Chapter 3: Ashamed

Graduating from Arasaka Academy was an empty milestone for Vincent. It wasn't a moment of pride or accomplishment, just another box ticked in a long list of inevitable outcomes. He'd always known he would finish at the top of his class—anything less would have been a failure, a crack in the armor he had built around himself. It was likely the reason Counterintel had chosen him for their ranks, or perhaps it was something deeper. He was their perfect recruit: no family, no attachments, no loose ends. A man who could disappear into the shadows and leave nothing behind, not even a memory.

At seventeen, Vincent was one of the youngest agents in Counterintel's history. Though he wasn't raised by the corporation, he had still become something they valued—a ghost with no past and, more importantly, no future outside of Arasaka's grasp.

His first mission wasn't the initiation most agents dreamed of. There was no glory, no test of tactical genius in the field. Instead, it was a cold, calculated order—an assassination of one of their own. A high-ranking Arasaka executive suspected of selling company secrets to rival corporations. It was a delicate operation, one that required discretion and precision, not brute force. Vincent knew there was no room for mistakes. Arasaka didn't tolerate failure, and for a new recruit like him, there would be no second chances.

As he inserted the shard, the details were laid out in front of him—schematics of the building, the executive's schedule, every possible route in and out of the target's penthouse. Vincent absorbed it all without a word, his mind already mapping out every move he would make. He wasn't nervous. This wasn't the type of mission that required emotional involvement. It was just a task, something to complete efficiently and without a trace. In and out, no complications.

He remembered the feeling that washed over him as he left the briefing. It wasn't fear, or even anticipation—it was clarity. The world had simplified itself into one objective: eliminate the target, and do it cleanly. If there was any uncertainty, it was buried deep within him, locked away with the rest of his past.

This wasn't a trial to prove his worth. In Arasaka's eyes, his worth had already been decided long before the mission. They had made him, and now they were testing their creation.

And he was determined not to fail.

His hands were stained with blood. No matter how much he scrubbed, they never felt clean. Wash. Wash. Wash. The water swirled crimson, but it didn't help. It never did. He stood over the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror—hollow, empty eyes stared back. A man, or what was left of one. He called himself a machine, something incapable of feeling. But if that were true, why couldn't he stop the gnawing in his gut? The tightening in his chest?

Machines don't worry. They don't think. They don't feel.

He wanted to believe it.

"PLEASE DON'T DO IT, I HAVE A FAMILY!" the suit had screamed, his voice cracking under the weight of fear and desperation. Vincent barely flinched. Pleas like this were standard. Counterintel had drilled it into him from the beginning: targets would say anything to save their lives. They'd lie, manipulate, even beg. It was just another tactic. They weren't people anymore—just obstacles. Loose ends that needed tying up.

He shrugged off the man's words, dead to them before they even reached his ears. A family? If he had one, he shouldn't have gotten mixed up in this kind of business in the first place.

The trigger gave way with ease, as it always did. A shot. A life snuffed out. Silence fell around him like a thick fog. V felt... nothing. Just like before. Like always. The emptiness was familiar, almost comforting. It was proof that he wasn't human anymore. He was just a tool. A weapon.

But then his comm buzzed, shattering the quiet. A child's voice crackled through the static.

"Dad? When are you coming home?"

Vincent froze. His breath hitched in his throat. He had killed a father. Someone in Night City would never see theirs again. A child—innocent, waiting, oblivious—was now alone. Just like he had been. His hand hovered over the comm as the kid's voice came through again, small, confused.

"Dad...? Are you there?"

The words echoed in his mind. He clenched his fists, knuckles white under the flickering bathroom light. The water was still running, washing over his bloodstained hands, but the redness wouldn't stop. It clung to him, suffocating him. Wash. Wash. Wash. The sound of the child's voice mingled with the rushing water. It wasn't just the father's blood anymore—it was everyone he'd ever killed, pooling in the basin. He could feel it now, the weight of it all pressing on him.

Someone would end up like me.

Then, a familiar tone cut through his spiraling thoughts—a call from his superior. V straightened, steeling himself, wiping his hands on the towel, trying to pull himself together. The icy detachment he clung to was all he had left.

He tapped the comm, his voice flat and unfeeling, as though the last few moments hadn't happened.

"Is it done?" The voice on the other end was robotic, cold. His superior was just another faceless part of the machine, hidden to protect himself and Arasaka.

"Yes. The traitor is dead." His voice was hollow, a dead thing in itself. I'm finally becoming what I thought I was all along.

"Good. Your next contract will be given to you tomorrow." The line went dead as abruptly as it had begun.

V stood there, staring at his reflection once more. The blood wasn't on his hands anymore—it was in his soul. He couldn't wash that away. He thought he had buried whatever was left of the human inside him, but now... he wasn't sure. The man he once was clawed at the walls he had built, a flicker of guilt gnawing at the edges of his mind.

Tomorrow would bring another contract. Another kill. Another weight on his conscience.

But for now, V dreaded the silence.

Kill. Kill. That was all the last four years had been. Each mission stripped away a piece of V, and with every life he took, Arasaka gained more control. They had shaped him into a killing machine, a weapon honed to perfection. His thoughts, his emotions—whatever remained of them—had been ground into dust by the relentless demands of the corporate machine. Obedience came naturally now, like breathing. Remorse? He couldn't even remember what that felt like.

When he was reassigned to Night City, a part of him had hoped—though he didn't know why—that things would be different. But Night City was a graveyard for hope, and the Fourth Corporate War was its tombstone. Arasaka was knee-deep in the conflict, and V had become their blade in the dark, cutting down anyone who dared stand against them.

Days blurred into each other—missions back-to-back with no rest, no reprieve. Each assignment was more dangerous than the last. Suicide missions, they called them, though for him, they never were. His survival was Arasaka's expectation. Somehow, he always made it out alive, completing his tasks with surgical precision. His body was pushed to its limits, but he never faltered. V had become more than human—he had become their perfect tool.

Nothing could stop him.

Not even the high-ranking Militech official Arasaka had marked for death. The man was holed up in a fortress surrounded by an army of bodyguards, but none of that mattered. V had infiltrated before they even realized he was there, his every movement precise and lethal. His silenced pistol spat death from the shadows, while his combat knife whispered across throats, leaving nothing but gurgling silence in its wake.

The Militech official stood behind the reinforced glass of his office, watching with morbid fascination as V tore through his men like they were nothing. Each strike was deliberate, practiced. A shot to the head for the distant targets, a swift, surgical cut to the throat for the close ones. Efficient.

"Like a machine..." the Militech official muttered to himself as he observed the carnage. His bodyguards, men trained and paid to protect him with their lives, were falling one by one. Panic began to set in as V advanced, his movements too fast, too precise for them to counter. He moved like a phantom, slipping between cover and bodies, never missing a beat. No wasted motion. No hesitation.

"Let him tire himself out," the official thought, clutching onto the hope that this human killing machine had limits. He still had his elite bodyguard waiting in the wings—his trump card. If V could just be slowed down, weakened, his head of security could deal with the intruder.

But V never slowed.

The last bodyguard lunged at him, swinging a heavy baton, thinking brute strength would win out where the others had failed. V sidestepped the attack effortlessly, driving his knife into the man's side with one fluid motion. He twisted the blade, severing arteries, and let the bodyguard crumple to the ground without so much as a second glance.

The Militech official's heart raced as he realized his plan had failed. This wasn't just some overconfident merc; this was something else entirely. A storm had blown through his defenses, and now there was nothing left between him and death.

V's eyes locked on the official through the glass. Cold. Empty. Not a man, but a weapon—sharp, lethal, unfeeling. For the first time, the Militech executive felt a flicker of genuine fear. He reached for his comm to call for reinforcements, but V was already there, moving with inhuman speed.

The glass shattered as V launched through it, tackling the executive to the ground in one smooth motion. The man gasped, struggling beneath him, but V's hand was already on his throat, squeezing just enough to silence any screams.

"Please... I'll give you anything," the official gasped, his voice hoarse and desperate. "Money... information... anything!"

V's expression didn't change. He'd heard it all before—the same empty promises, the same desperate pleas for mercy. He ignored the man's words, as he always did, his grip tightening around the official's throat.

"Do you have a family?" V asked quietly, his voice a low monotone.

The official blinked, caught off guard by the question. "W-what?"

"A family. Do you have one?" V repeated, his eyes boring into the man's.

The official nodded frantically, tears welling up in his eyes. "Yes! Yes, I have a family! A wife, two kids... please, don't—"

V didn't let him finish. He pressed the silenced pistol against the man's forehead and pulled the trigger. A single shot. Clean, efficient.

The official's body went limp, his life snuffed out in an instant.

V stood up, wiping the blood from his hands on the dead man's suit. He didn't feel the guilt anymore. He had killed fathers, husbands, brothers—it was all the same. They were just targets. Loose ends.

As V left the blood-soaked office, his comm buzzed. He tapped it, and his handler's voice came through, cold and detached as ever.

"Good work," the handler said. "Return to your safehouse. You've got a new contract waiting."

V said nothing, ending the call with a flick of his wrist. Another contract. Another kill. It never stopped.

But this was his life now.

There was no turning back.

V returned to his safehouse, a place that echoed the paradox of his existence. It was both meticulously clean and unnervingly cluttered—a testament to the chaotic life he led. He spent only fleeting moments here, slipping in and out like a shadow, often on the rare off days that felt more like an illusion than a respite. The minimalist decor and sterile surfaces contrasted sharply with the tangled web of emotions he struggled to keep at bay.

He made his way to the kitchen table, where the shard always lay, waiting for him like a silent sentinel. As he picked it up, a flicker of unease twisted in his gut. He didn't know how it got there—maybe it was a form of psychological manipulation from Arasaka, a reminder that they were always watching, always waiting. The company had a talent for turning mundane objects into tools of paranoia, and this shard was no exception. It held his fate within its digital grip.

With a steadying breath, he inserted the shard into his neural port. Information surged into his mind, stark and unyielding. Alpha Priority. The text flashed ominously, a command that overrode all else. He felt the familiar weight of dread settle in his chest. This wasn't just another assignment; it was an order from the top—a signal that he was being watched closely.

The details unfolded before him, and his focus sharpened. His target was an FIA agent codenamed Songbird. He felt a slight flicker of recognition but brushed it aside; his job wasn't to form attachments. Alongside her, several other agents were named, but Songbird was his primary objective.

The shard revealed her real name: Song So Mi. A rising star within the FIA, she had been groomed to become their perfect netrunner. The brief overview included notes on her skills, her recent activities, and the status of her mentor, Solomon Reed, who was also marked as a secondary target. But V had no interest in Reed; his mission was singular and clear: eliminate Song So Mi.

The reasoning behind the contract was straightforward: her death had been faked—a standard operational procedure for FIA agents. Recruitment failed. Capture or kill to ensure she doesn't fall back into FIA hands.

V shook his head, the shard clattering softly as he pulled it from his port. He had all the information he needed, the justification for the kill etched in his mind. Another casualty in his climb up the corporate ladder, another life snuffed out in the name of ambition.

He steeled himself, pushing down the brief flicker of hesitation that tried to surface. This was the path he had chosen—a road paved with the bodies of those deemed expendable. In the end, Song So Mi was just another name on a list, another target in a world where morality had long since faded away. He had a job to do, and he would do it with the precision that had become second nature. There would be no room for doubts; the ghosts of the past could wait.

David awoke with a gasp, his heart racing as remnants of V's life flickered through his mind—years compressed into mere hours. It felt surreal, as if he had lived through a lifetime in a dream. Disoriented, he shook himself awake, only to realize he was in a room that wasn't his own. The soft light filtering through the curtains illuminated the unfamiliar surroundings, revealing subtle details he hadn't noticed before: the vibrant art on the walls, the scattered tech gear, and the faint scent of something sweet wafting from the kitchen.

Turning his head, he found Lucy beside him, still lost in her slumber. Panic surged within him as he grappled with the nagging realization that he didn't even remember what had transpired the night before. Had they...? His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, a wave of self-consciousness washing over him as he mentally replayed the evening.

In that moment, Lucy stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open for a brief second before she tightened her grip around him, pulling him closer. David struggled at first, caught between the urge to slip away and the warmth of her embrace. But soon, he surrendered to her hold, his breath steadying as he relaxed against her. "Good boy…" she murmured sleepily, her voice soft and content. David could have stayed like this forever, enveloped in the tranquility of the moment. And for a while, he did, letting the peacefulness of her presence wash over him.

When he finally woke again, sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. David found himself free from Lucy's grasp; her peaceful form remained cocooned in blankets. Taking advantage of the quiet, he quietly slipped out of her room and into the living area.

To his surprise, V was already there, a familiar presence settled into the couch. He looked up and waved, a knowing smile crossing his face, as if he had been expecting David.

"I was going to wake you earlier, but I figured you and her needed that," V said, his tone casual but laced with a deeper understanding.

David felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment again. "You know what happened last night?" he stammered, his voice trembling with unease.

V chuckled, shaking his head. "Not my place to say, choom. You can ask her later."

"Uh... you… nevermind." David started, then abruptly stopped himself, realizing he was more interested in V's experience than any awkwardness from the night before. "That dream... was it you?" His voice wavered, uncertainty creeping in as he questioned whether what he had seen was real.

"Yes," V replied, his voice steady and resolute. "I was an Arasaka agent for years—the worst years of my life. The worst years of anyone's life who joins Arasaka."

David's stomach twisted at the implications of V's words. "I won't hide it; I was Arasaka's lapdog for eleven years of my life. I wager right now, I'm out there doing the same thing—but from behind an office desk." The bitter truth settled heavily between them, and David shifted uncomfortably, contemplating the realities of their world, the choices they made, and the toll it took on their souls.

Hearing V's experiences—his struggles, his regrets—felt like a mirror reflecting David's own fears. The two of them were caught in the same web of violence and betrayal, each haunted by their pasts.

"How did you leave?" David asked, curiosity overcoming his apprehension.

V hesitated, a shadow crossing his face as memories flickered behind his eyes. "I was forced out. A contract went wrong, and my superiors blamed it all on me. The only reason I survived that was due to Jackie."

"Jackie?" David repeated, intrigued. "He's the one?"

"Yeah," V replied, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his tone. "He had a way of keeping me grounded. He always dreamed of becoming a Night City legend. In a way, he did—he was one of the motherfuckers who stole something from Arasaka Tower and 'killed' Emperor Saburo." V laughed, but the sound was tinged with sadness.

"You would've liked him," V said, a bittersweet smile on his face. "But later, you'll meet him. After all, we have to save his ass after yours."

David nodded, feeling a mixture of trust and trepidation. Even after everything, he felt a strange kinship with V. The memories they shared were questionable, yet they were bound together now, both of them navigating the treacherous landscape of Night City. David realized that V had stakes in his life; after all, V couldn't do anything without him.

"Whatever happens, we've got each other's backs," David said, determination hardening in his voice.

"Exactly," V replied, his gaze unwavering. "In this city, it's all we can rely on."

V suddenly vanished as the door creaked open, revealing Lucy, clad in nothing but a loose-fitting shirt that barely reached mid-thigh. She was breathing heavily, her eyes darting around the apartment, searching frantically until they landed on David. The moment she saw him, the tension in her shoulders eased.

"Thank God, you're still here!" she exclaimed, rushing toward him. Her expression was a whirlwind of emotions—relief mixed with something deeper, something David couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Uh, I—I was just grabbing something to drink," David stammered, still standing awkwardly by the couch. The sight of her, so frazzled and yet so close, caught him off guard. He felt an inexplicable tug in the air between them, like the intimacy of the moment had drawn tighter without warning.

Before he could gather his thoughts, Lucy closed the distance between them, her grip unexpectedly firm as she grabbed his hand and tugged him toward her bedroom. "Come on," she said, urgency in her voice.

David barely had time to react before she tossed him onto the bed with surprising ease, a playful yet intense look on her face. "You're going to stay right there, like a good pillow," she commanded, climbing in beside him and wrapping her arms tightly around his torso. He could feel the warmth of her body, the heat seeping into him, dissolving the last vestiges of his earlier tension.

"Lucy, what's going on?" he asked, voice softer now, though his curiosity was growing. "You seemed... really freaked out."

Lucy's grip on him tightened slightly, and she rested her head against his chest. "I just... I needed to make sure you were real," she whispered, her voice a little less steady now. "I wasn't sure if last night was a dream."

"Last night..." David trailed off, trying to push through the fog of his memories. There were fragments—flashes of them laughing, talking, and something more intimate—but it all felt hazy, like the details refused to settle into place. "Lucy, you're amazing, but... why me?" The question slipped out before he could stop himself. His heart raced as he awaited her response, unsure of what he'd just stirred up.

She lifted her head, her gaze locking onto his. Her eyes glistened with a sincerity that sent a jolt through him. "It was a feeling," she said, her voice steady but tender. "Call it love at first sight, maybe. Something about you just... it felt right." She smiled softly, pulling him closer, her body molding against his as if they'd known each other for far longer than just a few days.

David hesitated, then returned the embrace. He could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her skin against his, and for a moment, he let himself sink into that closeness. But questions swirled in his mind, lingering just beneath the surface.

"David..." Lucy's voice broke the silence, her tone lighter now, almost mischievous. She shifted to look at him with bright eyes. "How about you move in?"

His heart skipped a beat. Move in? His mind raced, trying to reconcile her words with the surrealness of the moment. They'd only just met, and yet something in the back of his mind—no, in his gut—urged him to agree. It felt like the right decision, even though logic screamed otherwise.

His mouth seemed to move on its own. "I would love to," he heard himself say. He wasn't entirely sure if it was him speaking, or if something else—V, perhaps—was pulling the strings. Still, it felt oddly natural, as though this was where he was meant to be.

Lucy grinned, her face lighting up with a mix of joy and relief, before she settled back into the comfort of his arms. They stayed like that, nestled together, drifting in and out of sleep, for what felt like hours.

David awoke to the light filtering through the curtains, but the warmth beside him had vanished. He blinked, momentarily disoriented, before realizing that Lucy was no longer in bed. He stretched, feeling the absence of her presence keenly, and glanced at the clock—it was almost two in the afternoon.

Late for class, he thought instinctively. But then he remembered: there were no classes anymore. He had dropped out, after everything that had happened.

With a yawn, he threw on a shirt and made his way out of the bedroom, following the faint sounds coming from the kitchen. The smell of something cooking greeted him as he entered the room. Lucy stood at the stove, focused, stirring something in a pan.

David watched her for a moment, his lips curling into a soft smile. "You cook?" he asked, more out of surprise than anything else.

Lucy glanced back at him, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Yeah, had to pick it up when I was living alone. Though, I won't claim I'm any kind of expert," she added with a chuckle.

David sat down at the small table, watching her move with a casual grace. He couldn't help but feel like this moment, this quiet domesticity, was something he could get used to. "I'm sure it'll taste great, whatever it is," he said, trying to sound encouraging.

She smirked, placing a plate in front of him. "You trying to butter me up already?"

He chuckled, a little flustered. "Uh, no... just being honest."

"Sure, sure," she teased, rolling her eyes. "Eat up, gonk."

As David dug into the food, he couldn't shake the strange sense of belonging that had settled over him. It didn't make sense, none of it did, but for the first time in a long while, that didn't seem to bother him.

They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments, the clinking of forks on plates the only sound filling the room. David, his mind still lingering on the events of the past few days, couldn't shake the growing sense that his life had taken a sharp, irreversible turn. He glanced at Lucy, who seemed content as she ate, her gaze occasionally flicking over to him with an unreadable expression.

Finally, she broke the silence. "So, David... what's next for you?" she asked, her tone casual, but her eyes holding a deeper curiosity. "I mean, what are your plans now that?"

David paused, setting his fork down. The weight of her question hung in the air. He hadn't really thought about it in any great detail until now, but the answer came to him with startling clarity, as though it had been resting just beneath the surface, waiting to be said.

"I'm gonna become a solo," he said, his voice steady with resolve. "An edgerunner."

For a moment, Lucy didn't react. Then, her smile faltered. She placed her fork down slowly, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around the handle. "An edgerunner, huh?" she repeated, her tone losing its warmth, slipping into something colder, more serious. "David, do you even know what that means? Edgerunners... they live by how they die. It's nothing but running headlong into death. You can't outrun it forever."

David held her gaze, unflinching. There was a new edge in his eyes—something hardened, like an ember reignited. It was a resolve that hadn't been there before, a determination that felt larger than him. "I'm not gonna die," he said, his voice low but filled with conviction. "I can't."

Lucy's breath caught for a moment. I can't. The words hit her like a wave of deja vu, memories of the past she'd lived through flooding her mind. He had said something eerily similar back then, before everything went wrong. Her heart clenched.

"David…" she whispered, her voice softer now, tinged with something fragile. Slowly, she reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his hand. She hesitated, as if weighing her next words carefully, before speaking. "You can't do this alone. You're throwing yourself into a world that eats people alive. And... I can't let that happen to you. Not again."

David blinked, confused by the intensity in her voice. "Again?" he asked, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean, again?"

Lucy flinched inwardly, realizing she had let too much slip. But the truth had been gnawing at her since they met—since she traveled back to this moment. The world had given her a second chance, a chance to rewrite the future, and she wasn't going to lose him this time.

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper, her gaze searching his face. "If you really want this life—if being a solo is what you're set on... then I'll help you. But you need me. You can't walk into this without knowing what you're getting yourself into."

David's eyes softened, taken aback by the emotion in her voice. He glanced down at her hand resting on his and then back at her. "Help me?" he echoed, the confusion still evident in his tone. "Why would you want to help me?"

Lucy's lips curved into a small, knowing smile, though there was sadness behind it. "Because you're not like the others," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "There's something different about you, David. I saw it the moment we met." Her eyes flickered with unspoken memories—memories of a time he couldn't possibly remember, but she did. "And if you're going to throw yourself into this world, I want to make sure you survive it. I've seen what happens... and I can't—" She broke off, her voice catching, before continuing more firmly. "I can't lose you. Not again."

David's chest tightened, sensing the weight of something much bigger behind her words. She was talking as if she'd already lost him once. His heart raced, torn between the growing bond he felt with her and the haunting question lingering just out of reach—what exactly had Lucy experienced?

He swallowed hard. "Lucy… what aren't you telling me?"

She hesitated again, looking down, as if struggling with the decision of how much to reveal. But she wasn't ready to tell him. Not yet. Not the whole truth. Not when things were still fragile. "You'll know in time," she whispered, her tone steady but guarded. "But for now, let's focus on making sure you're ready."

David leaned back, processing her words, the weight of her emotions pressing into him. It felt like there was a whole history between them—one he couldn't fully understand yet, but something deep inside him trusted her. Trusted that she wanted to protect him.

He sighed, rubbing his hands together. "Alright," he said, finally meeting her eyes. "What's the catch? What are your conditions?"

Lucy's expression shifted, the relief in her eyes palpable, though her tone remained serious. "First," she began, her voice firm, "you will work with me. I'll train you, teach you what it means to be an edgerunner, and I'll make sure you don't get in over your head. We'll figure this out together. But you have to trust me. Completely."

David nodded, knowing she was right. He'd be walking blind into something that could get him killed if he tried to go it alone. He wasn't naive enough to think he could handle Night City's underworld without help. And if Lucy was offering to guide him, he wasn't about to turn that down.

"Alright," he agreed quietly. "I trust you."

Lucy's expression softened, but there was still that lingering intensity in her eyes—the weight of something unsaid. She exhaled slowly, as if the conversation had taken more out of her than she'd let on. "Good," she whispered, her voice quieter now, but resolute. "I won't let you die, David. Not while I'm around."

Her words carried a weight beyond the immediate promise—a personal vow that stretched beyond time itself. David could sense that, even if he didn't fully understand it. He offered a faint smile, but in the back of his mind, the shadows of the past still loomed. The unshakable feeling that he'd already faced death once—and that he had no intention of doing it again—clung to him like a ghost.

As they sat in the quiet aftermath of their conversation, David couldn't shake the sense that something monumental had shifted between them. He didn't know how or why, but Lucy's presence in his life felt like a lifeline—like she'd seen something he hadn't, something he wasn't ready to face yet.

David stood in front of Lucy's apartment, his decision made. The weight of her offer hung heavily in his mind, and though a part of him questioned the speed at which everything was moving, another part—the larger part—felt a strange sense of calm. He had no idea why he trusted her so completely, why he felt like she was his way forward, but he just did. Something in the way she spoke, the urgency in her voice, the flicker of emotions she tried to hide—it all resonated with him, even if he couldn't explain it.

"Ready?" Lucy asked, pulling on a light jacket as she glanced at him.

"Yeah," David replied, a bit more confidently than he felt. "I'll just go pack up some stuff from my place. Shouldn't take long."

She nodded, her expression neutral, but her eyes lingered on him for a moment before David left and exited the apartment building. As he exited the building and stepped into the chaos of Night City's streets, the cool night air hit David's face, bringing with it the sharp sounds of distant gunfire, the hum of traffic, and the low, pulsing rhythm of neon lights. He had grown up in this city, knew its every corner and crack, but now everything felt different, like the whole world was changing around him—and he was standing right in the middle of it.

V's voice cut through the silence as they walked. "So, you really trust her, huh?" V's tone was casual, but there was an edge of skepticism that David couldn't ignore.

David glanced at him, his digital form walking beside him in the crowd, invisible to everyone but him. "Yeah, I do," David said simply.

V shook his head, his lips pulling into a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "Blind trust will get you killed in this city, choom. You should know that by now."

David felt a pang of doubt but quickly pushed it down. "It's not like that," he replied. "I just... I don't know how to explain it. I feel like she's looking out for me. I mean, she offered to help, to train me."

"Help, huh?" V's voice was quiet, but his words were laced with something darker, something warning. "Look, kid, I'm not saying she's bad news. But Night City's got a way of making even the best people do some fucked-up shit. Don't let your guard down. Trusting people too much around here... it usually doesn't end well."

David sighed, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets as they neared his apartment block. He didn't have a good answer for V. Part of him knew what the man said was true—trust was a dangerous commodity in Night City. But Lucy... she was different. He felt it in his gut, even if he couldn't explain why.

They entered the old, run-down building where David's apartment was. The flickering lights in the hallway cast long shadows on the cracked walls as they made their way to his door. David punched in the code, the door sliding open with a hiss. The place was a mess—clothes strewn about, a couple of empty drink cans on the table, and the faint, stale smell of takeout lingering in the air.

"Home sweet home," V muttered sarcastically as David stepped inside.

Ignoring him, David began gathering his things. He didn't have much—just the essentials. A few changes of clothes, some old tech, and anything else that might be useful. But as he moved around the small apartment, his eyes fell on something that made him stop dead in his tracks. A small urn, resting on the shelf near the holo-picture of his mother. Her ashes.

David swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat as he approached the shelf. His fingers traced the edge of the urn, the cold metal a harsh reminder of everything he'd lost. The holo-picture flickered slightly as he picked it up, his mother's smiling face frozen in time. He stared at the image, a wave of emotions crashing over him.

For a moment, everything felt too heavy—too real. The weight of the world, the decisions he had to make, the path he was about to walk... it all pressed down on him. He glanced back at the urn, then at the picture, his mother's words echoing in his mind.

"And get to the top floor of Arasaka tower! I know you got it in you, Dee."

And here he was, about to step into that very danger she had tried so hard to shield him from.

The sudden buzzing of his holo-device snapped him out of his thoughts. He glanced down to see an incoming call—Arasaka Academy. The principal.

David hesitated, staring at the notification as it blinked on his screen. His thumb hovered over the accept button. Why were they calling him? After everything that had happened, after dropping out, they still had the nerve to contact him?

"Don't," V said sharply, appearing beside him again. "You know they don't want you back. Not after the shit you pulled. They want something else."

David swallowed, his finger trembling over the screen. The image of his mother was still in his peripheral vision, her face watching him, waiting for him to make a choice. V was right—Arasaka never reached out unless they wanted something, and that something usually came with strings attached. Heavy strings.

With a deep breath, David declined the call, tossing the device on the bed as he turned away. His mother's ashes, the holo-picture, the lingering memories... they were all part of his past. And he needed to move forward.

"Good call," V muttered, though there was something almost sad in his voice. "If Arasaka wants you, it's not for a reunion, choom. Remember that."

David nodded silently and resumed gathering his things. As he rifled through a drawer, he found a small data chip—his mom's old savings account. He plugged it into his holo-device, watching as the balance loaded on the screen.

45,000 eddies.

David's eyes widened. He had no idea his mom had saved that much. He stared at the number for a moment, the reality sinking in. He could use this. This could help him, give him a head start. But why hadn't she told him about it?

"Forty-five K," V whistled low. "She was saving for something. You sure it was for you?"

David hesitated, the thought gnawing at him. His mind flashed to the day he found his mom's jacket, the day he discovered the Sandevistan. It hadn't made sense at the time—why she had it, who she was dealing with. Had she been preparing for something? Or was the money for someone else? Someone like... Lucy?

"It's kinda suspicious, don't you think?" V continued, his voice thoughtful. "I mean, the Sandevistan was military-grade. High-end tech like that doesn't just fall into a paramedic's hands. Maybe she had a deal going. Maybe they paid up front… Could it be Lucy?"

David felt a chill crawl up his spine. Was Lucy connected to his mother somehow? The thought lingered in his mind, but he quickly shook it off. No. Lucy was trying to help him now, and that was what mattered. Whatever this was, he would figure it out later.

Without further hesitation, David transferred the 45k into his account. The eddies would give him a head start, maybe enough to get the gear he needed before diving into the world of edgerunning.

"Get what you need and let's bounce," V said. "You don't want to be here when someone starts asking questions."

David nodded, stuffing his few belongings into a bag. After one last glance around the apartment, he picked up the urn containing his mother's ashes, slipping it gently into the bag. He wasn't leaving her behind. Not again.

As he left his apartment for the last time, the weight of the city's chaos settled around him like a second skin. Night City was waiting—hungry, dangerous, and ready to consume anyone who dared to stand in its path. But David wasn't walking into it blind anymore. He had Lucy. He had V. And now, he had a purpose.

Before heading to Lucy's, David made a detour, stopping by one of the city's back-alley markets. The neon lights buzzed overhead, casting an eerie glow on the stalls filled with weapons, implants, and survival gear. He didn't have much time, but he needed to gear up before whatever came next.

"Get something reliable," V said as David scanned the displays. "Something that won't jam when you need it most."

David's eyes flicked over the rows of gear, his heart racing as he picked up a basic but sturdy-looking pistol. It wasn't flashy, but it would do the job.

He gathered a few more essentials—ammunition, a medkit, and a knife. Not much, but enough to keep him alive. As he paid for the gear, he could feel the weight of the eddies draining from his account. It was a sobering reminder that in Night City, survival had a cost. But he was ready.

As he stepped out of the market, the city's lights glaring down on him, David's resolve hardened. He wasn't the same person he was yesterday. He wasn't just running anymore.

He was moving forward.

After David left, the silence settled over Lucy's apartment like a thick fog. She stood by the window for a long time, watching as the neon-soaked streets below pulsed with life, the constant hum of Night City ever-present in the background. Her arms wrapped around her torso, hugging herself lightly as if to ward off the sudden chill that had crept up her spine. She had grown accustomed to the chaos of the city, the way it swallowed people whole and spit them back out. She thought she had steeled herself against caring too much, especially after all she had seen.

But David… He was different.

Lucy bit her lip, her mind wandering back to the way he had looked at her before he left. There had been trust in his eyes, maybe even something more. That made her uneasy. Trust, in this world, was dangerous. It was a weapon as much as any blade or gun. People who trusted too easily often found themselves dead or worse. And David—God, David was already diving headfirst into this life, a path Lucy knew too well. She had seen it destroy people before. Seen it destroy someone she had once cared about deeply.

She had to admit, though, it wasn't just David's blind trust that was unsettling her. There was something else, a nagging suspicion that had been lurking in the back of her mind ever since she first met him. Could he have followed me back? The question echoed through her mind like an accusation.

Lucy's jaw clenched. She shook her head, pushing the thought aside. No. He's just like everyone else here. Lost, desperate, trying to survive.

But that wasn't entirely true, was it? David wasn't like everyone else. There was something different about him, something that went beyond the Sandevistan fused into his spine. The way he carried himself, the way he spoke about death, like he'd already brushed against it and come back somehow. It made her stomach twist. Could he have traveled through time like she had? Could he know more than he was letting on?

She found herself gripping the edge of the counter, her knuckles turning white. But no, David had never mentioned anything. He hadn't questioned her, hadn't looked at her the way someone might if they knew the truth about who she really was and where she had been. If he had joined her on that insane, desperate journey through time, wouldn't he have shown some sign? He had shown no recognition of the subtle changes in her, of the subtle ways this version of her—this version of Night City—was different.

No. If David had traveled through time, he would've said something. Or, at the very least, asked questions. Wouldn't he? She wasn't sure anymore. She had been so careful to hide her own knowledge, to not let slip any details that could hint at the life she had left behind—or, more accurately, the life she had been forced to relive.

But there was something about David, something she couldn't put her finger on. She would confront him later, she decided. When the time was right. For now, she had other matters to deal with.

The sharp ring of her phone shattered the silence, yanking Lucy out of her thoughts. She pulled it from her pocket, her stomach sinking as she saw the caller ID.

Maine.

She hesitated for just a moment before accepting the call, bracing herself for the inevitable storm that was about to hit.

"Lucy," Maine's voice came through, low and pissed. No surprise there. He didn't waste time with pleasantries. "Any information on Gloria?"

Lucy clenched her teeth, her grip tightening on the phone. She had been dreading this call ever since she found out about Gloria's death, but she had hoped she could avoid it just a little longer.

"She's dead."

There was a beat of silence on the other end, and when Maine spoke again, his voice was laced with disbelief. "Dead? What the fuck do you mean dead?"

"I mean exactly what I said," Lucy replied, her voice colder than she intended. "She's gone. Died in a hit-and-run a few days ago."

Maine cursed loudly, a string of expletives that echoed through the receiver. She could picture him pacing wherever he was, fists clenched, face twisted with anger. Gloria had been a trusted connection, and her sudden death had left more than one person scrambling for answers.

"You telling me some random accident took her out?" Maine's voice was incredulous. "That doesn't make any sense. She was supposed to get that Sandevistan for us."

"When you asked for the information, I got it. I have no clue what happened to the Sandevistan." Lucy spoke, pinching her nose. She could feel Maine's anger grow.

"Any children or spouse? Anyone who would've gotten her items?" Maine said a question that Lucy didn't want to answer, but she needed or else Kiwi would.

"One. David Martinez and yes I am watching over him." Lucy gritted out, she hoped Maine wouldn't do anything stupid with that.

"Taking it into your own hands, then keep me updated on this kid. And remember we have our meeting tonight, don't be late."

The call ended abruptly, leaving Lucy standing alone in her apartment, the weight of Maine's anger pressing down on her. She stared at the wall for a moment, letting out a slow breath. She'd known this was coming, but it didn't make it any easier.

After a few seconds, she swiped through her contacts, finding another familiar name.

El Capitan.

She tapped his name, leaning back against the counter as the call connected. The line buzzed twice before a gruff voice answered.

"Lucy. What do you need?"

"I need a gig," she replied, skipping the pleasantries. "Tomorrow, if you've got anything."

There was a brief pause, the sound of him clicking through something in the background. "You're in luck. Got a job that needs handling—scavs holding a hostage. It's a clear-out gig. You up for it?"

Lucy nodded, though he couldn't see her. "Yeah. Send me the details."

"Good. You'll need to be careful, though. Scavs have been extra twitchy lately."

"They're always twitchy."

El Capitan chuckled. "True enough. Job's yours. I'll send the location and the deets."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

The call ended, and Lucy slid her phone back into her pocket, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. The night was closing in, and she had more to deal with than she had anticipated.

But even with the storm brewing—Maine's meeting, this gig—her thoughts drifted back to David. Something wasn't right, and she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than he was letting on.

Could he have followed her back?

She had to confront him about it. Not tonight, but soon. Before it was too late.

And before the city devoured him whole.

Word Count: 8015

Song: Ashamed by HEALTH

Whose song is this song about :shocked_face: ??

This is one of the longest chapters I have even written. So much, let me know how it comes off and more and more questions are beginning guys!!! There's supposed to be more included but V's section came out to be longer than I expected.

As you can tell V's backstory is a corpo tweaked, so expect more reveals of it in flashback sections, hopefully that aren't as long as this one.

Chapters will be out on a weekly basis. And I'll give out the teaser for the next chapter titles.

Next Update: 8/19

Chapter title: I Was Just a Kid

Read and review thanks!