“Don’t bullshit me, I know you noticed the way she looks at you,” Johnny scoffed at me, “Makes ya feel all fuzzy inside.”

  “So? Having a crush on someone doesn’t mean that trumps everything else going on,” I dismissed his remarks, “Evelyn’s the priority now. Besides, what good would it do to get with someone when I only have a few weeks of life left in me, assuming this problem doesn’t just magically go away on its own?”

  “And here I thought you’d be all ‘Love conquers all,’ pff,” he waved his hand at me.

  “Don’t make fun of me, asshole. Least I didn’t treat my past relationships like garbage, unlike a certain someone.” I brushed out my hair and ransacked my closet for something to wear. “Fuck… What’re we even doing, anyway? Rogue isn’t even the fixer for the City Center, that’s Dino Dinovic.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t know that gonk, but I bet he’s not as good as Rogue. Listen, a woman who’s been around long as she has is gonna have some connections–”

  “Yeah, sure,” I interrupted him, “And next you’re gonna want me to take you on the whole fucking tour, aren’t you?! And where does that leave me? Oh great, Johnny Silverhand gets to go on a reunion tour with his fucking groupies and ex-outputs or whatever, at least the ones who are still around and willing to speak with him, I bet that’s a pretty short fucking list.”

  “Great, then it should take us no time at all. Now put on some clothes, c’mon, chop chop.”

  “God I hate you…” I grumbled while throwing on a shirt.

  “Well, least we got mutual hatred in common.”

  “Yeah, and that’s about all we have in common, Johnny,” I hissed at him, “But hey, you know what? That’s fine because we won’t have to put up with each other for much longer, now will we?”

  “Believe me, countin’ the fuckin’ days here,” he rolled his eyes, “21 and goin’ down fast. Better pick up the pace.”

  “Why, what’s the rush? Not like you give a fuck what happens to me so long as I survive. Rogue’s not going anywhere, so you can stick it in her all you want once I’m gone, I’m sure she’s still swooning over the great Johnny Silverhand.”

  “Fine, then, let’s just sit around masturbatin’ all day, sound good?”

  “Oh, you mean like what you’ve been doing the past, what, 50-odd years? Man, I bet your junk looks like raw hamburger meat.”

  “Girl you wish you had junk like mine.”

  “Man, why the fuck are we even talking– No, you know what, blue pill for you.”

  “Oh great, just solve all your problems by turnin’ over a bottle, why d–”

  Fucking finally, some peace and quiet… Slept for 12 hours and got up and was instantly barraged by this cunt. Obviously. Why wouldn’t I just have a normal fucking day for once in my miserable life…

  I hit the road and headed for the City Center – if any information’s to be found on Hellman, it’s here. And since Rogue’s not an option until tonight, I might as well exhaust every possible lead I can find. Decided to wear my uniform top and dogtags – all the better to blend in, and it may open some doors otherwise closed to me.

  I seriously doubt that any of my contacts at Kang Tao or Petrochem would be of any use to me anymore, not since I got burned, which means doing all this at street-level. Exhausting every possible option hidden in every possible back alley and main boulevard alike, no matter how seedy it might seem.

  As far as seedy places go, it’s hard to beat the look of the Malted Liquor bar in the middle of the day. This was actually one of the few buildings that survived the bombing. Of course, most of the roof was collapsed, but it had four walls and even functioning doors. This close to the bomb site, almost everything was leveled in an instant. But this small, humble bar survived because the force of the blast was likely taken up by the many skyscrapers surrounding it, an amazing micro-miracle amidst a devastating tragedy. Granted, its occupants likely didn’t survive the night. Nukes tend to do that to people – we Japanese know this better than most.

  “Whoa there, little lady,” the bouncer stopped me as I entered the establishment, “Wha’ss that, your emotional support sword?”

  I looked over to see a towering, dark-skinned man, about early-40s or thereabouts, staring down at me through tinted glasses. Spoke with a thick Brooklyn accent… Man, it’s been ages since I heard that dialect…

  “No sir, that one’s in the car.”

  “Heh, very funny,” he scrunched his face, “Behave yourself, else I’mma be hangin’ that over the fireplace.”

  “Noted.”

  Strolling inside, I noted the slick-looking Italian gentleman sat at the bar, a preem rockerboy by the name of Dino Dinovic. The hottest fixer in all of Corpo Plaza – if anyone would know the name Anders Hellman at the drop of a hat, it’s him. Besides, he’s a musician. Johnny could get a kick out of his conversations.

  “Ahh, if it ain’t the enigmatic V,” Dino greeted me, “Buongiorno, come stai?”

  “Bene, grazie,” I nodded and gave him a slight bow, “It’s been too long.”

  “Tell me ‘bout it. ‘Specially when I heard about the Heist, thought I’d lost my star resource,” he gave me a loud smile and ordered himself a drink. “And you? Still whiskey, right?”

  “In the mood for something stiff today, actually,” I slyly smiled, “Vodka and brandy.”

  “Mm, vodka at noon? What’s up, somethin’ on your mind?”

  “Few things, actually, but the big one’s a corpo by the name of Anders Hellman. Ever heard of him?”

  “Mmm…” he thought long and hard, taking a swig of his malt whiskey as the bartender came over and poured me my shot, “Nah, don’t ring a bell.”

  “Oh? Not even for a few favors thrown in the mix?” I gave him a slight wink.

  “Heh, girl you carve ‘em up with the best of ‘em, I’ve seen ya in action,” he grinned, pausing to fix his jacket, “Tell ya what, I got a gig for ya. Som’n right up your alley.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Word on the street’s the Claws’re bein’ taken out by some sorta ghost or somethin’, I dunno what, exactly.”

  “A… ghost?”

  “Yeah, y’know, the oogy-boogy type… heh… anyway. Dude takes the job, expectin’ nothin’ outta the ordinary, then BAM! Guy comes across a dozen or so dead bodies in this back alley by the NCART station, suddenly keels over and dies with no explanation other than his head’s missin’.”

  “You’re saying an invisible ghost went and chopped your guy’s head off?… Uh, I mean, exorcism isn’t normally among my list of services, but I’ll give it a shot,” I shook my head and chuckled, “But seriously, sounds like someone with optical camo. Cyberpsycho, maybe. How long ago was this?”

  “Bout five minutes, just got off the conversation ‘fore you walked in, as a matter of fact.”

  “Hm, what a coincidence, huh?”

  “Nah, baby, I’m not interested in lyin’!” he recoiled back, “Or not that kinda lyin’ if you catch what I’m throwin’ out there. Seriously though, have you seen the fuckin’ city center lately? Shit’s hot. And that means your ol’ pal Dino’s flooded with business.”

  “T-heh,” I cracked a slight laugh, “Alright, fine, but only because you asked nicely.”

  “Hey, that’s my girl,” he raised his glass and downed it, with me following suit– wow, that’s spicy. “Go do that and I’ll give ya the deets on Hellman by tonight, okay?”

  “Appreciate it,” I smiled, “Give you a call when the job’s done.”

  Come to think of it, I’m oddly productive when Johnny isn’t around, how about that… What a miracle. This really should happen more often. Well, alright, let’s see… I remember Regina Jones mentioning that she needed help taking down cyberpsychos… Granted, she’s in Watson. But if there are feelers that can reach Rogue, then surely there are some to reach Jones as well. Could try her next. And, I guess if push comes to shove, I could always try one of my old coworkers. But that really is a last-resort – going to the Tower now is tantamount to suicide.

  Well, first thing’s first… Guess I’m bagging myself a ghost. There’s a sentence I never thought would apply to me…

  I checked my messages to see that Regina got the same call – she intercepted the message for MaxTac and had it diverted to me. Jackie and I had already bagged several cyberpsychos in the past, I guess she didn’t know he was gone. Time to flex my own legs, I guess.

  Looks like the call came from… Huh. Wow. The Night City Center for Behavioral Health, how ironic. Better put on the ballistic vest for this one. Hmph, I wonder if these people would be able to help me out with my condition, or any sort of trained neurologist, for that matter. I should stop by the offices after I wrapped up, provided I don’t have blood covering my clothes. I probably should’ve brought a change of attire with me, but I also didn’t expect a cyberpsycho call to come in, either. Note to my future self, then. I’m rapidly running out of room in Miyoko for this shit.

  In either case, there’s a fair case to be made here. If what this thing affects is the brain, then I probably should be seeing someone specializing in neurology or neuropsychology about how to fix it. But first thing’s first – there’s a cyberpsycho who needs subduing.

  Hmph… Blood everywhere, generally not a good sign. I see… three bodies so far. Looks like massive gashes. A sword. Ahh, right up my alley, indeed. Appreciate the referral, Dino… Is this our star attraction…? No, just a regular goon. But he could lead me to the big catch.

  “Where are you, you fucking cunt?!” he shouted down the hall. Something tells me he wouldn’t exactly last long, especially with no backup. But he’ll serve his purpose. I wonder how the hell he ended up all the way out here – this wasn’t Claw territory. We’re across the street from the AHQ Monument, for Christ’s sake.

  And dropped like a rock. Hmph. Our mysterious ‘ghost,’ I assume – Wait. Ahh, there you are… And a magnificent specimen, too. Though I could’ve guessed it’s just some borged-out swordsman, but let’s see what you’ve got anyway, hm?

  “I’m gonna count to three, then you better be gone!” he shouted to me from across the massive hall leading to the NCART station.

  I thumbed the end of Shinden, ready for his surprise attack. “You know that’s not going to happen,” I spoke loudly in return.

  Disappearing act… Hm. Alright, game on.

  I see a faint distortion in the ground. Optical camo. Left foot back. Bring Shinden low. He’ll go high. Disappeared – he’s airborne. Time it… there.

  –

  V deftly blocked his opening strike, throwing his sword up over his head before countering with a back-handed slash of her own on his off-side. She was sure to cut deep enough for him to take pause, yet not too deep as to risk his life.

  He yelped back in pain – she was the first person to draw his blood in weeks. The first to sense his so-called ‘wicked’ blood. He’d put many Tyger Claws to the same test, and all had unequivocally failed. Who was this demon who spoke with a native tongue? She was no Tyger Claw, that’s for sure. She maintained eye contact at all times, even when he cloaked himself in his demon skin, as if she was seeing past it, her eyes trained on his very soul instead. Sota…?– he thought to himself. No… She was something else. His fragile mind long-since broken, still crying out for Julia Lee, he could not stop himself. Not until they were all dead. And this woman, skilled as she was, was nevertheless in his way like the rest of the sheep.

  –

  This man had received extensive training, at the very least. Looks like an overcharged subdermal battery running a set of top-shelf fortified ankles and optical camo. Went airborne the first time. Easily parried, but I bet that wasn’t his real attack. No, he’s going to come at me from an angle now. I got his left, so he’ll favor his right-side. Come at me from the left to get more power in the strike– Wait– AGH! A f-flashbang grenade?!

  He’s gone… How very interesting…

  Hmm… Probably went deeper in. Doubt he’d try that attack again. He’s liable to find me somewhere further down, waiting in ambush… Wonder what’s on these bodies. Booby-traps… Nah. Wallets… Ammunition… the usual. He played with his victims. I see cuts in both front and back on the same body. A lighter strike behind, then the killing blow to the heart. Meticulous and took his time. Savoring the hunt. These people wronged him somehow. Let me see…

  According to a shard, his name is Norio… Stalked his prey from behind before disappearing. That was the last entry. Guessing he reappeared with his sword through this woman’s abdomen. From behind… Okay…

  –

  As soon as she opened a crate along the wall, V back-handed her sword and expertly parried his surprise strike from behind. She easily sent Norio reeling back to the middle of the hall as she pivoted into him, compromising his balance. His sword lit up with electricity as his batteries ran hotter than ever before, sending sparks and electrical arcs fluttering between his limbs. Blood poured from his right arm, the site of V’s second blow; he was lucky she didn’t slash his arm clean off.

  With nowhere to back off to anymore and his usual tricks all exhausted, he had no choice but to back away from this mysterious warrior. Except there was one problem – the Tyger Claws. They waited on the other side of the station, closing in on him like a pincer. All the more practice for him, normally. But the battery implant he had was causing tremendous agony from the heat burning up his insides, electricity arcing between his prosthetic arms where she had previously cut into them, severing wires and blood vessels alike.

  This was his last chance – either he cuts through enough Claws now and escapes before she finds him, or the bosses will sit there, on top of Julia’s corpse, laughing and smoking and fucking their way to Nirvana and leaving him for the wolves. No, this could not be his destiny. He’s fought too hard in the name of a gang that never truly accepted him beyond his swordfighting merits. Merits which are being pushed to their absolute limit.

  –

  He’s not liable to try the same thing three times, but I kept on my guard anyway, slowly walking through the hall. I gave him enough of a wound to cause a steady stream of blood and oil, enough to where I could hopefully see it instead of guessing and getting lucky based on intuition. He’s been unpredictable so far, and he’s likely getting more and more desperate. Wonder what’s next in-store.

  I rounded the next corner to see more of the same – a prominently-placed corpse with the back of his head blown out. Gunshot wound, perhaps…? I didn’t see any weapon on him…

  Nor did I see a weapon on this man’s body, either.

  A shot rang out over my head and I instantly unsheathed Shinden and raised it up to face-level, backing off slightly. “Norio – full of tricks, I see!” I shouted down the hallway.

  “Stop – just stop!!” he yelled back, firing two more shots. Looks like I got him riled up. Not a very good shot, either – or just fires in an unpredictable pattern. Smart. Only one of us have to get lucky, though.

  –

  What the– how the fuck is she doing that?! he thought to himself as she seemingly deflected two shots back-to-back. Shots which he aimed directly at her after intentionally missing the previous two. It’s like she has some sort of augmented reflex subsystem, something he’s only ever seen on Arasaka’s elite. The deflected shots missed wildly, likely she wasn’t aiming for him, specifically.

  Norio’s battery suddenly and violently discharged, having long-since overheated, causing a chain-fire on the revolver and blowing out the cylinder. He screamed suddenly, startled by the horrific realization that he was now completely defenseless. Blood was pasted all over the walls - his blood. No, no, this wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this.

  Sensing the wounded samurai like a shark, his adversary charged in and slammed the kashira into the side of his forehead, forcing him back. She didn't kill him - why didn't she kill him, he wondered… was she Tyger Claws, perhaps? No, she was far too skilled. He mercilessly slaughtered their kind. Unworthy, self-righteous cretins. She fought with tenacity and a highly-refined technique… in another world, he would've liked to have gotten to know her, perhaps. But here, she was merely another obstacle for him to overcome…

  As he retreated further, however, he came across a terrifying sight – or, at least, it was only terrifying now because of his wounds. No fewer than six Tyger Claw elites came rushing out into the promenade, covering both flanks and trapping him. He shot over to the right and reactivated what was left of his optical camouflage, the depleted battery sending sparks and random electrical faults everywhere. His cybereyes flickered and dimmed – he was done.

  V could see the writing on the wall for him. He was not the biggest threat in the room anymore. Moreover, she would not be having some gangers interrupt her duel and likely kill the person she was charged with bringing in alive.

  –

  “And who’re you?” a massive hunk of a man wielding a kanabō said with a devilish grin on his face as he approached me. I didn’t give him the courtesy of a reply, nearly bisecting him in a single strike. Subdermal armor – hm. Starting to give me some trouble. Think Shinden's due for another sharpening. Might do that after I pick up some dinner for myself.

  “Fuck – she’s with Akuhara!” the rest shouted. Hm. Original Evil… Wonder if that’s his actual name or just a cover.

  Alignment. Fiver on one. Akuhara took out the far right. Four on two.

  Step into the panic shot. Natural turn to no-foot rise.

  Give me a rise and fall action. Two shots vertically-aligned. Give them to the left gunner. Step in…

  –

  V backed herself against a storefront to avoid being flanked from her left, her sword swinging at near-supersonic speeds as a symphony of metallic sounds echoed from the blade. Norio took full advantage of her distraction, working his way behind the group and plunging his sword into each one in-turn.

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  The gang’s stunned confusion as all of their shots whiffed was met with a final silence as the last one’s head fell to the ground, Norio’s blade slicing clean through the ganger’s neck. Just one more obstacle in his way… This woman, whomever she was.

  More reinforcements showed up as she charged for Norio, backing him off and forcing him to dodge or counter her blows. In an instant, however, she turned around and hacked away at two more Tyger Claws coming up behind her without losing so much as an ounce of momentum, carrying the swing up and over her head. She rotated the sword’s orientation in mid-air, bringing the spine of her weapon down where Norio’s head would’ve been had he not moved.

  He could make out a faint grin on her face through her Kevlar scarf as she thrusted forward. Norio activated his Sandevistan in a last, desperate act to survive. He’d made it so far. He’d gotten out of the ambush at the Behavioral Center, left the building, figured out where the bosses were, and now this bitch would be his undoing?!

  Two more appeared from motorcycles, forcing her back a few steps – she carved the first woman in half as she launched herself off the bike and directly into this warrior’s weapon before she spun around and decapitated the second – an awe-inspiring display of skill and coordination.

  –

  Fuck me… I took two shots from those goddamn Tyger Claws. Thank God for plate-carriers. Now, what the fuck is this guy’s problem, anyway?! Why are so many Claws after him? I guess I can ask once he’s – Yeah, Sandevistan again. Right…

  Transition to front-grip. Prepare for movement. Reverse-swing with a flourish to throw him off.

  Unpredictable, give him a staccato. Sudden stop and pivot on left foot.

  Retreated. Looking right, liable for a feint to the left. Bring sword left to think he fooled me.

  –

  V pivoted back and rested her weight on her front leg, deflecting Norio’s sudden onslaught and using his momentum to carry him behind her. She sprinted forward to gain some distance, transitioning back to a rear spike-grip, aiming to parry rather than kill. Norio breathed out before pacing towards her, changing up the momentum to that of a spirited waltz for her.

  They exchanged blows back and forth to the point where sparks flew off of both of their weapons like a fireworks display before she finally smashed his sword down and sucker-punched him square in the face with a swift left hook, nearly breaking her own knuckles in the process. He finally loosened his grip on his weapon just long enough for her to knock it loose with her own.

  Norio screamed in pain and frustration as V wound up and smashed the side of his motorcycle helmet with Shinden’s kashira, ringing his head like a bell and forcing him to the ground. The whole bout took less than ten seconds, yet he burned three days’-worth of calories during that short timeframe, his insides threatening to microwave themselves if it wasn’t for his heat sinks.

  –

  “We’re done,” I said sternly to the incapacitated Akuhara. He tried to get up, but simply collapsed back onto the floor and started sobbing. The look on his face broke my heart. I could tell this was a desperate, broken man. Cyberpsychosis was nothing more than a convenient mask we place on people like this to hide the reality of their sickness.

  “Mm–mmh…” he groaned, “Julia…”

  “What happened?”

  “Guuhh…” It’s no use, he can barely speak… Hm. Wonder what he’s got… A phone. That’s a start…

  His text read: Was in an op with the new boss today. His skills leave a lot to be desired compared to Sota's virtuosity. Job wasn't clean at all, took a couple cuts to finish off some of the 6th Streeters. Painful to watch.

  So he was training the new boss, but didn’t help him out when he needed. No wonder he’s so skilled. He fought like a Yakuza underboss, if anything. And I quite liked his specialized sword… Never seen that before.

  Julia replied, asking why he didn’t help, and he said he wanted to give the boss a chance to prove himself. “Julia’s your girlfriend?” I asked him, and he silently nodded. His following text said the boss ruined the shirt Julia gave Norio. That he felt no kinship with this new character.

  “What happened to Julia?” I asked him again. And again, he just remained silent. I could tell he was perfectly capable of speaking – he had no life-threatening wounds. He was merely still… just laying there, likely in tremendous pain. "Easy… I'm not gonna hurt you." Still no response. Nothing else on his person, either… hm…

  Found some other shards off the bodies of the fallen strewn around the place. Apparently this Julia Lee woman was murdered – or, perhaps, accidentally killed, it’s not quite clear. But the Tyger Claws were somehow involved regardless, and it sent Norio into a downward spiral. According to another text sent to his doctor, he found religion – and a number of old samurai legends to go with it. Revenge stories – quite common in our literature. Hell, the clan I descend from has one of the more famous: the Soga Brothers.

  I’m guessing, then, that he lost his mentor and his girlfriend. Started having blackouts, so he came here. And he didn’t get better; in fact he got worse. So much worse that he started slaughtering Tyger Claws like it was open hunting season, in the name of the two people he cared about most. They would likely be ashamed of what he’s done. But at least it’s over now.

  And now just to text Regina, give her the good news.

  “Norio is alive,” I wrote to her, “Managed not to give in to his so-called ‘air of murder.’ He’s at the strip mall promenade by the downtown NCART station.”

  “Sakkio,” she replied, “Interesting way of putting it. Word has it the old samurai masters were uncanny in their ability at ‘sensing danger.’ Guess you’re living up to your reputation, huh? Anyway, I’ll come by and collect him but you better get out of there before more Claws show up – or worse, Arasaka. Know how much they want you.”

  “Oh?” I wrote back, sheathing Shinden and walking back to my car, “How much do they know?”

  “Word on the street’s that the Relic’s somewhere out there in the hands of a mercenary with a penchant for swordplay, but not much else. Still, it doesn’t take a genius to fit a square peg into a square hole.”

  “So why haven’t they come after me?”

  “Stop by my office, we’ll talk there.” Sound idea. Last thing I needed was an ambush in the middle of downtown. Best head back to Watson anyway, since that’s where Rogue was. Wonder when Arasaka figured all this out… it’s not like I’ve been on a rampage or anything since waking up. Perhaps… Wait, the tracker? Maybe they tracked me to the scav compound and… Ah. Yeah, that would make sense…

  “It’s done,” I texted Dino as I got back into Miyoko. The Skyline’s engine idled merrily as I sat and thought about the implications of all this… Arasaka knowing. But they still didn’t even so much as send out a hit squad after me.

  “Niiice one V!” he shot back almost immediately, “Knew I can count on ya!”

  “My pleasure, now for your end of the bargain.”

  “Sure sure, already on it”

  Hm, alright. Wonder if Regina knows anything. I doubt it, but I guess it’s worth a shot. And this Behavioral Health center gives me another idea – disavowed Trauma Team member, perhaps? I could theoretically buy my way into Trauma Team Tower in Little China, but I’d sooner be lobotomized than actually helped if I tried that – or, well, I guess it’s now the ‘Night City Medical Center.’ Old habits die hard.

  I threw on a more comfortable tank top and walked up to Regina’s building. Yaiba Tower, an office block just behind Lizzie’s Bar, home to Night City’s branch for the motorcycle manufacturer. Small neighborhood, but nonetheless densely-packed. Watson was great to walk around. I’ve lived here for about two years and I’m still finding new places, not to mention that the megabuilding housing my apartment is constantly under renovation. Now if only they opened up a homemade ramen shop instead of those store-bought scop noodles that everyone uses, I’d never leave the building.

  Regina Jones. An interesting and somewhat paradoxical woman, she’s all about sending a message, or interpreting the messages she finds. She started off as a Chinese soldier, working as a wartime press correspondent before a battlefield injury she received in Hong Kong left her sidelined. She moved out to Night City and worked as a media for years, from radio to TV to news stations, collecting an extensive network of contacts which she used to get her fixer career off the ground. The way I see it, she has her own personal truth she’s still looking for out there somewhere. A woman that driven isn’t likely to keep going unless something else is fanning the flame. Though it’s not my place to know whatever it is, nor is it my problem.

  One interesting mission she has accepted these past few months, though, is the rescuing of cyberpsychos. She’s probably one of the highest-ranking people in this whole city who believes that cyberpsychosis is just a shroud for something deeper. It’s interesting – every single time I’ve encountered a cyberpsycho, there was always some sort of impetus, some root cause, which set them on the path.

  I remember a specific theory, something called the “Swiss Cheese theory” or something. It says that you take many slices of Swiss cheese and line them up, then point a straight line through one of the holes. That line will continue to the next slice, then go through its hole. Then the next, and so on. All it takes is for one of those slices to have a differently-placed hole in it, and everything could be avoided. In the same way, all it’d take is for one person to intervene, to set the cyberpsycho on the right path, and they could get help. An interesting prospect, though I’m not quite sure if I believe it, myself. I think part of it is certainly governed by cyberware, sure. But the majority is likely systemic adjustment issues. Being unable to cope with what the world’s throwing your way. One person won’t change that. They need professional help and a complete lifestyle reversal, if anything. So do I, come to think of it. Hell, it’s a miracle that I’m not cyberpsycho, all things considered.

  “Thanks for the latest, V,” she said as I entered her office overlooking Japantown, a spectacular view by any measure, “You and Jackie’ve been a tremendous help in the ongoing research. Oh, your cut.”

  “Yeah, it’s my pleasure,” I nodded, accepting the paycheck she handed to me, “I’ll take Jackie’s as well, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure,” she gave me his payment as well, “Where is he, anyway?”

  “He’s, uh… Well he’s not here anymore,” I sighed deeply.

  “Oh?... Oh. I’m sorry,” she frowned, “Heard he was a good man.”

  “Yeah,” I grimaced, “So about this Arasaka business?”

  “Right. Well Arasaka know who you are, that’s for sure. I can do some digging, find out what the agenda there is, but I suspect you probably already know that by now.”

  “Mm, if I had to guess, they know I have something they want. But they don’t want to rock the boat.”

  “God knows why,” she shrugged, “Typically ‘Saka asks questions later in these cases. Might wanna keep you at arm’s length, y’know, observe only. That sorta thing.”

  “Well, as long as they merely observe, they can do whatever the hell they want for all I care,” I said frankly, “I’m after a turncoat, anyway. Was wondering if you could help me out.”

  “Oh? An Arasaka turncoat?” she raised an eyebrow, “That’s not really in my purview, but if I hear anything then you’ll be the first to know. They got a name?”

  “Mm, Anders Hellman. Speaks with a Swedish accent.”

  “Hellman…” she thought to herself, “Nah, never heard of him. Give me some time and I’ll see what I can dig up.”

  “Any thoughts on where to look?”

  “Maybe Trauma team?” she suggested, “They’d likely have records of who left the membership program. If he betrayed Arasaka, it’s likely they flagged it in their system. Could have an address there.”

  “Nah, doubt it,” I refuted, “He’s probably in the process of being m– moved…”

  I left the building deep in thought… Arasaka executives like him would have their own private housing. If he was poached by another company, he’d need to move out. But he could never do so from his own building, nor would he take the risk of traveling privately. He’s far too important to Arasaka for that; they’d snatch him back in two seconds. Which means they’d either need to think he’s already dead, or he’d need some serious backup. Either way would be noticeable.

  “Dino,” I shot my other fixer a text, “Do you have access to Arasaka’s KIA list?”

  “Course I do, Dino knows everything!” he replied earnestly.

  “Any Anders Hellman on that list?”

  “Fraid not, sorry”

  Hm. That leaves two options, then. Either he’s hiding out, or he’s getting a ride with someone else. Probably the latter, and probably by the corporation. Militech, Kang Tao, Petrochem, maybe even Biotechnica… And the best anti-corpo fixer in town is sitting at the Afterlife right now. I guess Johnny was right, at least about this. All roads lead to the Afterlife. Fine…

  Part of me dreaded coming back here. The Afterlife… I still remember Jackie and I walking down those stairs, going to meet with Dex. He was so excited, it seemed like he was about to pop right out of his own pants and dance around the club butt-naked with his level of enthusiasm. It’s said in Shinto that places have their own kami, and those kami could have positive or negative intentions. I suppose I could only pray that whomever watched over this establishment would take kindly to my situation. I can’t take much more of this.

  “Hey, V! How’s it going?” Claire, the bartender, spoke to me, following me down the length of the bar, “Haven’t seen you in a hot minute. Heard the heist went bad, thought you’d snuffed it.”

  “Yeah, I’ve gotten that a lot,” I chuckled slightly, taking a seat at the bar. “Still remember Jackie’s drink, by any chance?”

  “Mm, let’s see,” she smiled, “Vodka on the rocks, lime juice, ginger beer, and a splash of love.”

  “Heh, yep,” I replied with a bit of pep, “Can’t forget that last bit.”

  “Nah, course not. Where is the big man, anyway?”

  “He, uh… Yeah. At least it was mind-blowingly spectacular, like you said…”

  “Ah… I’m sorry,” she said pensively, glancing down at the bar, “Don’t worry, got a free spot just for him.”

  “Thanks…” I nodded, “Rogue in?”

  “Yeah, she’s in her booth. Want another shot ‘fore you go see her? On the house.”

  “Hey, what kind of guest turns down a free drink?” I said cheerfully. She certainly knows how to perk up a lady, that’s for sure.

  Oh, a text – Dino. Hmph… interesting.

  “Checked out the name, turns out your boy got klepped by Kang Tao,” his message said, “Gonna need some serious muscle to nab his ass.”

  “Don’t worry,” I wrote back, “I’ll take it from here. Appreciate the tip.”

  –

  Rogue… Admittedly I still don’t know all that much about her, even after looking into her history. And she has a lot of history, that’s for sure. She’s been active since the Third Corporate War, over seven decades by this point. Not to mention that she’s the only one still active who participated in the AHQ bombing – apart from the man in my brain, that is. But even before then, people considered her to be the best.

  Word on the street says that she got into a terrible car accident in the 2030s, one which saw her permanently retire to a fixer’s position. Though as far as fixers go, it’s tough to beat someone with over 40 years of experience, plus another 35-odd years of solo work. I hadn’t a shadow of a doubt that if the Afterlife was besieged, she’d be the type to lead her troops from the front. Of course, it also means that she’s likely an expert at hiding her intentions. I need to watch my step. It’s more than likely she knows everything about me, and has her own agenda to back it up. But I doubt she knows about Johnny.

  Looks like she was already in a meeting. Nomad girl by the looks of it. “But I lost everything! My truck, the cash–”

  “Let me be plain,” Rogue viciously fired back at her, “Again, solve your own problems. Clean up your shit.”

  “D’you know what, Rogue? Go fuck yourself,” the nomad scoffed at her, storming past Rogue’s bodyguard. “Be careful who you bargain with,” she warned me as she stamped heavily out of the nightclub… Fair enough, then.

  “Looking for a fixer,” I waved at Rogue, “It’s urgent.” The bodyguard looked back at Rogue for a signal.

  “Let ‘er in,” she proclaimed, allowing him to step aside. Right… do not fuck this up, Johnny… “Hmm. Neither here nor there. Who are you?”

  “The name’s V,” I gave her a courteous bow, “Nice to meet you.”

  “V, huh…?” she glared at me from top to bottom, “Interesting weapon you got there.”

  “Appreciate it,” I gave her a slight grin, unclipping Shinden from my belt loop.

  “Care to sit down?” she motioned to the large wraparound booth. I hadn’t a doubt in my mind that it was real leather.

  “Thanks,” I smiled graciously, carefully resting Shinden beside me.

  “Think I heard somethin’ about someone with a sword just like that knock over a local scav haunt up in Charter Hill a couple days ago. Somethin’ about an old samurai sword with a white grip. Take it you wouldn’t know anything about that?”

  “I’m not here to step on anyone’s toes,” I said reassuringly.

  She raised a hand to stop me. “Nah, course not, I just believe in giving credit where it’s due. How can I be of service, my fun-loving samurai huntress?”

  “After all these years, it’s really her,” Johnny chimed in, “Fuckin’ Rogue, kickin’ it back on a couch at the Afterlife. Don’t mess with her, she’s got MR-Eyes. See right through you, just tell ‘er the truth.” Hm, I know the type well. But someone with her level of experience, nah. I knew better than to mess with her. Anyone in her position will be a straight-shooter anyway, as opposed to someone shady like Dex. There’s a reason she commands such tremendous respect.

  “I’m looking for a man by the name of Anders Hellman.”

  “Mhm?”

  “Former Arasaka high-level engineer. He turned coat for Kang Tao, last I heard.”

  “Milisec,” she told me, “Anders Hellman. Pinpoint him for me?” Her eyes flickered orange. A holocall. Hmph, that was fast.

  “Appreciate it,” I smiled, “What do you want in return for your services?”

  “Few things,” she leaned forward, “First, I don’t come cheap.”

  “I don’t come unprepared,” I smiled, handing her a chip of 50,000 eddies.

  “Ah– That’ll do,” she exclaimed, “Color me impressed. Care for a drink?”

  “No thank you,” I waved her off, “Already had a couple. What else?”

  “Mm. Second and third…” she muttered, scrunching up her fists, “Dexter DeShawn. Jackie Welles. T-Bug. Ring any bells, Miss V?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Left a lotta bodies in your wake the last time you left here. Chalk that up to bad luck?” She took a swig of her aged 21st Stout.

  “There’s the bitch I know,” Johnny interrupted, “Ask her about ‘Saka Tower. How they shot me up right in front of her.”

  “Bad job,” I spoke honestly, “I took it on gratis, for a friend. Mr. DeShawn seemed fit to sabotage it from the beginning. His plan never would’ve worked. I was able to get us inside, but our intelligence dropped the ball. No one knew about Saburo Arasaka’s intentions. Jackie and I managed to escape, but Dex betrayed us. I believe you know the rest of the story.”

  “Hmm,” she thought to herself, “Do you know why Dex was ousted?”

  “Partially.”

  “Let me tell you a brief story, then,” she finished her glass and carefully set it down, “Dexter DeShawn… Hmph. Ever take a look at Pacifica within the last couple years? Notice how the Voodoo Boys are constantly battling it out with the Animals? That was his doing. Some moons back, he did a gig with T-Bug and her output at the time, a woman named Rhino. Job was in Pacifica, where T-Bug was tasked with hacking into an Animals subnet. She got made and Dex fell off the face of the Earth, leaving the pair to their fates. VDBs defended their turf, of course, and Animals retaliated. Quip pro quo, got yourself a gang war that’s been goin’ on to this day.”

  "Sure know how to pick 'em, huh, V," Johnny laughed at my expense.

  “Mm, sounds like he has a habit of taking off,” I nodded.

  “Believe you learned that firsthand.”

  “As did the rest of the crew. But we all knew the risks,” I glanced to my right, “So did you. You used to run against Arasaka, no? The AHQ bombing? Spider Murphy, Johnny Silverhand, Shaitan, Thompson.”

  “Ahh, prepped, indeed. Course.” She leaned back, resting her arm on the top of the booth. “Anyways, feelings be damned, I always said. This is pure biz – Ah,” Rogue suddenly stopped, her eyes lighting up amber again. Another holocall. “Kang Tao, you said? Right… Right. Got it.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Two, please,” she motioned to Claire, “Think you’re gonna want an oil change for this one.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “First thing’s first,” she nodded to the bartender, “Leave the bottle, Claire.” Rogue’s coolness was certainly undeniable, that’s for sure. And she knew how to put on a hell of a first-impression, unlike a certain someone. “Enjoy.”

  “Mm, to your health,” I raised the glass.

  “Nah, to yours, kid,” she smiled as we each downed the smooth, velvety tequila, “You’re gonna need it.”

  A man came up from the backrooms on our left, sporting a heap of some of the finest-looking chrome I’d ever seen. He wordlessly slid over a shard to Rogue across the counter, giving me a slight nod as he turned around. “Thanks, Nix,” Rogue acknowledged him. “Smoke?”

  “I don’t smoke,” I waved her off, much to Johnny’s chagrin, judging by his expression.

  “Hm, fair. Nasty habit,” she brushed away the ashtray.

  “Queen of the Afterlife, who would’a thunk,” Johnny mulled to himself.

  “Got a shard for ya,” Rogue said, “Intel. Interesting stuff.”

  I unfolded my modified BD wreath, clamping it on my head and giving Rogue a bit of a start.

  “Hm… Interesting,” she thought out-loud, “Haven’t seen natural eyes on a solo in decades. Pretty ones, too, if I do say so myself.”

  “Appreciate the flattery, but no need,” I smiled at her. Drinks, smokes, compliments. All part of her game, I imagine. And what a game it is. Subtle yet direct, never straying too far from business. I can see why people respect her so much.

  “Very well, I’ll cut to the chase,” she handed me the shard and I plugged it into my wreath. “You were right on the money with Kang Tao, but he’s not on any payroll. Not officially, anyway. But he did pop up in QianT’s stacks.”

  “Mm, so he went through the subsidiary instead of Kang Tao itself to launder his name,” I pondered, “Smart. Chinese call it the Vanishing Pigeon.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Chinese corp playbook’s an open one to me,” I replied frankly.

  “So I see. Then you should know they’re prepping him for a transfer,” she continued, “As for where – well, Nix solved that mystery for you. Shard contains decrypted Kang Tao convoy routes.” Images flashed up showing various coordinates to the south of Night City, by the old power plant and even the airport. My old stomping grounds – I knew it well. Especially because it’s neutral airspace down there.

  “The question is which one is he using?”

  “Take a look at the specs on this one,” the image zoomed in to an AV route overflying the power plant, “Lone AV, no ground support. No linked cargo manifests, either.”

  “Weird…” Johnny thought to himself.

  “Sure, Kang Tao sometimes transports stuff unregistered, if they wanna push it under the table,” she continued, “But catch the load on this AV. Already approved in the system, but too low. So definitely no cargo on board. But there’s a passenger list. Kang Tao security detail plus one VIP, transfer from QianT.”

  “I imagine they want to keep this on the down-low to avoid attention from Arasaka,” I elaborated, “Someone like a small nomad team would have no interest in a single AV with no cargo manifest. Neither would a corp unless it takes a closer look.”

  “Mhm, my thoughts exactly,” Rogue said affirmatively as I removed the BD wreath, “That’s the good news.”

  “Mm, got this intel within minutes, color me impressed,” I complimented her.

  “Let’s just say I hate wastin’ time,” she scoffed back at me, “As for the bad news. Extraction site. Night City airspace extends all the way down to about a half-mile past Pacifica.”

  “Meaning no way to jack the transport in transit while it’s inside the city,” I noted, “Has to be done in the Badlands.”

  “Jackson plains, to be specific,” she told me, “Narrow corridor just south of the city, and just outside of Kang Tao’s reach.” Hmph. Guess I’m going home, after all…

  “Guess it’s your lucky day,” Johnny laughed mockingly. Funny…

  “Gonna need a native to the area,” Rogue elaborated, “Someone who knows the terrain, can procure the equipment, and so on.” I certainly have the terrain covered, but she’s right about the latter part.

  “Downing an armored AV isn’t gonna be easy. Saw my share of those during the War,” I said as Rogue poured me another glass, “We’ll likely need a radar-tracking semi-active missile launcher to get the job done right. That or a triangulating SAM grid with line-of-sight redundancy to defeat countermeasures. Bonus points if the AV sports optical camo – then we’d likely be down to sonar guidance. Tough nuts to crack.”

  “It’s not just about firepower – there are ways. And people who know them, or who can at least hold their tune to a theme.”

  “Hm. And I’m guessing you have someone in mind?”

  “I do. Panam Palmer. She can’t count on her clan anymore, but she’s a true nomad. She knows those lands. More importantly, she’s got connections to 6th street. And she will help you. Won’t have a choice.”

  “Won’t have a choice?” I asked her straight-up, “Doesn’t sound enticing. Not for me, not for her.”

  “Enticing comes in a timeframe you clearly don’t have, unless you wanna wait ‘til Hellman catches the next ride back from China.”

  “Hmph,” I thought to myself. Assuming this Panam woman can get something hot enough to take down a heavily-armed AV, yeah, it could work. But that’s a big ‘if.’ And besides, there is one other problem. “If she’s not with her clan anymore, then she likely can’t be trusted. I’ve worked with nomads in the past – outcasts are typically shunned for good reasons.”

  “Actually – she walked away,” Rogue clarified, “Said it’s about the family, its future, nomad ideals, blah blah blah blah blah blah, I stopped listening 30 seconds in.”

  “Thought you preferred to know who you’re working with.”

  “I know enough, least about her. ‘Sides, when someone starts spouting something ‘bout ‘ideals,’ it’s prolly ‘bout something else. Power, usually.” Hmph, sounds like that’s directed at you, Johnny… “Fortunately, not my biz, not yours, she’s capable and willin’ to work, that’s all you need to know.”

  “Mm, fair enough,” I nodded, “But why is she willing to work so eagerly, exactly? Will it affect me?”

  “Should be good for you. Occasionally, Panam moves merch for me. Last job… well, wasn’t a good day for her.”

  “What happened?”

  “Complete bust, to put it mildly. Lost the goods and her ride. Panam’ll do anything to get that load back. Means her dignity – I know her.” Feel like I know the type. Nomads’ concept of ‘dignity’ and my concept of ‘honor’ are quite similar.

  “Alright, what’s the play?”

  “Rocky Ridge, ghost town just outside Night City,” she elaborated, “Panam knows where.” As do I. Little town up Interstate 9. Or what’s left of it. We kept a bunker stashed with various goods by one of the mobile homes out there. Well, not me specifically, another member of the company. Probably still there. “You’ll go there, get the merch back, wheels too. Naturally, gonna wanna call her first. Sendin’ you her detes.”

  “Paper, please.”

  “Ah, right, old-fashioned. Heh, you’d like Nix, he’s right up your alley,” she smirked, jotting down Panam’s number.

  “Ugh, finally,” Johnny groaned, “Let’s get outta here.”

  “Thanks, Rogue,” I nodded to her as I got up.

  “Good luck,” she replied before returning to her other guests. Funny, I kinda figured Johnny would’ve been swooning over her… I sensed some bad blood in the waters. But I guess that’s none of my business. Ii got the number, anyway. Time to see about getting me the firepower to down an AV. Good plan for tomorrow, anyway. Wanna have something to eat, then get the hell out of here. This place gives me a bad taste in my mouth.