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Blood and Bytes (Revna x Delryth)

Bella kept her smirk to herself, resisting the urge to snap back as she followed Derrick toward the building. He was already enough of a pain to deal with without adding fuel to the fire. Instead, she focused on the task ahead, letting the cool air clear her head as her boots moved silently across the pavement.

Her visor flickered to life again as they reached the base of the staircase. She slid her deck from its compartment, fingers already dancing over the interface. The stairwell door loomed above them, its locks active but nothing she couldn't handle.

The soft hum of her deck was the only sound as she worked, her visor projecting a digital overlay of the lock's security system. Layers of code unraveled before her, and she picked through them with ease, her focus narrowing to the singular task. "Basic corporate crap," she muttered under her breath. "They never learn."

Seconds later, there was a quiet click. Bella pushed the door open just far enough to peek inside before sliding back against the wall. Her voice was low but firm as she gave the status update. "Clear for now. Hall's empty, but that won't last once we're inside." She pocketed her deck and adjusted the strap of her bag, her hands ready to draw if things went south.

She glanced over her shoulder briefly, her tone laced with dry humor. "Try to keep up. Wouldn't want to lose you in there."

With that, she slipped into the stairwell, her movements smooth and deliberate. The soft thud of her boots echoed faintly as she ascended, her mind locked on the next phase. Every step brought them closer to the mark, and her adrenaline began to build—a steady pulse that sharpened her focus. What she noticed however, was he was right along with her. Again, they worked together as if they have been doing this for years.

They reached the second floor and paused, crouching just out of view of the door. Her visor scanned the area beyond, picking up faint heat signatures through the walls. "Two guards, stationary," she murmured, keeping her voice barely audible. "One's pacing near the northwest corner. The other's at the door."

Her hand hovered over her deck again, a plan already forming. "I can drop their comms and blind the cams around the room. We'll need to be quick once they're cut—give me the word when you're ready."
 
While the combat medic turned merc waited for her to pop the lock he drew out his handgun and checked it over. He made sure that the suppressor was properly screwed into place having a feeling that he was going to need it. The street was quiet enough, the location wasn’t near any real points of interest and so nobody had much of a reason to be walking by, the street didn’t lead anywhere and he was convinced that it was part of the reason that the gangoons used this location.


He followed her inside the building. He moved quickly along with her, while he listened to the info she was giving him. He appreciated having an up-to-date feed for a gig, it made a change from simply being cautious and having to mark enemies the old-fashioned way.


“You wish you could lose me.”


He leaned against the wall and habitually gave his pistol another once over despite already being confident it was in perfect condition. “Let’s do it,” he ordered and waited a second before springing into action. Adrenaline spiked through his body and he could feel his cyberware taught and read to react. He used his enhanced muscles to set him off towards the door quicker than a normal man would have moved.


He emerged into the corridor and kicked open the door, thankful that it was only flimsy sheet metal that was barely held in place. He burst into the room and levelled his handgun on the first guard’s chest. He fired three successive shots that clustered around where his heart was situated. His optics assessed the damage as it happened and he knew that the shots were fatal. The right atrium, right ventricle and the aorta all ruptured. The second guard fell less than a second after three shots aimed straight at his throat. One shot that his feed told him caught the goon in the larynx, the other two in the internal jugular causing a spray of blood.


His weapon found their mark then, aiming square at their torso. He gave them a slow shake of the head to advise against any ill-conceived plans. He remained in place, a serious look on his face while he waited for Bella to head on in and check for what they needed. He was happy to keep the gang boss in place for now with the threat of a bullet through their heart.
 
Bella's lips twitched faintly at Derrick's comment—you wish you could lose me—but she didn't dignify it with a response. Instead, she focused on her visor's data feed, letting the sarcastic quip settle into the back of her mind. It wasn't worth engaging, even if the thought of losing him—or him losing her—was a fleeting curiosity.

The fight ahead demanded her attention, and that was where her energy went.

She followed in his wake, entering the room with her pistol drawn and already trained on the nearest target. Derrick's shots had been clean, his precision unnerving in its efficiency. The blood spray hadn't even settled before she dropped into a crouch, taking stock of the surroundings while he held the gang boss at gunpoint. Her visor highlighted two additional heat signatures approaching from a connecting room, her lips thinning into a grim line. Great. Reinforcements. She marked their positions and relayed it with a curt whisper. "Two coming in from the left."

They didn't need to discuss who would handle what. Derrick kept his weapon trained on the boss while she shifted her aim toward the adjacent door. It opened a moment later, and two more goons spilled out. Bella fired without hesitation, the sharp crack of her suppressed rounds blending with the low hum of Derrick's optics cycling through their scans. The first went down with a shot to the chest, his momentum sending him sprawling backward. The second hesitated, but Bella's second shot tore through his knee, dropping him with a scream. She moved forward in a fluid motion, kicking his weapon out of reach before crouching over him. A swift jab of her mechanical hand to the side of his head silenced him for good.

It was too seamless—too easy. The way they moved in tandem, like they'd done this a hundred times before, annoyed her more than she cared to admit. This shouldn't work this well, she thought bitterly as she rose, her gaze darting toward Derrick. He was still standing near the boss, weapon steady, while her hands moved deftly to search the downed bodies for anything useful.

"Boss is spooked," she muttered, nodding toward their mark. "And reinforcements are thinning, but we've got more heat in the next room." Her visor highlighted the faint sound waves of hurried footsteps and muffled shouts—gang goons scrambling to form a defense.

She straightened, flicking a strand of hair out of her face with an irritated huff. The adrenaline buzz made her stomach twist, but her focus remained sharp.

"Guess it's your turn to open the door," she said dryly, her mechanical fingers flexing around the grip of her pistol. She hated how natural this felt, but she couldn't deny the satisfaction of their efficiency.
 
He kept his iron aimed at the boss, she was a tough-looking fucker and he didn’t put it past her to try something the second she got a chance. You didn’t get to the position she did within a group like this without being ruthless and getting your hands dirty. With that in mind, he relied on Bella to do what she needed when the next two came their way. This was already becoming a hot situation, more so than he was hoping but nothing compared to what he was prepared to face down.

The edgerunner watched as Bella dispatched the first of the new arrivals with a shot clean through the chest. Collapsed lung, broken ribs, internal haemorrhaging: Deceased. He was surprised by the placement of her next shot as it dropped him to the ground and caused her to need to close the distance and get her hands dirty. Was it intentional to have a reason to get close or sloppy? He wasn’t sure. Soon his optics informed him that he was flatlined too.

He knew the Phantoms would love it if either her or his partner fell. The chrome that they were sporting would be the kind of thing booster groups went loco for. He knew that she’d blocked signals and he hoped that they didn’t have time to get reinforcements. There were much bigger fish in the gang than the bitch he was aiming his barrel at. He wasn’t as convinced as she was that the boss was out of this. He closed in on her, ready to fire at a leg if she reacted and snapped some cuffs onto her wrists.

“We need to find out where she has that BD and then we can delta. That’s all that matters here. I can hold out, and get the deets we need. I’ll stay close and just try to buy time more than push.” He stashed the handgun and instead went to his other weapon, a DS1-Pulsar. He rushed at the door, opened it and dived behind the nearest crates he could find, firing rounds from the SMG to cover his advance. He moved remarkably quickly and felt his shoulder slam up against the cold metal in a split second. He glanced out from his cover to get ready for his optics and then leaned out with his submachine gun. The muzzle flash lit up the corridor and he dropped two of the goons who, thanks to a lack of experience, stood out in the open. He withdrew again as return fire clattered from the crate. A bullet ricocheted off the wall near him and clipped his shoulder but the subdermal implants stopped it doing anything more than nicking his skin.

“Hurry the fuck up.” he barked through their internal comms.
 
Bella crouched behind a crate near the opposite side of the room, her breathing steady as she pulled up her deck and scanned for the location of the BD. The encrypted signal was faint but traceable, buried in a secure terminal two floors down. Gotcha.

"BD's on the second sublevel," she murmured through the comms, her voice clipped and professional. "I'm heading there now. Keep them off me."

The gunfire outside the room provided just enough cover for her to slip past unnoticed. She moved with practiced efficiency, her mechanical limbs giving her steps an almost soundless quality. The hallway was dimly lit, the occasional flicker of a faulty neon light casting erratic shadows.

Her visor lit up with a single hostile approaching, highlighted in red as he rounded the corner ahead. Bella didn't break stride, her pistol snapping up to fire two clean shots—one to the chest, one to the head. The man crumpled to the floor, his body sliding awkwardly against the wall.

One less obstacle.

Reaching the secure terminal, she plugged in her deck and began the decryption process. Her fingers danced across the interface, lines of code flashing rapidly as she bypassed the firewalls. The BD's data core appeared on her feed, and she extracted it with a satisfying beep.

"Got it," she said through the comms, a hint of triumph slipping into her tone.

Moving back to Derrick was the easy part, at least, it was supposed to be. The gonk she already killed was on the floor with a pool of blood collecting under him. However, just as she was about to make it back to Derrick, a red flare almost blinded her through her deck. Just as she was rejoining Everyone, the mini boss stepped just to her left. She didn't have time to react, her body tightened and tried to move fast enough but she just knew she wasn't going to get too far quickly. "Detox," the fear plain in her tone as she felt her legs push against the floor in attempts to get out of the way fast enough.
 
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Derrick continued to hold, he could afford to play it safe and take his time here. The goons that were coming as reinforcements clearly had no training. They were just gonks with guns that used them for show rather than out of any professionalism. He just waited for their shots to dry up and popped out to drop another. He dropped the first three with relative ease and then waited for the next round of backup. They fared little better. He managed to feign the need to reload to force them to pop out from the cover they had finally decided to use. As they peeked around they found the combat medic waiting for them with several bullets.

There was one waiting out behind the cover seemingly too cautious to be gunned down like his companions had been, that was until Derrick was ambushed. The gang boss who he handcuffed rushed up behind him and charged at him with her shoulder. He’d half expected Bella to have taken her along with her or get the BD location from her. It seemed that he was wrong. He groaned as he got rushed between the woman and the crate. He dropped his smg and fought quickly as he heard the second now leave cover and start running down the corridor. He was able to bring his fist up and punch the woman’s throat and followed up with a headbutt. He was able to unsheath the combat knife in a pouch on his belt and jam it up under her ribcage just as her minion made it around the crate. He tucked his head in and was fortunate that the first two bullets fired by him hit his dying boss in the back. He yanked free the knife and threw it at his throat before any more shots could come his way.

He shoved the dead woman off of him and took a deep breath to recover as his optics informed him that he was the only living person in the corridor now. That had been too close. He could feel the adrenaline running through him and he remained in his battle high. He picked up his smg, reloaded it and waited for the next wave if it were to come.

The tone she used to call his name had him immediately on edge, something was wrong. The fear in her voice was undeniable. He spun on the spot and turned back into the room knowing that she was close. His eyes found her and then went straight towards the unit aiming at her. He wasn’t going to be fast enough, not to stop him. He moved anyway knowing that he wouldn’t get the first shot in.
 
Bella's breath hitched as the mini boss closed in, their chrome augments gleaming under the flickering light. Her pistol felt useless now, its magazine nearly empty. She backed away, her ribs aching from the earlier hits, and tried to think, but the rapid approach of her opponent left no time for strategy.

Her shot landed on their shoulder, doing nothing but earning a cruel smirk. "You're slower than I expected," they sneered, rushing forward.

The impact of their shoulder drove her back, slamming her into the wall. Pain exploded through her side, and she coughed, tasting copper. The BD, still clutched in her pack, slid to the floor as she stumbled, and her focus narrowed on the heavy footsteps approaching. Bella ducked as the first swing came—a cybernetic fist aiming to crush her skull. It clipped the wall instead, showering sparks, but the mini boss barely slowed. She lashed out with her knife, the blade slicing into their exposed forearm, but it barely left a mark.

Her mind raced. She couldn't win this—not head-on. The mini boss grabbed her by the wrist, twisting cruelly. The knife fell to the floor with a dull clang, and she gasped in pain, forced to her knees. Her free hand clawed at the ground, desperate for something—anything—to even the odds. Bella twisted, aiming a desperate kick at their knee. It landed, forcing them to shift, but their grip didn't waver. With one heavy shove, she was sent sprawling across the floor, landing hard against a crate. The BD skidded out of her reach, just a few feet away.

"Detox!" she screamed, panic lacing her voice. She scrambled for the BD, fingers brushing its edge, but a boot slammed down onto her hand, pinning it in place.

The mini boss crouched, their augmented fist gleaming as they raised it above her. "Time's up, sweetheart. Cute effort," the mini boss growled, yanking her closer. "You're nothing but chrome scraps waiting to happen."
 
Everything seemed to happen so fast as he entered the room. He saw her get sent hurtling off to the side only to have her hand stamped down on. He knew in that second that Bella was seconds away from being killed, the pain in his ass just gone never to bother him again. He could wait, try to flatline the monster after she’d been taken down and, instead, claim all the eddies for himself after the gig was complete.

He also knew that it wasn’t something he could ever do.

He yanked the lever on the side of his SMG to change the ammunition type to the limited high-calibre shells the custom piece sported. There weren’t many but sometimes, he’d learned while out with his old team, you needed something with a little more punch just to buy some time or take down something bigger. He fired two of the five shells at the brute’s elbow, the first was enough to blow into metal and what flesh and bone was left while the second was enough to sever the arm.

Three shots left he thought to himself.

He aimed for the centre mass and emptied all three of the shots into their torso. The attacks thudded as they impacted and caused him to stagger backwards against the wall behind him splattering it with blood. He roared in anger and refused to go down despite the three puncture wounds going through him which caused Detox to groan. What the fuck was he made of?

He cocked the lever again to go back to normal munitions and just began to unload every last bullet in his bag as the miniboss howled in fury and launched himself towards Detox. His cybeware picked up each bit of damage that he caused and it told him that he should have killed the monstrosity four times over. He managed to dive to the side at the last second sending a desk covered with small boxes flying. He watched as the colossal gangoon collapsed through the wall opposite leaving a hole in it. Not wanting to leave anything to chance Detox primed one of his three grenades and threw it through the opening with him. He reloaded as the explosion went off to a horrible meaty slapping sound as whatever organic material was left on that cyborg was turned to pulp. Even then he stood with his SMG aimed at the hole in the wall as though he expected him to emerge.

After several seconds of silence he heaved a heavy breath and looked over towards Bella. “You good? Got a stim that will keep the pain away for a while but we can’t stop here. Not if there’s more of that thing around here.”
 
Bella wheezed through gritted teeth as she shifted against the wall she'd been slammed into, her vision swimming with red at the edges. Her ribs screamed with every breath, and she was pretty sure one or two might have cracked under the miniboss's relentless assault. Her mechanical calf sparked faintly, twitching as she tried to move it, but she forced herself to sit up. No way was she going to die sprawled out like some rookie.

The miniboss's roar tore through the room, followed by a barrage of gunfire that rattled her skull. She couldn't see much beyond the chaos, but it was enough to know someone had stepped in. Him. That thorn in her side had come through. The sounds of destruction crescendoed, a mix of metal crunching, walls splintering, and a deafening explosion that left a cloud of debris in its wake.

Bella clenched her jaw, using the wall to pull herself upright. Pain lanced through her side, and she hissed, cradling her ribs with one arm while the other braced for balance. Her legs shook, mechanical and flesh alike, but she refused to crumble. Not now. Not after this. The silence that followed the chaos was heavy, broken only by her ragged breaths. She heard the faint shuffle of movement nearby and growled, "Give me the stim." Her voice was sharp, but the edge softened as she staggered closer, eyeing the room with a mix of frustration and relief.

The miniboss's shredded remains were still, and the gonks that hadn't been turned to paste were scrambling like cockroaches, shouting into their comms and tripping over themselves to retreat. Pathetic. She pressed a hand to her ribs again, wincing as she tried to straighten. "Few of those gonks left," she grunted, her voice uneven. "They're calling for help, but they're just panicking. No fight left in them." She dragged her gaze to where Detox stood, her chest heaving with effort. She hated this. Hated feeling weak, hated needing help, but she couldn't deny what had just happened.

Her lips curled into a grimace—not quite gratitude, but close enough. Her eyes lingered on him longer than they should have, her thoughts twisting in ways she didn't want to analyze. The bastard had saved her, and it did something to her that made her stomach churn and her heart pound. She looked away sharply, trying to shove those feelings aside. "Just... keep your iron ready. Let's get the hell out of here before any more of those things show up."

Her pulse thudded in her ears, louder than the pain in her ribs or the fading adrenaline. She wasn't sure if it was the near-death experience or the way her body reacted to his presence now, but she couldn't stop her breath from catching as she looked back at him. For a moment, just a moment, she hated him less. And that pissed her off most of all.
 
His eyes remained on his injured partner as she limped over towards him. Her injuries were serious enough though they shouldn’t be life threatening. Not unless they slowed her down enough in the next firefight, if it happened, and made her catch a bullet. He was used to having to exfil people in far worse conditions than her from hot zones and so he liked their chances. There was something about the moment that almost made him feel nostalgic. This reminded him of work, this is what he was good at, what he liked to do because he was good at it.

“As you wish, sweetheart.” He reached for her hand took it with a firm grip and used that to turn her arm over to bare her inner bicep. He reached for one of the few stims he had clipped onto his belt ready for easy access and quick use. He spun it in one hand and ran two fingers along her arm towards her inner elbow. When his fingers found where the heartbeat was strongest his cyberware confirmed it. He pressed the stim against her skin and pushed the button to inject the stim into her. It was a concoction that was designed to make blood clot quicker, give a hit of a powerful painkiller, along with adrenaline to keep the wits sharp and the body able to push through whatever condition it was in. It also helped prevent blackouts to keep a target conscious.

“Lucky you said that I was going to put my iron away and stroll out.” he rolled his eyes as he responded. “Need me to prop you up? Looks like you’ve got some jacked-up ribs. Don’t give a fuck about your pride, if you need help take it.” Should she indicate she needed it he’d lace her arm over his shoulder before setting off, if not he’d simply take point, remaining close to the walls to make for a smaller target if anybody still felt lucky.

They were lucky at this point, the only person they ran into screamed at the sight of them and threw his weapon away with his hands in the air as though he was surrendering to the NCPD. It would have been easy to zero him but Detox didn’t like collateral damage nor did he want to waste ammo, not on some surrendered gangbanger that looked like he was about to shit his pants.

Several minutes later they’d found themselves at their infiltration point and rushing down the stairs. Derrick didn’t stop and nor did he let his guard down. Not until they were finally back by at his vehicle and he was helping Bella into it. He hopped into the driver's seat, started the ignition and let out a sigh of relief. He turned towards Bella with a grin on his face, the stoic professionalism gone from his features and replaced with his usual demeanour. “Need me to kiss anything better?”
 
Bella gritted her teeth, her pride and the dull ache in her ribs warring as she hesitated. Her legs felt steady, but every step came with a reminder of just how close she'd been to flatlining. She glanced at Detox, his offer to help hanging in the air between them. Pride screamed at her to refuse, but the pain... the pain whispered otherwise.

"Fuck it," she muttered under her breath, begrudgingly shifting closer and draping an arm over his shoulders. Her weight settled against him, her movements stiff and hesitant, like leaning on someone else was a foreign language she hadn't quite mastered. "Don't get used to this," she snapped, her tone biting even as she silently thanked him for not making a show of it.

The walk was excruciatingly slow. Every step jostled her ribs, and her fingers dug into his shoulder to keep herself steady. The heat radiating off him was a stark reminder of how close he'd been during the fight—how he'd saved her when he could have just walked away.

Her thoughts churned, her focus slipping between the pain in her side the was dull until she stepped on that side and the man beside her. This wasn't the first time he'd caught her off guard, not by a long shot. The bar flashed in her mind—how he'd stabilized her with the stim that night, no questions asked. It wasn't just his actions that confused her; it was the ease with which he shifted between cocky asshole and someone... reliable.

She couldn't help but glance at him from the corner of her eye, her thoughts swirling as they made their way out. He'd shown up when she needed him most, pulling her out of the fire. And now here he was, steady as a rock, letting her lean on him without a word of complaint. The memory of the bar slipped into her mind unbidden. The way he'd patched her up then, his hands steady, his words sharp but not unkind. It was infuriating, the way he was impossible to pin down. One second, he was every bit the asshole she wanted to hate, and the next, he was...

Her fingers tightened slightly on his shoulder, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn't like thinking about him like that.

By the time they reached the vehicle, Bella's breath was coming in shallow, uneven bursts. She slid into the passenger seat with a groan, cradling her ribs as she sank back into the seat. For a moment, she just sat there, catching her breath, her gaze fixed firmly on the dashboard. Finally, she turned to him, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto his. "You're a real piece of work, Detox," she muttered, her voice laced with that signature bite, but softer than usual. Her lips curled into a faint, pained smirk as she shook her head, looking away. "Can't figure out if you're trying to keep me alive just so you can keep pissing me off."

The dull pain mixed with everything else, plus the mission itself. She needed to get home and more importantly take care of the fire that circled her blood for reason's she was very unsure about. It was making Detox into something he wasn't and god help her, she needed to get as far away from him as possible before she did something stupid.
 
Detox raised an eye at the woman a smirk tugging at his lips. “Is that a no? Suit yourself.” He flashed Bella a wink and settled into his chair. His head hit the soft headrest and he let out a sigh of relief. His blood still ran hot but the adrenaline dump was here, the after-effects of the combat high he’d been in finally starting to wash over him. He always felt good after a close encounter. There were a lot of shifts that ended with him in a bar celebrating with several rounds of whiskey and some cute guy or girl that caught his eye sat upon his lap. He’d already had several drinks but he hadn’t had anybody on his lap. Not yet at least.

“Something like that. I’m also just good at my job. Some people I need to flatline, others I have to keep alive. You, princess, happen to be on my team and that means that this time you’re in the keep-alive category.” Which was different to their first encounter he realized. That time she’d been the target that he needed to put down. He’d failed, obviously, but she’d seen that side of him, that intensity.

“I’m just giving you something else to live for. Suffering through being second place to me.” The smirk that came next was joined by a flash of white as the tips of his teeth crept out from between his lips. At first, he’d liked to piss her off because he hated her. He still wasn’t particularly her fan but there was something more in those exchanges. Something he liked beyond simply just trying to get under her skin. It bothered him how much he thought about that. How much he remembered the sight of her ass swaying on the dancefloor or how his body had thrummed at being so close to her in the bar before they’d been interrupted by the gig. How far would that moment have gone if they hadn’t gotten back to business?

He started the ignition and the airconditioning began to cool the car down immediately. He placed a hand on the steering wheel and looked at her. “So where to, back to your place? I don’t recommend riding your bike like this.”
 
Bella's lips twitched into a tight line at the word princess. It shouldn't have gotten to her—it was just another one of his smug little nicknames meant to get under her skin—but damn if it didn't spark something deeper. Annoyance and something far hotter spread through her, searing like wildfire under her bruised ribs. She hated the way her stomach knotted, the way her pulse jumped.

She sank back into the seat, crossing her arms carefully over her chest. Her ribs protested the movement, a sharp reminder that, for once, he was right. There was no way she could handle her bike like this. The thought made her jaw tighten. Not because it wasn't the smart play—she'd rather live to fight another day than die eating pavement—but because it meant she'd have to let him drive her home.

Let him know where she lived.

She flicked a glance his way, catching that damnable smirk on his face, the flash of teeth that said he knew exactly how much this situation irritated her. If he was anyone else, she'd be tempted to take the risk on the bike just to spite him. But he wasn't just anyone. And that was the problem. Her lips curved into a half-glare, half-smirk as her eyes locked on his. "If you wanted to take me home, Detox, you could've just said so," she shot back, her tone sharp with an undercurrent of playful defiance.

Without waiting for a response, she reached into her jacket pocket, pulled out her holo, and flicked up the driving directions to her place. The route glowed faintly on the windshield, casting soft light between them as she leaned back again, cradling her ribs.

"Try not to get too comfortable knowing where I live," she added, her voice low but teasing, the edges softened just enough to let him know she wasn't completely pissed. "This is a one-time deal."

Even as the words left her mouth, she couldn't stop the small flutter of anticipation in her chest, the subtle tension that crackled between them like static.
 
This back-and-forth game Derick and Bella were playing was just something delicious, enticing and addictive. How could he dislike her so much and yet enjoy fucking with her in a way that was more akin to how some people treated their high school crush? He liked this too much and he knew it. Something in his brain tried to warn him that it meant things with her were dangerous but he ignored it. He didn’t want to just play it safe and keep her at a distance, keep it entirely professional. Fuck that.

He followed the directions to her place and was ready to move quicker than her this time if she tried to fuck with the low synth-wave that started to sound. With her ribs how they were he wasn’t against giving them a poke to make sure that he could protect his tunes. He barely paid attention to the roads they drove down and went into auto pilot as he cruised through the neon-lit streets of Night City.

“Yeah, I could have, didn’t have the eddies spare” he deflected, returning to the joy toy teasing he’d started earlier on. He could tell that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with him knowing where she lived but it just made the most sense. Even if he dropped her elsewhere and she made her way home from there it still meant navigated the city injured. He had a feeling she wasn’t the kind of woman who liked being vulnerable.

“Don’t get too comfortable, huh? You moving pretty soon now that I know?” he laughed and rolled his eyes off to the side. “A one-time deal huh? So tonight is a one-night stand then? Good to know.” He took a hand off of the steering wheel, placed it on her lap and slowly ran up the inside of her thigh making sure to apply pressure with his fingers. “You could have asked already if you wanted me so much, Princess.” He used the word again after he’d noticed the reaction it coaxed from her before. Even while driving he was insightful and she wore a lot of her thoughts and emotions on her sleeve.
 
Bella stiffened at the touch, her body betraying her in the worst way. A sharp jolt shot up her spine, a mix of irritation and something hotter, more insidious. She shot him a glare out of the corner of her eye, her lips curling into a dangerous smirk.

"You're really leaning into this, aren't you?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she grabbed his wrist—firm, but not enough to move it away. Not yet. The heat of his palm against her thigh was maddening, and the bastard knew it. "But if you wanted to keep your hand intact, you could've just said so."

Her grip tightened for emphasis before she shoved his hand back toward his side of the car, careful not to jostle her ribs too much. Her eyes flicked back to the windshield, her tone sharper now as if the words could deflect the growing tension between them.

"And don't flatter yourself, Derrick. Just because I'd rather risk you knowing where I live over bleeding out on my bike doesn't mean I'm inviting you in for drinks." She paused, then let her lips curve into a slow, mocking smile. "But nice try. Really. You're almost convincing."

The truth simmered just beneath the surface, hot and infuriating. He was right—about everything. About her not liking to be vulnerable, about the way his teasing pushed buttons she didn't even know she had, and most annoyingly, about how much she liked it. The tension in the car was thick enough to cut with a knife, and she hated how her mind kept drifting to his hand, to the way he said princess like it was a damn invitation.

"You keep running that mouth, though, and maybe I'll let you crash on the couch. Just so I can hear what other bullshit you come up with." She turned her head to meet his gaze, locking onto his with the kind of smirk that promised retribution.

Bella's holo flashed, signaling the next turn, and she leaned back in the seat with a wince, letting the synth-wave wash over them. "Almost there, hotshot."
 
Feeling Bella stiffen up sent a spark of satisfaction up Derrick’s arm. He liked that his touch could rile her up so much and that it got more reactions out of her that he could feast upon. That glare was as sweet as honey and he adored it. She knew how much he was enjoying it, she called him out on it and yet he didn’t care. She knew as well as he did that they were locked in some kind of game and he sure as shit wasn’t going to back down.

With her subtle threat about his hand, he let a very low voltage warning shock jolt from his palm into her thigh. Enough that she’d feel but nothing that would be more than a minor irritation. She threw his hand back and he placed it on the steering wheel again just in time for a turn coming up. He glanced out of the window to see some drunk stumbling into the lamppost and winced as he watched him fall onto the pavement hard.

“Almost convincing.” he echoed, grinning while he did. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as the strong started to build up towards a base drop and then slapped it hard once it hit. “The couch now? I’m getting closer and closer to your bed. Seems like I’ll be in it before long” He laughed and took another turn. Almost in time to the change of tune on his sound system, the skies of Nightcity began to open up and a heavy cascade of rainwater began to hammer down around them, beating off the roof of his car.

Derrick turned around the last few corners before pulling off the road and into the small car park outside of her place. He turned off the car ignition and leaned one arm on the steering wheel as he turned properly towards her, a gesture that put some emphasis on his shoulder muscle. “So, what’ll it be, Fire fox? Need me to come up and take a closer look at your injury or shall I contact you about the gig tomorrow?
 
The low voltage shock made Bella's thigh jolt, and her glare sharpened into a dagger. "Cute," she muttered under her breath, resisting the urge to rub at the spot like it had actually hurt. It hadn't, but it wasn't about pain. It was about principle—and Derrick knew exactly how to dance on that razor's edge without tipping her over.

As the car pulled into her building's parking lot, Bella's fingers tapped against her leg, her mind running circles around him—his smirk, the way he said Fire fox like it was some kind of intimate secret, the sheer audacity of his laugh. The worst part? She didn't hate it. Not nearly as much as she should.

When he finally killed the engine and leaned toward her, she didn't immediately move. Her eyes caught on the way his shoulder shifted, the rain casting sharp streaks of light through the window. The bastard had a way of filling space, of making every motion feel deliberate. Calculated. Like he knew exactly what he was doing. Bella scoffed at his offer, her voice sharp and dismissive as she opened the car door. "Nope. I've got it. Thanks for the ride, sweetheart."

The rain was unrelenting as she stepped out, cool drops quickly plastering her hair to her neck and shoulders. The adrenaline that had carried her this far was finally ebbing, leaving an ache that made her ribs scream with every movement. She gritted her teeth against the discomfort, determined not to let Derrick see her falter. But halfway across the lot, her vision blurred for just a second too long. A misstep sent a sharp lance of pain up her side, and Bella hissed, gripping the nearest lamppost to steady herself.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, glancing back at the car. Derrick was still sitting there, arm draped over the steering wheel, watching her through the rain-streaked window like a hunter waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. She knew that look, and she hated it.......Or maybe she didn't.

She exhaled through her nose, turning back toward him, her pride warring with her practicality. "Alright," she called, her tone a mix of begrudging annoyance and reluctant amusement. "Get your ass over here, hero, before I change my mind."

"Don't make me regret this," Bella shot at him, her voice sharp but softened slightly to not cut the man who would undoubtably help her and she unfortunately needed it.

The two of them moved together through the rain, helping her navigate up the stairs to her apartment. Bella fumbled with the lock, muttering a curse under her breath before finally shoving the door open. Inside, the space was dimly lit by the glow of monitors and scattered neon strips. A massive wall of screens displayed fragmented code and shifting data streams, the air humming faintly with the whir of servers and machinery. The studio was cluttered but not dirty—cables coiled in loose piles, empty coffee cups on the desk, and a few personal touches scattered among the chaos.

The bed, a ridiculously large and overstuffed thing, sat in the corner, covered with mismatched blankets. Beside it was a small kitchenette, more functional than welcoming, with half-empty energy drink cans lining the counter. But what would reveal more of her and who she was, a jacket draped over the back of a chair near the main rig. Worn and faded, it bore the unmistakable logo of a nomad clan, the edges frayed from years of use.
 
He could see the bait dangling in front of her like like a lure for fish that he’d seen in some high-end corpo’s apartment during one of his rescue gigs. Most people in Night-city had never seen a real animal and yet this gonk had a full pond of fish. Sure he’d seen enough television to know what fishing was like and it reminded him ever so much of this moment. She swam close to the lure, gave it a nibble and he could tell she wanted to take a bite. She turned away though, resisting the temptation.

Derrick smiled as she turned him down and began to leave the car. “Alright, sure.” he offered up nonchalantly and waited. Was she really done? He’d be disappointed if she was but, he supposed, it would probably be for the better. Less headaches down the line and he could continue not to further mix business with pleasure. He’d already come dangerously close to that earlier on on the dancefloor and he wasn’t sure that it would end well for either of them. But perhaps it’d be worth it regardless.

He was just about to give up and prepare to leave when he noticed her pause and look back at him. He watched as the temptation became too much and she swam back over towards the bait still bobbing in front of her and hooked herself upon it. “Got her,” he thought to himself as she opened the door again. He knew she wasn’t inviting him up purely to give her medical care. Or, at least, he assumed that she wasn’t. His teeth were still bared while she reluctantly gave him the invitation. “Would I ever?”

He opened his door, slipped out of the vehicle and locked up so that he could follow her into her apartment. He’d seen a lot of apartments in his life, it was the most common place for somebody to have an emergency. Not everybody got shot or ended up in a car wreck. A lot of the time a customer's vitals flatlined they were just at home and were having a heart attack or something along those lines. He couldn’t help but examine hers. Like ninety-five per cent of Nightcity, her kitchen was for show. People didn’t cook unless they were wealthy or doing something special. Almost nobody possessed a cooker or anything more than some way to heat up instant noodles. He looked at the coffees and wondered if she, like so many others, had a vending machine in the apartment. His eyes eventually fell on the jacket after checking out the bed and he furrowed his brows curiously.

“Nice place, been here long?”
 
Bella leaned back against the edge of her bed, one hand braced against the soft comforter and the other pressed lightly to her ribs, though she made sure not to wince in front of him. The glow from the monitors played over her face, lighting up the wicked little smirk that tugged at her lips as she caught Derrick’s eyes wandering to her jacket.

"Careful," she said, her voice dropping into something teasing, low and smooth. "Staring too long at relics like that might give you ideas. You know, about what kind of trouble someone like me’s gotten into."

Her gaze trailed over him, settling on the way his soaked shirt clung to his chest, the defined muscle beneath practically on display. It was so easy to forget to be annoyed at him when he looked like that—too easy, really. She let her smirk deepen, folding it into her tone.

"Nice to see the rain hasn’t washed away that charming sense of curiosity you’ve got," she continued, her eyes locking on his. "But if you’re planning on interrogating me about my past, you might want to start with something easier—like why you’re still standing all the way over there."

She tilted her head, her fingers tapping lightly against her thigh, the subtle invitation lingering in her posture. "You’ve already got a front-row seat, Derrick. Might as well enjoy the show."

Her gaze flicked back to the jacket, then to him, daring him to ask what he clearly wanted to. Instead of waiting, she leaned into the tension, letting her voice drop another octave.

"Or maybe," she added with a playful lilt, "you’re more interested in seeing if there’s anything else worth digging into. But I should warn you—I don’t let just anyone go poking around my business. Lucky for you, tonight’s a one-time deal."

She arched a brow, her smirk sharp and cutting, though her eyes glinted with something warmer, something inviting. The game was always more fun when she had the upper hand.
 
He continued to look at the jacket up until Bella decided to speak. His head turned back towards her and he tried to clock what that expression creeping onto her face meant. He glanced back towards the faded old jacket that, from how Bella spoke, she assumed was from a previous life rather than the one she lived here. He’d seen that kind of jacket before on nomads though it was rare that they ventured into the city. That… the bike. Well, that made sense. The fact that she was here with an apartment made him assume that something had caused her to cut ties with whatever her clan was. That or she was doing something long-term in Nightcity on the clan’s behalf. But she was a merc doing shitty odd gigs like him. No. That wasn’t the life of somebody still an active member of their clan.


“Nah, couldn’t care less,” he replied dismissively and waved her off. It wasn’t entirely true but her challenging him to ask made him far less inclined to give her what she wanted. He took her invitation to come closer though, closing the distance between them in just a couple of strides. Once there he rolled his shoulders to ease out a loud crack from his back.”Oh, I intend to enjoy it, Bella.” He flashed her a smirk that showed the whites of his teeth.


“I’m here on a purely professional basis, Firefox, what kind of guy do you take me for?” He scratched the side of his neck in an idle gesture while he spoke before continuing. “It’s going to be hard for me to do my job while you’re still wearing so much. How am I supposed to properly check your injuries to treat them?” The smirk spread and he pointed at her shirt and gestured upwards. “Off,” he ordered in his best doctor’s orders voice.
 
Letting out a low, amused hum, tilting her head just enough to keep her smirk in place as she watched him close the distance. The way he dismissed her past so easily only made her more certain that he wasn't actually dismissing it—just playing his own game, just like she was. That was fine. She liked games. Her brow arched when he cracked his back, his smirk flashing with that easy confidence of his. Cocky bastard. She should be annoyed, but instead, her stomach curled with something far more dangerous.

"Oh, I intend to enjoy it, Bella." That shouldn't have sent a flicker of heat up her spine, but it did. His next words, though, had her outright laughing. "It's going to be hard for me to do my job while you're still wearing so much." He even had the audacity to gesture at her shirt like some corpo doctor making an official request.

Bella exhaled sharply, shaking her head as a slow, knowing smirk curled at the edges of her lips. "So professional," she purred, voice dripping with mockery. "Must be real hard, working under these conditions." But she didn't make him wait.

With deliberate ease, she reached for the hem of her shirt, fingers teasing the fabric for just a moment before she lifted it—slow, controlled, like she was unwrapping the best-kept secret in Night City. The movement exposed every inch of toned skin, the deep curves of her waist, the dip of her stomach, the faint scars that mapped stories across her body. She pulled it over her head, letting it drop carelessly to the floor. She sat there, bare from the waist up except for the snug band of her sports bra, the deep cut of it only emphasizing the swell of her chest. The room's neon glow painted her skin in hues of electric pink and cyan, the light flickering off the faint sheen of sweat still clinging to her after the night's chaos.

Bella rolled her shoulders back, standing just a little taller despite her frame, letting him look—letting him take in every inch of her, every breath, every flex of muscle beneath soft skin. Getting up, she stepped forward, closing the space between them with all the predatory grace of a woman who knew exactly how she affected him. Her chin tilted up just slightly, her breath warm against his throat as she leaned in, close enough that he could feel her breath. "That better?" she murmured, her voice thick with challenge, thick with something far more dangerous.
 
Derrick did his best not to show the impatience he felt as she dragged the moment on. Her laughter only made him smirk again. Part of him wondered if she'd try to protest but it seemed she wanted to take her shirt off almost as much as he wanted her to remove it. Waiting to see the present unwrapped was painful though and his fingers drummed against his hip impatiently. He was tempted to reach for it and pull it up himself though he decided he’d wait, he’d let her make a show of it. Thankfully it was worth the wait. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her body and he felt his trousers tighten at the sight of her barely veiled breasts. He had to remind himself to stay calm.


“I’m not sure what doctors you’re visiting that don’t work while wearing clothes, I think you might have been to the wrong place. Do you just choose joy toys with a uniform?” He gave her a slow nod. “Better” he agreed. His hands went to his sleeves and he began to slowly roll them down his arm to cover his wrists again. He could feel her breath on his neck and it made the situation worthwhile, it escalated everything. Fuck. How could he go from hating her so much at the start of the day to now imagining just how good it would feel to fuck her. He needed help and he knew that he wasn’t going to get it here.


He reached for the shoulder of his shirt and used it to pull the fabric up over his head in a gesture that revealed his abs followed by the rest of his torso. On his left pec, he had a skull tattooed there made out of circuitry and on his arm, he had a trauma team emblem that he and several other new recruits all decided to get together as a show of camaraderie and bonding once they got into the TT program. He knew he should probably get it covered and yet so far he hadn’t been able to. One day, he said to himself every week. Without his shirt, it was only more evident that he took care of himself and that a lot of his free time was devoted to the gym.


“Is this more what you expect from your medical practitioners?” His voice dropped into a low sultry whisper and he remained close to her. He looked at her neck and he so desperately wanted to kiss it, to bite it and paint it in angry marks that would blossom into little bruises.
 
Bella let her gaze rake over him, slow and deliberate, the kind of look that was meant to set a man on fire. He was solid, broad, carved in the way only someone who lived by the edge of their own strength could be. The skull circuitry inked across his chest was a nice touch—very nice. And the emblem? That was interesting. A little too sentimental for someone as cocky as he was. Her smirk widened. Oh, he wanted her. Bad. And he hated that he did. Even better.

She took her time pushing into his space, the press of her body deliberate, the teasing heat of her skin just barely brushing his. Not enough to touch—just enough to make him crave it.

"Oh, sweetheart," she murmured, voice as rich and dark as the city beyond the neon glow, "if my doctors looked like you, I'd be in for checkups daily." Her fingers ghosted up his arm, barely there, a whisper-light touch following the ink down to his wrist.

Derrick had the nerve to look smug about it. About her, stretched out beneath him, half-bared and letting him in her space. He shouldn't have. "You're awfully confident for a guy who still has his pants on," she drawled, her voice husky, teasing, but edged with just enough command to make him second-guess who, exactly, was in control here.

Bella stretched out against the puffy expanse of her bed, half-propped up on her elbows, watching Derrick with the kind of lazy, knowing smirk that made men reckless. She was hurt, sure, the ache settling deep into her muscles now that the adrenaline had burned through, but she wasn't about to let that dull her edge. With her in just the thin band of a sports bra that did little to hide the smooth curves of her body. The dim glow of the monitors lining the room cast her skin in shifting neon hues, flickering soft purples and electric blues against the swell of her breasts and the toned cut of her stomach. Her fire fox tattoo glowed with the light that hit her, the only other ink that curled her skin was on her back. The rest of her was just mods. "Well doc," she purred, her voice pure sin wrapped in silk; "you ready for my check up or are you just going to stare?"
 
Derrick knew that it wasn’t going to be long before his arousal would be all too obvious pushing hard against his trousers, he could already feel the bulge starting to swell there as images of what he wanted to do to his newly found partner dominated his mind. He was lucky that he’d found himself in her apartment as the last thing he wanted to do was go home with thoughts of her on his mind, especially these kinds of thoughts. What was it about her that made her so fucking alluring? Especially when he still wasn’t convinced he actually even liked her. Sure she was hot but it was more than that.


He felt the goose bumps blossom on his arm from her touch and he growled a low sultry sound. At least the desire wasn’t exclusively his. He could tell that she wanted him as much as he did her, there was some comfort in that thought and it kept him in the game. His eyes flicked down at his trousers as she mentioned them and he cocked an eyebrow to her. “Then do something about them,” he answered, not willing to let her have the lead, not entirely anyway. His hand dropped down to his groin and he gave his clothed manhood a hard squeeze to emphasize the shape of it, the state of it.


“You talk too much” he quipped as he placed a knee on the bed and began to lower himself down towards her. One hand went towards her neck holding it in a firm but not painful manner and he used his thumb to push her head to the side to expose the tender flesh from her shoulder to her jawline. He used his free hand to support himself as he lowered towards the crook of her shoulder giving it a sharp nip that was sealed with a surprisingly soft kiss. He began to trail along her collarbone with sharp hungry bites which were tempered with slow deliberate kisses. Once he found her neck he changed his trajectory upwards, breathing over the spots he’d assaulted with his hot breath. His hand still held onto her neck and his thumb remained to keep her head angled just how he wanted her though his thumb brushed against her jaw line, gently caressing it as though he were rewarding her with the soft touch.
 
Bella exhaled sharply, her breath hitching as Derrick's teeth found her collarbone, sharp and insistent. A low, throaty moan escaped her lips, unbidden, as heat coiled deep in her stomach. Each bite, each deliberate press of his lips against the tender skin he assaulted, sent a shiver down her spine. His grip on her throat held her steady, thumb brushing over her jaw in a touch that was almost reverent, almost teasing. She let her lashes flutter, lips parting as he trailed higher, breathing against the sensitive skin of her neck, stoking the fire already burning between them. She didn't fight him. Not yet.

Her fingers dragged over his arms, nails barely scraping as she traced his muscles down to his waist. Her touch was light, a whisper of sensation compared to the way he was devouring her. Finally, she let a smirk curl her lips, voice low and smoky as she murmured, "You're eager." A pause, just enough for effect, her fingers ghosting over his belt. "Can't decide if that's cute or just a little pathetic."

She took her time, breath warm against his jaw as she worked at his belt, undoing each notch with slow, deliberate precision. Her knuckles brushed against him, and she felt his body tense, heard the sharp inhale he took through his teeth. The button popped. Her fingers dipped lower, dragging over the thick fabric of his trousers, teasing but never giving him what he wanted just yet. She let the tension stretch, savoring it. And then, finally, she began to push them down. Taking her time to torture him just as much as he was torturing her, Bella let out a slow, shuddering breath, but she wasn't about to give in too easily—not when she had him right where she wanted him, hovering over her, radiating heat and hunger in equal measure.

Pausing only to let her fingers drift, slow and deliberate, tracing the outline of his abs before dipping to the waistband of his pants. She didn't rush—no, she made him feel every agonizing second of her touch. Ghosting over his undone bottoms, skimming over the hard bulge he'd so boldly flaunted before moving both her hands to his hips, tugging his pants down to his knees. She felt like molten lava was thudding through her veins as she tried hard to keep playing the game, her fingers going to his now barely clothed bulge; gripping him.
 
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