IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT/POLL
Also, enjoy the chapter.
First Step - Hans Zimmer
Chapter Twenty-Six
July 27th, 2077
Night City, Northern California
The Glen, El Coyote Cujo
Guadalupe Alejandra Welles, mother to a surrogate daughter and a murdered son. She grieved as any parent should, but the bitter taste never entirely passed. Even the hectic nature of running a bar in 'The Glen' couldn't distract her from this new reality.
A reality where she had to bury her own child before she even reached the age of fifty.
Alejandra sat at the Coyote bar nursing a shot of tequila; a notebook sat untouched next to her drink. Pepe said writing down her thoughts would occupy her enough to stop thinking of her little Hermoso.
The blank page was enough to indicate how poorly it was going.
She had lost track of time within moments, downing drink after drink as she struggled to write down her thoughts. This method of coping only served to get her more and more inebriated.
Pepe was chatting up one of their regulars, some corpo named Joseph Odman. The man was lucky to be alive; it was rare to see corpos stumble their way through 'the Glen' without an escort. Most ended up beaten within an inch of their life and separated from all their earthly possessions.
The corpo was saved from that tragic fate by her, mi Cielo, a woman of extraordinary charisma and ability. V brought the best out of Jackie, and for the longest time, Alejandra believed the two were destined for one another, but as always, things never work out the way people want.
The bar was deafening, empty space was few and far between, but it was a familiar atmosphere that Alejandra loved nonetheless. Her thoughts strayed to the final piece that kept her and Jackie together.
Her heaven hadn't visited much since Jackie's ofrenda two weeks ago, and Alejandra would be lying to herself if she said she didn't worry. She kept in contact all the same and stopped by from time to time, but it was little more than a checkup than a genuine conversation.
A few Valentinos were scattered around the room, drinking and chatting under hushed whispers. Rumors abounded of a shakeup inside the gang's command structure, and Padre was knee-deep in the speculations.
Fear was running rampant through their ranks, from the street thugs to the capos. No one was free from the terrifying figure casting a long shadow upon the whole of Night City.
Alejandra picked up bits and pieces from the Valentino's lower ranks; a strong drink always loosened the tongues of so-called powerful men. The best she could speculate was that Gustavo Orta sought to separate the gang from the human trafficking business.
It was an unprecedented declaration, and it sent shockwaves through the gang. Padre was all for it if only because of the pattern this so-called Headhunter was exhibiting. The horrific man ran rampant through the Maelstrom because of their Human trafficking ring, and now the Tyger Claws were suffering the same fate.
It mattered little, a reckoning was coming, and the only option left to the Valentinos was to adjust to their new reality.
Just like she had.
The bar doors slid open, briefly exposing the Night City streets to the rambunctious ambiance inside. Alejandra glanced up from her blank notebook and spotted her Cielo waving someone inside. The patrons inside recognized V on instinct, and most were in the process of continuing their conversations when that someone walked in.
Everything stopped. The music, the conversation, the rambunctious atmosphere all came to a grinding halt as a mountain of a man walked inside.
A deep brown leather coat covered his muscular torso, and a hood shadowed his facial features displaying a pair of bright red orbs. Her Cielo walked into the bar with anything but a superficial acquaintance; a predator walked through her doors. A subtle oppressive weight pooled into Alejandra's stomach even as V beamed in her direction, completely ignoring the sudden drop in warmth.
A pair of crimson eyes scanned the patrons inside with a clinical gaze. The bar regulars that were often a rowdy bunch that Pepe had to temper immediately curled in on themselves, desperate to limit contact with this new blood.
Alejandra followed the steely gaze that scrutinized every patron in the bar, who pointedly looked elsewhere. The predator strode into her bar, trailing V's gait, ignoring the gawking stares as most attempted to return to their meaningless conversations.
V rushed over tenderly, wrapping her arms around Alejandra with a firm grip.
"Mi Cielo?" The sudden physical contact quietly disturbed her. V rarely initiated physical contact without reason, and as far as Alejandra knew, time separated was not the reason for such intimacy. "Are you ok?"
V's smile cracked, and Alejandra's heart followed. "It's been a rough week. Figured I'd come down here to see a familiar face, brought a choom with me."
"Oye," Alejandra motioned for V to take a seat next to her. "Sit, would you like a drink? Pepe will bring you your usual."
Her Cielo thanked her with a muted nod, sliding into the barstool while waving over her shadow.
"Cyrus, I want you to meet Mama Welles. Mama Welles, Cyrus." Alejandra met the towering man's firm grip; she could feel the strength in his hands even as he tenderly shook hers. His crimson orbs lost some intensity, allowing that oppressive pool in her stomach to subside.
"Ms. Welles." The quiet voice held a tinge of youth that unsettled Alejandra. "I'm sorry for your loss."
She smiled at him warmly, for a man capable of turning away the most hardheaded gangoons with a glance, he was incredibly well mannered. Pepe had V's drink ready for her as soon as she sat down, and he shot a warning glance towards Cyrus.
"Lose the hood choomba. Need to make sure you don't get my bar license taken." The hood fell without resistance.
Short cropped hair as back as night fell from the hood's restraint, revealing a lean, handsome face. Piercing red eyes, defined cheeks, and a sharp jaw undoubtedly appealed to the fair sex. There was enough youth in his features to jostle Pepe, but not enough to stop his probing.
"How old are you, kid?" The barkeeper asked.
"Twenty," Cyrus slid into the seat next to a smirking V. Amusement sparkled in her eyes as she watched Pepe interrogate her choom for all his worth.
"You need to be twenty-one in this city, kid," Pepe stated emphatically. "You may be choom's with V, but I ain't serving you under the table."
"Come on, Pepe," V chimed in. "Put it on my tab. He turns twenty-one in three weeks anyway." Cyrus shot her a sideways look, silently wondering his V knew his birthday before coming to a final conclusion.
"Chamber?" The Merc grinned before nodding sharply.
"Chamber."
Cyrus rolled his eyes in exasperation as V ordered a double-shot for both of them. Pepe protested all the same, but he was never good at telling the Merc no; very few people possessed that kind of willpower.
While her barkeep spiced up a premium double shot of Vodka and V distracted herself with a one-sided conversation with Pepe. Alejandra turned towards her Cielo's newest compatriot.
"Where did she find you?"
Cyrus snorted. "How do you know I didn't find her?"
"Doubt someone like you would go looking for her without reason."
Cyrus cocked an eyebrow. "Like me?"
Mama Welles did not elaborate; a warm smile was the only answer he received. She toyed with a fresh shot of tequila, throwing it back with practiced ease before sliding towards Pepe to refill.
"I've known V for a little more than a year. Aside from my Jaquito, she's walked in here with only one other person. A nomad with a personality likened to a raging fire and you someone who spends more time burning bridges than making them."
V, who had been subtly listening in on their conversation, stiffened, going ramrod straight in her seat. She hadn't expected Mama Welles to come out swinging, but there was a possibility, and she hoped Cyrus wouldn't say anything stupid.
"Is there a question you want to ask me?" The woman was probing Cyrus like a seasoned investigator, and he could assume correctly that she was examining whether or not he was a hazard to V.
Quite frankly, he was.
"No, nothing at the moment." Alejandra chortled, sliding the blank notebook closed and gathering her belongings. "I find that people like you tend to prefer actions over words. Follow me. I want to show you something."
When V made a motion to rise from her bar stool, Mama Welles shoed her back down. "Not you, mi Cielo, stay and enjoy your time with Pepe. I'm sure you both have things to catch up on while I show your friend around."
Cyrus had never seen V so conflicted before. Her eyes shot between him and her surrogate mother with a gaze filled with worry. The Merc made a motion to speak, but Alejandra's narrowed eyes curtailed her in an instant. With V substantially subdued, Mama Welles turned back towards him.
"Come along." Welles didn't wait for Cyrus to acknowledge her; she strolled through a dense crowd of Valentinos who respectfully made way for her. He followed her after a questioning glance towards V went unanswered.
This would be interesting.
Welles walked with the grace of a woman who could not be trifled it. Cyrus only knew her from the minimal amount of details Chamber attached to V's file.
Guadalupe Alejandra Welles - but everyone calls her Mamá. Whoever walks through her front door can count on being listened to as well as enjoy a delicious meal. She was described as a woman whose tender personality did not belong in a place like the Glen.
Welles was aptly known as the 'mother of exiles', who would give anything to protect her children, which was not limited to her biological offspring.
V was one of many individuals who Mama Welles opened her home to without question, and she was always looking to expand upon her family with nurturing hospitality. The select few foolish enough to take advantage of her generosity suffered the wrath of the Valentinos, that is, if she didn't handle you herself already.
Mama Welles is an essential figure in the poverty-ridden slums of Heywood, and even the toughest Valentino acquiesces in respect when she passes. Much like they were doing now, and Cyrus ignored the pointed glares promising a torturous death from her would-be guardians if he harmed her in any way.
It was amusing, to say the least.
Eventually, their path came to an end in a side room not far from the teeming bar and not hidden away enough that patrons wouldn't take notice of its existence. Cyrus came to a slow stop next to dejected-stricken Mama Welles; not feet from her was a memorial belonging to her deceased son.
Despite the rowdy atmosphere taking place close to them, the noise didn't seem to reach the sanctity of this room. It was like an invisible barrier separated this monument from the teeming masses outside.
In this room, there was no happiness, nor was there sadness. Instead, there hung a comfortable yet respectful atmosphere worthy of a proper funeral gathering.
A picture of Jackie Welles was propped up next to a jar with a Santa Muerte engraving. Below the sanctimonious object was an assortment of random yet fitting items that no doubt belonged to Jackie.
"Do you know what this is?" Mama Welles enquired.
"A memorial?"
"Close," Mama Welles nodded slowly. "It is an 'Ofrenda' a home altar where we collect objects for our display ritual. The incense is meant to ward off evil spirits, and the items represent the decease. For adults, the ofrenda might include a bottle of mezcal; for a child, a favorite toy might be placed here for remembrance."
"V chose this for my Jaquito." At the direct center laid a book, etched into its back cover, was a noteworthy sentence by a man named Ernest Highway.
"The world is a fine place and worth fighting for, and I hate very much to leave it."
"A fine memorial for a good man." Mama Welles chuckled lightly.
"You did not know him." She was pointing it out to Cyrus more than she was getting onto him.
"I know V, and she wouldn't be here without him." Alejandra glanced at him out the corner of her eye, her expression was lost to Cyrus, but he was able to pick up traces of gratitude sparkling out of her gaze.
"Are you a man of god Cyrus?"
"No," he replied softly. "God and I don't belong in the same sentence."
"Then what would?"
"The devil."
"El Diablo," Mama Welles smiled sadly. "No, no, if what you say about my Jaquito is true, then that also applies to you, mi Hijo. Unless you are lying about my boy being a good man, is that the case?"
"No, Ms. Welles."
"Mama Welles," She raised her hand like a mother scolding an ignorant child. "You are a friend of mi Cielo and have earned the right to call me as such by association."
Cyrus did not have the heart to deny her, and he chose to observe the memorial to a fallen son. The last time he'd been to a procession was when his team mourned the death of Roland-B210 and Jonah-B283.
The pair made up Angel team, sister to Reaper Team, and the five Beta Company Spartans enlisted in the Headhunter program together. It was a bitter pill for Cyrus and his team to swallow when word reached their prowler that the pair had missed their scheduled check-in.
Officially there were listed as Missing in Action, but Cyrus knew better. They were gone, and his team held a small memorial in their honor, piling a few items into the burial capsule and ejecting it before anyone was the wiser.
Casey spoke a few words in Latin that Cyrus caught onto at the last moment. A man of God he may not be, but that didn't mean he was unable to offer a prayer.
The Spartan slowly approached the ofrenda, eyes closed and head slightly bowed, folding his right hand over his left. He ignored the quizzical look from Mama Welles etching into his back and spoke in a near hushed tone.
"Non temete l'oscurita — accettate il suo abbraccio. Requiescat in pace."
Fear not the darkness — but welcome its embrace. Rest in peace.
After a moment of silence, Cyrus stepped away from the memorial, returning his attention to a quietly watching Mama Welles.
"Thought you weren't a man of God?" She inquired humorously.
"Never said I wasn't. I just don't fit in his kingdom."
"Hmmm." Mama Welles didn't believe him, but he wasn't willing to converse on the topic of religion.
It was a subject an unwanted dimensional traveler had no place in.
"When I first met V, mi Jacquito brought her into my home raving about his new 'choomba' and that he wouldn't have made it back alive without her. I was skeptical at first; she was the type of woman he brought back for pleasure and nothing else, but it was different this time. She brought out the best in him, and it didn't take V long to work her way into our familia. And now…" Mama Welles trailed off, unwilling to finish her sentence as she glanced in V's direction.
"Now she's all you have left of Jackie?" Cyrus finished for her.
"One of two links, I never agreed with my Hijo dating a girl like Misty, but it was never my choice, to begin with. Now I cherish her presence when she comes to visit."
"I've not had the luxury to meet her." At least not out of his MJOLNIR.
Mama Welles barked humorously. "She is a unique soul, and it is little wonder why my boy was so enamored with her."
"As you say."
The pair exchanged muted small talk, neither wanting to let the silence dictate their atmosphere. When the time came for Cyrus to return to a patiently waiting V, Mama Welles snatched his arm.
"Cyrus," she began slowly, attention dancing between him and her Cielo. The question and worry need not be told; he knew what Mama Welles wanted. Cyrus laid a tentative hand onto her arm, settling the woman's concerns with a soft tone.
"I know." Mama Welles only nodded faintly and slowly released his limb, watching the towering man approach an eagerly awaiting V. Her heaven was in good hands, that much she was certain.
A tall glass filled to the brim in Vodka and other alcoholic entities was thrust into his arms by an overeager V. Cyrus glanced to his right and noticed a single empty glass being snatched by the muscular barkeep.
The Merc had started drinking without him
"You better not be a lightweight." Pepe muttered out bitterly, shooting him a stink eye before returning his attention to his 'legal' bar residents. Cyrus wasn't allowed to respond, courtesy of another four vodka glasses appearing alongside his single beverage.
"This is a lot of liquor." Cyrus pointed out as he balanced the assortment of drinks in his hands.
"Most definitely," V started. "But I ain't about to come back downstairs anytime soon, chop-chop big man were headed up to the VIP area."
Within moments Cyrus found himself on the bar's vacant rooftop; it wasn't so much a fabled VIP area; instead, it was a zone restricted to family. The Coyote Cujo's roof was furnished into a lounge area designed explicitly by Mama Welles.
It's one of the few places where the pure qualities of Night City stuck out, and with the evening skyline dipping into darkness, the sky was lit up like a Christmas tree. V waved him over to a pair of lounge chairs in a perfect position to appreciate the stellar view.
Cyrus sat at the end of his lounge table, back straight with a double shot of Vodka firmly held in his right hand. V was lounging carelessly against the lounge chair, downing half of her liquor in one go.
"What'd Mama Welles want?" V questioned as the bitter taste of Vodka settled in her stomach.
"Couldn't quite tell you," Cyrus considered his glass of liquor carefully. "What is this?"
"Jackie Welles special," V's constant smile noticeably dimmed. "Shot of vodka on the rocks, a touch of lime juice, ginger beer…..and a splash of love."
Her tone grew softer with each passing detail, eyes losing their sparkling light. Cyrus wasn't about to let her fall into that rabbit hole of negative emotions.
"To Jackie," he raised his drink in a toast to the fallen. "Memoriam amare."
"To Jackie." As one, Spartan and Merc drank their liquor.
The familiar grainy taste of liquor pricked at his throat, the contents trickling to the bottom of his stomach, where it dissolved within seconds. Cyrus didn't enjoy Vodka or any other particular alcoholic beverage; he supposed it was an acquired taste that he wasn't accustomed to.
The entire reason to drink simmered down to three points.
To enhance sociability, escape problems, or enjoy yourself.
All of which Cyrus was horribly incapable of accomplishing, willingly or unwillingly.
V engaged Cyrus in small talk in between drinks. He was confident that the menial topics were little more than conversational ice breakers. Whether or not it was for his sake or hers remained a mystery.
But it did little to stem the inevitable.
The Merc was mindlessly toying with her drink when the words fell from her mouth.
"Cyrus…..I don't even know where to start."
V hoped that a few shots of her new favorite liquor would loosen her tongue more than anything, but even the familiar and welcoming taste did little for her confidence.
"Most people start these conversations with where they're from." Leave it to Cyrus to make her feel like a child.
"Ok," V spoke hesitantly. "Where are you from?"
Cyrus took a long, drawn-out guzzle of Vodka. Finishing off another double shot of liquor faster than any human had any right to. V graciously gave him the chance to compose himself; neither of them desired this conversation, but the circumstances dictated otherwise.
He carefully placed down his empty glass and nodded off towards the open sky. There wasn't a cloud in sight, and even the smog and bright lights of Night City could din the sparkling stars.
"Somewhere out there is a solar system called Tau Ceti. It possesses a Class A Supergiant containing seven orbiting satellites. Only one is capable of sustaining life, and that planet is called Actium." Cyrus's eyes found purchase on a single flickering ball of light. He had no way of knowing if that was truly his home planet, but his gut said otherwise.
"My home." V was rattled, but the revelation didn't surprise her all that much.
Cyrus was capable of extraordinary feats that no Corporation or Government could ever truly replicate. The humanlike personality Chamber exhibited, and the sophisticated power armor were dead giveaways.
"Boogeyman turned spaceman. How incredibly dull." Johnny drawled out.V had half a mind to swallow a pair of omega pills then and there; the last thing she wanted was Johnny stinking up the joint.
"Fine, christ. Go ahead and have your me-time with Quasimoto." She was thankful the gonk disappeared and left them in peace.
Even with Johnny's momentary distraction, V was left speechless; she couldn't register the proper words to convey her growing list of questions. For the slightest of moments, she almost labeled him a liar, but Cyrus was anything but a deceiver.
Regardless, V knew not where to lead this conversation, so Cyrus took the reins.
"My very existence is an anomaly that has impacted the future of this planet in more ways than one. I do not belong here, but by the laws of god or unexplainable science, I exist where I should not."
"What do you mean?" V questioned.
"It's best if I show you." Cyrus reached out towards her. "Give me your interface plug; I don't have a penchant for good storytelling."
V recalled her hesitation the first time he demanded such a personal request without any tact. Now weeks later, he continued to disregard the fundamental reasonings for forging such a connection.
She didn't know who was the bigger idiot, him for being such a tactless gonk or her for saying yes this time.
Darkness was all that greeted V.
It usually inflicted an uneasy feeling upon her, but lately, she had begun to embrace it like a long-lost child. It no longer instilled dread inside her.
Now, all it did was put her at complete ease.
V blamed Cyrus for that dilemma.
For a few silent moments, she stumbled in the darkness of his mindscape before a bright light shined in the shadows. Eventually, she came across a patiently waiting Cyrus, arms crossed and body leaning against a wall that wasn't actually there.
"You need to accept that there are certain things you won't understand right away. So, I answer your questions to the best of my ability. You need but ask."
"Every story needs a beginning, Cyrus," V began. "And I want to know yours."
"As you wish."
The darkness was replaced with a decrepit city street. Its nightlife was eerily similar to the decaying and downtrodden neighborhoods of Night City. Street urchins ran in between crowds of barely attentive civilians, and prostitutes plied their trade in back alleys.
It was home away from home.
"Ferax," Cyrus started. "A metropolis eerily similar to Night City, the only difference is the semi-competent government and severe lack of Cyberpsychos."
"Wish we had that going for us." V's wisecrack went ignored.
"Their competency is only a product of their brutality; the UEG is not known for its patience or its leniency."
"The UEG?" Cyrus materialized a few feet to her right.
"The Unified Earth Government, it's the central administration that governs Earth and all its colonies throughout the Milky Way galaxy. It is the sole proprietor to nearly eight hundred planets and had no equal during its golden age, but nothing lasts forever."
The sky above was once filled with listless clouds and passing civilian aircraft, was now choked of all life. The once-bustling city streets turned into a warzone as civilians ran for their lives. Soldiers in heavy plated armor ran headfirst into blistering blue bolts; one round of plasma burned through a soldier's armor like paper.
Screams of pure agony greeted her ears as the unfortunate soldier had his armor infused into his torso. V had seen plenty of horrors in her life, but this was the first time she'd ever seen someone die by plasma.
V watched the soldiers retreat into alleyways with the barest of coordinated withdrawals. Ballistic projectiles and bolts of plasma crisscrossed one another in a beautiful symphony.
That symphony turned to horror when a sword made of plasma pierced a soldier from behind. A mirage of seven-foot-tall bodies broke through a makeshift barricade of soldiers and debris.
What beauty that remained was snuffed out by the stench of burning flesh and agonized screaming.
The illusion fell away and revealed a terrifying creature that was anything but human. It was as imposing as it was frightening; four mandibles clicked together ominously. The beast snarled in barely concealed contempt as it kicked off the human corpse attached to its looming sword.
"Leave none alive."
The carnage was halted with nothing more than a single thought; everything froze on a dime. V was left flatfooted as she regarded the humanoid form basking over the corpse of a human soldier.
"What the fuck is that?" V asked quietly.
"They are Sangheili," Cyrus replied. "A species that became the founding members for what I know as the Covenant. I know not their history or achievements. I only know that they have dedicated the last three decades to exterminating humanity."
Buildings chipped away, human and alien figures alike disappeared into the dark, and the scenery changed to a command bridge overlooking a globe of emerald green.
"And they're winning."
It should have been an enthralling sight, but it was marred by gargantuan bulbous starships, each with a smooth hull with broad extensive contours and near-perfect symmetry.
The planet below was tortured under wide beams of concentrated plasma. Its surface burned under the fires of sweltering heat, oceans boiled without pause, and the sky was choked with hazardous vapors.
It was a scene out of hell.
Words could not express the horror of watching a planet burn under the fury of forces that were beyond V's comprehension. Whatever composure she maintained was shattered, and all that was left was sorrow.
"What," V swallowed nervously. "What is the Covenant?"
"A collection of aliens, whose sole desire is to worship a long-dead species. They are religious fanatics, nothing more, nothing less. I do not wish to understand their motivations, nor do I care for them. They are my greatest enemy, at least they were. Now they are little more than a passing memory, a recollection that I will never forget until I take my final breath."
"Where do you fit in all this?" Cyrus was barely into his twenties, and from his previous statement, humanity's war with the Covenant had been going on for nearly thirty years.
A blink later and V was back in the decrepit streets following in the wake of a child bundled up in heavy clothing to stave off the freezing nights. The sharp look and narrow gaze were eerily similar to the towering supersoldier next to her.
"I was a street urchin, parents gone, no family, no friends, just another face in a mob of forgotten people. As any street rat can attest, you don't survive the frozen nights without doing anything and everything."
The child grew into the role of a street urchin, snatching valuables from inattentive civilians and stealing provisions from barely secure street markets.
"I was good at stealing but not good enough to avoid retribution." A child could only get so far before their luck ran out. "Almost met an untimely end at the hands of less than amused gangers who were displeased that I was stealing on their turf. I am only here now because a vagrant chieftain took a shining to me."
"Lucky you." He did not disagree with V's assessment.
"Luck had nothing to do with it," Cyrus remarked. "Tara looked after me because of my tender age. Without it, I would have been little more than another body for the meat grinder."
"She took me in," he continued. "Gave me a place I could call home and people that wouldn't rob me blind. Without her iron will, I would never have come out of that place with my sanity or my life."
Cyrus owed Tara more than V could ever truly understand. When Actium burned, he could only hope that her death was quick; she earned that much.
"I contributed to her camp to the best of my ability, and that required stealing and selling anything I could get my hands on jewelry, expensive furs, firearms, electronic hardware, vehicles anything of value was ripe for the picking."
Watching his younger self work was a crash course on stealing valuables without the victim even realizing it. V was impressed with a memory of Cyrus nabbing an expensive watch right under a corporate suit's nose before fading into the shadows.
The lock on the moron's face was priceless.
"You're a natural talent," V commented. She watched a tiny bundle of worn-out clothing shadow an unremarkable man dressed in a typical dress suit, jacking the keys to his premium vehicle without issues.
By every iota of imagination, pilfering this man's wheels should have been a relatively easy gig.
"Talent can only get you so far," Cyrus observed his adolescent self approach the prize, unaware of the shadow scrutinizing his every motion. Just as his hands gripped the X-55 Califore's handle, a sizable weight impacted the back of his neck, and only darkness remained.
"My reliance upon it became my undoing. It also became my salvation."
A startled Cyrus awoke from his forced slumber, struggling against restraints and cursing out a group of soldiers covered in black armor. The only distinguishing feature was an emblem emblazoned on their shoulder pads.
A pyramid divided in half between white and black with a white circle at its center. The words etched below the emblem drew V's attention above all else.
Office of Naval Intelligence.
No doubt the translation for ONI that V recalled hearing in Cyrus's memory.
"Why'd they take you?" She questioned.
"Our war with the Covenant was entering its second decade; by then, the casualties had reached the millions if not billions. Dozens of our colonies were turned into balls of ash, our populations were being massacred without pause. Humanity needed a miracle, and ONI was happy to oblige."
Barely a moment passed before V found herself in a darkened room surrounded by hundreds of children. Their expressions were carved out of steel, not a single trace of emotion on their faces as they stared at a figure overseeing them from above.
"As per Naval Code 45812, you have all volunteered for UNSC Special Project, codenamed SPARTAN III. You have been called upon to serve. You will be the sword of Earth and all her colonies. We begin tomorrow."
"A sword of humanity," Cyrus mused. "A hyperbole that did nothing more than mask what we really were. It took me a long time to realize our entire program was nothing more than an expensive racehorse. Our function was to perform until the war ended in our victory or we died achieving it, and it is a purpose all Spartan-III cadets willingly abide by."
Their training was brutal, the augmentations were tortuous, and the mental conditioning inflicted upon the cadets was downright cruel.
"I survived the streets of Ferax, and I assumed foolishly that I could survive this challenge without assistance. That notion was destroyed after my first day; my chief instructor ensured that I would never forget that one man can only do so much. Everyone needed a team they could rely on, and that's when I met mine."
"Eliza and Casey." Cyrus glanced out the corner of his eye towards V before nodding slowly.
"Yes," he answered.
An unlikely trio formed, becoming outcasts amongst their compatriots, establishing a tight-knit group whose ingenuity and capability placed them on a pedestal above the rest.
A woman appeared before V, sporting chestnut shoulder-length hair braided together over a pair of dull amber eyes. Her skin gracefully complimented her narrowed cheeks, and a fierce gaze almost made the Merc curl in on herself.
"Casey was the best of us; she outclassed every cadet in the program and established herself as the favorite quickly. This separated her from the rest of our peers, whether out of jealously or fear, I do not know, but it allowed Eliza and me plenty of time to break her out of her lone wolf shell. To a certain degree."
Off of Casey's right shoulder was another woman; this one possessed light, perfectly groomed hair covering a set of radiant blue eyes. Her high cheekbones were marred only by a thin scar trailing along the outer edge of her left eye.
"Eliza was our heart and soul, the only person that kept us grounded in reality. She was the antithesis to Casey and me. Where we were detached, she was passionate; where we were rigid, she was flexible. Without her, there was no team. Without her, there was no chance of us becoming anywhere near as close as we were."
V felt bile crawl up her throat as she watched the trio underwent their augmentation process. Surgical scars horribly disfigured their pale skin and left them in insurmountable pain that lasted weeks.
"ONI's methods were cruel but effective; they molded us into the perfect soldiers. There is no predicament too complicated, no challenge we will not meet, and no trial that we could not endure." Cyrus said.
"And what about you?" V inquired. "What was your role?"
He paused in thought for but a moment. "To endure. Our duty was to inflict horrors upon our enemies that would leave even the most mentally conditioned individual scarred, and our adversaries weren't always Covenant."
Gresham wasn't the only one to suffer at his hands; Cyrus made a point of making an example of insurgents whenever he could. V assumed it was because he'd rather be out fighting for the survival of his species and not playing janitor in his own backyard.
"We spent five years of our lives hunting the Covenant and massacring Insurgents, and we were the best at it. Eliza, always the optimist, believed that the three of us could survive this war together, but our commanding officer had other plans."
Casey's departure left a hole in his heart, and Reaper team was never the same without her. Their combat record remained spotless, but that did nothing to alleviate the grief brewing inside Eliza and Cyrus.
"Her reassignment was difficult for both of us, but we endured all the same. Eliza and I spent a few months behind Covenant lines, doing everything we could to stem the tide before we were recalled." A familiar sparkle of blue caught V's attention, and Chamber appeared before her.
"Our success enabled us to receive a priceless asset, and you've already met her. It took some time, but we warmed up to Chambers forced inclusion into our team, and her presence was welcomed with open arms."
The environment changed every few seconds. One scene demonstrated Cyrus and Eliza fighting back to back against a horde of Covenant, while another showed the pair stalking an Elite Field Marshall in the bombed-out ruins of Arcadia's capital.
They worked flawlessly together; every action they took was calculated down to the most simplistic of muscle movements. Watching Cyrus and Eliza operate was a beautiful orchestra that was only marred by the violence of their actions.
"In the end though, it didn't matter. Despite all of our success in the field, death was always an inevitability, and eventually, it came calling."
Line Installation 2-4. July 25th, 2552.
A gargantuan dreadnought in the hands of the Covenant would spell disaster for the USNC, and that was an outcome that could not be allowed. Cyrus and Eliza didn't need to discuss their next course of action and detonated the Havoc Nuke once their position became unattainable.
It was also the last time Cyrus laid his eyes on Eliza. V got the answers she wanted, even if it came with its own set of questions that would be explored at a later date. The information overload she received today was enough for her befuddled brain as it was.
Cyrus disconnected her from his mind, ripping out her interface plug from the neural interface implanted into his skull.
"Do you think she survived?"
V's question went unanswered for a time. The possibility of Eliza surviving the nuke was unknown. Chamber spent weeks investigating her whereabouts the best she could, but her survival went unanswered.
It was more likely that Eliza was killed in the blast rather than sent to this alternate Earth, but he still held out hope.
"I don't know," Cyrus replied. "But if she didn't, I can only hope it was quick."
The somber mood hung in the air for a time, and V was unwilling to let their day end like this. She stood on her toes and held out a hand towards Cyrus, who shot a curious look towards her.
"I don't know about you, but I'm not about to end my night on a sour note," V said. From anyone else, Cyrus might have disregarded the gesture entirely but today was a day for firsts.
"What do you have in mind." The shit-eating smirk she shot him was an answer in itself.
"What do you think."
Cyrus should have known this was what V had in mind. Surrounded by tipsy and inebriated bar patrons egging her on as she downed a glass of tequila in one go.
"One thousand!"
"Two thousand!"
"Three thousand!"
"Four-" The word barely left the crowd's lips when V slammed her glass on the countertop.
Everyone in the bar yelled in jubilation as Cyrus looked on in mild amusement. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could practically hear the screeching of his ONI handlers cursing at him for being in a bar.
Most of the bar patrons were crowded around the countertop enjoying the festivities of social drinking. On the other hand, Cyrus stood alone nursing a bottle of Vodka at one of their high tables while examining the crowd closely for any deviancy.
Cyrus was content in watching V enjoy herself even as the hours passed by in a slow crawl. He'd consumed an ungodly amount of alcohol already, but he could barely feel anything more than the slightest buzz.
As he drank the final drops to his eighth bottle of liquor, his communication device vibrated. He gently placed the bottle on the table and palmed the tool from his right hip.
"Cyrus here."
"So," Panam's pleasant voice greeted his right ear. "Heard you guys ran into some trouble."
"Nothing we couldn't handle," Cyrus replied. "How are things on your end?"
"Had to settle some nerves and search for a missing patrol in our eastern territories, ended up being a bad transmitter. Mitch and Castle are spooling up a plan to retake our old positions on Interstate Nine, but the Wraiths are making it difficult."
Cyrus mussed over the escalation of war in the Badlands. Warfare out in those desolate wastes was dictated by mobility, camouflage, and deception. Of the seven major nomadic tribes populating that inhospitable landscape, the Aldecaldos were the best desert warfare experts in the land.
Their speed was unmatched, and a great many of their senior members were veterans of the Unification Wars. The Wraiths were outclassed in almost every single aspect of war imaginable, except one.
The Raffen gang possessed a numerical advantage that could not be ignored, and their sheer size made a grinding war of attrition their preferred strategy. Cyrus did not envy Mitch or Castle's position; their clan possessed only a few hundred capable fighters compared to the two thousand Wraiths teeming the Badlands.
"Aren't you expecting reinforcements soon?" A call went out for the Aldecaldos outlying bands to return to the fold immediately.
All nomadic tribes avoided gathering their full might into one central location; an extensive collection of foraging nomads was hard to maintain and even harder to hide. As a result, there were dozens of groups spread out over thousands of miles of open ground.
If a band of nomads ran into trouble, it was difficult to call upon reinforcements and expect it to be answered with haste.
"We are, but Saul is demanding our distant cousins send small groups to avoid detection. We're only receiving about twenty fighters a week, while the fucking Raffen bring in dozens of fresh recruits. Sooner or later, we're going to be outnumbered ten to one, but for now, things have gone quiet. No one wants to throw shots around when a Miltiech Convoy is passing by, wars complicated enough without corpos getting involved."
"This coming from the woman who wants to snag one of their tanks." Cyrus quipped.
"Hey! I wanna steal their gear without painting a giant target on our backs. Besides, I have a few ideas that I'm sure you can help with."
"Can't wait."
Cyrus hummed in thought, glancing back towards a slightly tipsy V, who was fighting off a few less than subtle admirers. Their inebriated states gave them the necessary will to test her, which only ended with a few broken jaws.
"How's V doing?"
A grabby Valentino found his hand twisted unnaturally and forcefully pushed into a crowd of muscleheads. The poor bastard was dragged into an alleyway along with his chooms; there was only one rule in Mama Welles bar.
No fighting.
"She's enjoying herself," another round of euphoria echoed as V finished off a tankard of beer. "I don't suppose you could provide me some much-needed backup."
"Why scared of dealing with an intoxicated V?" Panam said wryly.
"I find myself inadequate when it comes to dealing with her in a…..liberal state," Cyrus admitted.
Panam chuckled in amusement. "I know how handsy she can get. The last time she and I visited Mama Welles bar, the damn woman copped a feel of my ass when I wasn't paying attention. I ended up decking some poor slob who was minding his own business. I've never been more embarrassed in my entire life, and Mama Welles has a mean look in her eye if you earn it."
"Is that a no?"
"That's a hard pass for me, I can only take so much of V's antics at a bar, and I've met my quota for the week."
Cyrus exhaled slowly. He hoped to hear a unanimous agreement to take part in his 'people watching,' as V called it. If only because it would keep any looming parties away from him in the short run.
"Hey, cheer up big man," Cyrus could imagine the smug grin crossing her face. "Next time you go out, I'll be sure to keep our girl preoccupied."
"You're attempt at humor is vexing, Palmer." She squawked in light-hearted indignation.
"Oh, we're back to last name basis, are we? Ok, we'll see how well that goes for you. Say hi to V for me and try to go the rest of your day without too much excitement happening, will ya? I want to be there the next time you throw down with gangoons or mercs."
"I'll be sure to call you up next time." Not.
"You do that and…" she went quiet, and he barely noticed the hesitation in Panam's voice as she spoke. "…let me know when you get home."
"I will," Cyrus consented. "Goodnight, Panam."
"You too," the line disconnected, but he was left perplexed at the…odd ending to their conversation.
Whatever complexities there were between him and Panam were quickly dashed when a warm body slid up to his bar table.
Several wide-eyed and incredibly intoxicated females approached his table to strike up a conversation in the last two hours, but they were politely ignored with a subtle glance. After a few minutes their social awareness kicked in, and they scampered off to the safety of their own cliques.
"Hi, I'm Liana."
It only took a glance for Cyrus to realize that this one was far more stubborn than the rest. By now, the entire bar had come to the realization that he did not wish to be disturbed.
Evidently, she found his silence to be an invitation and not a dismissal.
His intruder was pleasing to the eye if the envious glances from their onlookers were anything to go by.
A pair of expressive green orbs stared into his own, and golden wavy hair touched her shoulders. Freckles were spread temptingly across her face, and an unnoticeable scar ran down her right cheek. Her attire wasn't anywhere close to your average civilian or street thug; a unity was poking out of her collared pozer-jacket.
Liana was the epiphany of a femme fatale that alone made her more dangerous than any ganger in this tavern.
His silence only emboldened her further. Liana snagged his remaining bottle of Vodka and produced two glasses from an adjacent table. "Care to share?"
Cyrus didn't have the chance to deny her before she began pouring; he shot a subtle glance to his right and found V preoccupied with Pepe. The pair were in the middle of an oddly serious conversation despite the festivities occurring around them.
His vision was immediately occupied by a glass of freshly poured Vodka and a devilish grin.
"Don't talk much, do you?" Liana stated mischievously.
"Not too people I don't know." When Cyrus made no move to retrieve his specified drink, Liana placed it gently in front of him.
"I know V though, doesn't that count me as trustworthy?"
"No, it doesn't." This Merc was far too relaxed for his tastes. "How do you know her?"
"She used to roll with me." Liana took a drink from her glass.
"You don't look like a Bakker." Her indignant snort furthered his point.
"I was," Liana drew out, taking a step towards him. "I left a few years before V did, but she neglected to look me up when she came to Night City. I was hurt at first, but we crossed paths eventually and made…..amends."
"Hmmm." Cyrus slid to his left, attempting to use the high table as a barrier between them, but she only closed the distance. "What do you want?"
Liana leaned into him, pressing her sensuous body into his towering form, adding a sensual edge to her tone. "I'm just getting to know V's newest squeeze. She hasn't been the same since Jackie died, and I do worry about my oldest friend."
"Funny," Cyrus remarked. "She's never mentioned you."
"People rarely kiss and tell about their ex." Now that was information Cyrus probably didn't need to know.
"V's business is her own, and my tolerance with you is running out." Liana leaned back but not enough for his liking.
"You're different from Jackie, much more…imposing." It was Cyrus's turn to lean in, crimson eyes boring into emerald orbs.
"I'm also much less patient than he ever was, and you are testing mine." A flash of fear crossed Liana's eyes, and for the first time, her ignorance did not blind her to her new reality.
The entire time Liana believed he was falling into her spider's web, but she failed to realize an insect cannot hope to beat a demon.
"Liana." Their silent battle was cut short when V finally took notice of Cyrus's newest visitor. Fury was plain for even the uninformed to see as she stormed towards the pair.
"V," Liana finally stepped away from Cyrus, shooting a mischievous grin towards her former flame. "You don't call, you don't write, haven't heard from you in weeks."
"That was the point," V pulled Cyrus towards her, pointedly ignoring his irritated glance. "Had enough of you to last the rest of the decade. What do you want?"
"I was just checking up on you. Can't a choom do that?" The cutting look V was shooting her indicated otherwise.
"I don't think we should classify ourselves as chooms."
"We're not enemies either." Liana retorted.
"No, we're not."
Cyrus soon became a bystander to a discussion that he'd rather not be involved in. There was a tension between the two that went past a simple disagreement; it was a deeply personal issue.
"V," he grasped her arm carefully. "We're drawing a lot of attention right now."
The last thing he wanted was to cause an incident so soon after their run-in with MAX-TAC.
This was supposed to be their day off.
"Why don't we go upstairs then," Liana offered. "Have a drink, for old times sake. Alone." The final word was directed towards Cyrus, who was seconds away from declining when V cut him off.
"Not today," V squeezed his hand softly. "I'm here to spend time with him; we'll catch up later."
"Ok then, I can see when I'm not wanted." Liana dipped her head in acknowledgment. "See you around, V."
She did not deign Liana a reply, snatching Cyrus by the arm as both parties separated. While their uninvited guest exited the bar, V led him to the upper levels seeking a private booth for them to occupy. As they passed the bar top, V called out to Pepe, who was finishing up a cocktail.
"Hey, give me a bottle of scotch!" A highland park whiskey bottle was tossed in her direction, and V snatched it with her free hand. "Thanks, Pepe!"
Moments later, the Spartan found himself shoved into a corner booth isolated from the rest of the patrons, and V slid next to him with a bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other. Her heart rate was skyrocketing, and the scotch in her grasp was shaking uncontrollably.
Cyrus laid his hand gently atop V's, halting her shaking nerves with little more than a superficial gesture.
"You ok?" He inquired softly.
"Ever seen a ghost before?" Liana's very presence had taken a toll on V, and he'd never seen her this shaken up. She needed something to settle her nerves, and Cyrus knew just the thing she enjoyed above all.
A sense of humor.
"Every time I look in the mirror." The Merc stared at him in muted surprise, mouth hanging open in disbelief. "That was a joke."
It started as a soft light-hearted giggle before exploding into pure mirthful raucous. The sound was pleasant to his ears, and the barest of smiles graced Cyrus's lips.
"You need to work on your sense of humor, but good try nonetheless." V grasped the bottle of scotch, unscrewing the top and taking a heavy swig. "You want to ask me, don't you?"
"About?" V passed him the bottle, and Cyrus indulged in the social etiquette for once and drank alongside another human being.
"Liana." The thought never crossed his mind, but the look she was shooting him was practically begging for a deep conversation. Cyrus supposed he could indulge her silent demands.
"She told me she was a Bakker."
"She wasn't lying. Liana was born for Night City, not traveling the badlands with the Bakkers. Eventually, she struck out on her own and left me behind. That was six years ago." V sighed, observing Cyrus place his half-empty glass down.
"You were close." It came out as a statement more than a question.
"Yes," V admitted. "We were inseparable in our youth, and for a time, I thought we'd be together forever, but nothing ever stays the same."
"No, it doesn't" Cyrus paused for a drink. "Is she a Merc?"
"Was there ever any doubt? Liana's an Afterlife mercenary, one of Rogue's favorite earners just a bit behind the poor bastard you went to town on the other day."
"What you feel bad for Brooks, V?" Her plump lips curled delightfully.
"Course not, I'm just pointing it out."
The pair fell into a comfortable silence, finishing the bottle of scotch within moments and forcing V to search for another.
Hours passed by in a blur of pleasant conversations.
V attempted to haul him onto the dance floor for a spell when her favorite song started playing, but her inebriated state prevented any sort of coordination in her movements. He watched her stumble onto the dance floor below, calling him a party pooper the entire way down.
The music wasn't to Cyrus's liking, but everyone below was too blasted to care. V invested herself fully into the annoying song as she joined a mob of human bodies. A few poor souls vied for her attention, but V wasn't drunk enough to coddle their desires.
When she finally got tired of dancing, V dragged herself back to the upper level, all the while cursing Cyrus for not indulging her curiosity. Her face was flush a bright red, and she came with more drinks in hand.
At this point, even Cyrus was starting to feel the effects of alcohol, and he was sure V was entering her last moments of coordination. The pair reoccupied their former booth, but neither were anywhere close to the sober.
V sipped an old-fashioned cocktail lightly, staring at Cyrus with a smoldering gaze that unsettled him. "Enjoy yourself tonight?"
It was a simple question, and under different circumstances, Cyrus would have never imagined himself saying anything other than no.
"Yeah, I did for the most part." The words were difficult to eke out, but he accomplished it nonetheless.
"For the most part? What are you missing a grand finale?" V queried cheekily, a grin beginning to crawl across her lips.
"You know what I meant." Cyrus finished his drink and made a silent promise to stop partaking.
V's grin only escalated. "Do I?"
He snorted in amusement, closing his eyes as he leaned back. "Your ignorance is showing again, V."
"I'm not the one who's ignorant today…"
Cyrus's brows crinkled slightly when V started shifting, confusion was etched across his face, and it only grew when a sizeable warm weight settled in his lap.
Two dainty hands placed themselves on each of his shoulders and pushed him further into the back of the booth. When Cyrus finally opened his eyes, the only thing he could see was her smoldering gaze boring into him.
"V?" Cyrus asked, eyes meeting her in confusion.
"Tell me," V leaned forward, grazing her lips against the front of his neck. "Has someone ever done this for you before?"
"I don't know what this is." Cyrus's heartbeat was escalating into levels that he had never felt before. V's eyes virtually glued him in place, and no manner of willpower could remove the influence she had on him.
"Let me show you then," she answered alluringly. "And whatever happens, don't fight it. Embrace it."
V's head dipped to meet his and a rush of hot breath pressed against his lips. Every ounce of self-control and resistance evaporated into the cool air and V took advantage of the opening. She leaned forward and sealed her lips against his, pressing the Spartan further into the cushion with a passionate kiss.
Cyrus did precisely what she told him to.
He embraced it.
Ah, this was an oddity to write out, hope you guys enjoy the epilogue to ACT Five. If you haven't noticed there has been a severe lack of progress on the Tyger Claw and 6th Street front but not to worry we revisit them next chapter along with the beginning of ACT 6.
If I'm being completely honest I did not expect myself to even reach this far into the fic but somehow I have and that is because of all of you.
So give yourself a pat on the back, you've earned this as much as I have.
Starting this week I am going to place the songs I listened to that helped make these chapters, so if you're interested in how I find inspiration just look at the top.
As always I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and remember to review to your heart's content.
Reviews:
DannyPhantom619: Hope their interaction didn't disappoint.
MarauderPrime12: Eh they'll be fine.
squidface09: Thank you, I will.
To all other reviews expressing their thanks and support, you guys are the best stay classy.
Next Chapter: May 3rd
IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT/POLL
I'm toying with the idea of bringing Eliza into Night City and I have a general idea on how to balance it out since her arrival can mimic Cyrus's in a certain way.
However, I'm going to let all of you influence my decision.
Casey is a solid maybe but it's entirely unlikely because she has her own story to be told. I wouldn't be against it but the poll may influence my decision.
As a result, there is a poll to decide the direction of that particular rabbit hole. Please choose which direction you want me to take, it's entirely up to you.
The Options are below but obviously, you need to vote on my profile. Options are randomized so double-check what you want.
Yes, I want Reaper Team to reunite as one. (Eliza and Casey enter the fray)
Yes, I want Eliza in the story but not Casey (Eliza enters the story but Casey remains MIA)
No, One Spartan is too much already please don't break the world. (Eliza and Casey remain MIA)