FOURTH_TIMER: 8%

[IMAGE OF A HAND REACHING OUT TO THE SUN DISPLAYED]

CURRENT_STATUS: "Time Comes For All"

ENTRY_DATA:

Do you believe it's possible to transcend this plane of existance and peer into the future, to see everything that it holds?

No, not like that. Put the Glitter down, you gonk.

You've officially set yourself on a different path, one that was never intended for you, like a miracle. But miracles don't exist in Night City, and believing that you're suddenly saved from your fate is exactly how you can get yourself killed. What waits for you on this new path? Salvation? Love? Happiness? Who knows, maybe none of those things. There's no way of knowing, and perhaps that's fine.

"No point in stressing 'bout the future, mano. Get out there and shoot something, ¡ándale!"

As Jackie might've said...

The distant sun rose just beyond the horizon, casting a warm glow over Night City and heralding the beginning of a new day, its rays painting the sky in shades of pink and orange.

V stood opposite a familiar building, feeling refreshed from his meeting with River and Judy the day before. His eyes scanned the bright, flickering blue sign that hung above the entrance: Misty's Esoterica and Chakra Harmonization. The neon lights danced in the early morning air, and V could already smell strange, otherworldly scents of odd perfumes and incense emanating from inside.

Beside him, the digital phantom of Johnny Silverhand stood with his back to the shop, his attention fixated on the racy dollhouse across the street. The large windows displayed curvaceous dolls, their hips swaying seductively and their expert pole dancing attracting the gaze of passersby—and Johnny was, unfortunately, no exception. The late rockerboy leered happily, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he watched the gorgeous, glimmering dolls put on their show.

"Really, Johnny?" V muttered, tearing his gaze away from the sign to glance at his spectral companion.

"Let a dead man enjoy the view—at least until you find them." Johnny chuckled, his eyes never leaving the sultry women.

"Huh? Find what?"

"Your balls." the rockerboy responded monotonously. "You've been staring at that sign for fucking forever. Just go inside. You scared of that occult chick or something?"

"Her name's Misty—and I'm pretty sure you know that." V grumbled, heaving a heavy sigh.

Steeling himself, V finally advanced forward, the phantom rockerboy trailing closely behind him. As he stepped through the threshold of Misty's Esoterica, the intensified scents of burning incense were the first to greet him, wrapping around him like an invisible veil. The fragrant mix of sandalwood, sage, and a hint of something floral was something that the merc found both calming and disorienting at the same time.

The interior was dimly lit, bathed in the soft, flickering glow of candles and the ethereal shimmer of crystal prisms. Shelves lined the walls, brimming with an eclectic assortment of strange items and various esoteric paraphernalia. The space was clearly less of a shop and moreso a home that Misty had crafted for herself.

As his eyes adjusted to the subdued lighting, he spotted a hunched figure leaning over the counter at the far end of the room.

Misty Olszewski looked up from a stack of tarot cards in her hands, revealing herself in full. She was a skinny and pale woman, with short blonde hair that framed her face in a tousled, edgy cut. Her green eyes, lined with very dark eyeliner, seemed to pierce right through the ambient haze of the shop and black lipstick accentuated her lips. She wore an oversized and baggy purple sweater draping loosely over her thin frame. Around her neck, she wore a choker adorned with spikes, and a necklace with a small skull pendant hung just below it. It was all a strikingly beautiful fashion set, and one that V had rarely seen her without.

Misty looked up from the counter as V approached, a warm smile spreading across her lips. "V." she greeted, her voice unbelievably soft and relaxing. "This is a nice surprise."

"Hey, Misty. Been a while—how've you been holding up?" V responded in his stride, pleased to see his friend's face after what felt like an eternity.

"Huh? What do you mean? It hasn't been a while."

V was given pause as he reached the counter. "...say what? I've…been holed up in my apartment for a couple weeks. We…haven't seen each other, right?"

Misty stared at V for a moment, her eyes searching his face. She sighed softly, a mixture of concern and amusement playing across her features.

"Oh, V…" she began, leaning back slightly, "I've been popping into your apartment from time to time, you know? Brought you food, checked on your health, tried to clean the place up even though I knew you'd trash it again. I could tell you were drunk every time I showed up…but I didn't think you were so drunk you didn't even notice me."

V blinked in surprise, taken aback by her revelation. "You're kidding."

Misty chuckled at his reaction, a soft, almost musical sound. "How do you think your fridge kept getting refilled?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

The mercenary began a futile search through his own mind, trying to recall ever seeing Misty in his apartment. His memories from the weeks-long drunken stupor were completely muddled and hazy, a blur of murky, incoherent images. He felt immediate embarrassment as he imagined how he must have acted while blindly intoxicated and belligerent. At the same time, he was deeply grateful that she still chose to take care of him, even at his lowest point.

"Shit…I can't remember anything," he finally admitted, his head hanging slightly low. "Hope I wasn't too much of a pain in the ass. Sorry."

Misty's smile was warm and reassuring. "Nah…it's okay, V. I know you're going through a lot. I'd never hold it against you."

V's expression softened, his embarrassment slowly lessening. "Thanks, Misty. I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it, I'm happy to help."

But as she spoke, Misty's expression began to shift from reassurance to confusion. She started to scan V from top to bottom, her brows furrowing. She quickly found herself baffled by the mercenary's appearance, her lips parting slightly in surprise. His skin was not as terribly pale, his posture once again strong and confident, and the air of an impending death no longer hung over him.

"V…you look…different. Better. A…lot better. " she remarked, her tone a mix of concern and relief.

V shifted uncomfortably. "Uh…you think so?"

"Yeah…" she whispered, her stare intense. "Did you figure something out for your…problem?"

"It's a long story." he hesitantly admitted, meeting her gaze again. "But…yeah, I've found something promising. Gonna keep looking into it—might really be a cure at the end of all of it."

"That's great! I'm glad to hear that, I really am. You look the best you have in ages."

"Heh…really?"

"Mhm." Misty hummed happily, showing a rare excitement. "There's a light in your eyes again, V. The light of hope."

V nodded along somewhat bashfully, unsure whether she was speaking in hyperbole, given her more superstitious beliefs. Misty's excitement was contagious, though, and he could not help but smile in return.

As he stood there, Misty eagerly leaned slightly over the counter and began to expertly shuffle the stack of tarot cards in her hands. "You know…I haven't given you a reading in a while. Would you mind?"

V hesitated, glancing around the counter to the backdoor that led to Viktor's clinic. Not only was time a serious concern, but the merc hardly held any belief in fortune-telling. "I…dunno, Misty. I really need to talk to Vik—"

"Come on, V." Misty insisted, her green eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "It'll only take a minute... and it's not just for your sake. I… want to know where your journey is going too."

V scratched the back of his head and chuckled, finding Misty's concern for him to be strangely touching. Despite his usual scepticism, he leaned forward and rested his hands on the cold, smooth counter opposite his friend. The flickering image of Johnny was still visible beside him, rolling his eyes in silent disappointment, but V paid it no mind. If a round of fortune-telling would ease Misty's worries and sate her curiosity, then he did not mind sparing a moment for her.

"Alright, alright. Hit me, then." V relented, ready to politely ignore whatever the tarot cards had in store for him.

Misty was clearly pleased by his agreement, sparing no time as she pulled four tarot cards from the shuffled deck and held them in her other hand, their intricate backs gleaming under the soft lights of the shop.

Slowly and methodically, she placed the deck back down onto the counter, then prepared to do the same with the four cards she had taken out.

"Okay, let's see…" she muttered in a hushed tone, biting gently in her lower, black lip.

The woman gingerly positioned the first card on the counter and flipped it over, revealing the misshapen, crude imagery on its other side. The card featured a vivid red industrial scene filled with layered metal structures, wires, and machinery. At the centre, bathed in yellow light, a rebel figure strode across a rooftop with an emaciated dog by his side. He seemed to be moving to the left, his right leg positioned over the building's edge, close to plunging off the side while completely oblivious to the danger.

"The Fool…" Misty remarked with burning fascination.

"Oh, great. I got the gonk card." V laughed softly.

Misty was quick to shake her head and correct the mercenary. "No, no. The Fool symbolises the start of a journey, V. It's all of us. We all embark on journeys in our lives—both short and longer ones. This…just means you're about to start a new one. A journey into the strange and unknown—one that will change you forever."

"Uh-huh…"

Misty swiftly placed down and revealed the second card she had drawn.

The second card had a layered abstract background, with the deepest layer being a dark orange shade. Over it, a yellow circle was placed, and in front of that, a black triangle took centre stage. At the bottom of the imagery, a plant-like structure was visible, its jagged branches adorned with small, green and red flames. The most eye-catching part of the card was the upper halves of two skeletons—one emerging from the bottom, gazing upward, and the other descending from the top, looking downward. The skeletons faced each other, their sickeningly long, pointed tongues extending and curving until they touched. While the imagery only made V feel uneasy, Misty seemed especially pleased to see it.

"The Lovers." she announced, her voice tinged with increased curiosity as she shot the mercenary a suspicious look. "Have you finally found that special someone, V?"

V frowned, caught off guard by the unexpected question. "Huh? No?"

"Really? No one close to your heart yet?" Misty pressed, her smile trembling with a mix of hope and mischief. "It's someone who you can't get out of your thoughts… someone who's already changed you, for better or worse. A person with a bond that's unbreakable."

As her description sank in, V found himself involuntarily glancing over at Johnny, the phantom lounging against the counter beside him. Johnny, on the other hand, stubbornly kept his gaze forward, refusing to acknowledge V's look. His face twisted in disgust as he clearly sensed the merc's stare drilling into the side of his non-existent head.

"If you're looking at me right now, I swear I'm gonna fucking lose it." the phantom muttered, his voice laced with annoyance.

V stifled a quiet laugh at Johnny's reaction, then turned back to Misty. "Nah, I don't got anyone like what you're thinking."

"Aw, I see." Misty said, not hiding her disappointment. "But…you'll meet them soon. I'm sure of that now."

Before V could respond again, Misty had already taken the third card from her selection and placed it down onto the surface of the counter.

"Oh!" Misty's eyes widened as she saw the third card, her disappointment immediately washed away by it. "V…it's The Sun."

V found his sight locked on the card the moment it was revealed. A strange feeling seeped through his entire body at the sight of it—a sensation he had not experienced with any other of Misty's cards. Almost possessed, the mercenary moved in closer to study the imagery of the card, taking it off of the counter and holding it in his own hand.

It depicted a cowgirl dressed in white, seated on a gleaming golden motorcycle, silhouettes of several space stations visible behind her. To the mercenary, the appearance of the stations seemed oddly familiar, reminding him of a certain attraction he had seen advertisements of countless times— the illustrious Crystal Palace.

The Crystal Palace was perhaps the most luxurious attraction that could ever be found, orbiting around the planet itself, forever out of reach. As far as V was aware, only those with so much wealth that money seeped out of every pore of their body could hope to afford to visit that space station. V's own fortune he had accumulated from all of his mercenary work, as impressive as it was, paled pathetically in comparison to that level of sheer wealth.

The space stations depicted on the card were set against the backdrop of a brilliantly luminous celestial body, its identity deliberately shrouded in ambiguity with how it was illustrated. The mercenary found himself pondering in silence, uncertain whether the glowing sphere was a distant planet, a moon, or perhaps, in keeping with the card's namesake, the Sun itself. Misty did not miss the flicker of interest that crossed V's face. She gently took the card from his hand, sliding it back into the deck with a practised grace.

"You like that one, huh?" she teased, her voice gentle but probing.

V stubbornly shrugged, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling that had crept up on him. "Uh—weird card. What's it mean?"

Misty's eyes softened as she met his gaze. "It means good things, V." she said, her tone warm and reassuring, but she could tell he needed more than just vague comfort. She paused, considering her words carefully before continuing.

"The Sun represents…clarity, success, and a sense of fulfilment." she explained, her voice steady and calm. "Your future will be about overcoming the darkness, stepping into the light, and finally seeing things for what they truly are. Along the path of The Fool's journey…greatness awaits you."

She let the words hang in the air for a moment, watching as V absorbed them, his expression growing noticeably more hopeful as he listened. Though, as happy as she was to see that glint of hope in his eyes, she knew she had to elaborate.

"But it's also a reminder." she added. "That the light can be blinding. It'll reveal what's hidden— both the good and the bad. The Sun can warm you…or burn you."

V nodded slowly, the weight of Misty's words lingering in his mind. He still was not sure how much stock he put in the reading, or if any of it really mattered, but he could not shake the feeling that maybe—just maybe—there was something to it. His eyes drifted back to Misty's hand, where one final card remained, its back cover still hidden from view.

"Alright… that's the last card, ain't it?" V asked, his gaze fixed on the card, somewhat eager to see what kind of crude imagery he would be shown next.

Misty held the card between her fingers, her expression suddenly unreadable. The air between them gradually became charged, like the moment before a storm, thick with possibility and uncertainty. She did not answer right away, instead letting the silence stretch, as if she was waiting for the universe itself to choose the right moment to reveal the final fragment of the mercenary's impending future.

Just as Misty began to lower the card toward the counter, the tension in the room was abruptly shattered by the sound of the back door swinging open.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped into the dimly lit Esoterica, his presence commanding attention despite the suddenness of his entrance. The man looked to be in his late fifties, with short, greying hair that framed a weathered face marked by years of hard work and experience. His eyes, sharp and focused, were partially obscured by a pair of round, dark-tinted glasses that perched on the bridge of his nose. He wore a blue mechanic's jumpsuit, the fabric worn and faded in places, and an expression of mild annoyance, lips pressed into a thin line as he scanned the room. Traversing the Esoterica from the back, there was an air of familiarity about him, a sense that the man had been inside this particular shop far too many times.

It was Viktor, the ripperdoc—V's ripperdoc, and a man who had patched up countless others in this city, sometimes without asking for anything in return. A living legend, in some people's minds.

The moment had been broken, the suspense evaporating as Misty turned toward him, the card still hovering just above the counter, unrevealed. V had no time or capacity to be frustrated, however, as the daunting task of meeting his own ripperdoc again after weeks away became his one and only concern.

"Misty..." he called out, his voice gruff yet tinged with a sort of fatherly concern. "Are you in here? I'm looking for my-"

Viktor froze in place, rigid and breathless, as his eyes landed on V by the counter, standing just a few feet away.

The tools hanging from his belt jingled slightly as he came to a halt, the casual search for whatever he was looking for completely forgotten. His usually steady hands seemed to tense for a moment, betraying the shock of the unexpected reunion.

The last time they had seen each other, words had been exchanged—heated, bitter words that hung in the air long after they were spoken, born from an argument regarding how the mercenary was dealing with his fatal condition. Viktor's expression was now mostly a blank slate, a mask of practised calm that did not quite conceal the pain beneath. His eyes, typically full of quiet wisdom, searched V's face as if trying to gauge the passage of time and the weight of whatever had happened since their last encounter.

The room seemed to shrink around them, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. The warm, cluttered space of the Esoterica, usually a refuge from the harshness of the city outside, now felt like a pressure cooker, ready to blow at any moment.

V shifted his weight uncomfortably, crossing his arms over his chest as he met Viktor's glare. There was a dash of something in V's eyes—maybe regret, maybe defiance—but he kept his expression as neutral as possible. The mercenary had faced down death more times than he could count, but the sight of Viktor, of the unresolved argument still weighing on them, made him feel exposed in a way that gunfire and blood never could.

Misty, caught between the two stern men, glanced from one to the other, sensing the change in the air. She could feel the tension that had suddenly thickened the room, but she kept silent, letting them navigate the awkward moment on their own.

Viktor finally spoke, his voice gruff and tinged with something that might have been sadness. "V…" he said simply, as if the name itself carried the weight of everything they had not said to each other.

V simply nodded in acknowledgment of the ripperdoc, not trusting himself to speak just yet. The silence stretched on, neither man willing to break it, both wary of what words had to be spoken next.

After what felt like an eternity, Viktor cleared his throat, his expression softening just a fraction, though his eyes still held a guarded look. "Didn't expect to see you here again…not after how you disappeared on us." he murmured, more to himself than to V.

"Yeah, well… wasn't really planning on it." V replied, his voice low and rough, as if the words had been dragged out of him.

Viktor grumbled, still rooted to the spot, choosing carefully how to put what he wanted to say so as to not ignite old flames.

"I…" he began, then stopped, his usual confidence faltering for just a moment. He sighed, a heavy breath that carried the unspoken apology he could not quite bring himself to voice. "Guess it's good you're still kicking."

V's lips twitched in a half-smile, a gesture that was equal parts relief and bitterness. "Yeah, still kicking."

The awkwardness still hung in the air, but it had shifted slightly—less sharp, more like an old wound that was beginning to heal. Viktor finally took a step forward, the moment of paralysis broken, though the weight of their last encounter still lingered in the corners of his mind.

"Now, I'm just wondering how that's even possible." Viktor spoke with more energy in his voice, charged by a spark of intrigue. "The Relic, V…what happened?"

V took in a deep breath and steeled himself, knowing what he would have to recount for his friend.

"Vik…it's a long story."

The mercenary lay motionless on the bench, his body heavy and unyielding against the cold surface beneath him.

His eyes, dull and unblinking, stared up at the blinding overhead lights that washed the room in sterile brightness, their harsh glow reflecting off the metallic surfaces around him. The lights bore down on him, indifferent, casting razor sharp shadows.

Viktor moved with a practised and routine precision, honed by the many years he had spent tending to people in his clinic. He gave the wheeled stool a gentle kick, sending it gliding smoothly across the floor toward the operating bench where V lay. The soft sound of the stool rolling across the floor was the only thing breaking the thick silence that had taken over the room ever since V had recounted his story.

Without missing a beat, Viktor strode across the operating room, his boots making muted thuds on the floor. His eyes were fixed ahead, his expression one of focused determination, though there was an undercurrent of concern beneath it all. Reaching the bench, he slipped onto the stool in one swift, fluid motion.

As he settled in, Viktor reached out for the adjustable monitor suspended just beside the bench. His fingers, steady and sure, grasped the edge of the screen, pulling it down and angling it toward him until it was at eye level. The monitor's soft hum filled the air, displaying a myriad of data—V's vital signs, diagnostic information, and a real-time scan of his extensive cyberware. The cool blue light of the screen bathed Viktor's face, highlighting the deep lines etched into his skin. The marks of stress and exhaustion.

Viktor's eyes narrowed slightly as he scanned the information on the monitor, concentrated and determined. Though, despite his focus on the merc's vitals, he could not help but cast a sidelong glance at V, his expression softening with a flicker of worry.

V, for his part, remained still, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. His mind seemed far away, wondering what his ripperdoc thought of everything that had transpired during the weeks he had been away.

"Mr. Blue Eyes, huh…?" Viktor murmured, the name rolling off his tongue with complete unfamiliarity. His gaze drifted away from the monitor, the cold glow of the screen momentarily forgotten as he processed the odd moniker.

"Yeah…" V replied, his voice carrying a hint of wariness. "You heard of him?"

Viktor scratched at the stubble on his jaw, his fingers absently tracing the lines of his weathered face as he considered the question. After a moment, he shook his head. "No." he finally admitted. "Can't say I have."

"Figures… feels like nobody can tell me anything about him."

"And yet… you took on his job?" Viktor's voice was steady, but there was a clear undercurrent of disapproval, a tone that V had heard more than once in their long acquaintance.

V groaned softly, closing his eyes as he braced himself for the inevitable lecture. He could almost feel Viktor's judgement, as if it were a tangible thing in the room with them. "You told me I was out of time and had to find a cure—and that's what I'm doing."

Viktor did not respond right away, his silence a louder condemnation than any words could have been. When he finally spoke, his tone was utterly flat. "You think this suit can handle the Relic?"

V opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to look at Viktor. The ripperdoc's expression was as inscrutable as ever, but V could sense the concern lurking beneath the surface.

"No." V admitted, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room, "...but he's leading me to the person who can." He paused, searching Viktor's face for any sign of approval, but found none. "I finally found who made this damn thing, Vik. She was one of Arasaka's top netrunners and the lead bioengineer of that… 'Secure Your Soul' bullshit. I've got a name and a face now."

Viktor nodded, but his face remained impassive, the lines around his mouth deepening as he processed what V had said. "Lead bioengineer… huh?" he repeated, his voice tinged with scepticism.

"Yup." V continued, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "Now all I gotta do is nab her from a convoy. Rogue's got a plan cooking, I'm gonna meet my chooms in a couple hours, and we're gonna get her—no matter what. And until then… the program the client gave me will keep me from flatlining."

"Mhm…" Viktor hummed, the sound barely more than a breath. His voice was low and solemn, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered V's words. "The 'NeuroGuard' program, right?"

There was no enthusiasm in Viktor's voice, no hint of approval or even hope. Instead, his face remained grim, the deep wrinkles speaking volumes of his doubts. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Viktor reached for the monitor. His fingers tightened around its edge as he turned it, the screen's soft blue glow casting eerie shadows across his face. He pivoted the monitor until it was facing V, allowing the mercenary to see the torrent of data that had been scrolling across it—the numbers, graphs, and diagnostics. As unfamiliar as V was with the format of what he was reading, he could tell that none of it was even remotely promising.

"NeuroGuard…" Viktor began, his voice passive, as if he were speaking more to himself than to V. His fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the monitor, the sound barely audible in the stillness of the room. "I can see it now. It's a prototype…one of Militech's latest developments. State-of-the-art neuro-cybernetic interface, designed to manage and mitigate the effects of severe neurological trauma. It's supposed to create a kind of firewall in your brain, sectioning off the worst of the damage…slowing it down, keeping the worst of the symptoms at bay."

Viktor's eyes flicked back to the data on the screen, his brow furrowing as he sifted through the information. "From what I'm seeing here, it's…doing its job. Stabilising your neural pathways, dampening the feedback loops that the Relic is causing. Hell…it's impressive work. I've got no clue how your client managed to get his hands on this—must have some serious pull to get something this rare, and this…advanced."

There was a moment of almost grudging admiration in Viktor's voice, a recognition of the sheer sophistication of the program that was keeping V alive. But the moment passed far too quickly.

"But even with all that…" Viktor continued, his tone turning sombre once more, "It's just not enough. The Relic…it's too far gone, V. Too deeply integrated into your system. NeuroGuard's holding the line, sure, but it's a temporary fix—just buying you a little more time. You might be feeling a bit better right now…but your mind is still going."

V's face tightened, his jaw clenching as he absorbed Viktor's words. He had already known, deep down, everything that Viktor was trying to reveal, but pain still struck him as he listened. He truly had been feeling healthier since he had installed the Militech program, temporarily free from the debilitating attacks from the Relic, and had begun to feel the embers of hope burning in his chest again. It was excruciating to be reminded that it would not last long.

"Yeah…I know. It ain't a fix." V whispered, almost biting his lip. "I'm…still dying."

Viktor's expression softened, the hard lines of his face relaxing into something more tender, more human. Perhaps he had seen this look in his patients before—those who knew they were on borrowed time, clinging to the fragile hope that something, anything, could change their fate. The ripperdoc sighed, a sound that was both weary and compassionate, as he shifted slightly on the stool.

"Listen, kid." he spoke, his voice carrying a warmth for the first time in ages. "I'm being straight with you only because…I care. I want you to live—you don't know how much I want that. That's why I just want you to keep pushing. Don't count on this unfinished program to keep you alive."

V turned his head again, surprised to hear his ripperdoc speak so uncharacteristically openly, but Viktor held that gaze, refusing to let the bleakness of the situation consume them both.

"You say you found the bioengineer behind the Relic." Viktor continued, his tone taking on a slightly more optimistic edge. "If that's true…then you're on the right track, V. She's got to know the biochip inside and out—how it's wired into your brain, how it's rewriting your psyche. If anyone is capable of fixing you…it's her."

Unexpectedly, Viktor placed a hand on V's shoulder, and gave a reassuring squeeze before he pulled back. "I won't lie—I'm worried about this woman, your client, the whole job…but I know you can handle yourself."

V looked down at his hands, his fingers flexing slightly as if testing their own strength, their own reality.

He was still himself, but not for long. As much as Viktor had still tried to reassure V, the merc had lost yet another increment of the hope inside his heart.

Was he the only person who truly had faith in the plan?

V looked the other way, hiding his face. "Yeah… yeah, I get it. Thanks, Vik."

Viktor stood, the stool rolling back slightly with the motion, and he gave V one last, steady look, signalling him to finally rise up from the bench. "Don't mention it. You're good to go."

The mercenary slid off the bench in silence, heading toward the clinic's exit, the scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. But V barely noticed it, his mind muddled with murky thoughts. He did not glance back, did not pause to offer Viktor a proper farewell—there was too much churning inside him, too much clouding his mind.

The clinic felt colder, emptier as he walked toward the stairs. He was almost at the door when he heard it—Viktor's voice, quiet and raw, cutting through the haze of his thoughts like a knife.

"Find a way… kid. I'm not ready to say goodbye yet."

The Esoterica was quiet as Misty found herself in solitude again.

She stood alone at the counter, focused on the single tarot card in her hands, the edges of the card slightly worn from use. She stared at its back cover, the intricate design no longer holding any mystery for her, yet in this moment, it felt more enigmatic than ever.

Outside, she heard the distant roar of V's car as it rumbled down the street, the sound wafting and fading in the air. The restless merc was already trailblazing down his path, determined to face whatever awaited him at the end of it all. Misty sighed, a soft exhale that carried with it the weight of unspoken worries. She deeply cared for the man, just as Jackie once did.

The card in her hand felt heavier than it should, the significance of it pressing down on her as she continued to stare at its back. It was the fourth and final card of V's reading, the one that had been left unrevealed, its meaning still hidden. She knew V probably did not care, that he likely thought her tarot readings were just a quirky habit of hers, a relic of old superstitions that had no place in Night City. But to Misty, the cards were so much more—they were glimpses into the threads of fate, the currents of destiny that pulled people along paths they could not always see.

She held the card close, her fingers brushing against its surface as if she could glean some sense of what lay beneath without actually turning it over. A part of her did not want to know. The interruption had spared them both the revelation, had kept the future hidden just a little longer, and left Misty wondering if perhaps that was for the best.

She was too afraid of what she might see, like a coward.

But then, there was the other part of her—the part that needed to know, that could not let the mystery linger. Misty wrestled with the temptation, her heart beating a little faster as she weighed her desire against her fear. The card felt almost alive in her hand, pulsing with a life that wished to speak of V's future, and that sensation gnawed at her, urging her to look.

The seconds stretched into minutes, the silence in the shop becoming almost oppressive. Misty's gaze remained fixed on the card, her mind spinning, her grip tightening. Finally, she let out a shaky breath, her resolve crumbling under the weight of her need to know.

Slowly, Misty turned the card over.

The soft rustle of the card against the counter seemed louder than it should have been, and for a moment, Misty's breath caught in her throat as her eyes fell upon the revealed image.

The card was a pale red, dominated by a central shadowy creature—a cybernetic or robotic entity facing left. Its head was shaped like a metallic skull, crowned with sharp spikes, and its eyes glowed a menacing yellow. From the back of the skull, a mass of wires and cables extended outward like a technological mane. The figure's forked, organic tongue flicked out, almost serpentine, to lick the edge of a short, angular sword held in its hand. The creature was ominously clad in plated armour—the armour of a samurai's, perhaps, and had crimson blood slowly ooze out of the crevice of each plating down the side.

V's final sign was the card of becoming—Death.

"Oh, V…" Misty croaked, her voice battered and bruised with internal pain.

She felt endless chills run down her spine, her fingers trembling slightly as she placed the card back down on the counter. She did not move for a long time, her eyes locked on the image, on the last step of the mercenary's new path. Staring out of the entrance of her store and at the ravenous city that laid just beyond it, she could just barely muster a few desperate words of prayer for her dear friend.

"Please be strong…"