Chapter 17: Money Folder

David Martinez 

Date: 02/08/2076 

Location: Night City, Early Morning

[Receiving transmission from "The All-father"]

[Playing…]

"You will have noticed that your new cybernetics are far more complex than anything you've previously comprehended. Cherish it, it shall be your boon. Alongside it was another gift, nanite machines, they harden in response to physical trauma while spontaneously increasing your physical attributes. Similarly, you've been enhanced with a serum, which increases all your physical and mental abilities to superhuman levels. You are now my enforcer, you now embody my will. Relish in your role, child, in itself is a blessing. Gather your baring and return to the Afterlife, you will meet someone by the name of Alicia. She will be a necessary asset in your coming commission. Do not disappoint me, I will be watching you."

[Ending transmission]

With the transmission finished I sat quietly in my apartment room, my mind in a blur of questions.

Why would he even need me? A random stray from the street. I was once a nobody, a random street kid with nothing to his name and yet he chose me? It all felt so surreal looking back at it.

One day I was mourning, wounded from an attack and the next day a stranger picked me off the street and helped me. Not only did he help me, but he fed, nursed and taught me to become the man I am today and to think… that out of everyone that could've saved me, it was a corpo.

Wasn't that a bitch?

I quickly sprung to my feet, a new set of clothing materializing at my doorstep as if it had been planned by a higher power. I chuckled to myself at the thought, referring to the mysterious figure who had orchestrated my arrival in this city as "the man upstairs."

Slipping into the fresh garments, I was immediately hit with a barrage of sensory overload - the feel of the fabric against my skin, the vibrant colours and patterns, and the overwhelming sounds of the room buzzing in my ears. It was like cranking up the volume on a video game but being unable to turn it down because the controls were too large and clunky.

As I examined my equipment, I reached for my trusty hand cannon - a gift from "the Doc," which had become an iconic symbol of where my journey began. Its ivory steel finish glinted in the light, proudly holstered on my hip under my jacket. However, I couldn't help but notice that it no longer fit quite right against my body.

Leaving my living quarters, I hopped on a bus and made my way towards the bar infamous for its debauchery and corruption. If there was one thing I could agree on with "the Doc" it was that this city was repulsive. Despite becoming desensitized to its atrocities, it did not change my opinion that this place needed change - fast.

As we passed by children without even slowing down, I couldn't help but cringe at how terrible this city truly was. Yet, it was still home in all its shitty glory. Maybe accepting "the Doc's" offer wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. The prospect of visiting Texas with Becca seemed like a welcome distraction from everything.

Riding on the bus also served as a reminder of something else I needed to do - buy a car. The thought of visiting V and getting a good one was my next goal for the week - if I could.

I needed to create a physical barrier between myself and this city - the constant sounds, smells, and sights were enough to make me want to vomit. Was this how "the Doc" felt walking around Night City?

As we arrived at the bar, the bouncer's gaze scanned over me with confusion as he tried to take in the changes that had occurred to my body.

"Not bad for a newbie, tough chrome," he murmured, his scans coming up negative. A prompt appeared on my screen, notifying me of someone attempting to breach my systems.

[Scanning attempting…]

[Signal trapped]

[Diverting negative signal back…]

[Sucess]

[20+ attempts as of… 10s…]

That was a lot of attempts, looks like people were sizing me up.

"I'll let you through. Someone inside wants to talk to you, I'd keep my eye out for em. She looks like trouble…" The bouncer warned before letting me in.

Feeling the pulsing bass of the Afterlife nightclub surge through my body, it reverberated in my bones and sent shivers down my spine.

As I pushed through the doors, the thick smoky air hit my nostrils with a barrage of scents - the salty tang of sweat, the sharp bite of synthetic alcohol, and the metallic scent of chrome.

My eyes quickly adjusted to the dim interior, illuminated by neon lights that cast an otherworldly glow. Every sense was heightened as I made my way towards our usual booth, noticing details that I had never picked up on before.

As I approached, the crowd seemed to instinctively part, allowing me to pass through easily. Catching glimpses of my reflection in the polished chrome bar, I couldn't help but notice how different I looked.

The same face, but a new build and something else that set me apart. Perhaps it was the way I moved or the glint in my newly-enhanced eyes.

Rebecca was the first to spot me, her hand frozen halfway to her glass in shock. Her eyes widened as she took in my appearance, dilating in a way that even my new optics couldn't miss. Sasha's reaction was more subtle - a slight tensing of her shoulders and a narrowing of her cybernetic eyes as they scanned me from head to toe.

"David?" Rebecca's voice held a mix of concern and awe. "What the fuck happened to you?"

Sliding into the booth, I could feel the difference in every movement - the texture of the leather seat, the coolness of the table under my palms. Conversations from across the bar sounded crystal clear as if they were happening right next to me.

Leaning in close, Sasha spoke in a hushed tone. "Your optics... they're military-spec, latest generation. And that neuroport looks like it belongs on a Militech black site. David, yesterday you were clean. What did the doc do to you?"

Flexing my hand, I watched as the muscles and tendons moved under my skin. Though there was no visible chrome, I could feel the power pulsing through me. "The doc said we needed an edge for Pacifica. I guess this is what he meant."

Rebecca shook her head, her fiery hair catching the neon lights. "An edge? David, you look like you've been through a corporate black site. This goes far beyond investigating rogue AIs."

Before I could respond, a prickling sensation travelled down my spine. My enhanced senses detected someone approaching from behind before I even heard their footsteps. Turning with lightning speed, I saw "Alicia" standing there.

She exuded a sense of contained lethality - every movement was precise and deliberate. Her cybernetic eyes met mine with a knowing look, like a predator assessing its prey. She was dangerous.

I felt like we met before her build and face similar to the one I met when battling against Murkman but I wasn't sure. Her ebony skinned seemed to reflect the clubs light with her augments hidden beneath her synthetic skin.

"Mr. Martinez," she nodded, her voice cutting through the noise of the bar with unnerving clarity. "I see the enhancement process exceeded expectations."

Rebecca's hand disappeared under the table, likely gripping her trusty shotgun. The tension at our booth escalated rapidly. "David," she growled, "who is this corpo spy?"

Taking a deep breath and feeling my enhanced lungs expand, I tasted the air differently - it was richer and filled with information that my brain was still learning to process. "This is Alicia, codename 'The Blood Hawk.' She's here to assist us with the Pacifica job."

"Assist?" Sasha's laugh was sharp enough to cut glass. "David, you show up looking like a prototype for the next-gen solos, and now we have a handler? This smells worse than the sewers in Pacifica."

Spreading my hands on the table and noticing how every groove felt more distinct, I spoke earnestly. "I know this is a shock. Trust me, I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. But the doctor... he has his reasons for all of this. We need to trust him."

"Trust him?" Rebecca scoffed, her voice rising above the background noise. A few nearby patrons glanced our way, but I could somehow sense that they posed no threat. "David, he turned you into... whatever this is overnight. And for what? A simple recon job?"

My head shook in disbelief, the enhanced muscles in my neck flexing with every movement. "I don't have all the answers," I stated through gritted teeth. "But I know this job is bigger than we ever could have imagined. We need to be prepared for anything."

The silence that followed was thick with tension, the air charged with the rapid heartbeats of my crew and the scent of adrenaline pumping through their veins. They were scared, confused, but also... eager?

Finally, Sasha's voice broke through, her words laced with controlled emotion. "Alright, David. We're in," she said, her tone unsettled. "We've come this far. But you better start getting some damn answers soon. And you," she turned to Alicia, a fierce glare in her eyes, "you'd better be worth all this cloak and dagger bullshit."

Alicia remained stoic, but her stance shifted subtly - a sign of readiness for action. "I assure you," she spoke with deliberate precision, "my presence will be crucial for what lies ahead."

"Ah, huh. I'm sure you will fuckin' Corpo. I knew something was sketch with this whole thing… Damn it, the rabbit goes more deeper than Arasaka's crack…" Sasha hissed.

As the initial shock began to fade, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions rushed through me - excitement at my newfound abilities, unease at the secrets surrounding them, and a deep sense of apprehension about what we were truly getting into.

"Listen up, team," I commanded, my voice now resonating with an authority I had never felt before. "Let's go over the Pacifica job one more time. Because something tells me we're only scratching the surface here..."

The neon lights of the Afterlife seemed to pulse in agreement, casting eerie shadows across our booth. Whatever waited for us in Pacifica, one thing was certain - our lives would never be the same again.

"We're going to need to plan something remarkable," Sasha began, her voice steadying as she got into planning mode. "Pacifica isn't just a stroll in the park. It's crawling with the NCPD and Voodoo Boys, and we're outsiders. If we want in, we need safe passage, and we need it discreetly."

"We also need a vehicle. Something inconspicuous but sturdy. A van, maybe. One that won't draw too much attention but can still get us out of a tight spot." I added.

Alicia, who had been silently observing the conversation, nodded. "I can be your driver. I have experience navigating through hostile territories. However, we must acquire a suitable van first. I have a contact who can assist us."

I took a deep breath, my mind racing with possibilities. "Alright, we need safe passage and a vehicle. Let's split up these tasks. Alicia, you handle getting the van. Sasha, Rebecca, and I will work on securing safe passage."

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly are we gonna do that? The Voodoo Boys don't exactly roll out the welcome mat for strangers."

"Rogue," I said simply, his eyes narrowing with determination.

I had a feeling if there was anyone who knew Victor it was her. The streets were her eyes and ears. Any whisper or gig running through her and while I knew Victor kept a clasp on his every move it didn't mean that she didn't see the after-effects of our rampage.

"She's got connections. If anyone can get us through Pacifica, it's her." I continued.

Alicia frowned. "Getting her attention won't be easy. She's a legend for a reason. And even if we manage to talk to her, there's no guarantee she'll help us."

"We'll figure something out," I replied, though I couldn't ignore the unease gnawing at my gut. "We have to."

I couldn't afford to let him down.

Arising from our seats we decided to make our way to a respective jobs, Alicia fading into the crowd with her figure lost in the abyss. We on the other hand moved through the crowed bar and spotted Rogue Amendiares in her usual spot, a small room extended from the bar that was usually closed off to outsiders.

She exuded an aura of untouchable authority, her eyes scanning the room with a predator's intensity.

I took a deep breath and motioned for the others to follow. We approached cautiously, but before we could get close, we were intercepted by Crispin Weyland aka "Squama", Rogue's bodyguard.

We stood at equal height and with my new cybernetics enhancements and body he didn't seem all that imposing anymore. In fact, he looked like fresh bait my scans revealing that he wasn't exactly a threat anymore.

Son of the legendary Andrew "Boa Boa" Weyland who once led one of the most terrifying black ops units, in the corporate world: The Water Leopards. Who then joined Angus Youngblood, an Australian investor of Petrochem…

This meant the man was actually once a part of the Von Doom enterprises as the company practically owned Australia. Angus Youngblood was most likely a Von Doom puppet due to his ties to Australia.

Why? Well, most of the documents that were given by the doctor were now de-classified.

As his apprentice, I was given an overwhelming amount of data that basically went over the history of Night City and the history of Von Doom industries which revealed a lot more than I wanted.

And that was an underwhelming statement… I knew a lot. Way more than the some of the CEO's of some of the companies.

knowing the doctor's name as "Victor" with the last name "Doom" and having an infamous amount of power, you could see where the dots were now connecting.

He was the prodigal son and the lone heir of Von Doom Industries. This meant that not only was I working with a warlord but also the CEO of a ruined corporation.

It wouldn't be wrong to say I was a Corpo executioner like Adam Smasher and Morgan Blackhand…

While some suspect that Von Doom Industries is being run by an Arasaka puppet, I started to suspect otherwise.

While the company had basically become a shell of its former self, its control over Australia remained firm - its many regional branches all over the world collapsed during "terrorist" attacks.

The company had basically turned to oil, instead of manufacturing with Petrochem and the other companies within being taken over violently.

To this day, the company remains incognito inside its borders but looking over the new documents implanted in my brain, it told a different story.

The Country was basically preparing itself for a fifth-corporate war, no.. Scratch that, a Third World War and yet here I was worried about travelling into Pacifica.

This wasn't just a small plot anymore, I was now introduced to the world stage with just this information alone. Looking over the Doctors strategy it seemed he planned to bastion

While many attempt to go back into Australia such as Arasaka and Militech, they're basically restricted heavily by the government preceding over the country. This meant that Australia and New Zealand were abandoned by numerous investors.

Apparently, the country was a warzone but I believe this was just propaganda. The country from the pictures given looked oddly similar to Texas in its process. Whoever was running the country was most likely a puppet by the All-father.

As I approached Crispin, his eyes narrowed and he glared at me with suspicion. "State your business," he growled, sizing me up with a dangerous energy.

With determination, I stepped forward, trying to project confidence despite the unease in my stomach. "We need to speak with Rogue. It's urgent."

Crispin's gaze flicked to Rogue, who seemed completely disinterested in our presence. But when I mentioned her name, something sparked in her eyes and she gave a slight nod.

"Only him," Crispin gruffly relayed, stepping aside to let me pass.

I made my way towards Rogue, aware of every eye on me as I walked through the room. As she gestured for me to enter a private room, I couldn't help but feel a shiver run down my spine. This was one of Night City's most infamous fixers, known for her ruthlessness and cunning.

Once the door closed behind me, I found myself alone with Rogue. The tension in the room was palpable as she studied me with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "Alright, kid," she said, her voice low and husky. "What's so important that you think I'll help you?"

I met her gaze head-on, careful to choose my words wisely. "We need passage through Pacifica. My team and I are working on a job, and we can't do it without your help."

Rogue leaned back in her chair, her piercing eyes narrowing.

"Pacifica? That's Voodoo Boys territory. What makes you think I can get you through there?"

I held my ground, unflinching under her intense gaze. "Because you know who my boss is," I replied confidently.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Rogue's lips. "Ah, so you're working for Victor now? Interesting. I remember when he was just a kid. But knowing him, I highly doubt he's changed. So, what's his latest scheme?"

I hesitated for a moment before deciding to give her just enough information to pique her interest. "We need passage through Pacifica for an investigation job. We're looking for answers."

Rogue's lips curved into a smirk as she seemed to scan my mind with her cybernetic enhancements. "Tsk, of course, Victor would equip you with that creepy ghost tech of his. Looks like we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way."

Confused, I couldn't help but ask, "Did you just try to scan me?"

Rogue's expression remained unreadable as she shrugged nonchalantly. "Of course. And it seems Victor has employed another netrunner to keep an eye on you. But that won't stop me from helping you. Why exactly should I?"

Feeling a thread of data reach my mind, I quickly flicked her the source - an unknown netrunner most likely working for Victor.

As Rogue's eyes scanned the information, a smile formed on her face. "A convoy hijack... Arasaka is moving something valuable, and interesting. Some good tech... Alright kid, I'll bite."

My relief was palpable as I replied, "I'll help you get whatever they've got inside."

Rogue's smile widened and a dangerous glint appeared in her eyes. "I like your style." She handed me a small data chip. "All the details are on here. Don't screw this up."

With the chip in hand, I felt a mixture of excitement and apprehension flood through me. This was our chance to prove ourselves to Rogue and make our mark in Night City.

"Thanks, Rogue," I said sincerely.

"See that you don't mess this up," she warned with a hint of amusement in her voice. "Now go. You've got a lot of work to do.

As I left the room and reunited with my team, a sense of purpose ignited within me. "We've got a plan," I announced, holding up the data chip.

"Let's make this happen."

-

Vincent "V" Aldecaldo 

Date: 02/08/2076 

Location: Night City, Evening

The smell of engine oil and desert dust filled my nostrils as I leaned over the open hood of my Quadra Turbo-R V-Tech. The scorching sun beat down on my back, but I barely noticed it anymore. After years in the Badlands with the Aldecaldos, this kind of heat was just another day.

I wiped the sweat from my brow, leaving a streak of grease across my forehead. My hands were covered in grime, but I didn't care. There was something soothing about working on this car, a connection to my past that I couldn't quite shake.

As I tightened a bolt on the custom air intake, my mind drifted back to those days with the nomads. The Quadra had been a city car once, sleek and built for speed on Night City's neon-lit streets. But out here in the wastelands, it needed to be tougher, more resilient. Just like me.

I remembered the nights spent around the campfire, Panam and Mitch arguing over the best way to modify the engine for desert driving. In the end, we'd settled on a hybrid approach – keeping the Quadra's powerful CHOOH2 engine but reinforcing it with salvaged military-grade parts.

The result was a beast of a machine, capable of handling the harshest terrain the Badlands could throw at us. We'd added extra filtration systems to keep out the sand, beefed up the suspension, and installed a custom cooling system to prevent overheating in the merciless desert sun.

As I worked, I couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. Those had been good days, filled with a sense of family and purpose that I sometimes missed. But I'd made my choice to return to Night City, and there was no going back now.

I was so lost in thought that I almost missed the ping of an incoming message. Straightening up, I wiped my hands on a nearby rag and activated my optics to read it.

It was from Lucy. My heart skipped a beat, as it always did when I saw her name. But the content of the message quickly sobered me up.

"V, got a gig for you. High-risk, high-reward. Interested?"

I hesitated for a moment. Lucy's jobs were always complicated, often dancing on the razor's edge of what even I considered acceptable. But the thrill of the challenge, and if I'm honest, the chance to impress her, always pulled me in.

"I'm listening," I replied.

The details of the job came through a moment later, and I felt my blood run cold. This wasn't just another hit – this was the kind of job that could spark a gang war.

The target was Rick Morton, a 6th Street leader. That alone was dangerous enough. But the real kicker was the second part of the job – framing Pablo Silva, Morton's right-hand man, for the hit.

I leaned against the car, my mind racing. This wasn't just a simple elimination; it was a complex operation that would require careful planning and flawless execution. One wrong move, and I'd have both 6th Street and whoever was behind this gunning for me.

"Lucy, this is wild," I sent back. "You're talking about taking out a major player and destabilizing one of the most established gangs in Night City. It's not just dangerous – it's damn near impossible."

Her response came quickly. "I know it's a tall order, V. But I wouldn't come to you if I didn't think you could handle it. Besides, you won't be alone."

Another ping, and a new contact appeared in my system. Will Gunner, apparently my support for this operation. The name was unfamiliar, but that wasn't unusual in our line of work.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Part of me wanted to refuse, to tell Lucy this was too much. But another part, the part that had survived the streets of Night City and the wastelands beyond, was already planning, strategizing.

"Alright," I sent back. "I'm in. But I want double the usual fee, and a favor to be named later."

"Done," Lucy replied, and I could almost hear the satisfaction in her virtual voice. "Meet with Will. He'll fill you in on the details."

As I closed the hood of the Quadra, my mind was already shifting gears. The peaceful nostalgia of working on my car seemed like a distant memory now. It was time to get back to the brutal reality of Night City.

I met Will Gunner at a dingy bar on the outskirts of 6th Street territory. He was a wiry man with nervous eyes and fingers that wouldn't stop tapping on the scratched surface of the bar.

"V," he said, nodding as I slid onto the stool next to him. "Glad you're on board. This job... it's important."

I ordered a synthetic whiskey, more for appearance than any desire to drink. "Important to who?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

Will's eyes darted around the bar before settling back on me. "To me," he admitted. "And to anyone who wants to see 6th Street under new management."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're staging a coup."

He nodded, a thin smile spreading across his face. "Morton's been running things into the ground. The old guard, they're too set in their ways. We need fresh blood, new ideas. That's where I come in."

I took a sip of my drink, letting the information sink in. It made sense now why Lucy had brought me in. This wasn't just a hit – it was a power play, a reshaping of Night City's delicate balance of power.

"And Pablo Silva?" I asked. "Where does he fit in?"

Will's smile turned cold. "Pablo's old guard, like Morton. With both of them out of the picture, the path is clear for... new leadership."

I nodded, keeping my face neutral. But inside, my mind was racing. This job was even more complicated than I'd initially thought. I wasn't just taking out a gang leader – I was helping to orchestrate a complete takeover of 6th Street.

As Will laid out the details of Morton's routine and the best opportunities for the hit, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this than met the eye. Lucy had always played her cards close to her chest, but this felt different. There were too many moving parts, too many opportunities for things to go wrong.

But I pushed those thoughts aside. I had a job to do, and right now, that meant focusing on how to take out Rick Morton and frame Pablo Silva for it.

"Morton's paranoid," Will was saying. "He's got a security detail with him at all times. But there's a weak point in his routine. Every Friday night, he visits his favorite joytoy at a doll house on Jig-Jig Street. He goes alone, leaves the security outside."

I nodded. It was a classic vulnerability – even the most paranoid gangsters let their guard down for their vices.

"And Silva?" I asked.

Will pulled out a shard and slid it across the bar to me. "Everything you need to know about Pablo is on there. His habits, his enemies within the gang, even samples of his DNA. Plant that at the scene, and no one will doubt he was behind it."

I pocketed the shard, my unease growing. This level of detail, the DNA samples – it all pointed to a long-term, carefully orchestrated plan. I was starting to feel less like the master assassin Lucy had hired and more like a pawn in someone else's game.

But I was in too deep now. And if I was honest with myself, the challenge of pulling off such a complex hit was intoxicating. It had been a while since I'd had a job that really tested my skills.

"Alright," I said, finishing my drink. "I'll make it happen. But after this, I want a full explanation from Lucy about what's really going on here."

Will nodded, relief evident on his face. "Just get it done, V. After this, 6th Street will be under new management, and we'll all be better off for it."

As I left the bar and walked back to my Quadra, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something crucial. But for now, I had a job to do. And whatever Lucy's true motives were, whatever game was really being played here, I was determined to see it through.

The next few days were a blur of preparation and reconnaissance. I stalked Morton's movements, memorized the layout of the doll house, and planned my approach down to the smallest detail. All the while, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched, that every move I made was part of some larger design.

Finally, Friday night arrived. I parked the Quadra a few blocks from Jig-Jig Street, the engine's quiet purr a stark contrast to the chaos in my mind. As I made my final preparations, checking my weapons and going over the plan one last time, I found myself thinking about the Aldecaldos again.

What would Panam think of this job? She'd probably tell me I was crazy for getting involved in gang politics. Mitch would shake his head, but he'd help me plan it out anyway. And Saul... well, Saul would remind me that actions have consequences, and that in Night City, those consequences often came back to bite you in the ass.

But I wasn't with the Aldecaldos anymore. I was here, in the heart of Night City, about to assassinate a gang leader and frame his second-in-command. This was my life now, for better or worse.

I made my way through the crowded streets, blending in with the throngs of people out for a night of debauchery. The neon lights of Jig-Jig Street painted everything in a surreal glow, turning the faces around me into grotesque masks of pleasure and desperation.

Morton's security detail was easy to spot – four burly men in leather jackets, standing out like sore thumbs among the dolls and joytoys. I slipped past them, using the crowd as cover, and made my way to the service entrance of the doll house.

The lock was child's play for someone with my skills. In seconds, I was inside, moving silently through the back corridors. I could hear the muffled sounds of synthetic moans and client requests, but I tuned it all out. My focus was singular – find Morton, take him out, plant the evidence.

I found him in a private room on the top floor. Through the crack in the door, I could see him with his favorite doll, his guard completely down. It was almost too easy.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what came next. Then I burst into the room, my silenced pistol already raised.

Morton's eyes widened in surprise, then understanding. But it was too late. Two shots, center mass, and he slumped to the floor. The doll screamed, but a quick flash of my optics shut down her systems temporarily. She'd reboot in an hour, remembering nothing.

Working quickly, I planted Pablo Silva's DNA, carefully staged the scene to match his known method of operation, and slipped back out into the night. By the time Morton's body was discovered, I was already halfway across the city.

As I drove back to my apartment, adrenaline still coursing through my veins, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. Whatever game Lucy was playing, whatever Will Gunner's true motives were, I was now irrevocably involved.

I parked the Quadra and made my way up to my apartment, my mind racing. As soon as I was inside, I activated my secure comm link.

"It's done," I told Lucy. "Now I want answers."

There was a long pause before she responded. "Good work, V. But I'm afraid the job isn't quite finished yet."

I felt a chill run down my spine. "What do you mean?"

"Will Gunner," Lucy said, her voice cold and businesslike. "He needs to be eliminated too."

The pieces suddenly fell into place. This hadn't been about helping Will stage a coup at all. This was about taking out 6th Street's leadership entirely.

"Lucy," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "What the hell is really going on here?"

I could almost hear her smile through the comm. "It's simple, V. We're taking 6th Street's territory. All of it. Morton, Silva, Gunner – they're all obstacles. And now, thanks to you, they're about to be removed."

My mind reeled. "We? Who's we, Lucy?"

"N.W.O," she said, and I felt my blood run cold. The New World Order – a rising power in Night City, rumoured to have connections that ran deeper than anyone knew.

"This whole thing," I said, realization dawning. "The hit, the frame job – it was all a setup."

"Not a setup, V. An opportunity. One that you've helped create. By this time tomorrow, 6th Street will be in chaos. Their leaders dead or discredited, their dirty laundry aired for all of Night City to see. And N.W.O will step in to restore order."

I sank into a chair, my head spinning. I'd been played, used as a pawn in a much larger game. And now Lucy wanted me to finish the job, to eliminate the very man who'd helped me take out Morton.

Part of me wanted to refuse, to walk away from this whole mess. But I knew it was too late for that. I was in too deep, and in Night City, you either swam with the sharks or got eaten by them.

"Fine," I said, my voice tight with anger and resignation. "I'll take care of Gunner. But after this, we're done, Lucy. No more games, no more half-truths."

"Of course, V," she said, her voice softening slightly. "Once this is over, I'll explain everything. You have my word."

As I ended the call, I couldn't help but laugh bitterly. In Night City, a person's word meant about as much as a used stim pack. But I was committed now, for better or worse.

I checked my weapons, took a deep breath, and headed back out into the neon-lit chaos of Night City. Whatever came next, whatever consequences my actions would bring, I'd face them head-on. It's what I'd always done, from my days with the Aldecaldos to now.

After all, in this city, you either adapted or you died. And I had no intention of dying just yet.

The night air was thick with tension as I made my way through the winding streets of Night City. My destination: Will Gunner's safehouse. Lucy had sent me the coordinates, and I couldn't help but wonder how long she'd been planning this, how many steps ahead she'd been this whole time.

I parked the Quadra a block away, killing the engine and sitting in silence for a moment. The weight of what I was about to do pressed down on me. Gunner wasn't just some random target – he was a man I'd worked with, someone who'd trusted me. But in Night City, trust was a luxury none of us could afford.

As I approached the safehouse, a nondescript apartment building in a run-down part of town, I activated my optics, scanning for security measures. The place was locked down tight – automated turrets on the roof, armed guards at the entrance, and enough electronic countermeasures to fry half the cyberware in Night City.

But I hadn't survived this long by backing down from a challenge. I found a blind spot in the security and began my ascent up the side of the building, my grip augmentations allowing me to scale the wall with ease.

I reached Gunner's floor and peered through the window. He was there, pacing back and forth, a look of agitation on his face. He knew something was wrong – maybe he'd already heard about Morton's death, or maybe he just had that sixth sense that all survivors in this city developed.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what came next. Then, in one fluid motion, I shattered the window and rolled into the room.

Gunner reacted instantly, drawing a pistol from his waistband. But I was faster. A quick burst from my Militech Mk.31 sent him diving for cover behind a battered couch.

"V?" he shouted, confusion and anger mixing in his voice. "What the fuck are you doing?"

I didn't answer, instead moving quickly to flank him. The room erupted in gunfire, bullets tearing through the cheap furniture and plaster walls.

I caught a glimpse of Gunner making a break for the door and adjusted my aim. My next burst caught him in the leg, sending him sprawling to the floor.

As I approached, he rolled over, his pistol aimed at my head. "Why?" he gasped, blood seeping from his wound.

For a moment, I hesitated. The look in his eyes – betrayal, fear, anger – it was all too familiar. How many times had I seen that same look in the eyes of my targets? How many times had I been the instrument of someone else's plans, the sharp edge of a hidden knife?

"It's nothing personal," I said, surprised by the hollowness in my own voice. "Just business."

Gunner's laugh was bitter, tinged with pain. "Business? You're a fucking puppet, V. Just like I was. They're using you, and when they're done, they'll discard you too."

His words hit harder than I wanted to admit. But there was no going back now. I raised my gun, aiming for a clean headshot.

Suddenly, the room exploded in a blinding flash. A stun grenade. I staggered back, my augmented eyes struggling to adjust. Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Gunner moving, scrambling away.

As my vision cleared, I saw him at the doorway, one hand on the frame to support his injured leg. "You want to know the truth, V?" he shouted. "Ask Lucy. Ask her what N.W.O really is!"

Before I could respond, he was gone, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. I cursed, sprinting after him. The hallway was chaos – alarms blaring, residents peeking out of their apartments in confusion and fear.

I caught up to Gunner at the stairwell. He was fast, even injured, but desperation made him sloppy. As he turned to fire at me, I slid under his shot, coming up inside his guard. We grappled briefly, the gun between us, before I managed to twist it away.

The shot echoed in the narrow stairwell. Gunner's eyes widened in shock, then dimmed as he slumped against me. I lowered him to the ground, an unexpected pang of regret hitting me as I watched the life drain from his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I found myself saying, though I wasn't sure if I was apologizing to Gunner, to myself, or to some abstract idea of who I used to be.

As the sound of approaching security echoed up the stairwell, I quickly searched Gunner's body. In his pocket, I found a data shard. Without thinking, I pocketed it and ran.

The next few minutes were a blur of gunfire and adrenaline as I fought my way out of the building. By the time I made it back to my Quadra, sirens were wailing in the distance, and the night sky was lit up with police AV searchlights.

As I sped away, my heart pounding and my mind racing, Gunner's last words echoed in my head. What did N.W.O really stand for? I had a feeling that my part in this story was far from over. In fact, it might just be beginning.

I activated my comm link. "Lucy," I said, my voice tight with suppressed emotion, "we need to talk. Now."

The streets of Night City blurred around me as I drove, the neon lights reflecting off the Quadra's hood. Whatever came next, whatever truths I was about to uncover, I knew one thing for certain – nothing would ever be the same again.

Lucy's voice crackled through my comm link. "V, I take it the job is done?"

"Gunner's dead," I confirmed, my voice tight. "But this isn't over, Lucy. Not by a long shot."

There was a pause before she responded. "Meet me at the Afterlife. We'll talk there."

I ended the call without responding, my mind racing. The Afterlife – neutral ground, or as close as you could get in Night City. Smart move on Lucy's part, but it wouldn't be enough to diffuse the anger and suspicion building inside me.

As I pulled into the Afterlife's parking lot, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. Paranoia was a survival trait in Night City, and right now, mine was in overdrive.

Inside, the club was its usual mix of smoke, synth music, and dangerous individuals making dangerous deals. I spotted Lucy at a booth in the back, two glasses of something amber-colored already on the table.

"V," she said, pushing one of the glasses towards me. "Drink?"

I ignored the offer. "Cut the crap, Lucy. I want answers. Real ones this time."

She sighed, taking a sip from her own glass. "I suppose you've earned that much. What do you want to know?"

"Everything," I said, leaning forward. "Starting with what the hell is really going on here. Why take out both Morton and Gunner?"

Lucy's eyes met mine, her gaze steady. "It's simple, V. We're not just taking out 6th Street's leadership. We're dismantling the entire gang."

"We?" I pressed.

"N.W.O," she said, and I felt a chill run down my spine. The New World Order – a rising power in Night City, rumored to have connections that ran deeper than anyone knew.

"So this whole thing," I said, realization dawning, "the hit on Morton, framing Silva, even working with Gunner – it was all a setup to destabilize 6th Street?"

Lucy nodded. "Exactly. By this time tomorrow, 6th Street will be in chaos. Their leaders dead or discredited, their dirty laundry aired for all of Night City to see. And N.W.O will step in to restore order."

I sat back, my mind reeling. "And you used me to do your dirty work. Made me a pawn in your game."

"You're not a pawn, V," Lucy said, reaching across the table to touch my hand. I pulled away. "You're a key player. Why do you think I chose you for this job? You have skills, connections, a reputation. We need someone like you on our side."

"Your side?" I scoffed. "There is no 'your side', Lucy. You lied to me, manipulated me. How do I know anything you're saying now is the truth?"

Lucy's expression hardened. "Because the job's not done yet, V. We still need to expose 6th Street's dirty laundry to the public. That's where you come in."

I laughed bitterly. "You want me to help you even more? After all this?"

"I want you to finish what you started," Lucy said. "And I want you to understand why it's necessary. N.W.O isn't just another gang, V. We're trying to bring order to this chaos, to make Night City a better place."

I shook my head, anger rising in my chest. "By lying, manipulating, and killing? Sounds like business as usual in Night City to me."

Lucy leaned forward, her voice low and intense. "Sometimes you have to break things down to build them back up better. That's what we're doing. And with your help, we can make it happen."

I sat there, the weight of the decision pressing down on me. On one side, the life I knew, the relative simplicity of being a hired gun in a city of endless violence. On the other, a chance to be part of something bigger, something that could change Night City forever.

But could I trust Lucy? Could I trust N.W.O?

"If I do this," I said slowly, "I want in. All the way in. No more secrets, no more lies. I want to know everything."

Lucy smiled, a predatory glint in her eye. "Deal," she said, extending her hand.

As I shook it, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just signed up for something that would change my life forever. But then again, in Night City, wasn't that always the case?

"So," I said, leaning back in my seat, "where do we start?"

Lucy's smile widened. "We start by bringing down 6th Street once and for all. And then, V, we reshape Night City in our image."

As we began to plan our next move, I couldn't help but think about how far I'd come from my days with the Aldecaldos. From nomad to hired gun to... whatever I was becoming now. One thing was certain – the road ahead was going to be one hell of a ride.

 Our conversation was cut acutely her eyes beginign to wander elsewhere.

"Listen I gotta go... You do your best to survive and if anything happens give me a buzz. I'll be watching." She voiced.

Taking sip of my drink I nodded and walked out. The bouncers easily letting me through. While my names wasn't out there, thanks to Lucy things were quickly shaping out form me, but not in the ways I wanted... 

As I drove through the neon-lit streets of Night City, my mind raced with questions. The more I thought about it, the less sense N.W.O's sudden expansion made.

For years, N.W.O had been content to hold their small slice of territory near the docks. They were sandwiched between Maelstrom, the Valentinos, and Tyger Claws - not exactly prime real estate, but they'd made it work. They'd been passive, focusing on protecting what they had rather than pushing outward.

So why the sudden interest in 6th Street? It was clear across the city, for fuck's sake. It didn't fit their M.O. at all.

I pulled over, letting the Quadra idle as I tried to piece it together. There had to be something I was missing, some angle I couldn't see yet.

Maybe it was about resources? 6th Street controlled some valuable territory, sure, but was it worth the risk of overextending? Or was there something else in play, some hidden value that N.W.O saw that others didn't?

And then there was Lucy. Who the hell was she, really? She'd never explicitly stated her role in N.W.O, and I'd been too caught up in the action to really question it. But now, in the quiet of the car, doubts began to creep in.

She was too polished, too well-connected to be just another soldier. The way she moved, the way she spoke - it all screamed 'upper management.' But how had she gotten there? N.W.O wasn't exactly known for its upward mobility.

A crazy thought hit me. What if she wasn't N.W.O born and bred? What if she came from somewhere else, bringing connections and resources with her?

I shook my head, trying to clear it. Speculation wouldn't get me anywhere. I needed facts, and I needed them fast.

As I pulled back into traffic, a flicker of movement in my rearview mirror caught my eye. A sleek, black vehicle, moving just a little too smoothly to be a civilian ride. My cybernetic eye zoomed in, catching a glimpse of the driver - clean-cut, expressionless, with the telltale glint of high-end optical implants.

"Shit," I muttered. Corpo executioners. Militech, if I had to guess.

It made a sick kind of sense. 6th Street had always been a bit too well-equipped for a street gang. Old Militech gear, nothing cutting edge, but still better than most gangs could get their hands on. They were Militech's puppets, their foothold in the streets of Night City.

And I'd just helped cut their strings.

I gunned the engine, the Quadra's tyres squealing as I shot forward. The black vehicle immediately accelerated, all pretence of subtlety gone.

N.W.O taking out 6th Street wasn't just gang warfare - it was a direct attack on Militech's interests. But why? What did N.W.O gain from picking a fight with a megacorp?

The tunnels twisted and turned, a labyrinth of concrete and shadows. Just as I thought I'd lost my pursuers, my headlights illuminated a blockade ahead. Militech had outmaneuvered me.

I slammed on the brakes, the Quadra's tyres screeching against the damp concrete. Shots rang out, pinging off the car's armoured frame.

"Fuck!" I dove out, rolling behind debris for cover. The executioners advanced with precise, coordinated movements. These weren't average corpo soldiers - these were the elite. Or I think so, I liked to think I was getting flatlined by some punks. 

I returned fire with my trusty Militech Mk.31, but they were too well-equipped. For everyone I slowed, two more took their place.

A stray bullet grazed my arm. "Shit, shit, shit," I hissed. Outgunned and outmanned, I was running out of options.

Just as I considered a suicidal rush, the air crackled with electricity. The executioners staggered, clutching their heads. Their neural implants were going haywire.

"V! Move your ass!"

Lucy emerged from the shadows, flanked by heavily armed N.W.O soldiers. They made short work of the incapacitated Militech forces.

As the echoes of gunfire faded, Lucy strode towards me, smirking. "Looks like I arrived just in time. You losing your edge, V?"

I grinned despite myself. "Me? Nah. I had 'em right where I wanted 'em."

"Sure you did," she rolled her eyes. "Come on, let's get you out of here before more show up."

As we made our way to their transport, Lucy's hand found the small of my back. The touch sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with the residual electricity in the air.

Once safely inside and moving, Lucy turned to me. "I had a feeling they might come after you. Militech doesn't take kindly to having their puppets cut loose."

I raised an eyebrow. "And how did you know where to find me?"

She hesitated. "I... may have had you tagged. For your own protection, of course."

"Of course," I replied dryly. "Any other surprises I should know about? Secret cameras in my apartment? A chip in my head?"

Lucy laughed, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Don't be dramatic, V. It was for your protection."

"Right, because I've felt so protected lately," I shot back. "Between corpo hit squads and gang warfare, I'm practically on vacation."

Her expression softened slightly. "I know it's been rough. But you've handled it like a pro. That's why we need you, V."

"We? Or you?" I countered.

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping. "Maybe both. Is that so hard to believe?"

The flirtation was clear, but something felt off. Like she was going through the motions.

I decided to call her bluff. "You know, for someone who claims to need me, you sure do keep a lot of secrets."

Lucy pulled back slightly, her mask slipping. "We all have secrets, V. It's how we survive in this city."

"Fair enough," I conceded. "But at some point, those secrets might get us killed. Or worse."

She nodded, turning serious. "You're right. And that's why I need to tell you something. We have a mole in N.W.O."

I let out a low whistle. "Shit. Any ideas who?"

"Not yet," she admitted. "But we'll find out. And when we do..."

"They'll wish Militech had gotten to them first?" I finished.

Lucy's smile was cold and dangerous. "Exactly."

We lapsed into silence, the weight of the situation settling over us. Finally, I couldn't resist one more jab.

"You know, Lucy, for someone who's supposed to be protecting me, you sure do put me in a lot of dangerous situations."

She turned to me, a mischievous glint in her eye that didn't quite mask the calculation behind it. "What can I say? I like a man who can handle himself in a tight spot."

I chuckled, playing along even as I noted the artifice in her flirtation. "Is that so? Well, remind me to show you my moves sometime when we're not dodging bullets."

"I'll hold you to that, V," Lucy replied, her tone playful but her eyes still guarded.

As we bantered, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were both playing parts in a larger game. Lucy's flirtations felt rehearsed, a tool to keep me engaged and compliant.

"You know, Lucy," I said, my tone more serious now, "one of these days, we're going to have to drop the act and have a real conversation."

She met my gaze, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something genuine - respect, maybe, or resignation. "Maybe we will, V. But not today. Today, we focus on staying alive."

I nodded, accepting the deflection for now. As we drove on into the neon-lit night, I couldn't help but wonder what truths lay behind Lucy's carefully constructed facade. But that was a mystery for another day. Right now, we had a mole to catch and a corpo-hit squad to dodge.

Just another night in Night City, where the streets are mean, the corps are meaner, and the truth is the most dangerous thing of all.