Standing in front of a full-length mirror clearly set up just for this, Riku checked his reflection. He was pretty satisfied with the results.
Slipping into his clothes with a crisp motion, Riku adjusted his look. This whole outfit was brand-new—being a "saibā vagabond" sure burned through clothes fast.
"By the way, optical camouflage isn't true invisibility. Don't go thinking it's some superhero power, or you'll end up dead real quick," Old Vic said, continuing his after-sales spiel. When it came to understanding this tech, he clearly had Riku, the newbie, beat.
"Got it. It's for sneaking before a fight, right?" Riku grinned. He was actually pretty familiar with this gear. Back when it first came out, he'd learned the hard way—stupidly charging head-on with the camouflage active, thinking he was untouchable.
Turns out, even if NPCs in this world were half-deaf and half-blind, they weren't complete idiots. A gun or katana floating in midair? Anyone with half a brain would know someone was using optical camouflage. The tech could cloak his clothes, which was impressive enough, but no way was it hiding the weapons in his hands.
The result? He'd get blasted to bits by enemies.
The right way to use optical camouflage was for stealthy hacker vibes or sneaky assassin moves. Sure, you could go full-on mushō tensei sword-saint style and charge in, but you'd better wait until you're in the crowd before whipping out your mantis blades.
"Exactly. You catch on quick," Old Vic said with a chuckle. He'd seen plenty of folks get optical camouflage installed, go out to cause trouble, and get smoked right away. Riku didn't seem like one of those types.
"Thanks, Old Vic." Riku gave a nod of gratitude and started to head out, but Old Vic called him back. Riku turned, puzzled.
"Need these?" Old Vic rummaged through a box and tossed him two leather "horn sheaths."
"Holy—Old Vic, you even thought of this?" Riku was stunned. He'd almost gotten used to the horns on his head, but sometimes he still forgot about them.
He'd gotten this whole subdermal armor setup so he could walk in the sunlight and make use of daytime hours. He'd only thought about leaving openings for his claws and feeding, completely forgetting about the horns. They weren't skin or flesh, but they were still part of his body. Exposed to sunlight, they'd probably get fried too.
"I'm a dokutā, you know. If I had a bad memory or kept forgetting things, you think patients would trust me?" Old Vic waved him off with a grin. He wasn't sure if Riku needed the sheaths, but he'd made them just in case—always one step ahead.
Talk about service! Riku's 110,000 eddies felt well spent. He tried on the leather horn sheaths, and they fit perfectly—Old Vic's body scan wasn't for show. Best of all, they seamlessly connected to his scalp and had optical camouflage built in. No wonder they were leather.
Then it hit him: his hair had been shaved off once already. What was on his head now was his original hair, reattached over the subdermal armor. Guess the "bald warrior training" method wasn't something to mess with. He wasn't invincible yet, but technically, he was already bald.
So… did this even count as being bald?
With a mix of gratitude and confusion, Riku left Old Vic's cyber-clinic. The moment he stepped outside, he spotted V crouched by the door, waiting for him.
"What's with that look?" Riku asked, eyeing V strangely. The street punk was giving him a complicated stare.
"You really didn't use any anesthesia?" V asked suspiciously. She'd been listening from outside, and not a single peep came from the clinic.
"Course not," Riku said, raising an eyebrow. He could tell why V had that expression. If he'd been the one outside, yeah, he'd probably have the same look.
"…Badass," V muttered after a long pause, clearly at a loss for words. Guess you really do regret not reading more when the moment calls for it.
"No big deal," Riku said, playing it cool. Whether it hurt or not, only he knew.
"Come on, let's go. The client's getting impatient," V said, rolling her eyes and giving Riku a light shove. Then she noticed the blood-smeared bag in his hand. "That's not…"
"Exactly what you're thinking," Riku confirmed with a nod.
No need to hide it. Last time, he'd taken those two eyeballs without a second thought. O-neeto style—your parents' essence shouldn't be wasted. But that part, he kept to himself.
"Might as well keep it as a memento," V said with a nod, not finding it too weird. It was, after all, something from his own body.
Chatting away, Riku and V headed upstairs to Misty's shop, where Jack Welles and Misty were deep in conversation.
"Fresh off the assembly line? How's it feel?" Jack Welles called out, grinning as he spotted Riku. Right now, Riku was the most "expensive" one in their crew.
"Bzzt." Riku's form flickered with a wave of color and vanished, leaving only the bloody bag floating in the air.
"Optical camouflage. Looks pretty slick. My cyber-eyes can't even scan it," Jack Welles said with an approving nod. The ability seemed worth it—used right, it could work wonders.
"Too bad it's an older model. The cloaking only works if you move slowly. Go too fast, and it's super obvious," Riku said, swinging his arm quickly. Sure enough, it created a weird, obvious distortion, making him stand out like a sore thumb.
"Still pretty cool," V said, a bit envious. She was still mulling over what cyberware to get for herself.
"Let's roll. Spent all my eddies on this, so time to earn the next batch. The more we make, the better gear we can get," Jack Welles said with a confident toss of his head. That's the saibā vagabond way.
After saying goodbye to Misty, the trio hopped into their new car and headed to the mission spot: Santo Domingo's Arroyo district.
"This is Sixth Street turf. If we see those punks, better steer clear," Jack Welles said seriously from the driver's seat of the Thorton car. From his expression, he clearly wasn't a fan of the Sixth Street gang.
"Yeah, especially you, Jack. You scream Valentino. I'm worried they'll pop you on sight," V teased, a hint of glee in her voice. She was from Heywood too, but at least she didn't look too Valentino.
"Hmph. I'll blow their heads off with my gold kāne," Jack Welles grumbled. He'd left the Valentinos long ago, but his loyalties hadn't shifted. He and Sixth Street were still like oil and water.
The Valentinos and Sixth Street had been clashing in Heywood for ages. It wasn't just a one-day thing—their rivalry ran deep.
(End of Chapter)