Home Sweet Home?

As the truck was traveling down Sagan Avenue and making its turn onto Monroe Street in the heart of Japantown, Stan was doing his morning spiel on the radio, tallying the "body-count lottery" of deaths across all six major districts for the previous day. Sickening when you actually think about it, but such was the state of media in Night City; find a way to celebrate anything, even the bad. Looking out the windows, Billy's hands began to shake, and he looked even more agitated and restless than when Miz was egging him on. Even she took notice, signaling to Pops, who spoke up, "Hey, adrenaline got you bad, huh?" Billy looked down, clapping his hands together, "No, it's not that. It's uh... I... f-fuck!" Taking notice in the rearview, Ky pulled off to the side, lucky to find a row of several open parking spaces along the side of the road. Parallel parking was a bitch. Billy called out, "I... I need some air." Pops already had the trunk doors open before Billy could finish his sentence. He jumped out of the truck, pacing a few steps before turning around and coming back, nearly doubling over. Pops climbed down,