Rebecca's Story – Chapter 1: Firestarter
You ever feel like your brain's running at double speed, but the world's crawling?
That's me. Always.
They say it's the cyberware, the stims, the blood pressure or whatever. Naw. It's just how I'm wired. Ever since I was a kid—before the chrome, before the guns, before Night City tried to chew me up and spit me back out—I felt it. That buzz. Like I was born with static in my veins and a fuse that was already lit.
Pillar used to say I was a bomb waiting to go off. Guess he wasn't wrong.
He was the only one who could keep up with me, y'know? Not just speed-wise, but brain-wise. My big bro. Loud, dumb, loyal. Miss that gonk more than I let on. We grew up side by side in some rat-infested corner of Watson. Raised ourselves, mostly. Parents? Chrome junkies. Just hollow meatbags with dead eyes and data jacks in their necks. The moment I could shoot, I left them behind.
Started running gigs before I hit puberty. Real ones. Data snatches, supply hits, back-alley merc work. Pillar and I were a team—until he got a little too hyped during a boost job and got himself flatlined by a f***ing cyberpsycho.
I didn't cry. Not 'cause I didn't care—'cause crying's a luxury. You cry in Night City, you bleed next.
Fast-forward a couple years, I'm solo-running, manic, high on chrome and low on sleep, when Maine picks me up. Big bastard. Too much heart for a merc, but he got sh*t done. He said I was "a firecracker with bad impulse control." I liked that. Took it as a compliment.
That's where I met him.
David.
All wide-eyed and raw, like some gonk fresh off the block. Didn't think much of him at first. Just another punk with a death wish. Wearing a piece of Maine's old chrome like it was a crown.
But man… he grew into it. Fast.
Something in him lit up whenever sh*t hit the fan. The more he bled, the more he fought. I liked that. Respected that. Not a lot of people in this city earn that from me.
Over time, I caught myself watching him. Not in a creepy way—okay, maybe a little—but it was different. He wasn't scared of me. Didn't treat me like a nutjob or a sidekick. He called me Becca. Just Becca. Simple. Like I was human or something.
That mattered.
Now we're running gigs together, just the two of us more often than not. Lucy's out doing her thing. The crew's thinned. Maine's gone. Dorio too. Kiwi's sketchy. Falco's cool, but quiet.
So it's just me and David.
And I don't know if I'm falling for him or if I'm just scared of being alone again.