Cyberpunk: Ultimate Cyborg System-Chapter 593: Black Skull. (Part Twenty Five)

A flicker sent the room into a momentary darkness that was soon banished by the returning red glow. It was almost like a signal, forcing focus back into the eyes staring at the ceiling, clearing the fog filling the mind behind them.

Blinking twice, the girl raised her hand, brushing the strands of purple hair covering her face. A shiver brought to her notice how cold she felt, which wasn't very odd considering that she was entirely naked. Her body was sore, and for a while, she couldn't move a limb. Trying for a while, she managed to push herself up, pulling on the blanket to cover herself.

A sudden wave of disgust caused her stomach to churn, and the smoke filling the room only made it worse. Hearing the sound of flowing water, her gaze shifted to the door to the shower, and she pursed her lips, realizing that he hadn't left yet. The nightstand on the other side of the bed caught her sight, and noticing the stack of creased bills on its surface, along with the time, the disgust grew stronger.

She wrapped herself in the blanket, covering her head while turning to the wall. A couple of minutes later, she heard the faint creak of a door opening, causing her to flinch. Her body tensed up quite a bit, and the churning in her stomach got worse. The erratic beating of her heart masked the sound of approaching footsteps. Her breath hitching, she tried to calm herself, but it was to no avail.

Eventually, a loud bang pierced through her panicked mind. Realizing it came from the entrance, she hesitantly turned around to check. The room was empty, and she was on her own. The panic slowly left her, but the disgust returned, and she had to rush into the bathroom before it all came rushing out.

She was told it would get easier eventually, but each time she found herself clinging to the toilet bowl, struggling to not throw up her innards, she found it very hard to believe that things would get any better.

When there was nothing else to vomit, she washed her mouth, then took a quick shower. She couldn't stay for long, so she upped the heat as much as possible, hoping to wash away the filth she feared would cling to her forever.

After counting her pay, she left the cheap motel and walked to the parking lot at the end of the corner. She was sure she had earned more than enough for the night, but the backhanded slap she soon received said otherwise.

"Say, you think I'm stupid, don't you?"

The girl didn't reply, lowering her head in silence. She could only grit her teeth and hold her mouth shut, even as she felt the tap paper tapping her head.

"I've been counting your clients. You only take on the bare minimum, don't you?"

Her continuous silence quickly got on his nerves, and he reached out, clasping a handful of her hair.

"What's the point of this if you don't put it to use?"

"Ah! P-please! Stop! I-"

"Shut up, bitch!"

Just when she thought he let go, she felt the sharp prick of a hand slapping her cheek. She lost her balance and fell down, the tears she had tried to suppress almost escaping her hold. Anger flared in her mind, but she didn't look up. She had to keep her gaze down, lest he hit her again. That was what she learned to do, but when she heard what he had to say next, her head jerked up despite herself.

"I'm doubling your quota."

The man looked to be in his early twenties, with a bony face not even his mother would love, and hair that likely got its black color from being singed. He wasn't particularly tall or muscular, and by all standards, he looked to be weaker than the average street rat. Despite all of that, he was one of the most feared bastards in the area. No one dared to mess with him, and the reason was the tattoo covering the left half of his face, making it appear like the skull of a charred corpse.

"W-wait! I… I can't do double! I-"

"Figure it out!"

The shout was followed by a kick, and if she hadn't raised her arms in time, her face would have taken the hit. The bastard didn't seem to be satisfied, but just as he was about to kick her again.

"Hey Jason! You can't keep doing this, man! Fisher's gonna be pissed!"

Hearing him click his tongue, the girl felt a hint of relief, only for it to be taken away a moment later. Kicking her leg this time, the bastard stuffed the stack of bills into his pocket and turned away.

"I will be expecting double tomorrow." He said. "Or else…"

Finally left on her own, the girl wiped the tears that began to gather in the corners of her eyes, then stood up, dragging her feet to the half-open garage in the corner. The guard looked her up and down, then let her through. Her mind blurred for the following seconds, and before she knew it, she was standing beside a bunk bed.

The room had several others alongside the walls. Some were empty, others were full. As she placed her bag down, the sheets on the upper bunk moved, and a face peeked from under them.

"Rose…?" A girl about her age called for her, the sniffle that followed told that she was crying until a moment ago. "You're… back?"

"Yea…" Rose replied curtly, putting away her jacket before sitting down. "Are you okay, Monica?"

The question was a stupid one. Of course she wasn't okay. No one inside that room was.

"Yeah, I'm getting better," Monica replied. "Did you eat?"

"Don't feel like it," Rose replied.

"Is that… is that so…" Monica was silent for a moment. "Make sure… to get something in the morning…you… You don't want to get sick…"

She knew. She had been told again and again, ever since she arrived there. Every last one of them had a quota to pay, and if they failed to do so for any reason, the end would be uglier than the road that led there.

Peeling the shoes off her feet, she tossed them on the floor and lay down on her side, hugging her knees as she curled into a ball. Her eyelids grew heavy before long, and though she didn't think she would be able to sleep, the darkness swallowed her consciousness soon enough.