but all I could think about were those damn feeds. Watching that kill squad, and me being worthless. Doing nothing while Hargrave got lit up and who fucking knows what they did to Sharpe. All of that and all the shit that got me right here. This isn't about me anymore- it's about them.

And I can't let their deaths be for nothing.