V's heart pounded like a drum as she stared at the enigmatic figure who had materialized in her room. The dim glow of the city outside cast eerie shadows across the room, giving the intruder an almost spectral appearance. It took her a moment to process what was happening, and then her voice trembled as she whispered, "You... you're the Wraith of Watson, aren't you?"

The Wraith remained silent, a looming presence in the darkness. His silhouette was wrapped in the mysteries of the night, and his eyes, as far as she could discern, held an inscrutable depth.V mustered the courage to speak again, her voice steadier now but laced with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. "I thought... I thought you were a legend, a myth that people whispered about in the darkest corners of Night City. How did you find me? What do you want?"

The Wraith remained enigmatic, his intentions shrouded in secrecy. He stepped closer, his movements graceful and soundless, like a phantom. The Wraith continued to observe from the shadows, his interest piqued by the unfolding encounter. As the Wraith drew near, V felt a strange energy in the room, a palpable tension that seemed to defy the laws of reality. She was caught in a web of uncertainty, torn between fear and a curiosity that burned like a flickering flame.

The Wraith finally spoke, his voice a low, haunting whisper that sent shivers down V's spine. "I saw you in dreams… perhaps you saw me as well. I was… curious. Out of all of the flickering candles in the aether winds, yours shine the brightest. Why?"

V's mind raced, trying to process the cryptic words. She couldn't deny the strange twists and turns her life had taken, leading her to this surreal moment. "What do you mean?"

The Wraith was silent, coming closer so that the mix of moonlight and street lights outside her apartment flickered across his face. His skin was ghost white, far more smooth and pale than it had any right to be. A body mod maybe, but it looked far too natural. The most notable things were the man's eyes, the rest of his face covered by a shawl. The eyes were orbs black as pitch, yet she knew they were staring not at her, but straight through her and into her soul. She knew instinctively what she was looking at was not human. Even the most borged out gangster had some human features, and while The Wraith seemed like a regular person, it was a fleeting feeling at best. She felt her spine tingle, and her fingers grasp at her sheets as if it was an anchor.

"I'm... just V," she managed to utter, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not anyone important. Just a merc trying to survive in this city."

The Wraith regarded her with an inscrutable gaze, his alien perspective casting a shadow of indifference over her human struggles. He saw her as a fragile being caught in the machinations of a world far greater than her own understanding.

"You humans," he mused, his tone condescending yet tinged with an odd sense of empathy, "always entangled in your own complexities, your own self-importance. But there's something about you, V, something that has piqued my curiosity. Perhaps it's the fragility of your existence, the way you defy the odds."

V felt a mixture of frustration and fascination at The Wraith's aloof demeanor, doubly so that he knew her name. She had encountered her fair share of enigmatic characters in Night City, but this was something entirely different. The Wraith's presence, his beliefs, and his cryptic words left her with more questions than answers, and the more she looked at him, the more fearful she became.

"Curiosity can get you killed in this city," she warned, her fright giving way to a flicker of determination. "If you're here to offer help or answers, I could use both. If not, then... I don't know why you're here… and you should probably leave."

The Wraith started walking towards her, ever slowly. Every footstep that he took made no noise, as if he was not of this world. V felt herself backing up into her bed, her back bumping against the wall, the thin shirt that she wore offering little protection against the cold steel. The hooded silhouette shifted as he settled on the edge of V's bed. Slowly, deliberately, he withdrew the hood, revealing his face bathed in the soft, ambient glow of the room's dim lighting. V's gaze locked onto his features, and she couldn't help but feel a profound sense of disquiet.

His countenance was indeed humanoid, but there was an otherworldly quality to it, an uncanny valley of humanity that left V with an unsettling impression. His black eyes stared into hers, holding a depth that seemed to pierce through the surface of her very being. It was as though they carried secrets older than time itself.

The Wraith's voice, when he finally spoke, was measured and laden with an almost regal air, contrasting with the raw, harsh realities of Night City. "I have watched you, V," he admitted, his eyes not leaving hers. "Not out of malice, but out of curiosity. In a city teeming with chaos, you have emerged as a singular anomaly, a survivor against insurmountable odds."

V's heart quickened as The Wraith's words hung in the air. She had always known that Night City was a place of intrigue, secrets, and shadowy figures. There was no denying it now. He was the man in her dreams. And if she understood him right, she was the woman of his. But why now? And why him?

"Why?" she pressed, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and fascination. "Why watch me? What do you want?"

The Wraith's response was enigmatic, as expected. "I seek understanding, V. Understanding of the forces that shape this city, the fragile threads that bind humanity's fate. I think it is no accident that I found myself here."

V's frustration simmered beneath the surface. She had faced down scav hit squads, tussled with gang bosses, and navigated the treacherous waters of Night City's underbelly. But this enigmatic being, who spoke in riddles and seemed to exist beyond the boundaries of her reality, left her feeling vulnerable and out of her depth.

"You keep talking in circles," she muttered, her patience waning. "If you're here to help, then help. If not, then I've got enough problems without a cryptic stalker."

The Wraith said nothing for a few moments, no longer staring at V but drifting his eyes across her apartment. It certainly was not as tidy as she would have liked to keep it. Discarded fast food boxes, discarded scream sheets, a few open boxes with assorted ammunition, and television displays showing stock information, recent global news, and other such things.

"You are not the most… advanced humans I have ever met." The Wraith said quietly, which made one of V's eyebrows rise.

"What do you mean by that?"

"What are your spacefaring capabilities? How many systems have your people conquered?" The Wraith asked, almost blurting the question out. By the way his eyebrows furrowed, V realized this was a rather important question that he was asking, as if nothing else they had spoken on mattered. V swallowed down the lump that was forming in her throat as she spoke.

"Um… the moon."

The Wraith was silent for a few moments, but V could see straight through the mask of aloofness. He was mad. Furious, even. The Wraith's frustration was palpable, though he tried to mask it beneath a veneer of detached coldness. It was the first moment of weakness V had seen, and she was eager to capitalize it. After the moment had passed, a flicker with a mixture of astonishment and exasperation crossed his face.

"You mean to tell me," he began slowly, as if struggling to find the right words, "that in this age of supposed progress, you humans are still bound to this wretched planet? No starships? No voidcraft to sail the cosmic seas?" he muttered, a mix of disbelief and exasperation in his voice. V, still trying to wrap her head around the bizarre situation, nodded slowly.

She shrugged helplessly. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but we're not exactly living in the era of… warp drives and interstellar travel here," She said, almost laughing when she thought about what she was talking about. What was this, trashy science fiction? "Our space tech is more like... rockets and probes. And it's all controlled by the big corps, even getting close to a spaceport is a nightmare."

The Wraith's disappointment was evident. He had seen the sprawling metropolis of Night City, the gleaming towers and neon-lit streets, and perhaps had mistakenly assumed that beneath this façade lay the seeds of a more advanced civilization. Now, he couldn't hide his disdain.

"Such potential," he muttered, more to himself than to V. "All wasted on petty squabbles and corporate greed," He glanced back at her, his eyes narrowing as he spoke with a tone that dripped of spite and anger. "You humans truly are a primitive species."

V bristled at the condescending tone but held back a retort. She had enough on her plate with the biochip slowly killing her; she didn't need an otherworldly critic to add to her troubles. Finally, her questions and frustrations bubbled, and she blurted out a challenge.

"Listen: I don't know if this is some kind of… fucked up fever dream or this really is… real, so I'm just going to spill the deets now: I'm dying, Wraith. Sooner rather than later. I got a chip in my head that's killing me. God knows how long it's going to take before I end up back at that landfill. You can ask me all the dumbass questions you want, but I need help… Wraith."

The Wraith's gaze remained fixed on V, a mix of curiosity and contemplation dancing in his alien eyes. He had been quick to judge her, to dismiss her as a mere human, but the truth of her impending death brought a new layer of complexity to their interaction.

"You're mortal," he finally mused, his voice softer than before. "An impermanent spark in the void, destined to fade away. A rather tragic state, I must admit."

V's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Yeah, life's a real sob story sometimes."

The Wraith's features shifted subtly, as if trying to express a sentiment beyond the realm of his usual demeanor. "To me, your existence seems... fleeting. But you cling to it, fight for it, even when you know your time is short. If there is one admirable trait among your kind, it is certainly your stubbornness in… all things."

V's gaze met his, and in that moment, they shared an understanding that transcended their differences. She nodded slowly. "I've got unfinished business, and I won't go down without a fight."

The Wraith stared at her for a while, musing to himself quietly. Even in those unreadable eyes, V knew there was something cooking in that egg-like dome of his. Finally he spoke once more, rising up from the mattress, the only sound of his parting being the soft crinkling of the sheets that he had sat on.

"We will meet again. Sooner rather than later. Get some rest. You look like you need it," The Wraith said quietly, as he turned to leave through the door. Just before he left, V called out his name.

"Wraith!"

The man stopped, his hand on the door handle and yet still as a statue. A slight twitch of his head was the only thing to indicate that he had heard her.

"What's your name?" V called out, trying her best to stand but finding the effort almost impossible. The man stood in the doorway for a time, before he finally responded.

"Kalsaar. You will call me Kalsaar."

Detective Rivers sat at his desk, his fingers drumming impatiently on the surface. The pile of paperwork in front of him seemed to mock his predicament. Relegated to desk work, he couldn't shake off the feeling that the department was disrespecting him, pushing him aside as if he were a relic of a bygone era.

A couple of days had passed since he had been taken off the Wraith of Watson case. Rivers had built his career on solving complex cases, and the elusive figure had become a thorn in his side, an enigma he couldn't unravel. The frustration gnawed at him, eating away at his focus and patience. As the clock on the wall ticked away, the office around him began to empty out. Colleagues bid him a curt farewell as they departed for the evening, leaving Rivers alone with his thoughts. He sighed, his shoulders slumping, and began tidying up his cluttered desk.

The city outside the window was alive with the vibrant glow of neon signs, a stark contrast to the dimness of his office. Night City never slept, but Rivers found himself trapped in a cycle of monotony and frustration. He glanced at the whiteboard on the wall, covered in notes and photographs related to the Wraith case. He knew that the higher-ups were keeping secrets from him, that there was more to the puzzle than he was allowed to see. But Rivers wasn't one to be content with half-truths. He had a reputation for digging deep, for uncovering the buried truths that others preferred to keep hidden.

He turned off the desk lamp, casting the room into darkness save for the faint glow from the city outside. Rivers knew he couldn't let go of the case, not when it felt like he was on the verge of a breakthrough. But for now, he had no choice but to bide his time, playing the department's game until the opportunity presented itself. As he locked the door to his office and headed down the quiet corridors of the precinct, the echo of his footsteps served as a constant reminder that he was not one to be underestimated. Detective Rivers was determined to uncover the truth, even if it meant defying orders and plunging deeper into the shadows of Night City's secrets.

As Rivers made his way to his car, the cool evening air provided a momentary respite from the stifling confines of his office. He fished out his keys and was just about to unlock the car when his holo buzzed urgently. He sighed, half-expecting it to be another mundane administrative message from the precinct. But when he saw the caller ID displaying Regina Jones' name, his irritation shifted to cautious interest.

With a sigh, Rivers answered the call. "What's up, Regina?"

Regina's voice crackled through the connection. "Detective Rivers, always a pleasure. Listen, I've got something for you, something that might get you back on track with that Wraith case of yours."

Rivers straightened up, his annoyance momentarily forgotten. "Go on."

"I've managed to dig up a Netrunner who's willing to take a look at your shard, see if there's anything unusual going on with it," Regina explained. "But you know how it is in Night City—nothing comes for free."

Rivers rubbed his temples, battling a headache that seemed to be a constant companion these days. "How much are we talking about?"

There was a pause on the line, as if Regina were savoring the moment. "Let's just say she's not cheap, Rivers. Kitty wants a substantial amount of eddies for her services."

Rivers knew that dealing with Netrunners was always a delicate and expensive affair, but he had no other options. The shard he possessed, a potential goldmine of information about the Wraith of Watson, was locked behind layers of encryption he couldn't crack himself.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Tell Kitty to name her price, but make sure she delivers. I need access to that shard."

Regina's tone turned businesslike. "I'll arrange the meeting. But remember, Rivers, the information you're chasing might lead you into some very dangerous territory. Be prepared."

Rivers leaned back in his car seat, his commlink in hand as he dialed the number Regina had given him. After a couple of rings, the call was picked up, and a voice on the other end greeted him with a burst of energy.

After a couple of rings, the call was picked up, and a voice on the other end greeted him with a burst of energy. "Yo, who's this?"

Rivers, taken aback by the energetic and somewhat abrupt greeting, replied, "I'm Detective Rivers. I hear you're the one who can help me with a little problem."

The voice on the other end sounded genuinely excited, "Oh, you're the detective Regina mentioned, huh? Cool beans. I'm Kitty, by the way. KittyKat if you wanna be fancy."

Rivers couldn't help but wonder about the age of this seemingly hyperactive Netrunner. He almost considered calling her by her 'fancy name', but decided he had at least a little bit of dignity left. He cleared his throat and got straight to the point, "Kitty, I've got an encrypted shard that I need to crack. Regina said you're the one for the job."

Kitty's response was immediate, "Oh, absolutely, I'm your gal! I can break through ice walls like a freakin' jackhammer through tofu. But it ain't gonna be free, Detective."

Rivers sighed, already knowing that negotiations weren't going to be his strong suit. "Alright, how much are we talking about?"

Kitty's response was quick and straightforward. "Sure thing! But it's gonna cost you a grand. No negotiations."

Rivers grimaced at the price but knew he had no choice. He needed the information on that shard. "Fine, grand it is. Where and when do we meet?"

Kitty's voice took on a mischievous tone. "I like your style, Detective. Meet me at Lizzies Bar tomorrow night. We'll get this done over some drinks. Just don't ask if I'm old enough to drink. Let's say I've been around the block a few times."

Rivers raised an eyebrow at her response but decided not to press the issue. "Lizzies Bar it is, then. Tomorrow night."

Before Rivers could say anything else, Kitty disconnected the call with a cheerful, "Catch you on the flip side, sugar!"

With that, the call ended, leaving Rivers to sit in his car with a mixture of relief and apprehension. He figured that Kitty was an unorthodox character, but her skills as a Netrunner were what he needed. Tomorrow night at Lizzies Bar, he would cross paths with this excitable hacker and hopefully gain access to the shard that held the key to unraveling the Wraith's secrets. With that, he finally started his car, letting it idle for a few minutes. He glanced out into the night streets, disassociating the city he had grown to both love and hate and simply stare out into space. Eventually, he snapped out of it, and pulled the car out and started his journey home.

As Rivers drove through the maze-like streets of Night City, his thoughts were still preoccupied with his upcoming meeting with Kitty at Lizzies Bar. He navigated the neon-lit labyrinth with a sense of unease, aware that the city's dangers lurked around every corner. However, as he glanced into his rearview mirror, his unease escalated into genuine alarm. A group of motorbikes, their riders adorned with unmistakable Tyger Claws gang insignias, were tailing him, their engines growling like hungry predators. Rivers clenched the steering wheel, his heart racing. The Tyger Claws were notorious for their ruthlessness and violence, and he knew that being pursued by them was never a good sign. They had a reputation for enforcing their territory with an iron fist. Without hesitation, Rivers gunned the engine, his car surging forward. The Tyger Claws responded immediately, their bikes roaring to life as they accelerated to catch up with him. The chase was on. The winding streets of Night City became a high-speed battleground as Rivers skillfully maneuvered through traffic, trying to shake off his relentless pursuers. The neon-lit billboards and bustling crowds were a blur as he weaved in and out of lanes, his heart pounding in his chest. Car horns, screams, and the occasional gunshot were all he could hear, along with the roaring of the engine of his car and the screeching of his tires.

The Tyger Claws were determined, their skilled riders keeping pace with Rivers' car. They taunted him with revving engines and menacing gestures, shouting curses at him in Japanese and occasionally in butchered English, making it clear that they intended to catch him at any cost. As the chase continued, Rivers knew he couldn't outrun them indefinitely. He needed a plan, and fast. His mind raced as he scanned the streets for any potential escape routes or allies who might intervene. Rivers clenched his teeth, his knuckles strained on the steering wheel as he pushed his police cruiser to its limits. Night City's streets blurred around him as he navigated the labyrinthine urban jungle, trying desperately to shake off the relentless Tyger Claws gang members who pursued him. Rivers gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled fear as he felt the first stinging impact of a bullet hitting his car. The Tyger Claws were not holding back, their submachine gun fire rattling the vehicle's exterior. Night City police cruisers were built tough, but he couldn't rely on the car alone to protect him.

The Tygers, known for their ruthlessness, weren't easily deterred. They unleashed a hail of submachine gun fire in Rivers' direction, the bullets chewing into the reinforced body of his cruiser. Rivers grimaced as sparks flew from the impact, but he knew that Night City's police cruisers were built to withstand even the most intense firefights.

With a calculated move, Rivers reached for his own weapon, a Malorian Overture. He rolled down the window just enough to aim it at the closest Tyger Claws biker, his eyes darting between his rearview mirror and the cars in front of him. In a split second, he whipped out the Overture and aimed out the window and pulled the trigger, the deafening roar of gunfire filling the air. The bullet found its mark, striking a Tyger Claw gangster in the face. There was a sickening explosion of blood and shattered bone as the shot blew off the gangster's jaw. His motorcycle wobbled, and he veered off course, crashing into a nearby food stand. The remaining gang members swerved to avoid the wreckage, their leader shouting curses and orders to regroup. The explosion of violence had momentarily disrupted their pursuit, buying Rivers a precious moment of respite.

Rivers frantically reached for his police radio. Grabbing the mouthpiece, he pulled it up to his face, shouting as he did. "This is Detective Rivers to NCPD Control, I have Tyger Claws on my ass and they are trying to gun me down! Currently on my way to The Glen, coming from the precinct! Need backup, now!"

His heart sank when he quickly discovered it was non operational, intentionally sabotaged. Panic surged through him, realizing that his only lifeline to backup and reinforcements had been severed. This situation was growing increasingly dire, and his paranoia intensified. The Tyger Claws were known to have ties to Arasaka, one of the most powerful and influential megacorporations in Night City. This led Rivers to consider a terrifying possibility: was this a deliberate assassination attempt? Had he stumbled upon something so sensitive that Arasaka was willing to eliminate him to protect their secrets?

The weight of the conspiracy weighed heavily on his mind, but Rivers didn't have time for conjecture. The surviving Tyger Claws were closing in, their bikes roaring as they prepared for another assault. Thinking quickly, Rivers decided to use the advantage of his police cruiser's size and durability. He slammed on the brakes, executing a sudden and dangerous brake check that took the closest Tyger Claws gangster by surprise. The gangster's motorcycle smashed into the back of Rivers' cruiser with a sickening crunch. Metal groaned and twisted as the bike was crushed, and the gangster soon followed, as bones shattered and flesh erupted. A few blots of red and white stained the mirrors on either side of his car, along with a big splash on the back window. Rivers, his heart pounding in his chest, didn't look back as he accelerated away from the wreckage. He could hear the shouts of the surviving Tyger Claws behind him, their curses and threats echoing in his ears.

With the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Rivers swerved his police cruiser into the chaotic flow of Night City's traffic. The blaring horns and screeching brakes of other vehicles provided a cacophonous backdrop as he weaved through the lanes, using the cover of the bustling highway to escape his relentless pursuers. The Tyger Claws, momentarily thrown off by the abrupt change in Rivers' trajectory, struggled to keep up in the dense traffic. He caught a glimpse of their bikes in his rearview mirror, their headlights slicing through the night like predatory eyes.

As Rivers sped along the highway, his focus was laser-sharp, his instincts guiding him through the labyrinthine tangle of vehicles. He expertly maneuvered his police cruiser, dodging taxis, cargo haulers, and other cars with practiced precision. The blinding neon lights and towering skyscrapers of Night City created a dizzying backdrop, but Rivers was unyielding in his determination to escape. After what felt like an eternity, he managed to put enough distance between himself and the Tyger Claws gang members. As the traffic began to thin out, Rivers eased off the gas, his heart still racing as he navigated his way onto a quieter street. But even as he slowed down, he couldn't shake the feeling of impending danger. The Tyger Claws were persistent, and he knew that they wouldn't be deterred by a single failed pursuit. They would be back, and Rivers couldn't afford to let his guard down. With a heavy sigh, he glanced around the dimly lit street, his thoughts racing as he considered his next move. The Wraith case, the encounter with Kitty, and now this dangerous encounter with the Tyger Claws—all the pieces of the puzzle seemed to be converging, pushing him deeper into a dangerous web of intrigue.

Eventually, Rivers pulled his damaged police cruiser to the side of the road, his breath heavy as he surveyed the bullet holes that marred the vehicle's reinforced exterior. The realization that he had narrowly escaped a potentially deadly encounter with the Tyger Claws gnawed at him. He knew he needed to act, and fast, but uncertainty clouded his judgment. A cold sweat formed on his brow as he contemplated his options. Part of him wanted to call in the incident officially, to report the assault and seek the protection of the NCPD. But a nagging suspicion lingered, like a shadow in the corners of his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that the corruption and influence of Arasaka extended into the very heart of the police department itself. He had seen his fair share of crooked cops, but this was different. This was something bigger, something that threatened to consume him if he wasn't careful. Rivers glanced through the contacts on the holo, contemplating making the call that would bring his fellow officers to his aid, but not yet pressing it. Just how many officers at the precinct would sell him out to the corps for a fat paycheck? More than he was comfortable with. More than anyone should be.

In the end, Rivers made a gut-wrenching decision. He closed the holo menu, choosing to handle this on his own, for now. If there were allies left within the NCPD who hadn't been tainted by Arasaka's influence, he would find them. But first, he needed to dig deeper into the conspiracy that threatened to swallow him whole.

Doctor Morio sat in the luxurious interior of his AV, sipping champagne as he went over the latest report from one of his away teams. The sighting of the Wraith of Watson had been confirmed, but beyond that, the trail had gone cold. Night City's elusive phantom remained frustratingly slippery. Morio's normally composed demeanor was crumbling under the weight of his frustration, and the continued failure of his men. He was a man used to having control, used to getting what he wanted. But the Wraith had proven to be a thorn in his side, slipping through his fingers time and again. The continued failure by the simply put: morons that were his agents had ground his patience as a millstone did to grain, and he was this close to snapping.

As he connected to a holocall with his team, his irritation was palpable. His voice, usually calm and measured, was laced with anger. "You imbeciles! How is it possible that we can track a fly on the Wall Market but can't catch a single mercenary? You've been at these for nearly two weeks, and we have nothing to show for our efforts but dead bodies and the occasional fucking rat trap!"

His underlings, well-versed in navigating Morio's moods, exchanged nervous glances. They had become all too accustomed to his temper, but tonight it seemed particularly volatile.

Morio continued his tirade, hurling derogatory insults at them as if it were a form of punishment. "You are all a bunch of incompetent fucking morons! You're wasting my time and resources on this matter! How hard can it be to locate one person in that wretched hive of scum and villainy? If I don't get some concrete results by tomorrow, you are all getting fired, and all company assets will be revoked! You'll be sleeping in the gutters by the end of this weekend!"

His outburst hung in the air, his subordinates too intimidated to respond, for they all knew exactly what would await them should they respond. They had been chasing shadows for weeks, following the scant leads and sightings of the Wraith, only to come up empty-handed each time.

Morio, drained by the fruitless pursuit, leaned back in his AV seat, his anger dissipating into exhaustion. He took another sip of champagne, his frustration lingering like a bitter aftertaste. The holocall abruptly ended as Morio disconnected from his away team, leaving the holographic screen blank. His rage simmered within him, a seething fire threatening to consume his usually composed demeanor.

With a trembling hand, he reached for the champagne glass and crushed it with his augmented strength, sending a shower of wine and glass shards splattering across the floor of the AV. The air was thick with the acrid scent of synth blood and spilled alcohol as Morio stared at the chaotic mess he had made. As he sat amidst the mess, his thoughts raced. The Wraith, that infuriating enigma, had defied his every attempt to capture or predict their movements. It was as if the mercenary possessed an uncanny ability to slip through the cracks of his surveillance and evade his grasp. But a dangerous idea began to form in Morio's mind, one that he couldn't easily dismiss. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could use the Wraith's own elusiveness against them. He had tried tracking and capturing, but what if he baited the Wraith into conflict?

Morio's heart quickened at the audacity of the plan. He knew it was risky, that it would put him directly in harm's way, but desperation fueled his determination. He had invested too much into uncovering the secrets of the Wraith and Night City itself to back down now. Morio frowned, contemplating the risky gambit that had formed in his mind. The idea of baiting the Wraith into conflict was enticing, but the question remained: What could he use as bait? The Wraith's armor, the only physical evidence he had, was off the table. His research team was still dissecting it, hoping to unlock its secrets, and he could not simply leave it lying around. If the dregs of the city got even the notion, the idea of extraterrestrials then it wouldn't take long before his security teams would be drowning in corporate hit squads and edgerunner gangs each trying to get a piece of the pie. He was thankful that The Wraith was elusive as he was, for at least he wasn't causing any noticeable problems. No one was weeping tears for a few dead street rats.

A dark thought crossed his mind, one that bordered on the reckless and the forbidden. Michiko, his superior and the one who held the keys to the gateway, had expressly ordered him not to open it. But Morio was driven by an obsession, a burning desire to capture the Wraith and uncover the aliens' mysteries. And he could go no further in his research until he had his specimen.

He knew that the gateway, a mysterious portal that connected to unknown dimensions, held the potential to be a powerful lure. Better yet, perhaps he could find something on the inside to use to lure him out of hiding? If he could breach its barriers and bring something out, something valuable or tempting to the Wraith, he might finally get the upper hand.

With determination hardening his resolve, Morio made the call to his research team. "Prepare the gateway," he commanded, his voice steely. "And assemble a team of commandos. We're going in."

Deep beneath the imposing structure of Arasaka Tower, in an underground laboratory shrouded in secrecy, the research team had assembled around the enigmatic gateway. The chamber was dimly lit, the cold, sterile atmosphere permeating the underground complex.

The gateway itself loomed before them, a formidable presence in the chamber. Rising to a height of approximately twenty feet, it formed a massive arc into a semi-circle. The material from which it was constructed was a peculiar crystalline substance, both hard as steel and yet possessed of an unsettling, malleable quality. Its surface seemed to shift and ripple as if it were alive, creating an eerie, fluid sensation.

The gateway's appearance was otherworldly, to say the least. It was as if it had been plucked from the far reaches of the cosmos, gemstones of unknown origin were embedded in its surface, arranged in intricate and bewildering patterns that defied earthly logic. Each gemstone emitted a soft, otherworldly glow, casting eerie shadows across the laboratory. The patterns seemed to move and shift when observed for too long, creating a disorienting effect that left all who gazed upon it with a sense of unease.

The very presence of the gateway was a stark reminder that it was not of this world. It was a relic from a dimension beyond human understanding, a portal to realms unknown, and it exuded an air of cosmic malevolence that sent shivers down the spines of those who approached it.

Surrounding the gateway were fortified defenses—turrets and walls that had been erected to ensure its containment. The research team had taken every precaution, knowing that tampering with such an object carried incalculable risks.

Outside the perimeter, a team of six heavily armed and armored commandos stood at the ready, their weapons trained on the gateway. Their visors concealed their expressions, but an underlying tension was palpable in the air.

As the research team made their final preparations, adjusting the array of sensors and equipment that would allow them to interface with the gateway, they couldn't help but feel a growing sense of trepidation. The gateway, with its unearthly design and inscrutable purpose, was a puzzle they were about to unlock, a key to the unknown, and it beckoned them into a world of uncertainty and danger. Finally, they awaited a command. Dr. Morio watched from a holo display, nodding once, an uneasy look forming on his face.

"Activate it."

With a hushed sense of anticipation, the research team activated the gateway. The laboratory hummed with energy as arcane machinery powered to life, feeding the massive crystalline structure before them. The gateway, with its alien gemstone patterns, began to flicker and shimmer with an eerie, iridescent light. As the team prepared to step through the portal, there was a palpable tension in the air. They had rehearsed this moment meticulously, but the sense of venturing into the unknown weighed heavily on their hearts.

But then, something went terribly wrong.

The gateway's shimmering light intensified, its crystalline surface quivering and rippling like a disturbed pool of water. The air in the chamber grew heavy, and a feeling of dread settled over the room like a shroud. One by one, the research team members began to back away from the gateway, their expressions filled with terror. Something had gone horribly awry. The sense of foreboding had deepened into an oppressive, suffocating force that made their hearts race with fear. They had subconsciously realized there was something on the other side of the gateway. And it wanted to come in.

The gateway continued to flicker, its alien gemstones pulsating in a discordant rhythm. It seemed as though it was struggling to maintain its integrity, as if it were resisting the intrusion of the human world. Outside the chamber, the commandos, sensing the growing danger, tightened their grips on their weapons and braced for whatever might emerge from the malfunctioning gateway. Even Dr. Morio watching from miles away within his AV, felt a tingle of dread creeping up his spine.

"Shut… shut it down! Shut it down!" He ordered, primal senses of self preservation overriding his sense of greed and ambition.

Panicked voices filled the chamber as the research team moved swiftly to shut down the gateway. The sense of foreboding had grown into a bone-chilling terror, and it was clear that something had gone horribly wrong. They needed to seal off whatever malign force might be on the other side before it could spill into their world. With frantic gestures, the team worked to override the machinery that had initiated the gateway's activation. As they scrambled to halt the process, a chilling sensation washed over them, like an icy hand creeping up their spines. The chamber filled with a low, resonating hum as the energy coursing through the gateway began to subside. The crystalline structure slowly dimmed, its alien gemstones losing their sinister glow. The boundaries between worlds appeared to stabilize, and for a moment, it seemed as though the danger had passed.

It was in that moment of desperate tension that one of the commandos, a woman with years of experience in high-stress situations, caught a glimpse beyond the flickering gateway. Her eyes widened, and she let out a strangled gasp as she stared into the unfathomable abyss that lay on the other side. She closed her eyes once, the visions going dark, a sense of relief washing over her. And then she opened them once more.

The relief was short-lived.

What she saw there was beyond the boundaries of human comprehension, a kaleidoscope of madness and horrors that defied description. Colors that should not exist, voices that should not have been heard, and the laughing of uncaring beings. The scream that followed was a chilling, primal sound that echoed through the chamber, the raw expression of a mind pushed beyond its limits. She clutched her head with both hands, her fingers digging into her scalp as if trying to rip the images from her mind. She tore off her helmet with wild abandon, clutching her throat as she struggled to prevent choking on her own spit.

Her eyes, once filled with determination, now held a vacant, terror-stricken gaze. She began to mutter incoherent words, a disjointed stream of consciousness that made no sense to those who listened. She rocked back and forth on her feet, her body trembling uncontrollably. The other commandos rushed to her side, their faces etched with concern and confusion. They tried to restrain her, to calm her down, but her struggles grew more frantic. She babbled about incomprehensible horrors, about shapes that twisted and contorted in ways that defied geometry, and about voices that whispered maddening secrets in her ears.

The research team, too, stood frozen, their expressions a mixture of fear and disbelief as they bore witness to the woman's mental breakdown. The once-secure chamber had become a chamber of horrors, a place where the boundaries between reality and madness had blurred, and the consequences of their experiment had spiraled beyond their control. In the wake of the gateway's activation, the woman had glimpsed into the abyss of insanity, and it had left an indelible mark on her shattered psyche.

Dr. Morio had seen everything he wanted to see, and so much more that he could never forget. There was something… evil, beyond that gate. Something that wanted to come in, so badly. He cursed himself… realizing that it might just wait until they got impatient enough to open it once more.

V had woken up early, determined to regain some semblance of normalcy in her life after the chaos and danger that had consumed her. The kitchen was bathed in the soft morning light as she attempted to make herself a simple breakfast. As she scrambled eggs in a pan, her thoughts drifted to the enigmatic figure named Kalsaar, who had seemingly saved her life. She couldn't shake the feeling that her encounter with him had set into motion a chain of events that were beyond her control. Her hands moved on autopilot as she flipped the eggs, her mind elsewhere, until she heard an unfamiliar voice.

"Well, well, well. Look who's trying their hand at domesticity," the voice said, dripping with sarcasm.

Startled, V turned around, her heart pounding, only to come face to face with a man she had never seen before, casually sitting at her kitchen table as if he belonged there.

V's grip on the spatula tightened, her eyes narrowing as she took in the intruder. He was a rugged-looking man, with somewhat long black hair that reached down to his neck, stringy and somewhat unkempt. A smug grin stretched across his face, eyes hidden behind a pair of black and gold aviators. He had one regular arm and one chromed, as V could see the cabling and artificial muscle partially hidden underneath a silver shell. His metallic fingers drummed against the kitchen counter, and V could clearly tell he was enjoying the sight of her like a dog might appreciate a juicy steak. There was something about his appearance that seemed strangely out of place. It was as if he had stepped out of a bygone era.

"Who the hell are you?" V demanded, her voice laced with a mixture of fear and anger.

The man flashed a cocky grin, undeterred by V's hostility. "Name's Johnny. Johnny Silverhand. You've got a pretty sweet pad here, by the way."

"What are you doing in my apartment?" V demanded, her eyes narrowing.

Johnny's grin widened, and he leaned back in his chair. "Ah, don't get your panties in a twist, sweetheart. I think I was just having a bad dream or something. Next thing I know, I woke up here."

V's skepticism was palpable. She didn't know what kind of game this man was playing, but she wasn't in the mood for it. She reached for a knife on the countertop and hurled it in his direction with practiced precision.

Johnny sidestepped the projectile, a mix of a frown and a smirk forming on his lips as he closed the distance and reached out to grab V by the throat, only to realize his hand glitched right through her.

"What the hell?" V muttered, her eyes wide.

Johnny looked equally baffled. "Okay, that's weird. That's really weird." He said, his hand retracting with a slight shake. He tried again, but his attempt was once more in vain. Frustration bubbled within him, and he couldn't contain his outrage any longer. With a roar of anger, he lunged toward V, his spectral form attempting to strike out at her.

But his efforts were in vain. His fists passed through her as if she were nothing but a hologram. He tried to grab her, to make contact in some way, but every attempt ended in failure. It was as if he were a ghost, unable to affect the physical world.

V, her heart racing, stumbled back from Johnny's futile assault. She could feel his anger and frustration, his inability to understand the strange predicament they found themselves in. Her own fear and confusion were compounded by the surreal nature of the encounter. Then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, Johnny began to glitch. His form flickered and distorted, like a hologram malfunctioning. His voice crackled and echoed, becoming distorted and fragmented.

Then came the pain.

An agony, the sharpest V had ever felt in her life came in all at once, a roiling rogue wave of pain that crashed on her neurons. The interface of her Kiroshi Optics glitched and artifacted as she almost collapsed on the floor, a shrill cry slipping out from behind her clenched teeth. The pain was relentless, and she struggled to breathe through the searing agony that tore at her mind.

As Johnny's glitching spectacle reached its peak, V's world dissolved into a haze of torment and disarray. She teetered on the brink of collapse, trapped in a nightmarish limbo between the surreal presence of Johnny Silverhand and the relentless torment of her own inner demons. With sheer force of will, she forced herself to breathe, to focus on grounding herself in the physical world.

Slowly, the pain began to subside, though it left her feeling drained and disoriented. She was left with more questions than answers, and a foreboding sense of doom. The relic was killing her. She needed it out, before it was too late.

Chapter 10.
Got to 100 Follows, so thats neat.