Author's Note: It took me a while to get this down. Needed to figure out details regarding the story. I've got it sorted now.

Special thanks to:

doenerkint, author of Hiding and Masking, please check out his work, it's really great. He's brilliant at sorting out my mess of writings.

Tahsky, DarknessEnthroned

"Speech done mentally through the net"

"Speech"

'Thoughts'

Motivations

Longshore S Apartments, Charter Hill, Westbrook, Night City

19:34

~It's Info Flash! Despite the recent passing of her father, the head and founder of Arasaka; Saburo Arisaka, Hanako Arasaka will still be attending the upcoming Aratama-matsuri festival in Japantown. Though, her brother, Yorinobu will not be."

As the new head of the Corporation, Yorinobu was quoted as saying, "I will honour my father's legacy by ensuring the continued growth and success of his empire." If you ask me, that's the biggest load of sh…~

"V, what the fuck did you get yourself into…" grumbled Harry as he leaned against the back wall of the elevator on his way up to Fleur's apartment. Even in the upper end of Night City, you still couldn't avoid the screens showcasing Ruth Dzeng.

'Whatever,' he thought. If V needs his help, she knows how to find him.

The digital display beside the smooth polished dark-grey steel doors of the elevator stopped counting as Harry felt himself slow to a stop, but despite his obvious arrival the doors before him remained closed. He wasn't surprised they didn't budge. It was one of those buildings where an elevator led straight into the apartments.

With a sigh, Harry mentally dialled Fleur's number and waited for her to answer.

"'Arry?"

"I'm here, mind opening up?"

The call cut and a second later the doors slid open with a satisfyingly smooth motion and allowed Harry his first sight of Fleur's apartment.

Directly from the entrance, the hallway continued straight before opening to a large room with floor to ceiling height windows, and a balcony on the other side. The apartment itself was lit with a warm orange glow, illuminating the stylish, yet minimalist furnishings. It was all very expensive, designer couches in black leather with gold finishings, and a few pieces of artwork. The kitchen was open plan with a black marble bar counter separating it from the rest of the room, and a dining table that could seat maybe six comfortably.

It wasn't the biggest apartment out there, but for someone living alone. It was a perfect blend of luxury and practicality. It was another piece of the puzzle that was Fleur Delacour.

He glanced towards the open-plan kitchen and took note of the small hydroponic countertop garden, the clear UV light shining down on various small green herbs. He smiled in amusement. If there was one thing he noticed his corpo partner was not willing to compromise on, it was gastronomy.

Thinking of her, he couldn't help the direction his mind strayed. He had come to find out that once Fleur was comfortable around him, she had become openly flirty. She took pleasure in trying to make him squirm, smiling triumphantly when she caught a hitch in his breath, or a wandering of his eyes.

He'd lost count of the number of times he'd had to discreetly adjust his pants around her.

It didn't help that he was heavily attracted to the platinum-blonde. Of all the women he'd dealt with in his life – and there were many in the Mox – she had managed to leave the strongest impression so far on him. There was just something about her, which became apparent once he'd stopped painting her with the same brush as the average corpo. She simply couldn't be more different from them.

"In 'ere!" called out Fleur from somewhere out of sight.

He followed her voice to a door that stood ajar. He pushed it open slowly and found himself in Fleur's bedroom. It was dimly lit with the window shades pulled closed. Her bed was still unmade, with the dark maroon silk covers half on the polished wood floor. It was as if he had surprised her and she had just barely crawled out of bed in the nick of time of his arrival.

His eyes traced breadcrumbs of motion toward another door in the room that was left half open and allowed light to bleed into the bedroom. Steamy clouds of mist could be seen through the light rays and the sound of a hair dryer could be heard.

"Take a seat, I'll be out soon!" called out Fleur again.

Harry nodded mentally and moved to glance around the space once more. The only seating besides her unmade bed was at the desk close to it. Her mirror was the sort that could turn into a screen on command. It was currently displaying a user-interface but locked behind an authentication screen. And her chair, which looked to err on the side of style over comfort, was turned to face him, instead of being tucked under the desk.

With a fluid motion, Harry slid the backpack from his shoulder and placed it on the desk before dropping himself into the chair. He shifted in an attempt to find the best position in the – in his opinion – supremely uncomfortable chair. He settled for leaning back with one leg crossed sideways and resting on the other and reviewed the plans in his mind while he waited.

Frankly, the plan was pretty cut and dry.

Get to the party. Follow the script. Retrieve the package. Nothing too complicated on either end.

His alias for the night was ironclad. Fleur had the groundwork already in place for it. He'd go by 'Ethan Black', an independent contractor and cyberware field applications consultant.

Glancing at the time, and then at the ajar bathroom door, Harry figured he had enough time to run a short diagnostic on his cyberware. He'd already done a full inspection the day prior, but it was always paid off to be thorough.

His eyes took on the bluish glow that indicated his navigation of his implant's menu displays. He launched up the diagnostic software and watched as a series of progress bars filled as lines of code rapidly passed by.

*Zetatech Self-ICE_V1…100%

*Dynala VisualCortexSupportModule_Rev.2.3…100%

*Kiroshi Opt_Mk.3…100%

*Zetatech SynapticAccelerator_C2…100%

*BioDyne Berserk_Mk.2…100%

*Millitech_LP Mantis Blade…67%

…

It was several minutes after the last diagnostic had run its course when the blow-dryer stopped, and a rustle followed as Fleur finally finished.

"Désolé, I didn't mean to keep you waiting," greeted the statuesque blonde as she stepped out of her bathroom in nothing but a powder blue towel. Her hair was already done up in a half-braid which hung over her shoulder and just barely grazed the top of her mouth-watering cleavage.

Though he'd spent the last couple of days getting used to Fleur's surprisingly flirtatious nature, it was a stark contrast to the hard front she'd used in their first meeting, but then again, that was a negotiation.

He stamped down the urge to swallow, keeping a tight lid on the effect she had on him. Even now, she continued the little game they'd been playing, her doing her utmost to get a rise out of him while he tried to ignore it. For the briefest moment, he was certain he caught disappointment in her eyes.

Where a gentleman would avert their gaze, he shamelessly kept his on her, enjoying the view, while wryly maintaining a semblance of propriety.

"Don't worry about it. Gave me enough time to double check some things," he replied as he watched her open her closet with her back facing towards him. His eyes travelled and caressed the nape of her neck.

"Good, I'd 'ate to zhink I was inconveniencing you." She hummed with a musical tone and dropped the towel.

Contrary to his best efforts, Harry's breath hitched. Every inch of her was without a single blemish, her skin seemed to almost glow in the low light, highlighting her exquisite curves which made him want to sink his fingers into.

His gaze travelled further south and stopped abruptly. A little detail made itself known that he had not seen before. Just above the crack of her heart-shaped ass and close to the right dimple was, to his surprise, a small tattoo of a hummingbird.

Jade had joked about Fleur taking part in a BD and he'd laughed it off then. With what he knew of her nature now, if he were asked again, he wouldn't be so sure of his answer. Perhaps, she would be willing.

"Is everyzhing ready?" asked Fleur casually as she slid a drawer open and retrieved a black lace thong.

Without a hint of modesty, she bent slightly, pointing her delectable behind at him. The subtle muscles in her back moved in tandem and drew new shadows across her form. Images of his hand moving across them, feeling every small incline and bend, of placing his hand at the small of her back and pushing down danced across his mind.

She then raised one leg and slipped one foot through her panties, and then the other, before she pulled them up with a sensual shimmy of her hips.

He watched with fascinated mesmerisation as the shadows moved and morphed in slow motion, hiding her most secret parts from him, taunting him to move forward and adjust his position in the chair. But he couldn't, not without letting her know that he had lost the game they had been playing.

Harry swallowed and straightened on his chair like nothing had happened. "It's all in place. We get in, open the door for Hamlet, get inside the vault, send the package to the construction site, and return to the party while none's the wiser."

Fleur was turned away from him, her face still hidden away. "It sounds so easy when you say it like zhat."

She turned slightly to the side, and he could register a brief jiggle. The swell of her breasts was visible from behind as she reached into her closet and sifted through her dresses. The only sound Harry could hear was his breathing becoming heavier.

His inhibitions grew thinner with each passing minute, growing more fragile with each dying second. She was teasing him despite the urgency of their schedule. She cared enough to put the gig aside and torture him in this chair, to which he was not even bound – except by his own work ethic.

It was not easy. He was tempted, he wanted to say, 'Fuck the gig' and spend the night hearing her moan and feel her writhe against him.

He knew it. She knew it. but neither of them said it.

Calming his mind, he swallowed again and crossed his legs, breathing in a steady, controlled inhale.

"If there aren't any complications, it could be."

She hummed and still did not turn to look at him. "Are zhere ever no complications?"

Harry paused and pondered his reply. "Not in my experience, no."

"And if zhere are?" She glanced over her shoulder and met his eyes for a brief moment before returning her attention to her search. The casual sensuality of her motions was something you simply couldn't learn.

He sighed. "We'll face them as they come. It's impossible to plan for every eventuality." As he said that, he remembered a small parcel in his bag. "On that, I brought you a little something as well."

"Hm, you 'ave?" She retrieved a strapless black silk dress with the slightest bluish tint, and Harry mentally approved. The colour would be far less conspicuous than say red, or silver.

Fleur put her feet in first, sliding the dress on from below. The way the silky material glided across her skin was like the softest whisper of air.

'No bra,' he realised.

"Do you mind?" asked Fleur, and Harry realised she sounded the slightest bit out of breath. Perhaps he wasn't the only one enjoying themselves.

He snapped out of it, and realised she was holding her dress up at the front, keeping it in place against her breasts. She wanted his help zipping up.

Harry stood and walked over to her. His footsteps, though soft, seemed loud in the charged room. When he got to her, he paused briefly, taking in the sight of her bare back again, the top of her little tattoo peaked out from her dress. He took a hold of the tiny zipper, his fingers brushed lightly against her soft skin as he gently pulled it up, and were his ears not as keen, he might have missed the way her breath hitched.

"I wasn't expecting a show," said Harry, in a low timbre.

Fleur shut her closet and turned around. She tilted her head up to meet his eyes. He'd never realised how tall she actually was, just the right height that their close proximity didn't make it awkward for her. With the effect she was having on him, it took a monumental effort to keep his eyes from being drawn to her cleavage.

She leaned in closer, her chest pressed up his as she rose just slightly on her toes to whisper in his ear, her breath dusted on his neck.

"If it all goes well tonight, I might give you more zhan a show."

Harry put his hand on the closet door behind her and kept her trapped between him and the smooth dark wood. Her face gained a rosy hue, and her mouth parted with laboured breath. She looked absolutely stunning. He placed his free hand on her waist.

Fleur placed a finger against his chest and trailed it up until she reached his chin, she shook her head amusedly.

"Ah- ah. Work first," she said coquettishly and escaped under his arm.

"You said you brought me somezhing?" she asked amusedly, as she sat down at her desk and reached for her makeup. The mirror in front of her turned on automatically switched from being her computer's display, to showing her reflection.

Harry shook his head at her antics. "I did."

He joined her at her dressers and retrieved a small package from his bag. It was a small box, about the size of Fleur's hand. He placed it on the surface in front of her wordlessly before he leaned against the wall and folded his arms.

With her curiosity piqued, Fleur put down her mascara and opened the little box. Inside was a small knife, along with a sheathe. The blade was pitch black and clearly not made of any metal.

She removed it from its case and felt how light it was. "Un couteau?"

"That's not just any knife, it's a stealth polymer. Not even Militech scanners can pick that up. The sheathe strap is for your leg. I want you to have that, it's yours."

When she gave him a quizzical look, he explained further. "Better to not need it and have it, than to need it and not."

Fleur smiled; she couldn't help but be amused. "First zhe gun lessons, and now a knife? You really know 'ow to give a woman gifts," she giggled.

Harry chuckled. "Never say I'm not practical."

"I don't zhink pratique is zhe word I would use, but I will carry it." She laughed and stood, once more giving him an eyeful when she lifted her dress, exposing her nearly transparent little lace thong to him.

With nimble fingers, Fleur sheathed the knife and strapped it to her inner thigh. Harry couldn't help but find the sight to be one of the most erotic things he'd ever seen.

"Zhere," said Fleur approvingly, as she tugged her dress back down. "Merci beaucoup, 'Arry."

"Don't mention it," he replied with a dry mouth before checking the time. It was already past eight in the evening now. "The car will be here any minute. We should get going."

"Mhm," she hummed in appreciation.

"I'm 'appy you visited Pierre,'' Fleur suddenly commented on his attire, her eyes undeniably feasting. "It suits you."

He was wearing a black suit and couldn't be bothered to wonder what the material was, but it felt good and fit him very well.

"Can't complain, although your tailor is a bit handsy with the measuring tape," said Harry, drawing a musical laugh from Fleur.

"I can imagine 'e was a bit excited to be working wizh you. If I recall, I believe you are 'is type."

"I'm glad at least one of us finds it amusing," deadpanned Harry.

Fleur laughed again, "Don't worry, Pierre doesn't bite." Her voice turned sultry. "Not like moi."

She finished the perfecting touches on her lipstick and smacked her lips together. She hurried herself, but it was likely unnecessary since her makeup was minimal in any case. She used just enough to highlight her beauty, any more would only cover it up.

Harry thought of the upcoming task and of the risk of having his mind wander.

"Fleur?"

"Oui?" she replied, studying her mirror image in detail.

"This little back and forth, this game we've been playing. Don't deny it, you know what I'm talking about."

She had just finished the finishing touches on her makeup when she replaced a soft brush to its holder and met his eyes through the reflection in her mirror.

"I do," she said seriously.

"Why?"

"Pourquoi?" she shook her head in honest confusion. "What do you mean, why?"

"Why do it?"

"Why not?" Fleur asked with a hint of mirth.

He stared at her unblinking.

She sighed and went back to looking herself over in the mirror. "Is it so surprising zhat I find you attractive? I do it because I like you and because I enjoy it."

The corner of her lips turned up in a little smile. "I didn't know what to expect of a mercenary, but you were not it."

The smile turned into her beautiful soft laughter. "For someone who steals and kills for a living, I find zhat you are remarkably 'onest, principled, and proud. You 'ad prejudices but ignored it and formed your own opinion. You care nozhing for all of zhis," she waved a hand around, gesturing to the room. "It's remarkably refreshing. And…"

"And?"

"I want to see what it will take."

"For what?" He prodded.

Fleur met his eyes, and there was a fire burning in her deep blues. They seemed to glow purely out of intensity. Very suddenly he felt no longer like the one in control. Instead, he'd become the prey. Her stare bore into him, nailing him in place.

"For you to stop 'olding back and fuck me."

Her challenge whipped about him. The air between them was electric, the only sound was the quiet hum of the electronics in the room and their breathing. Harry's gaze smouldered as he stared down at her. Her face and neck had the slightest flush, her breathing was laboured. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a voice sounding from the apartment's speaker system.

"Good evening, Miss Delacour. Your transport has arrived." The voice was smooth, and professional, but had that hint of digital modulation which was present in all AI assistants.

He didn't move as Fleur stood, so she was practically right up against him. He grabbed her by the waist and made her face him. She stared at him with a sudden defiance that contrasted against her earlier openness. But he could see the cracks, the lust behind the facade.

"We're going to finish this gig." His voice was deep, commanding. It sent a thrill up Fleur's spine. "Then I'm going to show you just how much you've bitten off."

She leaned up and wordlessly placed a kiss at the corner of his mouth. It was her way of answering his promise.

Ferris Blvd, Corpo Plaza, City Centre, Night City

20:46

"You know," said Harry mentally to Fleur as he climbed out of the self-driving vehicle and looked up at the apartment building. "How does a Biotechnica Engineer afford this? Don't get me wrong, your place is nice, but this is a class of its own."

"No offence taken. Felix didn't earn zhis, he in'eritated it all from 'is parents." Fleur stepped out after him and slipped her hand through his arm.

"Why would he need to steal from you then?"

"Hmm, so many questions tonight." Fleur giggled aloud before smirking.

Harry shrugged. "You don't have to answer, curious is all."

"Felix stole from me, because everything you will see tonight, is all a performance. While 'e did in'erit zhe money, 'e did not in'erit 'is fazher's business sense, 'e wasted everyzhing. What 'e did not lose in bad investments, 'e lost in gambling."

"Do we know if he borrowed?" asked Harry with a frown as they approached the entrance. This is why he hated last minute gigs, you always missed something.

A man held open the door for them. An entirely unnecessary thing to do, but of course it was more opulent to have a person open and close the door than to use automation. Though from what Harry could see by his motions, the man was likely packing serious firepower. The doorway also doubled as a scanner, searching them for any weapons. Harry's Mantis Blade was shielded, and would pass through unless he unsheathed it, and Fleur's new knife went fully undetected.

Fleur met Harry's eyes as they entered the foyer, realising where he was going with this. If Felix owed money to someone, depending on who it was, it could severely affect how desperate the man was. She mirrored his frown, "Non, we don't know, but it's a possibility."

"Hamlet," Harry called out to the netrunner who had been silently listening in on their group call.

"I'm already on it."

The building receptionist looked up from her screen as she noticed their approach. The facial recognition already cross-referencing them with a guest list she'd been provided. "Good evening, Miss Delacour, your plus one will have to identify himself before you can proceed."

"Ethan Black," greeted the merc with a disarming smile. The receptionist's eyes glowed blue for a second as she logged his name. It was likely already being rushed through a background check. He wasn't worried in the slightest, his alias was ironclad.

Moments later, they were allowed to pass with a welcoming smile and well wishes to enjoy the party.

As the elevator hummed to life and zoomed up to approach Felix's apartment, Harry took a deep breath to calm his heart. He always got excited during a gig, but for now he needed to be in control. Adrenaline coursing through his system would be an inconvenience.

Fleur, who hadn't let go of his arm, felt the shift in his torso. She peered at him curiously for a second, before attributing it to nerves.

The elevator came to a stop and pinged a smooth chime before sliding open. The sound was the first thing to make itself known. Neo-Classical music served as the backdrop for the multitude of socialites and businessmen who laughed and chatted away. In between the throngs of partiers, hired staff moved and offered them champagne and little bite sized morsels of what passed for food in one of these events. Hors d'oeuvres as Fleur would call them, he mused.

"Champagne?" asked a member of the catering staff in his pressed uniform, as he held out a tray. His focus was entirely on Fleur.

They grabbed a glass each, with Harry thanking the man, to which he didn't acknowledge. An action which was turned around when Fleur took her glass without giving him a glance, much to his weakly hidden disappointment. Harry snickered internally at the waiter's despondent retreat.

"Fleur! I'm so glad you could make it!" exclaimed an enthusiastic man's voice with a hint of a European accent. It was Felix, who was quickly making his way to them through the partygoers.

Their mark, in the flesh, looked every bit the poncy corpo as his file had shown. With his hair slicked back, and a goatee which was clearly meant to make him appear older, but still sophisticated.

"Felix," greeted Fleur with a brilliantly convincing false warmth. She could certainly act, mused Harry. She stepped in, allowing Felix to greet her properly with those little air cheek kisses the Europeans were so fond of.

"Zhis is for you. Bon anniversaire." She handed over a small gift bag. Harry didn't bother asking what it was she'd gotten for him; it was likely just an expensive little bauble anyway.

"Thank you, you really shouldn't have."

"Non, ma mère would never forgive me if I went to a birzhday wizhout a gift."

Felix chuckled, and only then did he notice Harry who had simply watched the interaction. It looked like any old meeting between old friends, or at the very least acquaintances who were cordial with one another. But once you knew more and could look beneath the surface. You'd notice how the smiles never fully reached the eyes, and how the body language was a bit too guarded. Harry also didn't miss the hungry gleam in the man's gaze as he took in Fleur's appearance.

'Hm,' Harry mused.

"Oh, désolé, zhis is my boyfriend, 'Arry." Fleur took a hold of Harry's arm, gently saddling up to his side.

Felix skilfully hid his frown, but he failed to mask the quick tensing of his jaw.

"Harry Evans," he offered his hand, which Felix shook. "Lovely place you've got."

"Thank you, I did all the interior designing myself."

"You see," interrupted Fleur. "I told you, Felix 'as a great eye for details." She hadn't told him anything of the sort, but Harry played along.

"You were right—Sorry," he added at the end to Felix. "Fleur's had nothing but praise for you."

Felix preened visibly. "What a fucking idiot…" Harry transmitted mentally to Fleur accidentally.

Fleur's lips twitched as she hid her amusement at his comment.

Before their host could puff his chest, his eyes widened as looked at something over their shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he apologised hurriedly. "I need to leave you. Please, enjoy the party. I'll try and find you again if I get the chance. But in case I don't, it was good meeting you, Harry," he lied and offered Harry his hand for a second shake.

"Likewise," Harry said cordially, glad to put the annoying posturing behind him.

"Fleur," Felix stepped in and placed a quick, friendly peck to the blonde's cheek, "I really am glad you came."

"Wouldn't miss it."

Felix nodded and then rushed off to meet whoever it was who had just entered the party.

"That was fun," deadpanned Harry.

"When I said 'e was an old family friend, I meant 'is parents were old family friends. 'E 'imself 'as always been very annoying."

"Well, I don't need to be his friend to know he wants to put you flat on your back."

"Who doesn't? Tell me somezhing I don't know." She shrugged.

Harry chuckled, and they both quieted and observed Felix welcome a pair of newcomers. A Latino man and woman, the husband or boyfriend was in the upper end of middle-aged, with a cleanly shaven face and short hair, while his partner was beautiful with deep black curls and a bright red dress.

"Interesting," said Fleur, as they watched Felix's exuberant greeting.

The man appeared polite and took it all in stride. But his eyes held a cruelty to them, this was a cutthroat. The sort who would wrap you in a hug and use the opportunity to drive a knife in your back.

Felix appeared to be currying up to him, doing his best to impress the man. If Harry didn't already have a poor impression of their host, watching him brown-nose would have been enough.

"Recognise him?" asked Harry.

"Non."

"Hamlet?"

"…"

"…"

"Romano Diaz, he's a businessman, he's been in and out of brushes with NCPD. They've tried to charge him several times, but nothing ever sticks. Missing evidence, witness disappearances... Feds believe he finances the Valentinos. Whether he's an active member is not confirmed."

"Zhat solves our little mystery," said Fleur aloud before she took a sip of her champagne, as her voice returned to the call.

"I zhink we know who Felix owes money to," piped in Fleur. "Zhese Valentinos, tell me about zhem."

"They're a bit different to most gangs," answered Harry. "At least on the surface, they're hardliners about honour and loyalty. But don't think they're noble or anything, it's all about control. They're about as ruthless as you get, and they like to get creative with how they kill– have a punishment in place for just about anything. Most gangs just put a bullet between your eyes. These gonks, nah… Ever since their leader was put behind bars, they've been off the rails. Only group worse than 'em now are Maelstrom, even the Scavs usually just knock you out and then cut you up."

Fleur frowned at the description and re-evaluated the smartly dressed man, she made a mental note to be extra cautious.

"One other thing," mentioned Harry. "If he's anything like the rest of the Valentinos, then he's got a weakness for women. We should avoid him and get started, or he'll be pestering us all night, and I'd rather avoid having to off the cunt. Wouldn't be able to do it quietly."

"Oh," Fleur had an amused smirk upon her lips. She leaned closer, the fruity smell of their champagne on her breath. "Do I 'ear a 'int of possessiveness in your voice?"

Harry growled. "Let's just get that access point before you get noticed."

Fleur bit her lip playfully in response but Harry let it be. It was all business now.

All he needed was to jack into one of the apartment's interfaces. Whether the program could open the connection their netrunner needed was a different story. Harry found one of the small wall-mounted consoles beside a painting of some weird blend of colours and lines that was supposed to mean something. He'd never understand art.

"Found one, but I'm going to need you to cover me, play along."

The crowdedness of the room at least offered some cover to what he was attempting to discreetly do, but it was not enough. Harry casually manoeuvred them in place with Fleur between him and the wall. He placed one hand behind her back, making it appear as if he were holding her against him, but in actual fact he'd jacked into the console behind her. To any who chose to observe, it would simply appear as if they were flirting with one another.

Harry accessed the shard in his neck and ran the daemon. The console's interface flickered several times before a progress bar overlayed on top of it.

*Running exyn_ver.1

He watched with bated breath as the bar filled. The fact that no alarms went off was already a major reassurance.

"Almost there," he whispered, his breath on Fleur's nape.

Not even a second after the bar hit 100%, did Hamlet speak. "I'm in. You're as good as ghosts to the system now."

"We're on," said Harry mentally to Fleur, removing his jack from the console.

He slid his hand down her back and cupped her ass. She pressed herself against him, "Your place, it's closer," he stage-whispered, just loud enough that anybody around them would hear. If anybody searched for them, they'd likely believe the pair have left.

Fleur pushed Harry back before leaning up to place a kiss on his lips. She slipped her hand into his and proceeded to lead him from the area. The pair were very aware of the eyes on them which followed until they'd lost them in the crowded party.

"Wait," instructed Hamlet.

The pair slowed, and a moment later the TV at the far end of the living room area turned on, its volume was at full blast, distracting the room and allowing them to move unnoticed. Harry and Fleur didn't waste the opportunity and quietly escaped into the hallway which led to Felix's room, and the vault within. If it weren't for Hamlet, they wouldn't be able to simply walk down the passage as freely. The netrunner was actively wiping them from the surveillance system. If anyone were to review the footage, they'd see nothing but an empty hallway.

As soon as they were out of sight, Harry started a timer which counted down at the edge of his vision.

[08:59]

[08:58]

…

The door to Felix's room was closed, and to their surprise, not even locked. But then again, who locks their room in their own home.

Once inside, Harry had to admit to himself. Felix might be a tool, but the Swede had serious taste in décor, the room was light, softwoods, greys, and even a full wall fountain, which ran down into pebble stones. It was a very refreshing bedroom, quite a contrast from the opulence of the rest of the apartment.

While Harry had been distracted by the room, Fleur had eagerly rushed to a painting. She felt around the base until she grinned victoriously.

Harry rejoined her. "We've got a little under eight minutes. Have you found it?"

"Oui." She quieted as she overrode the biometric lock.

That's the thing with biometrics. Even in 2077, people believed them to be safe but like any passcode, it was still in the end just that and could with the right tools be bypassed.

Seconds later, the water flowing down the fountain wall stopped, and a portion of the dark stone shifted and retracted, unveiling a black metal door, with a small panel where a handle usually would be.

"Hm, your data said the vault was beneath the bed?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Misdirection," was all the answer Fleur gave him in her excitement, as she bounded past Harry to the door. He frowned but decided not to interrupt her, since getting the vault open was entirely within her hands anyway.

While she worked, he checked the timer, 'little more than six minutes left.'

"Everything still clear?" He asked Hamlet, keeping the conversation private, to not disturb Fleur.

"Harry." Hamlet's voice sounded worried.

"What?"

"I don't like this; it's going too smoothly."

He let that sink in before replying. "I agree, but there's no turning back now."

"Just, be careful. Please." Hamlet cautioned him.

As if on cue, Fleur screamed as a current of electricity coursed through her body. She spasmed as she fell to the ground, disconnecting her from the panel.

Harry knew the jig was up, he rushed to Fleur, who was struggling to stand back up and slipped an arm under her, lifting her to her feet. She breathed heavily and wobbled before leaning into him for support.

Suddenly he felt his throat burning and his vision darkening, a notification from his biomonitor implant began flashing.

[Unknown Contaminant]

*BioDyne DetoxV06: [Purging]

**[Unknown Contaminant]…1%

It was followed by his vitals spiking, as adrenaline coursed through his body in an attempt to keep him conscious.

"We need to go, now!" He gasped out.

Fleur, who was in a worse condition than himself, opened her mouth. Whether it was to agree or protest, he didn't know, but regardless the door to the bedroom was pushed open forcefully. Three individuals entered, all with rebreather masks on. It was Felix along with a malicious glint in his eyes and a gun in his hand, followed by a calm Romano Diaz and his female companion.

"Hamlet!"

"Are you there!?" He grit his teeth.

Only silence answered him, he was cut off. In his rush for Fleur, and his panicking biomonitor, he must have missed the alert.

"I must confess," began Felix in his slimy drawl, his voice distorted by the mask. "I had hoped I was wrong. I'm so very disappointed in you, Fleur." Felix shook his head mockingly. "You thought you were so clever, didn't you, but you've merely been dancing to my little tune. Romano here's had people watching you. I was certainly surprised; I did not expect you to hire a merc, especially some nameless fool. But no matter, he'll be dead soon, Romano's boss will have his money, and you'll be mine. Two birds, one very effective stone."

Fleur, who was still not fully recovered from the electrocution and was severely struggling against the gas, glared at Felix. "Bâtard!"

Felix's expression morphed into a manic one for a split second. The man was unhinged.

"You don't get it, do you?" He snarled. "I've been planning to make you mine for years, but there was always something in the way. Circumstances… My parents… William."

Fleur's eyes widened at that. Harry felt her stiffen and try to free herself from his grip.

"You!?" The hatred in her voice was palpable as well as the shock of realisation.

"Correct. Well, I might as well just tell you. Yes, I had your dearly beloved killed. I'll leave the why of it to your clever mind. As for my parents, mother and father, they regretfully found out about my… How did they put it? My obsession with you. They were beside themself with shame and did what all parents do, they wanted me to get help. I could see it in their eyes. It was eating at father from the inside, he had even considered discussing my devotion for you with your parents. Of course, I couldn't have that. So… I stopped them. It was the single most difficult thing I had to do but it was easy too, imagine my surprise. A bit of clever tampering with the security programming, one car accident later, and there I was. Poor orphaned Felix." He chuckled darkly. "It was tragic really."

Harry could feel Fleur's struggle to speak. "Zh- was–"

"Years ago? Mhm, nobody suspected young, innocent, naive Felix capable of murdering his parents. Yours were so sympathetic, inviting me over for all those special occasions. Such a loving family. How could I not love you?"

Fleur was barely conscious now, and Harry himself was struggling to keep upright. His mind was racing, he did not like where this was going, and he was too far to be effective with his mantis blade, not without risking Fleur. But still, he needed to try.

He prepared to release his blade and rush. But Felix was far more dangerous, and far more observant than they'd given him credit for. His gun was trained on Harry almost instantly, preventing his attempt.

Harry clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth, everything they knew about the guy was an act. A persona for the public, and it worked. He'd had everyone fooled, even Fleur.

They severely underestimated him.

"And you?" He addressed Harry now. "Street trash thinks he can waltz into my place, rub his filthy paws all over what's mine!" He glanced towards Fleur with a sadistic and lecherous grin. "Only I get to do that."

"I'll kill you," ground out Fleur in a gasping breathlessness before she finally succumbed to the gas and passed out.

"You'll try." Felix stared at her unconscious form.

"What do we do about the merc?" asked Romano coldly, his eyes unflinching as he watched Harry struggling to stay awake while still holding Fleur.

"Anna can have him."

"Can I?" There was no hiding the woman in red's excitement.

Felix' face formed a look of masked distaste but nodded at the question. "I'd rather not get my hands dirty with street trash blood. He's all yours."

The last thing Harry saw as his vision faded to black was Fleur's unconscious form being thrown over Diaz's shoulder as the dark-haired woman practically vibrated as she stared manically at him.

*BioDyne DetoxV06: Purging [Unknown Contaminant]…100%

**[Unknown Contaminant] – "Catalogued" [Nerve Inhibitor A17]

***System: Conclusion – "Resistant"

[System Reboot]

**2%

The smile that marred Anna's face would be enough to send chills down the spine of any half sane individual with the slightest semblance of self-preservation. It was just her and her toy left in the room. She couldn't help it, she practically buzzed with excitement. The gas had already been cleared, so she removed her mask and slipped one of her fingers in her mouth as she stared at Harry pondering how to go about her fun.

Harry, if that was even his name, was laid flat, face down on Felix's floor. The slight movement of his torso as he rhythmically breathed was the only sign of life.

Anna frowned, she wanted to see his face when she got to work. See his terrified expressions when he couldn't move as she cut him open slowly. She shuddered and licked her lips before slipping her foot from her high heels so she could use it to turn him over.

**34%

"There," she purred. "That's better."

Anna straddled him, her short dress rose up and exposed her bare ass, she wore nothing beneath the tight red number. She ripped his shirt open and felt her breathing get heavier at the toned body. He had several scars, some from injuries, others she recognised were from cyberware surgeries, they had the clean lines of a skilled Ripperdoc.

"Oh, I'm going to enjoy cutting into your skin." She all but moaned and ground herself against him. She hoped he could feel it all. "You're so much stronger than the last man I played with." She shook her head disappointingly. "He broke so easily; a few cuts and he was already begging. I punished him for it. You see, I got to play with his wife too, she was so much more fun to break. It's really a shame that Felix wants that blonde for himself. Her skin looks so soft, and her voice…" Anna shuddered again.

**77%

"He has so many plans for your friend. I told to just take her, but no, Felix is such a romantic. He won't force himself on her, he wants her to want him. But of course, that's never going to happen." She chuckled. "Not without playing with her mind a bit. A modified doll implant and she'll be riding his cock like it was made for her pussy. I was impressed, really."

**86%

"Maybe a little taste." The nails on her hand sharpened, the edges rivalling razor blades. Anna trailed her index slowly across his chest, drawing a paper-thin line of red, which began to ooze red. The sadistic woman leaned down, licking the blood in one long motion. She sat back up, the heat between her legs rivalled only by the heat of his blood on her lips. She used her finger to rub up some more and licked them clean, seemingly uncaring that her nail was sharp and risked cutting her tongue.

"Hmm," Anna savoured the taste. "I'm going to have to thank Felix. I haven't had one as delicious as you in decades." She rocked herself back and forth, picking up the pace and releasing little gasps every so often. Even if he weren't hard, she could feel the size of him through his pants. "You're bigger than Romano," she said breathlessly. "Maybe I'll let you feel what it's like to be inside of me before I kill you. You'd like that, wouldn't you? You can tell me how it compares to blondies."

**100%

"I think I'll pass."

It happened far too quickly for his would-be torturer to react. Within a second, Harry's mantis blade was released from his forearm and shoved straight through her torso. She gasped and he could see the strain on her face as pain wracked her body. She coughed and Harry felt specks of blood hit his face, before she trembled and looked down, her eyes wide as she saw the source of her agony.

With a snarl on his face, he twisted his arm, and with it, the blade. Her eyes scrunched close, and she looked sick from the pain. When she opened them again, there was a glint of determination that was not present before.

With a desperate effort, she tried to use her sharpened nails to claw his throat, but he leaned his head back, causing her to miss. She yelled and pushed off his chest, the mantis blade slid out of her with a sickening shlick sound. Her own enhancements were the only reason she was still alive.

Before she could orientate herself, Harry was already lunging for her. He aimed low, catching her off guard, his blade sliced into her bare thigh and elicited a yelp from her as her leg lost strength, bringing her down to her knee.

She swung, her claws caught his upper arm, cutting through his sleeve, but only grazing his skin. Even so, her nails were diamond sharp. Four cuts in his arm began to soak his sleeve. He didn't let it slow him down, her swing for his arm had left her side wide open. His left arm's mantis blade rapidly unfolded and began its path to ending their fight.

Her eyes widened in fright, she tried to avoid it in the only way possible. By falling back and hopefully turning an impalement into a slash. It worked, his blade sliced across her stomach, cutting a half inch deep gash across its length.

Harry didn't stop there, his right hand's blade was already coming around, its tip pointed downwards in an overarm swing. As soon as Anna's back hit the floor, the blade entered her right shoulder, going clean through her bone and fixing her to the floor. But while she was stuck in place, so was he. She arched her back and screamed her rage as her remaining hand aimed for his throat again.

To her utmost shock, Harry caught a hold of her wrist, her mind raced as she tried to figure out how he could have done so that quickly. That's when she saw his blade, which he'd used to impale her shoulder, had detached from his forearm, freeing his hand.

Harry pulled her wrist, extending her arm. He sliced upwards with his remaining blade and went through the weak point at the joint of her elbow, right behind the hidden mechanisms which operated her bladed nails and plated forearms. Her amputate limb was tossed without a care to the side.

Harry had no mercy, even in his 'unconscious' state, he could hear what she said, feel what she planned on doing to him. He grabbed her by the throat and pushed her down. With his free hand, he jacked into the raging Anna, running an interrogation daemon over the thin cable to the small socket behind her neck.

"Now, you're going to answer me, truthfully. Lie and I'll gut you right here. Where did you take Fleur?" His words were calm, steady, not even the slightest bit winded. He spoke with an iciness that contrasted with his breath which felt hot against her now clammy face. She was losing blood, and fast.

"Ple—ase." She rasped out.

"Where!"

"Th—ey'll ki—"

"I'll kill you! Where!" Harry growled and tightened his grip before easing it. She coughed more blood.

"Heywoo-d… Cathr—al."

The interrogation program gave him the green light. She was telling him the truth. Harry removed the jack.

"You're being honest. Thank you."

"Pl—ase—"

He retracted the blade, and she fell to the side, blood pooling beneath her. Harry stood, his jacket and shirt hung open, stained red along with his chest. The thin cut on his chest stung like a bitch.

With a stone-cold glint in his eyes, he crouched, fixing his gaze on her wheezing form

"Pl—ase," she begged again.

"This is Night City," he said as nonchalantly as if he were merely talking about the weather. "Ain't no place where karma's a bigger bitch."

Moments later, Harry closed the door behind him and walked through Felix's empty apartment, leaving behind the cold, lifeless eyes of Anna Ortega, the red of her dress blending with the red of her lifeblood pooling from her abdomen and her sliced throat.

He received the ping as soon as he'd left the communications dead zone and watched as dozens of notifications from Hamlet all came through at once.

"Hermione," he called out through the Net as he zipped up the jacket he'd grabbed from Felix's closet. It would not be in his best interest to get stopped because he was covered in blood.

"Harry! Oh my god, are you alright!? I've bee–"

"Hermione!"

"..."

"How long does the surgery for a doll implant take?"

"Wha– A doll implant? Why– Fleur. Oh. Shit. Wait."

Harry entered the living room of Felix's apartment and found a man chilling on the sofa, watching TV. He had a gun which was left on the small side table. Felix's room must have been soundproofed, preventing the man from hearing the commotion. Harry approached with silent footsteps masked by the TV's noise.

At the last second, the man seemed to sense something was wrong, he tried to stand and reach for his gun. But the blade travelling through the air was already too close. He sputtered and let out a wet gurgling sound as his hands grabbed at his own throat. Blood spilling between his fingers. He stared at Harry in an expression of pure shock and horror before he fell.

"Six hours. The surgery itself takes at least three, but there's a primer step."

"The stuff that helps things show up on brain scans?"

"Mhm"

"Perfect, then I have time."

Without a care for the dying man. Harry picked up the handgun from the side table. The henchman's fading eyes tracked the movement.

"I'm sorry," said Harry with no emotion, before pointing the gun at the man's face. Right before firing, he flicked his eyes towards the TV, mentally raising its volume to cover the coming gunshot.

A single bullet, drowned in the cheers of Foreign League football.

"Send me everything you can find on Heywood's–"

"Cathedral," She cut him off. "I know. I've been tracking them. It's what I was trying to say when you interrupted me."

"You're really going after her, aren't you?" she asked after a short pause.

Harry remained silent as he entered the elevator and hit the button for the ground floor.

Hermione sighed. "At least get some help. Heywood's Valentinos territory. Call V."

"V's got enough on her plate," countered Harry stubbornly as he stepped into the elevator. He wasn't lying, he'd seen the news earlier, and he knew V was involved in something big.

"Harry. Please. If you don't, I will."

"Fine."

Valerie, or V, as everyone knew her, nursed a killer headache, courtesy of the rockstar, slash, anarchist who now resided in her head. She raised her ice-cold whisky tumbler and held the glass to her temple. The lights of Night City filled the world from her favourite spot on the roof of Viktor and Misty's shop.

She ran her free hand through her shoulder length dark hair and closed her violet eyes, her brow furrowed as she dealt with throb in her skull.

The ringtone of an incoming call echoed through her weary mind, startling her.

"Fuck!"

There was nothing worse when you had a headache than that incessant sound.

She was tempted to answer solely to tell whoever it was to choke on a fat one. Until she saw the caller ID. He never called unless he was up shit's creek.

"Harry?"

"Hey, V. I need your help."

END CHAPTER TWO