Author's Note:
Hello! Thank you for checking out this fanfiction!
I've written this as the idea I've had for an alternate ending for Cyberpunk: 2077, primarily focused on rewriting events from the base game, Phantom Liberty, as well as a new spin on the character of Song So Mi! This story starts off with almost the exact same story details from the base game, with the only major difference being that Anders Hellman does not exist in this version of the story at all, for the purpose of exploring a new role for Songbird to play in this fanfiction.
Just a quick disclaimer, I am by no means a Cyberpunk lore expert or anything even close to that, I'm just a fan that greatly enjoyed the game, its DLC, and the Edgerunners anime, and I am writing this mostly from memory. So if there are any mistakes/inconsistences regarding details from the actual canon, please forgive me, and thank you for understanding!
Of course this goes without saying, but I do NOT claim to own anything Cyberpunk related whatsoever. Please consider supporting the respective creators in any way you can!
Feedback is also greatly appreciated as I try to practice and improve my skills as a writer! Thank you and I hope you enjoy!
BOOTING();TRN_TLCAS_8D0095
MODEL LINE 1.2001A SUBROUTINE TASK_MANAGER_SD11S
LOAD ADDRESS 000011244 (CCKS COMPRESSED)
INITIATING_STATUS_UPDATE_PROTOCOL(V);
COMMENCE_COMPREHENSIVE_DATA_ANALYSIS_AND_PROCESSING();
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NOTIFICATION ALERT:
FIRST_TIMER: 90%
CURRENT_STATUS: "Edgerunner".
SECOND_TIMER: 70%
CURRENT_STATUS: "You Only Live Once".
THIRD_TIMER: 56%
CURRENT_STATUS: "Running on Fumes".
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ERROR: 0x004A23 - DATA CORRUPTION DETECTED IN TIMER ALGORITHMS
ERROR: 0x00F1C7 - EXTERNAL SUBROUTINE INTERFERENCE DETECTED: POTENTIAL SYSTEM BREACH
WARNING: 0x0B8D2E - ANOMALY IN REAL-TIME METRICS SYNTHESIS
ERROR: 0x015E9B - UNIDENTIFIED DATA OVERFLOW IN STATUS UPDATE PROTOCOL
WARNING: 0x0D3G6Q - ABNORMAL ENERGY FLUCTUATIONS DETECTED IN SUBJECT
ERROR: 0x022H5T - SYSTEM INSTABILITY: TIMER DISCREPANCIES DETECTED
ALERT: 0x0X9K4P - FOURTH TIMER PROTOCOL INITIATED: INSTALLATION IN PROGRESS
INITIATING_FOURTH_TIMER_INSTALLATION();
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FOURTH_TIMER: 1%
[IMAGE OF A HAND REACHING OUT TO THE SUN DISPLAYED]
CURRENT_STATUS: "A New Possibility"
ENTRY_DATA:
It seems that fate already has plans for you. You're destined to either die, lose everything, or both. Them's the breaks, kid.
But what if there was another possibility? If there's one thing you can count on life for, it's being unpredictable.
And now, with history itself is being torn by the seams by outside forces beyond your understanding, this might be your only chance.
A chance to reach your hand out and grasp a whole new possibility. There's really only one question now:
Will you take it?
Grimy puke slithered into the bathroom sink, accompanied by an exasperated groan from the hunched over mercenary.
The merc's hands gripped the smooth, cold edges of the sink firmly, trembling and shaking. He had been puking since the moment he had woken up in the morning. Pangs of pain gruesomely ate away at his stomach and chest while a headache pounded and reverberated inside his skull. He glared at his reflection in the mirror. His fair skin had almost turned green with sickness. His short and spiky hair, dyed light blue long ago, was disasterly unkempt.
"Fuck, V. Get yourself cleaned up already. You look like shit."
V's head turned on a swivel to look behind him and stare daggers at the man generously providing colourful commentary. A bygone rockerboy stood at the other side of the bathroom, his back leaned against the wall, a cigarette nestled in the edge of his mouth that was slowly burning away, tinted shades covering his ever-judging eyes.
"Thanks, Johnny." the mercenary mumbled as he collected water from the running sink into his cupped hands and washed his face with a splash. "Can always count on you for a vote of confidence. Appreciate it."
Johnny's voice was gruff yet playful. "Don't have the luxury of pissing the time away. It's a new day. Get out there and do something productive. Anything."
V closed his eyes and grimaced before finally stepping away from the sink and out of the bathroom. He wobbled slowly into the living room of his apartment, located on one of the higher floors of The Glen, and flicked the lights on. The light shone painfully bright, burning his slightly bloodshot eyes. He was still dressed in a stained white vest and underwear, with his options for a better attire strewn haphazardly out across the floor of his expensive home.
Only a few days ago, the mercenary had his fateful meeting with Hanako Arasaka inside Embers, and had been toiling over his imminent future ever since. He had collapsed during the meeting and nearly flatlined, before getting an earful from both Viktor and Johnny about making a decision on his soon-to-expire life. Still, though the Relic was but one small step away from devouring him, he was still alive and kicking. Running on the fumes of sheer willpower. However little it was, he still had time.
As V approached the massive windows, he gazed once more at the bustling Night City. The city of dreams. The city that had given him everything, made him the man and mercenary that he was, yet had taken away everything as well. V knew all too well it was not a city, it was a stifling prison that was suffocating him, slowly choking the life out of him. It was the place where he was going to die.
V pressed the button on his coffee machine, watching it whirr to life and begin to dispense his drink. Coffee was going to be his breakfast. Despite emptying what must have been most of the contents in his stomach, he was not hungry. Cracks in the light appeared as the translucent, spectral form of the rockerboy stuck in V's head glitched into existence, sitting next to the coffee machine atop the sleek, black counter.
"You're…seriously not considering that porcelain bitch's offer, are you?" Johnny asked, his voice almost sounding desperate, as if he was pleading.
"Got a better idea?" V responded as he pushed his hands through Johnny's ghostly leg to reach his piping hot coffee.
Johnny shook his head and sighed. "Making me sound like a broken record, kid. I already told you. You. Me. Rogue. We kill that borged piece of shit Smasher and get to Mikoshi. Then, Alt will fix you—somehow."
V waited in silence for a few moments for his coffee to cool down, then took a large gulp of it, savouring its familiar bitterness. His headache was only getting worse as he listened to Johnny's plan of attack on Arasaka Tower.
"I said a better idea." he growled, finally.
The irritated mercenary turned around to walk over to his couch, only to have Johnny materialise again, standing right in front of him and blocking his path. Though only a hallucination in the merc's dying brain, it brought him to a halt, nearly spilling his mug of coffee. It felt so real to V that he could have sworn he sensed the visceral reek of the rockerboy's chain-smoking breath up close and personal.
"Better than selling your soul to Arasaka." he hissed, total contempt for the name dripping from his mouth. "I know you're fucked in the head 'cause I'm fucked in the head. But you're not stupid."
V gradually lowered his head and gently placed his mug down onto the counter. His thoughts were racing, all of it muddled and confused, but knew Johnny was right. He had actually been right about a lot of things recently, though V did his best to conceal his opinion as to not inflate the rockerboy's already severely inflated ego.
Especially after their honest, heart-to-heart conversation by the scrap heap where Johnny's body laid, he knew Johnny was determined to help. As much of an asshole as Johnny was, and still is, he was truly trying his best to save V's life, the only way he knew how. They still butted heads, even at the most critical of moments, but they were partners now. Two souls sharing the same fate.
Slowly caressing the side of his head where the Relic rested, V spoke again. "Fucking gonk idea, storming Arasaka Tower. It's a suicide mission, plain and simple. Thinking we can actually kill Adam Smasher is even more gonk, somehow. But…"
"But?" Johnny repeated.
"But…fuck." V whispered before raising his head once more to meet Johnny's gaze. "It's all we really got, huh? No way Arasaka isn't going to try to play me, make me pay a price for their help…and it'll be the kind of price no one can afford."
"I'm glad you get it." Johnny answered, cracking the smallest of smiles.
The tired mercenary trudged through his living room, picking up each piece of clothing lying on the floor individually while listening to the distant sound of a Samurai vinyl record that was still playing from the night prior, reluctantly trying to make his home a little bit less of a mess. Once he was done with the arduous task, he approached his wardrobe and began tracing his fingers along the coat hangers as he scanned his choice for clothes.
"We going, then?" Johnny chimed in as he appeared, sitting right on the railing of the second floor, impatiently kicking his feet.
"Might try doing a gig or two before I call Rogue…" V muttered absent-mindedly. "It's still early in the day…it'll help me clear my mind a bit."
"Merc work clears your mind?" the rockerboy asked, his tone undeniably sceptical.
"It does." V responded firmly. "Is that okay, Johnny?"
"If digging your hands in the grime and muck of their dirty chores again will help you think straight, be my fucking guest." Johnny chuckled dryly, pausing for a moment to indulge in a prolonged, deep draw of his fictional cigarette before he continued. "So, who's it gonna be today? Wakako? Padre? Or maybe you wanna fill your lungs with some sand out in the Badlands for Dakota."
Even as a dying man, V had put in the effort of becoming the most reliable mercenary in all of Night City, taking every gig and odd job that came his way since the fatefully botched heist that caused him to lose Jackie and gain the ticking time bomb in his head.
His name had become a familiar whisper on the streets, and his reputation permeated every corner of the city, solidifying him as the mercenary who always got the job done. Not every gig had gone swimmingly, that was certain, but no setback had ever stopped V from putting a smile of satisfaction on his fixer's and client's faces, nor kept his bank account from exponentially growing.
But it was still not enough.
The difference between having a strong reputation and being a Night City legend was elusive, intangible, yet unmistakably real. V still did not own Night City. Night City owned him. He was still just a mere cog in the machine, keeping the gears of the city of dreams perpetually turning.
Legends were those who had risen above it all and seared their names into the annals of history, through blood and flames if necessary, never to be truly forgotten.
Being a Night City legend had been the personal dream of his closest choom, the late Jackie, and before the incident at Konpeki Plaza, V had believed he shared that same dream. However, since that day, it had become clear that V had lost his passion to dream.
Now, he just wanted to live.
Just as V reached for more of his fallen clothes, still lost in his thoughts, an implant in his head rang with a familiar tone.
"Getting a call?" Johnny asked.
"Yeah, it's…" V whispered, the sound of his ringtone forcefully dragging him back to reality. He gazed at his optics' interface, reading out the name displayed in front of him. "...huh, it's Rogue."
Johnny quickly slid off the metal railing and stood close to V. "Beat us to the holo, did she? Well, go on. Answer."
The mercenary quickly activated his installed implant, hearing a soft tone ring inside of his head as he answered the call and witnessed an image of Rogue appear in the uppermost left corner of his vision. Her voice was coarse, dry, and unshakably firm.
"V, are you alone?" she asked, her tone imbued with an unreadable emotion.
"Uh, yeah." the mercenary replied cautiously. "Why? What's up?"
"The usual. I've lined up another job for you." Rogue replied promptly, but then lapsed into an unsettling pause. When she resumed speaking, her voice had lowered to a whisper. "Well... that's only partially true. I do have work for you, but it's not your typical assignment."
"Uh-huh. What's the catch?" V probed.
"The client insists on meeting in person."
A frown creased V's face, even though he knew Rogue couldn't see it. "I mean…that ain't that unusual."
"Not on its own, no." Rogue conceded, her voice growing increasingly gruff. "But this 'client' is withholding details about the job until both you and I sit down and meet him face-to-face. At the Afterlife. Today."
"Client's pretty demanding." V remarked. "Gonks trying to boss me around ain't nothing new, but trying to pull that shit with the Queen of the Afterlife?"
"I had a feeling this was yet another person determined to waste my time. A dime a dozen." Rogue commented in an impatient scoff. "But, V. I had my people look into him—I like to know who I'm working with. And do you know what happened? For the first time I can remember, my people came back empty-handed. I have next to nothing on the man."
"Must be real good at covering his tracks. Or…has people that do that for him." the mercenary reacted quietly.
"Or he's just some fucking nobody trying to take me for a ride—and if he is, I promise I'll handle him personally." she hissed threateningly. "Gigs such as these, that reek to high heaven? I never take them. If it weren't for the payment this man is offering, I would've told him to shove it."
"What's he offering?"
"For me? My biggest payday yet, apparently. Enough eddies for me to sink and drown in."
"Okay." V replied with a hearty laugh. "Definitely pulling one over on you, no doubt. You should-"
"And for you..." Rogue cut in abruptly, her voice turning grave, almost trembling. "...a way to save your life. A cure, V."
The merc became rigid, freezing up where he stood, his jaw caught on its hinges and left agape. A paralysing chill ran through his veins, yet his heart began to flutter.
His eyes darted instinctively to his right, locking onto Johnny. The rockerboy, his shades now off his head, mirrored V's own expression of bewilderment. V's mouth went dry, his heart caught in his throat as he managed to croak out a question.
"He... knows about the Relic?" he asked with bated breath, his voice barely above a whisper.
"The Relic. You. And…" Rogue answered. "...and Johnny."
V's voice grew even weaker. "How does he know any of that? Who the hell is this guy…?"
"All questions I'd love answered nearly as much as you do. How fast do you think you can get here?"
"Um…" V uttered as he stared helplessly at his surroundings, most of his clothes still misplaced and scattered. "...don't worry. I'll take the tires and run the lights if I gotta, should be there before you know it."
"I suppose you didn't tune into N54 this morning. City Center's closed for roadway renovations. The entire block is nearly on lockdown for the next few days, it seems. The only way you're getting here is if you take the metro from Heywood to Little China—which I suggest you do right now." Rogue instructed.
V clicked his teeth and sighed. "Thanks, Rogue. I'll see you soon."
With a final beep, the holocall ended. The merc slowly turned to look at Johnny, who had since shifted towards the exit of the apartment, leaning on the wall next to the apartment's elevator. His scowl spoke a thousand words yet the man was uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes wandering aimlessly.
"Unbelievable, ain't it? This could be a fucking lifeline being thrown my way." V exclaimed to his partner, his voice still weak and trembling with nervousness. He strode across the living room to select his outfit: his favourite black T-shirt decorated with a crude emoji, paired with black jeans, followed with a simple pair of dark sneakers.
"Yeah." Johnny responded in a dead, monotone voice. "That's exactly what it is—unbelievable."
The mercenary lowered and shook his head, motioning over to his armoury stash, stepping inside as the automated glass door gave entry. "I know, Johnny. The guy is probably full of shit. I'll be careful when I talk to him."
"Fuck…that's really all it takes, huh?" Johnny grumbled as he watched V sort through his extensive weaponry.
V looked over his shoulder to glare at the rockerboy while tracing his fingertips along several revolvers and semi-automatic rifles on his workbench. Another one of Johnny's lecturing sessions was imminent. The merc could sense it.
"Johnny…" was all that V could muster.
"All it takes is some corpo prick waving his dick and eddies in the air, promising you salvation, and you're chomping at the bit to get your orders, like a good little soldier." Johnny's lecture commenced.
Sifting through his vast collection of heavy pistols on the wall, V's hand abruptly stopped at his favourite and picked it up. A Malorian, one of the 3516 series, rested now in the merc's right hand. Its hauntingly cold, metallic touch and hefty weight did not prevent the pistol from feeling just right in V's hand. It may have belonged to Johnny back when the raging terrorist was still alive, but ever since the merc and Rogue had reappropriated it from Grayson, the gun had felt like a proper, natural extension of V himself. As if the pistol was finally, truly where it belonged.
Or perhaps that was just the Relic talking.
"We're just gonna have a chat with this guy, Johnny. Calm the fuck down." V groaned, trying to end the lecture as quickly as possible.
"Sure, that's exactly how it starts with these suits. You're just chatting." The rockerboy nodded his head, refusing to relent. "Then, next thing you know? You're bending over backwards for them, being played like a fiddle, because that's all they think you deserve…and they're fucking right. You act like a tool, you're gonna get used as a tool."
"Christ, Johnny!" V snapped, slamming the Malorian down onto the workbench with a terrible thud. "Cut the shit—what're you getting at? You just told me to get out and do something productive, that's what I'm trying to do. I'm gonna meet a guy who knows shit about us that just ain't possible…and you don't want me to go?"
Johnny gazed at V from across the room, allowing for a few seconds of silence. Folding his arms, the ghostly man lowered his voice and spoke slightly more softly.
"I want you to stop being so damn naive, V. That's all." he muttered. "Because first, what your mystery client knows isn't impossible. He could be an Arasaka lapdog, and this could be them tracking you down to get their tech back. Easy. And you'd come to the same conclusion if you just stopped to think before you act. And second, don't call this a fucking lifeline. Even if this prick can be useful, he won't be. Corpos only help number one: themselves, and this whole performance he's putting on? Trying to amp up the mystery and suspense? He's playing you. He's playing Rogue even more. It's a game, V. It's all just a game."
Despite dreading them, V listened intently to Johnny's words. As much as the mercenary hated to admit it, underneath all of the layers of snark, there was a voice of reason to be found with Johnny. He was not always right, but V had heeded the rockerboy's advice a great many times by this point, and had usually ended up on top thanks to it. Still, there was one thing that Johnny had said that did not sit right with V.
"Rogue…? How would Rogue get played? She'd get her eddies." the merc asked.
"It's not about the fucking eddies, V!" Johnny barked impatiently. "Do I have to explain everything to you? She's lying. There's no way she'd get in a gig that reeks this much just for some scratch. This client's promised Rogue something other than eddies, I guarantee it."
"Maybe she's only taking it for our sake…to try and give us a fighting chance." V whispered solemnly.
"Wouldn't that be nice." Johnny turned his head the other way, gazing at nothing, unconvinced. "...well? You've got your iron, now grab your blade. Time to delta."
"Oh? You're giving me permission to go after all?" V asked in a sarcastic manner, a cheeky smile flashing across his face.
"I can't stop you from playing this game." Johnny sighed in return. "So, go out and play. Just don't get played, V."
V and Johnny nodded to each other with perfect synchronisation as the mercenary took one other weapon from his stash. His trusty blade, one that had kept me from flatlining far too many times, and his primary go-to. A dangerous, thermal, tempered blade that glowed furiously in a fierce, blazing hue—the Errata.
Securing the blade in its sheath at V's hip, he made his way toward the elevator, signalling his readiness to head out. Johnny watched V's approach, then subtly stepped aside, revealing the final item the mercenary would inevitably take with him. Mounted on the wall beside the elevator, hanging from a specialised hanger, was the replica of an iconic jacket once worn by the legendary Johnny Silverhand back when he was still kicking.
The Samurai jacket.
The merc reached his hands out and carefully felt its sleek yet patchy texture between his fingers. A replica though it may have been, it was not left wanting for better quality or durability. The jacket's gleaming blue collar, metallic accents, and the iconic Samurai logo on the back—a stylised Samurai helmet rendered in fiery red and icy silver colours—had endured V's countless battles and still remained in perfect, mint condition.
Slipping into the jacket, V adjusted the collar with a sense of familiarity.
"Rogue hit the jackpot with that thing, huh? Hard to imagine you stepping outside without it now." Johnny remarked, sounding pleased.
"Yeah…" V whispered.
With the press of a button, the elevator screeched and whirred to life. Reaching V's floor, its shutters clanked violently and opened up, ready to unleash the mercenary onto the streets of Night City one more time.
"It fits me like a glove."
The winds howled gently in the clear blue sky draped over the Corpo Plaza of the city.
A woman, dressed in a bespoke, immaculate jet-black suit, stood at one of the many balconies of a high-rise building, peering down at the citizens below. Though she was located on one of the lowest floors of the building, everyone looked miniscule from where she watched.
Her name was Song So Mi.
The wavering breeze intermittently flowed through her hair, coloured magenta with subtle orange highlights, and carried away the smoke that left her mouth. A cigarette slowly burning away in her fingers was trembling and shaking. The nicotine was supposed to calm her nerves. It was struggling to do so.
It was a horrible habit. She knew that. Yet, it was the only thing that could achieve the arduous feat of dampening her anxiety.
The woman could hear whispering over the wind's howls emanating behind her. Several Kang Tao personnel stood at the other far end of the balcony, ever vigilant and watchful of her, while two high-ranking security guards were positioned slightly closer to her. The pair of bodyguards were speaking Mandarin to each other in hushed tones, and though she could have understood what they were saying with her installed implant for translations, she elected not to. She was always watched. Always surrounded. For just a few precious minutes, she wished to trick herself into believing that she was having a moment to herself. This, at least, was better than the life she had with Arasaka—though not by much.
So Mi had been scouted and recruited by Arasaka when she was only sixteen for her incredible, and perhaps unrivalled, bioengineering and netrunning talents, attending Arasaka Academy and surpassing every other fellow prodigy. That was ten years ago. She had spent that time lending her efforts to some of Arasaka's most ambitious and confidential projects, and in return, the megacorporation had delivered her an envious life of luxury, security, and privilege.
But one fateful day, that changed. The day when everything she had created crumbled down around her. Now, Arasaka wished to deliver only one thing to her.
Death.
Her only option had been to escape and accept the refuge of Arasaka's rival, Kang Tao, and accept her place in a different prison. Behind the guise of luxury, that is what this life truly was, a stifling prison. Day in and day out, she was forced into netrunning for the corporation's whims, with strictly minimal interaction with the outside world, just as things were with Arasaka. Freedom traded for security.
"Time's up, Songbird. You need to get back to work." one bodyguard bellowed in a gruff and frantic voice, taking several steps forward towards her.
Songbird. It was the moniker Kang Tao had given her once she had agreed to join them. She did not mind it—in fact, she preferred being addressed by her newly-appointed pseudonym. These people spent every waking moment with her, dictating her every move, controlling every aspect of her life. They were her captors. In that sense, they were no different from times when she still had freedom were murky, faded memories, a previous life that felt completely divorced from the one she was living now, as if it belonged to someone else—something that was never hers.
None of them deserved the right to use her real name.
"Please…I'm almost finished." Songbird pleaded timidly, staring at her half-burnt cigarette. "I just need one more minute."
"I said…" the man growled in a low, guttural voice. He took another step forward and slowly removed his sunglasses to stare directly into her eyes.
Without warning, the Kang Tao bodyguard suddenly lunged forward, seizing Songbird's free arm and yanking her backward with a forceful grip. She gasped in surprise, her cigarette nearly slipping out of her hand as she stumbled and struggled to maintain her balance.
"...times up!" he finished with a thunderous roar.
Before Songbird could cry or protest, the second of the pair of bodyguards immediately rushed to the man's side, but not to assist him. The Kang Tao woman, smaller in size but noticeably faster than the man, violently connected her elbow to the side of his gut. The bodyguard yelped in surprise and agony, his hand automatically releasing Songbird from his grip.
"That is not how we conduct ourselves, Huan." she stated matter-of-factly, remaining completely composed despite attacking her own partner.
The man, Huan, held his stomach and writhed in pain while turning to glare at his colleague. "W-What the fuck?! I'll…I'll…I'll write this in my report, Lina! You can't just hit me!"
"Go ahead." Lina goaded the thick-headed man. "You know damn well we can't touch the asset unless absolutely necessary. But more than that, you know the top brass don't give a single shit about your reports. Your history already has you this close to being a liability. They care about my reports. So, what do you want them to say?"
Huan's intense glare immediately softened and his balled-up fists unclenched themselves. He fell silent under the intimidation, and after a brief moment, he took several defeated steps away from Songbird and his partner.
Lina's attention then turned to Songbird and she gave a small but respectful bow.
"Please forgive us for that. Huan's a gonk. I'll make sure that this doesn't happen again. Do you need anything?"
Songbird slowly shook her head. She was still reeling from what the man did, and his grip had been so tight that she could feel its grasp on her aching wrist.
"I-I just…" she muttered clumsily. "I just wanted one more minute to smoke."
Lina nodded her head and spoke without hesitation. "You'll have three. Consider it our apology."
Lina Wei Zhang. She was short in stature, had long black hair that was neatly tied into a ponytail, and was nearly always clad in sturdy, military-grade armour. Out of all of her faceless captors, this person was the only one Songbird knew the name of. Though it may very well have been a rehearsed and orchestrated good cop and bad cop between Lina and Huan, it had still not gone unnoticed by Songbird how much the woman had stood up for and protected her.
Songbird would have felt appreciative, had she not been forever cautious of psychological manipulation.
"Hmm? Do you…hear that?" one of the personnel chimed up from a distance.
Everyone, including Songbird, turned to look at the employee, then listened closely for any sounds that could overpower the wind. Even after an elongated wait in pure silence, nothing but the wind could be heard. Huan was the first to break the silence, though his voice was still mired by a tinge of pain in his stomach.
"Hear what? I don't hear anything." he said.
"I heard a clanking. I mean—I think it's gone now, but it was pretty loud." the employee replied, sounding more sheepish this time.
But the Kang Tao employee was soon vindicated as the sound returned, louder this time, and audible to everyone else. It was metallic. Grating. Like a screech. The reverberating sound grew slightly louder and more prominent with every passing second, and every person on the balcony began surveying their surroundings for the origin of the noise.
Clank. Clank. Clank.
The occurrence of the sound was gradually increasing in tempo as well, finally causing Lina to bark out orders to her lackeys.
"Search the perimeter! I want you over here—and I want you four over there." she commanded vehemently, waving her hands and pointing her fingers in different, coordinated directions. Her voice boomed but her voice still remained in control and cool. "Huan, check over the balcony."
Huan flashed an expression of defiance on his face for a moment, but only for a moment, and he reluctantly obeyed his partner's orders, walking past Songbird to look over the edge of the balcony. Lina moved to Songbird's side and very gently placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Sorry, looks like we have to go back inside after all. At least until we investigate the noise disturbance." she sighed.
Songbird shook her head. "It's fine, I understand. Please don't apologise."
As Lina guided Songbird back indoors, their gazes lingered on Huan. He had already scanned the balcony's frontage and was poised to lean over the railing to find anything that could have been causing the metallic clanks, just as Lina had instructed him to.
The man positioned himself on a small, white platform jutting from the balcony's edge, his weapons shifting and swaying on his belt. Gripping the metal railing firmly with both hands, he finally leaned forward and cast his gaze downward.
"Alright." he grumbled. "Let's see what we've g-"
Before Huan could finish his sentence, there was a flash of silver.
Time seemed to stop as the sharp edge of a mantis blade pierced clean through Huan's neck.
Crimson blood spewed across the balcony. Huan's body immediately went limp. The dark blood rained down and covered the floor, along with the faces of several of his friends, leaving behind the stains of a life now extinguished. The silver blade retracted and slid out of Huan's throat in a wet, visceral sound, and multiple figures revealed themselves by climbing over the railing and onto the balcony, having scaled all the way up the building's walls with their mantis blades. The Kang Tao personnel harmoniously screamed at the top of their lungs in a mix of paralysing fear and ceaseless rage as they pulled out their iron and aimlessly opened fire at the sight of the intruders. A hail of bullets pierced through the air but were unable to subdue the attackers or slow them down. They rushed across the scene like forces of nature, rapidly weaving through most of the barrage of bullets while reflecting the rest with their arm blades, leaving behind blinding sparks of burning light, and gradually one-by-one, lifeless bodies in their wake.
"Holy SHIT!" one Kang Tao bodyguard roared as he witnessed the ensuing massacre.
He was next to be killed as two out of the five attackers darted towards him from both sides. The man spun on his heel and desperately unleashed a spray of gunfire from his high calibre rifle in a revolving circle in the hopes of hitting at least one of them. His hopes were dashed as one intruder bloodily severed his two arms from behind with expertly executed vertical slices, forcing him to drop his rifle and scream helplessly for mercy, before the other attacker silenced him with the removal of his head from his body.
The balcony's floor ran red with blood, which had already stained Songbird's suit as she had collapsed, her shaking legs incapable of supporting her. She frantically crawled backwards on the floor as she watched body after body slump and hit the ground, her vision blurring with panic and her heart getting caught in her throat. Lina remained valiantly on her feet in front of Songbird, her accuracy with a rifle proving to be significantly better than her murdered squad members as her gunfire managed to hit the approaching attackers several times, even managing to land a headshot on one of them, dropping him to the ground.
The remaining attackers were unfazed, however, and finally managed to catch Lina as she attempted to create more distance between them. One assassin connected his foot with Lina's stomach, sending her backwards and onto her knees, then wrapped his hand around her neck and lifted her off of the ground, choking her. Her body started to contort, forcing her to lose grip of her weapon, as she was being strangled.
The colour in her face gradually began to drain. Her eyes were widened. Her mouth opened and closed again and again in a feeble attempt to breathe, but to no avail. The assassins converged into a circle, surrounding Songbird, and the man choking the life out of Lina slowly lowered his head to gaze at the real target. His eyes, along with his accomplices, glowed bright red. Gleaming metal from excessive cyberware poked out of their skin, their outfits torn up and unrecognisable after the damage they had received in the slaughter.
"One must pay one's dues, Song So Mi." he whispered.
The other intruders began to advance, step by step, closer to Songbird. Their retractable blades unravelled out of their compartments one final time, poised to deliver their target a swift death.
Songbird sobbed, her heart racing so rapidly it was at risk of bursting out of her chest, sweat running down her cheeks, the deafening sound of gunfire still ringing agonisingly in her ears, her vision now blurred to the point she was nearly blinded. All she could see were murky, oily living shadows standing above her, their mantis blades like scythes ready to inflict eternal oblivion.
There was no time to think.
There was no time to react.
There was no time to hesitate.
Songbird raised her left arm and outstretched her hand.
Then clenched her hand into a fist.
A cacophony of shrieking and wailing filled the air in an instant, not from any Kang Tao bodyguard, but from the assassins. In perfect, demonic synchronisation, their bodies lurched back, their postures became rigid and frozen, and they could only scream as crackles of otherworldly power shocked their systems and comprehensively fried them, sparks of dark lightning coloured pure black and red enveloping them all in Songbird's eyes.
Songbird kept her hand firmly clenched until their screams were finally lost to the wind, their corpses piling on top of each other on the floor, one by one. Even once she had let go and opened her hand, she could still feel the presence of the foreign, alien power she had invoked, crawling and writhing inside of her own system, as well as the very fibre of her skin.
It took Songbird an eternity to return to her senses. When she did, she saw a gasping Lina slowly picking herself up off the ground. Lina tenderly held her own neck, coughing and wheezing heavily as she was once more allowed to breathe air, her pale skin becoming rejuvenated with its missing colour.
The bodyguard stared at Songbird, then to all of her fallen allies, then to the deceased assassins, then finally back to Songbird.
"Arasaka…they found you…" Lina spoke with a severely strained voice, every word clearly a pained struggle. "But…what…the fuck…was that…?"
"I…" Songbird muttered.
With hesitation, Songbird gazed at her own trembling hand, a single stray tear rolling down her bloodstained cheek.
"I have to get out of here."
As V passed by security and through the doors to the Afterlife, a recognisable wave of pulsating music and intoxicating energy washed over him. The club was awash with vibrant neon hues and the air thick with a mix of cigarette smoke, perfume, the heady scent of alcohol, and animated discussions of business. The Afterlife's reputation remained immutable as the gathering spot of mercs and fixers who had killed and crawled their way up to the big leagues, seasoned players raring to get some drinks in their system, then pump lead into whoever needed killing that day.
Reaching the bar, Claire, the enthusiastic bartender, held court. Her sharp eyes immediately caught V out of the flock of mercenaries.
"V!" Claire cheered, cutting straight through the cacophony of voices. "Can I get you anything?"
V smiled at her but shook his head. "Not today. Supposed to be meeting with Rogue. She free?"
"Don't think so, she's talking to someone right now—a guy in a fancy suit. Stuck out like a sore thumb when he waltzed in here."
"Fancy suit?" V repeated. "Huh, that's probably my cue. We're supposed to talk to a client together."
"Oh yeah?" Claire chirped as she wiped a shot glass clean with a worn out cloth, nodding her head in Rogue's direction. "Go on then, don't let me keep you! Just make sure you come back here when you're done talking. Been a while since you showed your face here, I'm fixing you a drink tonight—end of discussion."
"Roger that." V chuckled.
With a playful grin, he gave Claire a mock salute before weaving his way through the maze of tables and patrons towards the plush couch where Rogue sat. In his stride, V turned his head to the right as Johnny materialised and walked alongside him, a fresh new virtual cigarette in hand.
"Remember, V." Johnny's voice cut through the air, cool and collected. "It doesn't matter that you're desperate—don't let it show. You want something from him, but remember, he's here because he wants something from you too. Keep that balance." With that advice, Johnny took a long drag from his cigarette, disappearing into a thick haze of smoke.
Without uttering a word, V nodded in acknowledgment to the vanished rockerboy, and made his way toward Rogue's favoured corner of the club, suppressing his quaking nerves to the best of his ability.
Sat at a couch and bathed in the soft glow of overhead coloured lights, Rogue awaited the mercenary, and her eyes lit up as she noticed V approach. Her gaze was sharp and penetrating, framed by elegantly styled grey hair that was artfully parted to one side, a bold yellow shirt emblazoned with the word 'SURVIVE' making her difficult to fade away into any crowd. Her wrinkled face showed the wear and tear of the mercenary life she once lived and stood as a testament to what she must have endured to still be alive—and ruling the Afterlife, no less.
"V, you're here." she remarked quietly.
"Sorry I'm late, mind if I join the party?" V answered, turning to stare at the man sitting opposite from Rogue.
The man sat ensconced on a plush leather couch, exuding an aura of calm and calculated composure. His dark hair was impeccably framed, dressed in a meticulously tailored black suit that boasted an exorbitant price tag and skilled craftsmanship, the dark hue of the fabric contrasting greatly with the cold pallor of his skin. His most prominent feature were his eyes—bright, glowing orbs of electric blue that seemed to gaze directly into V's soul.
Despite his lavish attire and ever-glowing pair of eyes, the man paradoxically exuded an air of understated simplicity and unassuming charm. His demeanour was disarmingly relaxed, almost unsettlingly so, as he reclined casually into the plush cushions of the couch. A seemingly innocent smile played upon his lips.
"Vincent, it's such a pleasure to finally meet you in the flesh. Big fan." he murmured, his voice a velvety whisper that seemed to reverberate inside the mercenary's very thoughts.
V felt a deathly chill run down his spine, his muscles tensing involuntarily and a wave of apprehension washing over him as the enigmatic man had immediately taken charge of the conversation from the start by uttering his real name.
And the man's next words hung in the air like a plague.
"Do you think you could free a caged bird for me?"
