"Why do you keep staring at that piece of junk?"
Liam's hand stopped mid-stroke as he polished the barrel of the Nekomata. "How can you even see me?"
Hamster: "…"
"Oh. Right. All the cameras here are wired straight into your brain."
Liam scratched his head. The weight of a real weapon—solid, heavy—wasn't something a collectible figurine could replace. What was wrong with appreciating it?
Even if he hadn't fired a single shot yet.
But seriously—
Damn it.
Was 4 Intelligence really that obvious?
"Be honest with me," Hamster pressed. "Have you actually risked your life before? Been in a real firefight?"
The more Hamster looked at him, the more unreliable Liam seemed. There was something naïve in his eyes. Untested.
"We were escorting cargo. Car got blown sky-high. I got thrown clear. Then we were street racing and dodging missiles. Sprayed a few bursts that pinned down enemy mercs. Does that count?"
"Besides, I survived the Barghest. That's more than most can say." Liam shot back.
"Sure. Big hero. I'll get back to watching their netrunner." Hamster reclined into cyberspace again.
Liam rubbed his chin.
He was trying to recall—did Maine's crew only have one netrunner at this stage? Was it Kiwi? Or that white-haired girl with colored tips—
Damn this memory.
He hadn't exactly studied the team's formation history before transmigrating.
Based on his old knowledge of the world, 2075 probably wasn't Lucy yet. More likely Kiwi was still around.
Tall, cool, older-sister vibes.
Liam shook his head. He had no idea how that crew was going to come at him and Hamster. He was vibrating with a mix of adrenaline and pure dread.
Tech Sniper Rifle. Charge-to-penetrate. Liam looked at the trigger. He needed to know the mechanics: did the charge build while holding the trigger down, or was it a staged pull?
In a sniper's world, a fraction of a second was the difference between a headshot and a funeral.
He desperately wanted to take a practice shot, but the gunsmith at the Black Market had been adamant. He didn't want the Nekomata's rail-slugs punching through his targets and the concrete walls of his shop.
And if he fired a shot in the street, the Barghest automated sentries would turn him into Swiss cheese before the shell casing hit the ground.
The original owner of this body had only used assault rifles and pistols. He hadn't been a sniper in the Barghest camp.
Wait. There was a way to get some trigger time.
Liam's eyes lit up. "Hamster, quick question."
"Mm." Hamster was still multitasking in cyberspace.
"With tech sniper rifles—does charging happen while you're squeezing the trigger? Or after it's fully depressed?"
Dead silence.
The only sound in the basement was the rhythmic tick-tock of server fans and liquid cooling pumps.
"…You're joking, right?"
Liam thought seriously about it. "No."
Hamster bolted upright in his netrunner chair, yanking the cable from the port at the back of his neck. His cybernetic eye glowed like some legendary swordmaster's HUD. His mouth hung open. "You've gotta be kidding me!"
Liam looked innocent. "I used rifles in the Barghest. What's wrong with asking? Relax, my aim's good."
"Do you know why Hands gave you a sniper rifle?"
"Yeah. Snipers can one-versus-many. Stall for time."
"You're telling me you don't know how to use it? Then why the hell would Hands trust you with it?!"
Liam watched Hamster pace and shout.
Unstable guy.
When bullets started flying, they'd hit Liam first.
"Calm down. Calm down…" Hamster muttered to himself, like self-therapy.
No sense of security at all.
Liam shook his head slowly.
"The turrets outside are Zetatech, right? And knowing you, you've probably got more covering the back courtyard."
"That means I'm the one catching bullets first. What are you afraid of?"
"Even if I get flatlined, you can just wait for the Barghest to show up."
Liam had only asked one question. The guy's reaction was way over the top.
"You don't get it! The whole damn point is that you stay alive, you idiot!" Hamster snapped.
"But you've got to handle their netrunner." Liam replied flatly.
"Yeah, yeah. You're a real badass." Hamster nodded with a look that said fine, you win.
A shard flicked out of his hand. Liam hurriedly caught it.
"This is Militech hardware. I refitted it with Arasaka tech. Inside are behavioral simulations of corporate snipers—combat metrics, physiological patterns. You can run a learning mode—"
"Damn it. I knew that old fox Hands wasn't playing clean!"
Hamster realized he'd just been goaded into giving up a valuable asset he'd been hoarding. He groaned and flopped back into his Netrunner chair, plugging the cable back into his neck. He was done talking.
Liam looked at the shard like it was a trophy.
[Incoming Call: Mr. Hands]
"Young man. I assume you've reached our mutual friend's residence?"
Liam nodded. "Already here. And I got the shard."
Hamster clenched his fist in the chair.
Mr. Hands sounded surprised.
"That miser lowballed me for that little treasure. Said he needed it for a few days of study. Months went by without a word."
"I didn't expect to ever see it again. Yet you actually retrieved it. I'll count that as your merit. Bring it to me later."
"There's a Barghest patrol near Hansen's territory. If we're going to stage this, we stage it properly. Keep things civil—they'll take the fake data and call it done."
Liam nodded again.
"Oh, and tonight there will be… a surprise. I hope you can protect yourself." Mr. Hands hesitated before saying it.
A surprise?
Liam couldn't quite parse that.
"Good luck, my friend."
The call ended.
Liam thought about it for a while—then gave up.
What mattered now was slotting the shard into the port at the base of his skull and learning at least some sniper technique.
Maine's kind of cyberpunk crew wouldn't hesitate to flatline someone.
Muttering to himself, Liam inserted the shard.
The dim hacker basement shimmered as a translucent interface unfolded before his eyes.
"Kid, memorize the Barghest manual and tactical target selection. If you get yourself killed out there, that's not on me."
Hamster resorted to sarcasm to vent his anger—but the advice was solid.
[Synching Weapon... Detection Complete.]
[Hardware: Tech Sniper Rifle. Confirmed.]
[Warning: Please clear the chamber and verify weapon is cold. Militech Oversight System is monitoring...]
Liam followed instructions, clearing the rounds.
The surroundings darkened rapidly, replaced by a wireframe three-dimensional environment.
His cyberware—neural interface included—began flooding him with behavioral data. It felt as though a veteran sniper stood behind him, teaching him how to grip the rifle, how to breathe, how to time each shot—skills that normally required years to master.
Now, corporate technology had compressed that into accelerated training.
[Live Fire Simulation Initiated.]
Vmm—BOOM!
Liam squeezed the trigger. The rifle emitted a low-frequency hum as the magnets surged, followed by a violent discharge of kinetic energy that shook his virtual shoulders.
[Step One: Position Selection. Based on tactical data, identify high-ground advantage points...]
Liam followed the program step by step. Thanks to his prior experience as a Barghest soldier, the concepts clicked quickly when paired with the training mode.
He could feel it, though—this was molding him into a standard sniper.
There was a difference between a qualified sniper and a seasoned one.
What he lacked were the lessons forged in live fire—streets riddled with bullets, military standoffs in the Badlands.
Still.
It was enough.
In the basement, a strange stillness settled.
A young man immersed in combat simulation via shard.
A netrunner reclined in a chair, cable plugged into his skull.
Quiet.
Tense.
Waiting.