belamy20
patreon
21-25
🕑 Added 2025-06-03 16:07:36 +0000 UTCChapter 21: Shocking Old Vic
“No worries, Old Vic, I know my body better than anyone.”
Riku cut off Old Vic before he could go on, noticing Jack Welles giving him a look like he was some kind of uchūjin (alien). Honestly, as a transmigrator from another world, being called an uchūjin wasn’t exactly wrong—his home planet was technically “out there” in the cosmic sense.
“You sure about this, kid? Once the knife goes in, there’s no turning back.”
Old Vic, ever the responsible gizumo ishi (cybernetic doctor), double-checked with Riku, his tone serious.
“I’m good, Old Vic.”
Riku flashed a thumbs-up. Others might regret it, but him? He had a few tricks up his sleeve.
Old Vic’s mouth twitched. This was a first. Usually, he was the one reassuring patients, but now the tables had turned—Riku was the one acting like a cool-headed shonen hero.
“Alright, let’s do this. First, some anesthesia.”
Seeing Riku’s unwavering confidence, Old Vic didn’t push further. He’d laid out the risks, but Riku was insistent.
“Nah, no need for anesthesia.”
Riku threw another curveball right at the first step.
He had no choice. If he got knocked out with anesthesia, what if he couldn’t control his flesh? His ability to install gizumo (cyberware) hinged on consciously keeping his regenerative powers in check, preventing his body from instantly healing the surgical wounds.
“This…”
Old Vic was dumbfounded. A patient refusing anesthesia for a gizumo implant? That was a new one.
“Choom, don’t mess around,” Jack Welles chimed in, equally baffled. Riku’s request was straight-up yabai (crazy). “You skip the drugs, and when you’re screaming in pain mid-surgery, what’s the doc supposed to do?”
“Trust me, I know my body,” Riku repeated, sticking to his guns. Some things couldn’t be explained—trying would only make it more complicated, like unraveling a bad isekai plot.
“...Fine.”
Old Vic thought it over and nodded. Worst case, if Riku started thrashing, he could always administer the anesthesia later. He grabbed a syringe, injecting himself with a stabilizer to steady his hands for the delicate, manual surgery.
“Here we go.”
Old Vic gave a heads-up, then got to work, his scalpel slicing cleanly.
Riku didn’t flinch, his face a mask of calm. This level of pain? Child’s play. From the moment he’d started devouring himself, pain had become a constant companion—like a rival in a shonen arc. He had to get used to it.
“Hiss~”
Jack Welles gritted his teeth. Even he had never seen someone take a brain-machine interface implant without anesthesia. That was some next-level guts!
“You really don’t feel that? Or what, uchūjin don’t have pain receptors?” Jack couldn’t hold back, blurting out his burning question.
“Shut it, I’m not an uchūjin,” Riku growled through clenched teeth, shooting Jack a glare.
Asking if it hurt? What a dumb question. Of course it hurt! Riku wasn’t some numb cyborg who’d lost all sensation. If he let his regeneration kick in, the pain would be gone in a flash, but he was deliberately holding it back.
“Ha! Knew it couldn’t not hurt. You’re just sitting there playing tough guy, huh?” Jack grinned, catching Riku’s gritted-teeth response. So the guy did feel pain—just hiding it like a stoic samurai.
Riku rolled his eyes and shut them, too done with Jack to bother replying.
He focused on Old Vic’s movements, feeling every cut and adjustment. It wasn’t until Old Vic injected a healing agent that Riku finally relaxed his grip on his regenerative powers. The agent’s “healing” energy seeped into him, signaling the surgery was nearly done.
The small incision closed up neatly around the brain-machine interface, sealing it perfectly.
“How’s it feel? Anything off?” Old Vic asked as he wrapped up. A basic procedure like this was routine in Night City—quick and clean.
“Hm? Nothing, really.”
Riku was honest. Aside from the faint sensation of a foreign object in his head, he felt… normal.
“Of course. You haven’t slotted a chip yet. Also, you’ll need a gizumo me (cybernetic eye). Pick a model.”
Old Vic said it like it was obvious. A brain interface without a display was like a gaming rig without a monitor.
“Uh…”
Riku froze. He’d already checked with Jack— a basic brain-machine interface was dirt cheap, just within his budget. But a gizumo me? Even the cheapest model was out of his price range.
“Go for it, choom. Don’t hold back on my account, my uchūjin friend,” Jack teased, catching the broke look on Riku’s face. He knew that expression all too well—hero or not, eddies didn’t grow on trees.
“Thanks, Jack. I’ll pay you back. How about I work your next job for free?” Riku didn’t shy away from the offer. He was confident he could earn enough to cover a gizumo me eventually.
“Psh, don’t say that, choom. I’m not that kinda guy,” Jack said, waving it off with a laugh. Letting Riku work for free? Nah, that wasn’t his style. It wasn’t about the eddies—it was about nakama principles.
“Jack’s a solid guy. Never lets you down,” Old Vic added, glancing at Riku.
“I know. He and Mrs. Welles have helped this gaijin (outsider) a ton,” Riku said with a nod, picking the cheapest gizumo me available—a no-name brand he’d never even heard of.
“Nah, hold up. Go with this one instead. I’ll charge you the cheapo price—call it a welcome gift for a new friend,” Old Vic said, shaking his head. He swapped out the junk model for a Kiroshi Optics Type-1, a solid mid-tier option—not the white-tier trash players scoffed at in the game.
“Not bad, Old Vic! Kiroshi’s high-end stuff!” Jack hyped, grinning. Kiroshi Optics were legit—not some bargain-bin gear nobody wanted.
“All ‘cause of you, Jack,” Old Vic said with a smirk. He wouldn’t hand out deals like this to just anyone—it was Jack’s vouch that sealed it.
“Thanks, Old Vic. I’ll pay you back full price,” Riku said, accepting the offer. What’s a little more debt? Might as well go big if he was already in the hole. Night City had a way of teaching you how cyberpunks racked up those sky-high debts.
“So? Anesthesia this time? And how many eyes we swapping—one, two, or… three?” Old Vic asked, his expression half-amused, half-baffled. These were questions he’d never thought he’d ask in his career.
Chapter 22: Devil and Priest
Riku opted to install two cybernetic eyes since adding a third would cost extra, and Old Vic wasn’t running a charity. More importantly, that third eye on his forehead had some special abilities, and Riku had high hopes for it.
“Alright, here we go. Brace yourself,” Old Vic said, taking a deep breath as he prepped for the procedure. Swapping out eyeballs for cyber-eyes was trickier than installing a neural interface.
For a normal surgery, this would’ve been as easy as breathing for Vic. But Riku refusing anesthesia? That made things interesting.
Jack Welles sidled up, holding a syringe with a mock-evil grin. He was there to “help” in case Riku couldn’t handle the pain and needed a quick jab.
Riku’s lip twitched. He didn’t need Jack’s help and wasn’t about to give him the chance to play nurse.
Vic got to work. A sharp pain hit Riku as his left eye’s vision vanished—his eyeball was out. Then the right eye followed, plunging him into darkness. He opened his third eye, usually kept closed during conversations, and watched Vic’s hands spark with electric tools, working on his eye sockets. First-time cyberware installs required some serious flesh-modding.
“It’ll be easier next time. Just pop the cyber-eyes out, swap in new ones, check for rejection, and make sure the system’s compatible,” Vic explained while working. The first install was always the toughest, turning flesh into something modular.
Soon, Vic paused to tweak the system, slotting a chip into Riku’s neural interface. After debugging, he placed the cyber-eyes into Riku’s empty sockets, their neural probes linking up with his nerves.
“Looking good. Let’s test ‘em,” Vic said, adjusting settings on his screen and activating the cyber-eyes.
Zzt-zzt-zzt.
Riku’s vision flickered like an old CRT TV with static, but it cleared up fast, revealing crisp visuals.
“How’s it feel?” Vic asked. The surgery went smoother than expected—no major rejection issues, despite Riku’s body being a whole different species. Whatever he was, it adapted scarily well.
“Not bad,” Riku said, rolling his new cyber-eyes. A “Kiroshi Optics—Welcome” logo flashed in the bottom-right corner of his vision. Now that’s more like it.
“Try the scanner. It’s got environmental scanning—way better than those cheap knockoffs,” Vic said, guiding Riku through the features like a pro.
“I also slipped in a backdoor for NCPD file scanning. It’ll give you the lowdown on street punks,” Vic added.
Riku activated the scanner and looked at Vic. Data popped up in his vision: name, affiliations, cyberware, criminal records—the works. Oh yeah, this is the good stuff.
“Thanks, Vic. I owe you one,” Riku said, impressed. Big-name brands like Kiroshi didn’t mess around—crystal-clear visuals, top-tier tech.
“Take this,” Vic said, handing him a small vial. “Neural stimulant. Boosts nerve conduction short-term and counters cyberware side effects. Your body’s syncing well, so you might not need it, but keep it on you just in case.”
Riku pocketed the vial, nodding. Always good to follow the doc’s orders and be prepared.
“Done and dusted,” Vic said, clapping his hands and stepping away from the console. It was a minor surgery, but working on Riku was a whole new experience.
Vic couldn’t help but wonder: This is Night City alright—always some weird-ass stuff showing up. Riku’s mods screamed megacorp lab experiment, not some street chop shop job. Probably cooked up in a biotech company’s petri dish. But that wasn’t Vic’s business. He’d hung up his gloves long ago—now he was just a ripperdoc.
“Vic, we’re out,” Jack said, giving a quick wave as the cyberware install wrapped up.
“Come back if you’ve got issues,” Vic replied, settling in front of a small TV to watch a boxing match. He’d been a top-tier boxer back in the day but retired rather than go full cyberware.
“See ya, Vic,” Riku said politely, turning to leave. But Vic called him back.
“Riku, keep that body of yours under wraps. Don’t show it off to too many people,” Vic said, unable to hold back the warning. He liked Riku—the kid seemed alright.
“Don’t worry, Vic. You’re my guy,” Riku replied with a grin. He knew his body was a walking secret, which is why he’d nudged Jack to bring him to Vic in the first place.
“Good to know,” Vic said, waving him off as he turned back to his boxing match. Even retired, he couldn’t quit his love for the sport.
“Let’s go deal with your ID problem. I’ll ping Padre—hope he’s not napping,” Jack said as they left Vic’s clinic. Instead of lingering at Misty’s Esoterica to chat with Misty, Jack kept moving with Riku.
They hopped on an NCART train back to Heywood.
“Getting a priest to help? You sure that’s cool?” Riku asked, feigning confusion as they stepped off the train. A “Devil” like him meeting a priest for an ID fix? Sounded like a setup for a bad Cyberpunk 2077 side quest.
“No worries, Padre’s different. He’s Heywood’s fixer—knows everyone and everything,” Jack explained. Padre was a family friend, tied to Jack’s mom from way back.
Riku stayed quiet, following Jack through the streets until they reached a small church.
“Well, a priest living in a church. Makes sense,” Riku quipped. Good thing he wasn’t an actual akuma, or he might’ve been sweating.
Chapter 23: So Many People Go by V
"Ha, the Padre doesn’t live here. We just set up a meeting spot," Jack Welles chuckled. This Padre wasn’t the type to hole up in a church all day.
The two of them bantered as they stepped into the church. Inside a confessional, they met the Padre—a man about the same age as Mrs. Welles, already sporting a shiny bald head.
"Hey, Padre, how’s the health holding up?" Jack greeted him with his usual charm, acting like they were old buddies. Which, to be fair, they kinda were. The Padre was like a mentor to Jack, always looking out for him.
"Same old, Jack," the Padre replied with a smile, then turned his gaze to Riku. "This the new friend you mentioned who needs an identity fix?"
His eyes lingered on Riku’s horns for a moment, but he didn’t bat an eye. The old man had seen it all—back in his day, he was a big shot in the Valentino Gang before switching to the fixer game. Nothing fazed him anymore.
"Yep, that’s Riku. New pal, we’re in this together," Jack confirmed. He had no reason to hide anything from the Padre. The guy even hooked him up with gigs sometimes.
In Night City, cyberpunks like them relied on fixers to score jobs. Fixers were the middlemen, the guarantee. Clients worried about mercs taking the eddies and ghosting, or spilling secrets. Mercs worried about clients stiffing them or selling them out. A solid fixer like the Padre kept things smooth, building trust in a city full of backstabbing.
"Hey, Padre," Riku greeted, sizing up the man. He liked what he saw—a traditional guy trying to keep order in Heywood, sticking to old-school values in a world where the young were getting wilder and tossing honor out the window.
The Padre’s name was Sebastian Ibarra, a fixer who still clung to tradition in an age where rebellion ruled.
"Nice to meet you. So, what kind of identity are you looking for?" the Padre asked, cutting straight to the chase.
"Can I pick anything?" Riku asked, curious. He’d thought it’d just be a basic ID, like getting registered in the system.
"You wanna be Night City’s mayor? That’s a no-go," the Padre said with a laugh, shaking his head. He wasn’t that connected.
"Just something normal. Something that won’t get me nabbed the second NCPD scans me," Riku said with a grin. Night City’s mayor? Hard pass—that job was a death sentence.
"Easy enough. What name do you want on it?" the Padre asked, ready to make it happen. Forging a clean ID for some mystery drifter was child’s play for him. Plenty of folks in Night City offered the same service, but they charged an arm and a leg. Jack brought Riku here to save a few eddies, no doubt.
The Padre didn’t mind. Jack was like family—practically a son to the childless, unmarried fixer.
"Uh, just Riku… nah, let’s go with Daivo Collins," Riku said after a moment. He’d planned to keep his real name, but why take the risk? A fake alias was safer. Out in Night City, a good cover could save your skin. If someone came looking for "Riku" and his ID pinged as Daivo Collins, he could just shrug and say, "Riku? Never heard of him. I’m Daivo Collins, choom."
"Alright, starting tomorrow, you’re Daivo Collins, Night City citizen," the Padre said, jotting it down. Fake names were par for the course—hardly anyone registered their real ones.
"So, what do I call you now? Daivo? Riku?" Jack teased, grinning. He was the type to stick with his real name, no aliases or street handles, unlike some others—like that V character.
"Call me K? Or maybe L? D?" Riku suggested with a laugh. Single-letter names sounded kinda weird, though.
"What, so I’d be J? Or W?" Jack cracked up, then remembered something. "Speaking of, I know a kid who goes by V."
The Padre chimed in, surprising Jack. "I know a V too."
Riku wasn’t shocked. He knew Street V, a Heywood girl who was tight with the Padre, always under his wing. But Jack? Why was he acting so surprised? He shouldn’t even know V yet, right? Riku’s brow furrowed.
"You know V, Padre?" Jack asked, clearly thrown. As far as he knew, V didn’t have much to do with Heywood.
"Course I do. A Heywood chica. Never introduced you two," the Padre said matter-of-factly. He was talking about the V Riku had met at the Coyote Cojo bar.
But Jack’s V? That was a different story. Riku’s mind clicked—a hunch forming. "Uh, sounds like we’re not talking about the same V. I know a V too, but she’s not from Heywood."
Jack shook his head. "Yeah, my V’s a corpo girl, not from Heywood."
Bingo. Riku had it figured out. Jack’s V was the corpo-turned-rogue V, the one from a rich family that fell apart. By all accounts, she and Jack shouldn’t have crossed paths, but somehow they were already chooms. Meanwhile, the street-smart Heywood V didn’t know Jack, despite their worlds overlapping in a million ways.
"Two Vs, huh?" Riku said, half-laughing. Night City was wild—three walking disasters all sharing the same codename?
"Guess single-letter handles are pretty popular," Jack mused, though he and Riku weren’t exactly on the same wavelength.
"Yeah, no kidding," Riku agreed. Who knows? Maybe they’d run into a third V someday—a nomad V to round out the set.
"Yo, Padre, got any gigs? I’m a little light on eddies, need some cash to burn," Jack asked, shifting gears. The V coincidence was interesting, but work came first. A codename overlap wasn’t a big deal in a city full of duplicates.
Chapter 24: Hero Saves the Damsel?
“So, what kind of job are you looking for?”
As Haywood’s middleman—and a veteran one at that—Father had no shortage of gigs up his sleeve.
“Obviously, one that pays big eddies!”
Jack Welles flashed his pearly whites. He’d been strapped for cash lately, dreaming of a shiny new ride but coming up short on funds.
“You little punk,” Father chuckled, half-scolding. His cybernetic eye flickered, and in a blink, a job and a contact were sent to Jack Welles and Riku.
Riku now had a fixed contact ID—his own “phone number,” all neatly set up by old Vik. Gotta hand it to Vik—man’s a real bro! Riku’s caller ID was a goat-demon head, with the contact name “Devil.” When you’re out in the streets, a cool alias like that is practically a must.
He glanced at the job details. Nothing too complicated: take out a gang of Scavs. If there were any survivors among their captives, save them if you can.
Yeah, if you can. Scavs weren’t exactly known for leaving people alive long enough for a rescue. At best, you could avenge them.
“Who’s this contact?” Jack Welles asked, scratching his head. The job itself was fine—he hated Scavs and was happy to take them down—but why the extra contact info?
“That’s V’s. I mentioned this job to her,” Father explained, the name sparking a memory.
“She said she’s heading to Atlanta. Not sure if she’s left yet, but you guys could hit her up. She’d be a solid backup.”
Father figured V hadn’t bailed yet. That kid would’ve swung by to say goodbye if she was leaving.
“She’s still around. I ran into her at the Coyote this morning,” Riku piped up. He reckoned V hadn’t said her farewells or headed to Atlanta yet because of him.
“Well, ain’t that perfect? I gotta meet this V,” Jack Welles said, curiosity piqued. Riku had been in town for one day and already met V at the Coyote Cojo? How had he never crossed paths with her? Talk about some shonen-style missed connections.
“I’ll reach out to her. We’ve already met once,” Riku offered, taking the initiative. Jack had no objections—what was there to fight over?
Beep beep beep~
Riku dialed V’s number. With a contact ID, you could call someone even without being “friends.”
Click.
The call didn’t go through. It was straight-up rejected, leaving Riku a bit embarrassed.
What the heck, V?!
This was the same V who’d watch a random Braindance off the street or plug a shady chip into her neural port without a second thought. And she’s dodging unknown calls? With V’s wild, shojo-heroine energy, shouldn’t she pick up and chat up anyone who dials her?
Not one to give up, Riku redialed. No way V would keep ignoring him. Annoy her enough, and she’d pick up just to chew him out.
Sure enough, the call connected this time, and V’s voice came through.
“I don’t give a damn who you are—I’m kinda busy right now! Got it?!”
V’s roar blasted through, punctuated by nonstop gunfire. Before Riku could respond, she hung up again.
Jack Welles and Father exchanged looks, confused. Did the call go through or not?
“Sounds like she’s in a bit of a shonen showdown, trading bullets with someone,” Riku said with a helpless shrug, mimicking a bear spreading its paws. V was clearly in the middle of a gunfight.
“Ha! Ain’t that a coincidence? First meeting, and you’re already playing the hero saving the kawaii damsel?” Jack teased, raising an eyebrow.
To Jack, V being in a shootout wasn’t surprising. That’s just another day in their line of work, right?
“I’ll check on her,” Father said without hesitation, dialing V’s number.
V might ignore a rando like Riku, but Father? No way she’d ghost him.
Sure enough, the call barely rang before V picked up, no delay.
“Father! If it’s not urgent, I’ll call you back!” V’s voice was rushed, still cussing up a storm. “FUCK! Die, you filthy yaro!”
Hearing the chaos on her end, Father didn’t waste time. “Kid, where are you? I’m sending help.”
V didn’t reply with words, just shot over her location data. Total trust in Father.
“Hold on, kid,” Father said, his eyes flickering as he forwarded the address to Jack and Riku.
“Whoa! Isn’t that where those Scavs are holed up?” Jack’s jaw dropped when he saw the coordinates. So V wasn’t in trouble—she was causing it.
“Quit yapping. Let’s move. Father, can we borrow your ride?” Riku checked the location—it wasn’t far. A quick drive would get them there.
“Go, but stay sharp, kids,” Father said, tossing the car keys to Riku. That trust came from Jack’s vouch.
“Yo, Devil-san, in a rush to play the hero for this V chan? Bet she’s a total bishoujo,” Jack teased as they hustled out.
“You’re not wrong,” Riku shot back, flipping him the bird as a “reward” for guessing right.
Outside the church, Riku hit the unlock button. A navy-blue Quadra lit up in front of them.
He hopped into the driver’s seat. The car wasn’t new, but it was clean and tidy inside.
“Villefort Quadra, V5000 Valor, 2040 model. 37,000 eddies. I hear the pink macho edition sold like crazy,” Jack said from the passenger seat, rattling off specs like a true gearhead. Motorcycles were his thing, but he knew his cars too.
“Didn’t peg you for a pink macho kinda guy,” Riku quipped. He had a license and drove plenty, so he took the wheel without hesitation.
After a quick check, he got a feel for the car. Aside from some minor differences in handling compared to Tianchao’s designs, a 2074 car was no big deal. He could handle it.
Riku turned the key, and with a roar, the Quadra launched forward.
In 2074 Night City, the NCPD didn’t care about traffic violations.
The Quadra’s blistering acceleration was its claim to fame, backed by a beastly engine and a reinforced frame co-developed with Militech.
Chapter 25: You Call That Shooting?!
Vroom! Screech!
Riku slammed on the brakes, and the Curtis screeched to a halt near their destination.
"Choom, you drive like you’re in a street race!" Jack Welles said, pretending to gag before hopping out of the car, already pulling his gun.
Riku grabbed his submachine gun and jumped out too. The sound of gunfire echoed nearby, sharp and unmistakable.
Beep!
Riku dialed V’s number again. This time, she picked up quick.
"You deaf or what?!" V hissed, her voice low, clearly hiding somewhere. Still, she answered, ready to chew him out.
"It’s me, V! Riku, remember?" Riku blurted before she could hang up.
"Huh? Riku? Why didn’t you say so sooner?" V replied, her tone softening. They’d just met that morning, and Riku had left an impression—she wasn’t about to forget him.
Riku rolled his eyes. Say so sooner? You didn’t give me a chance, V!
"Where are you? Padre sent us to help you out," Riku said, name-dropping the fixer to ease her suspicions. In Night City, trust was hard to come by, but the Padre was a solid bridge.
Sure enough, V relaxed at the mention of Padre. "Sending you my location. Be careful."
Her coordinates popped up on Riku’s cybernetic eye. He could hear her breathing heavily—she was hurt.
"You injured? Can you hold on?" Riku asked, moving toward her position while glancing at the map in his HUD.
"I’ll live. Got jumped by a bunch of Scavs from Pacifica. Heavy firepower. My bad, got careless," V growled, her voice dripping with venom. She sounded ready to tear those Scavs apart with her bare hands.
"Hang tight, we’re almost there," Riku said, exchanging a look with Jack. They slipped into a narrow alley, the kind of dark, grimy spot perfect for Night City’s underbelly.
Heywood’s south and east sides were riddled with places like this—perfect hideouts for Scavs. The neon signs overhead cast faint, colorful glows, but the alley stayed shrouded in gloom.
"Damn it, did that punk get away?!" a voice barked from ahead, speaking some Eastern European language. Riku didn’t know which one, but his [Limit System] translated it instantly.
"Keep looking! I clipped that chica, she’s not far!" another Scav replied, their boots scuffling through the alley as they hunted V.
Riku glanced at Jack, who was waving his hands in some cryptic gesture, looking like a total gonk. Riku frowned, confused.
"You mute now? What’s with the hand signals?" Riku messaged him, annoyed. We’re not offline, choom, just send a text!
"Damn it! I meant one for you, one for me!" Jack shot back via text, rolling his eyes and ditching the gestures.
Riku nearly laughed, giving Jack an OK sign, which he understood immediately. They sprinted to the alley’s intersection and opened fire, catching the two Scavs off guard.
Bang! Bang!
Two shots rang out, followed by a wild burst of gunfire.
Rat-a-tat-tat!
"Choom, you shooting at the sky or what?!" Jack yelled, diving back into the alley for cover, clearly fed up.
Riku, trailing behind to cover him, cringed at the jab. They’d planned one target each, but Riku’s shot went wide—way off the mark. Jack, on the other hand, nailed his Scav with a clean headshot, dropping him like a sack of eddies.
In Riku’s defense, he’d never fired a gun outside of a game. That stray bullet? His first-ever real shot. Even a sharpshooter wouldn’t hit the mark with an unfamiliar weapon, let alone a rookie like him.
Not one to give up, Riku itched to take another shot. Unlike Jack, he didn’t need to dodge bullets. But before he could move, Jack grabbed him. "Don’t stick your head out, you gonk! Wait for him to empty his clip!"
Riku sighed, exasperated. With Jack around, he couldn’t exactly tank a hail of bullets, walk away unscathed, and expect Jack not to freak out. A body full of holes and no scratches? That’d raise too many questions.
Bang!
A single shot echoed, and the alley went silent.
"Huh?" Jack looked at Riku, puzzled.
"It’s V," Riku said, checking his map. She’d moved in, drawn by the noise.
Without hesitation, Riku stepped out of the alley. Sure enough, the second Scav was down, sprawled on the ground. At the far end of the alley, V’s red hair caught the neon light—a long shot, but she’d nailed the guy with a headshot, too.
"Guess everyone’s a sharpshooter but me," Riku muttered, glancing at his gun. What’s the point of this thing? Growing up in a civilized world didn’t exactly prepare him for Night City’s daily gunfights.
"You guys here to save me or what? I’m the one bailing you out!" V said as she linked up with Riku and Jack, her first words pure sass. She didn’t mind the extra hands—soloing this mess was impossible—but she wasn’t thrilled about babysitting dead weight.
Jack shot Riku a look, biting his tongue to save his choom’s pride. No need to look like a total gonk in front of V.
"Couldn’t help it. This gun’s a pickup, doesn’t vibe with me," Riku said, tossing out the classic excuse.
"Yeah, right. My gun’s a pickup too, and I burned through my last one ages ago," V shot back, mercilessly poking holes in his story. Riku coughed awkwardly, caught out.
"Haha, chica, we’re gonna get along just fine," Jack said, bursting into laughter. Not meeting this V sooner was a crime—she was a riot.
"Jack Welles?" V said, eyeing him with surprise as she clocked his name.
"You know me?" Jack asked, pointing at himself, caught off guard.
"I’m at Coyote Cojo all the time," V replied. Jack didn’t know her, but she’d seen him around the bar plenty.
"That’s wild," Jack said, scratching his head. How had he missed a nova chica like her? It didn’t add up.
"Let’s save the chit-chat. Trouble’s coming," Riku cut in, his nose twitching. The stench of blood and guts in the air was stirring his hunger, sharpening his senses to the scent of human flesh. More Scavs were closing in.
End of Chapter
