Battered, broken and chaotic.

Kimiko Ishida's humble art shop had been reduced to shattered glass, spilled paint and torn canvas. To the untrained eye, it looked just like someone had broken in, ransacked the place, found nothing of worth then left.

The other kids had opted to stay behind at Leblanc. Which left V, Judy, River, Yusuke and Lynn alone at the scene.

Police had already locked the whole place down. As such, all V and the others could do was look on from the other side of the street. River gave a sigh as he watched the Japanese police officers go about their work. To those that didn't know him, it looked like he was scrutinising them. Judging each step. Clocking each mistake. However, that was far from the case. V knew he wanted nothing more than to be in the thick of it.

He missed his job as a detective and it was moments like this that really highlighted that fact.

Either way, he turned to V with an expectant look.

He wanted her opinion.

"Shop window was smashed outward," she remarked, "it was precise, too clean for a blunt object. Don't see any gunpowder residue or bullet casings. Wasn't a gun. Why smash the glass in the first place? They were already in the store." Her Kiroshis glowed blue as the scan ran over what she could see. Aside from the obvious, there weren't any skin flakes, blood drops or stray hair. "Four of them. Male, judging by the size and shape of those prints in the glass residue." She hummed to herself and looked deeper into the store. Her view was limited, but she could make out a few shelves and cabinets. Most of the supplies were destroyed. "They knew what to hit to cause the most damage. Top shelf shit got done in first. You're right, River. This was a message. A loud one."

"Do you think it was Madarame's goons?" Lynn asked. V shook her head with a long exhale.

"No. They're two pussy-footed to try something this fucking gonk. I know that kind of asshole. Their way of shutting you up would be to bury you in legal paperwork. This is something straight out of a gang's playbook."

"My thoughts exactly." River huffed, nodding in agreement. "Classic ganger bullshit. Storm in, break shit, threaten worse, leave." He huffed and scratched his freshly shaven chin. The leather gloves and sunglasses he had to wear were not doing any favours for his already dubious fashion sense. Still, it was unavoidable if they wanted to keep his ancient chrome hidden. "Ishida wasn't here when they came, thank fuck. Hits like this can go sideways incredibly easy. Can get damn right grizzly."

"This ain't Night City, River." Said Judy. The man scoffed.

"Maybe not, but it's all the same shit."

"Any other hits in the area?" V asked. River shook his head. "Personal, then."

This wasn't exactly a back alley hole-in-the-wall store either. It was almost on the main thoroughfare of Shibuya's busy streets. Judging from the faces of the other onlookers, there was a clear feeling of apprehension and fear hanging in the air. Still, perhaps someone saw something and would be willing to blow the whistle.

Further along the street, an old couple had emerged from their quaint bookstore. They held each other's hand and their aged faces were creased into a ceaseless concern for their fellow business owner. They - unlike the other people in the crowd - seemed to be genuinely concerned as well as scared. V gave a quick gesture to Lynn and the two slowly made their way over to the couple.

With Lynn on translation duty, V cleared her throat. "Good afternoon. Are you the owners of this bookstore?" She asked with a warm smile. Dubiously, they nodded. Suspicion immediately took over. "Ah, I'm a Private Investigator hired by Ms. Ishida. We're just asking a few questions to local business owners." Some of the suspicion slowly faded. With a long moment of hesitation, the old man let out his built up tension with a forced chuckle.

"Sorry young 'un. Things ain't how they used to be. We've been here for a good… what was it, honey? Thirty years? It's been a good area. Kind folk, real community vibe."

V nodded with understanding. "Something's changed?"

"Shibuya's changed, kid. Got more dangerous for us honest folk. It's becoming more like Shinjuku! Upstarts running around like they own the place. Seedy characters loitering where they don't belong." The man winced at the elbow digging into his side. His wife's expression had soured. Although her fear was laid bare with the pleading quiver of her upper lip. "Bah, ignore the ramblings of an old fool."

V tried diffusing the woman's growing anxiety with a nod of solidarity. Even with that aside, V still needed to get something from them. "Did you see or hear anything?"

Stroking the bushy goatee, the old man hummed an unfamiliar tune.

"Can't say I saw much. These old eyes are pretty useless." The tune continued. "I heard a terrible crash and some yelling, but I didn't catch what the voices were going on about. By the time I came for a looksee, they were already gone. Scarpered to the wind. I saw the smashed window so I called the police real sharpish. Poor Ishida."

"Taka, darling, it's time we closed up for the day. Let's leave the detective to do their work." The old woman finally broke her silence with an immediate attempt at getting away from V. It caught V's attention. Such blatant redirection was a common thing among scared civilians. The couple knew this was gang related and as such, didn't want any retribution to come to their door. Unfortunately, there wasn't much V could do once the couple had clammed up.

She thanked them for their time, sent them on their way and huffed.

"Fuckin' ay. Doubt we'd get much from CCTV in the area either. Either they'd be conveniently 'broken' or just show a looped feed."

Lynn didn't seem convinced.

Her inexperience with this kind of thing was obvious. "There has to be something that can tell us who this was…" the girl muttered under her breath.

There wasn't so much as a discarded cigarette butt in the area. As far as evidence went, the culprits only left what they wanted to leave. True professionals. It left the message clearly, yet still hid the identities of anyone involved. They had chosen a time of day when there was minimal foot traffic and when Ishida was away from her store. As frustrating as it was, they had gotten as much as they were getting from the scene.

"Sorry, kid." V sighed and patted the girl's shoulder. "Might not have any solid leads, but I've got results from less. Leave it with us. You focus on keeping your heads low."

"Ah, V! I knew you'd pull through, darling." The familiar deep, yet welcoming, tone of Lala greeted the merc the minute she stepped through the door of Crossroads. "The usual?"

V waved her own greeting. "Not tonight. Here on biz again."

Lala's expression soured. The last time V was here on business, she had flatlined out of nowhere. However, it must have been something in V's bearing that relaxed the bar owner. The woman studied V hard before grunting in amusement. "What can I do for you, darling?"

"A choom of mine had her shop hit by gangers, over in Shibuya."

"Gangs in Shibuya? That's quite… worrisome."

V nodded. "Yeah. An old couple let slip that the area's getting more dangerous these days. Even said it was becoming more like Shinjuku." Notably, Lala grimaced at that last tidbit. "This area known for its gangs?" Deciding this conversation would be better over drinks, V took a seat and made a universal gesture. Lala gave a long exhale and began prepping two glasses. Pouring whiskey into one and tea into the other.

"Unfortunately, that couple is correct." A wistful glance into the distance caught V's attention. "Shinjuku has many problems. Gangs being first and foremost. Something I know all too well."

"You have trouble?"

Lala shook her head. "No. They leave me well enough alone. The same can't be said for other businesses, though. A lot of them are merely fronts. Especially the host clubs." The more V heard of Shinjuku, the more it sounded like a miniature replica of Night City. Or at least certain districts. Kabuki in particular came to mind.

"Lala! Load me up, Mama's got a headache!" The door to the club burst open. Like a bat out of hell, in strolled a furious looking Ohya. So caught up in whatever her own issue was, she completely missed the fact that V was sitting in the reporter's usual seat. As if expecting it to be open, Ohya bumped straight into the merc. "Oh… V. Didn't you die?"

"Ichiko! I don't care how angry you might be, but that isn't an excuse to be rude."

"It's fine, Lala." V chuckled and shifted over to the next stool. She sipped at her freshly made drink and greeted the reporter properly. "It ain't like she's wrong." With a huff and a growl, Ohya slumped onto the stool.

"It still confuses me that you can understand Japanese but you don't speak it…" she muttered. Lala had already begun pouring a third glass of liquor and without a wasted second, Ohya chugged the whole thing like a champ. "Another." She barked. Bags under her eyes suggested a lack of sleep. The shaky hands suggested something else entirely. Withdrawal. V and Lala shared a concerned look with one another. "Another!" She slammed a fist against the bar prompting Lala to simply sigh, shrug and pour another glass of whiskey.

"Drowning your problems in a glass only exacerbated them, darling. Besides, your tab is getting ridiculous." The advice fell on deaf ears. A conversation that had likely been repeated an infinite amount of times. The proprietor shrugged once again. "But, what do I know? I'm just a recovering alcoholic, myself."

"Oh? Didn't know that." V's brow quirked. She had noticed that Lala hadn't poured herself a whiskey. Opting for tea instead. The gruff woman allowed herself a chuckle at her own expense.

"Twelve years sober next month. Trust me, darling, getting this one to listen is like talking to a brick wall."

"I came to get wasted, not get lectured at. Another." The thunk of glass on wood echoed through the mostly empty bar.

V was getting a little annoyed at the whole thing. If only because it reminded her of herself before her first scrape with death. "Spin it, Ohya. What's got you on the rebel path?"

It took a moment, but the tension in Ohya's shoulders loosened.

"Sorry, V. I'm glad to see you're ok." The fierce look in her eye softened briefly, paving way to a genuine smile of relief at V's recovery. However, it quickly turned back to the bubbling rage of a woman scorned. "It's my boss. He pulled me off the Madarame case as soon as he heard about Ishida's break-in. He hasn't even assigned a replacement. The asshole just wants to let the story hang. Unbelievable. That handsome friend with a terrible fashion sense of yours was really growing on me."

"River has that effect. He's a good guy. Great detective."

"Oh yeah? He mentioned he used to be a cop. Is he your boyfriend, or something?" That made V laugh aloud. It startled both Lala and Ohya as well as the few other early evening patrons that dotted the club.

"Fuck no. The gonk's more like a brother. Besides, I'm happily engaged."

That caught Lala's attention. "Oh, congratulations, then. Young Judy is a lucky woman." The knowing smirk on Lala's lips highlighted the proprietor's wisdom. It also directed attention away from Ohya's flushed realisation. Not that V cared. It was always fun seeing people's reactions to her relationships.

"Thanks, Lala. Haven't set a date yet, though." As proud as V was, the conversation had veered way off course. "Anyway, did your boss say why?"

"Nope! Just strolled up to my desk, told me to stop working the case and delete any drafts and files I had. All with that infuriating grin of his." A devious grin crawled over the woman's own lips as she waggled a small thumb drive in her fingers. "I deleted my files off my office computer like he asked, but he didn't say anything about back-ups." Both V and Ohya gave a sinister chuckle at the mini 'fuck you'.

"Speaking of the break in at Ishida's, I'm actually looking into it. Would love to get your thoughts on it."

"Clearly Yakuza. Any idiot with two brain cells can see that." Replied Ohya, circling a finger around the rim of her half empty glass.

"We're in agreement, there." V huffed. "The Yakuza a big problem?"

Ohya shrugged. "It depends, really. Some clans can cause real trouble. Others are actually quite respectful." She swigged from her glass. "Cases like Ishida's have cropped up more frequently over the last few years. Small businesses getting targeted and forced into acting as fronts for cleaning dirty money."

"Those that try to refuse get hit."

"Exactly." The media let out one long sigh of exasperation. "No one knows if it's one organisation or many. The turf this sort of racket covers is apparently the entirety of Shibuya. Pretty scary stuff, honestly. I feel bad for the innocent business owners who get dragged into it against their will… but there's not a damn thing I can do for them."

V nodded in understanding. It must have been so frustrating to be held back by her boss. Halted from covering stories that would actually matter. It was the same in Night City. Most news outlets had been bought off or forced off the air. Finding an honest Media was like trying to find an enny in a needlestack. Possible, but you'd get pricked so many times it would hardly be worth it. Still, there were those faithful few with good heads on their shoulders.

"Maybe not officially." Said V. It roused a curious hum from Ohya.

"I hope you're not suggesting the two of you do anything illegal." Lala huffed as she passed by, serving a customer on the other end of the bar. "I draw the line at something like that."

An understandable concern. V waved her hand, "there's no law against concerned citizens asking questions, is there?" Judging by the shrug of defeat, there wasn't. That aside, the list of people who they could actually ask questions too was quite small. V only knew of one other person who might have known something, however, he didn't seem to like her all that much.

Ichiko Ohya, however, was bound to have far more connections spread out across the whole city.

Whatever was happening, there was bound to be some lead they could drag into the light.

V grinned. "So, want to be a fellow concerned citizen, Ohya?" She offered her glass in an impromptu toast. Without so much as a millisecond of thought, Ohya enthusiastically tapped her own glass with a satisfying clink.

"Sure, V. Let's see what we can dig up."

Lala passed by once more. The bar had gotten more busy as the conversation progressed. "Just don't get yourselves hurt. This is dangerous waters you're stepping into."

"Trust me, Lala. I have more experience with dangerous gangs than I care to admit." V replied. The proprietor was not impressed. She glared with stone carved features.

"That's what I'm worried about, darling."

"Oh! I think I had to do an article on this place last year." Ohya chirped as they rounded the corner.

By the time the two women had arrived back in Shibuya, the sun had completely set and the district's nightlife had come to life. By no means was it as flashy, obnoxious and busy as Shinjuku was, but there were still plenty of people going about their leisure.

That was until V stepped into the alley that led to a certain Airsoft shop.

The buzz of the main street filtered through the still air of the alley. Excess light from various shops, restaurants and bars bathed Untouchable's storefront in a swirl of colours. As hoped, the store was still open for business. Yet it was barren of any customers save for one shady looking kid in a black hoodie.

As V entered, the kid looked up with surprise and curiosity. For a few brief moments, the two locked eyes.

He was young.

Younger than Lynn.

He was standing at the far corner of the store with a screamsheet in his hands. A hobby mag by the look of the cover.

Then a gruff voice called out from the back room. "Kaoru, where'd you put my beer? Can't find a damn thing in this mess of a fridge! Oh… nevermind. Got it! Sorry kid." The sounds of rummaging was followed by the distinct kisch of a can opening. Ohya was chuckling quietly to herself.

"A man after my own heart." She muttered.

"Dad, you've got customers! You promised to stop drinking during work hours!" The boy called back with a worried frown. In response, a string of colourful expletives trickled out from behind the counter.

From a small opening emerged Munehisa Iwai with the ever present sour look etched into his jaw. It stiffened when he caught sight of just who the customers were. "This is gonna be a hassle…" he grumbled. "If you're here to sell weird shit again, I ain't buyin'."

He didn't buy anything the last time.

"Ohya, could you translate? We're not here to sell anything."

The reporter nodded and relayed as much. That seemed to ease the gruff man's irritation a little. He slumped himself down on a stool and made a gesture for them to come into the store properly. "Well, what can I do for ya' then?"

"Ishida's store got hit." V bluntly said. The moment Ishida's name was uttered, his expression darkened. Without Ohya having to translate, he knew exactly what they were here for. A low growl fell from his lips and his attention briefly split off toward the curiously watching boy. He gestured for the kid to head into the back and with reluctance, the kid obliged. His pace and demeanour told V he was likely used to this sort of thing.

"Yeah. Heard about that. Good thing she wasn't there when it happened."

"You say that as if you knew it would happen."

Iwai's eyes narrowed. "Had a hunch when I saw that old man's confession yesterday. The whole district's talkin' about it." That little tidbit was quite interesting. Not only did Iwai make a connection between Madarame's confession and Ishida's break-in, but it seemed like he also expected the latter.

"Have you had any trouble like that? This store seems like a preem target for those types." V looked around at the assortment of guns, equipment and accessories. It wouldn't have been much of a stretch to find out that some of the pieces on display were actually real and just waiting for a ganger to come and buy it suspicion free.

Though judging by the smirk and scoff, that wasn't the case.

"Bastards have tried, but nah. They know better."

"Do you know who's behind the Shibuya gangs?"

"No. I don't. Even if I did, I wouldn't go blabbin' about it to some random foreigner and her journalist sidekick."

"Hey! I'm not a sidekick! Rude." Ohya pouted and glared at the man. "Come on, Iwai. Even I can tell you're not telling us the truth. Are you… afraid of something? Your kid getting involved?"

"Keep Kaoru outta this," Iwai snapped, "look, you two want to stick your noses into this shit? Fine, it's your funeral, but I ain't sayin' shit. For one, I don't even know you." He jabbed a finger toward Ohya. "I talk, and it's gonna be the front page of tomorrow's tabloid. Then it's my head on a pike."

The finger appeared to send an invisible force toward Ohya as she recoiled with a wince. Her confidence was shaken for a split second before she steeled herself once again.

"I couldn't write anything even if I wanted to." She growled. Iwai's brow raised. "I've been pulled from anything to do with Madarame, Ishida and anything even slightly related." That only earned her a scoff of amusement. The dishevelled man leant back in his seat and folded his hands. His sour frown grew into a smug grin.

"Unsurprising." The store owner grunted.

"Sounds like you know something about that." V casually spoke as she inspected a few of the display pieces close to the counter. "You're an ex-Yakuza, aren't you? Don't bother denying it. I know a ganger when I see one." Both Ohya and Iwai looked at the merc with a look of complete surprise. Ignoring their glares, she picked up a simple looking handgun and turned it over in her fingers. "Probably had to leave because of the kid, right? No, before you ask, I'm not threatening you. Don't need pretty words and allusions to do that."

"Uh… V, I'm not comfortable saying that…" Ohya stuttered.

"No need. He knows damn well what I'm saying." Replied V.

At which Iwai's shoulders sagged and he gave a grin. "Yeah, yeah. I ain't no Shakespear… but I pass enough to get you've got balls."

"Heard that one before." V placed the handgun back on its display mountings and returned the smirk. "You never did tell us exactly how you know Ishida in the first place. Even going as far as to advise against dropping your name. It sounds like you might have been inv-"

"I'll stop ya there, V." Iwai's glare grew narrow and furious at the insinuation. "I wasn't with the clan that had Ishida under their thumb." At least the truth was finally coming out. Even if Iwai looked pissed at having to drop the mask once and for all. "When I was in the scene, we were rivals with that crew. But that was damn years ago. Now, I got no clue what's goin' on with 'em. And frankly, I couldn't give two shits as long as they leave me and mine alone."

"Alright, so… this rival clan wasn't running the racketeering when you were around?"

"No, they were. Just wasn't as widespread as it is today. The Inoshishi only had a few businesses under their influence back then. Ishida's art shop was one of 'em." The gruff man scratched his stubble and sighed. "That said, they were damn dangerous even back then. Violent assholes."

"Inoshishi? I take it that's the rival clan's name."

Iwai gave a nod.

At least they now had a name to pin to the incident. From what River said, Ishida didn't know about the gang behind Madarame. Just that he had some connections.

With that information, V had something to go on. As did Ohya. The two gave their thanks and apologies for the interrogation before stepping back out into the streets. The fresh night air of Shibuya filled V's lungs. It was getting late. "The Inoshishi, huh. Weird name…" the merc muttered.

"It literally means 'Boar'" Ohya replied.

"Yeah, I know. Think you could do some digging?"

The reporter hummed quietly. "No promises, but I'll give you a call if something crops up. I have a few sources and favours I can pull on. Now, though, it's back to the warm embrace of Crossroads for me."

As for V, it was back to the warm embrace of Judy. Then tomorrow, that Yuuki Mishima kid apparently had another job for the Phantom Thieves' Subcontractors. That was bound to be an interesting meeting given the last time. With a hearty farewell, V headed out for the station. At least tonight hadn't been a waste of time.

Tuesday - June 7th

"You going somewhere, kid?" V yawned, emerging from her room. She eyed the singular suitcase sitting on one of the old theatre chairs. The Sayuri was safely wrapped up alongside it.

Yusuke himself was already dressed and getting ready for his morning shift at Leblanc. He may have been living out of the suitcase for a while now, but it was always kept tucked away in a small alcove the three Night City people declared Yusuke's own area. Now, it was all packed up and ready for travel. The young artist - who had picked up at least a little English during his time with the trio - nodded.

"As grateful as I am to you for housing me, I can't ignore what happened with Ms. Kimiko. I offered to stay with her in order to protect her."

V quickly typed up a short message on her phone. "And she agreed?"

Another nod. "After some persuasion, yes. Should something like yesterday happen again, I really don't want her to be alone." He was undoubtedly determined in his thinking. Despite only being young, he was willing to risk his own safety. A crucial trait for a noble hero. "Today will be my last shift at Leblanc. Although I've only worked there for a little over a week, Boss has taught me so much. I intend to give him the Sayuri in hopes it could somehow repay his kindness."

The old cafe could have done with a splash of colour.

But was it really alright for the boy to give up something so personal?

V shrugged, if it was what he wanted to do, she wasn't about to argue. Clearly Sojiro's mentorship meant a hell of a lot to the boy. "I also intend to repay your kindness, as well. However, I'm not entirely sure how to do that."

V typed up another message. "You helped save my life. Couldn't ask for anything more."

He hummed at that, "I see." A smile crossed his lips and with a reserved nod, he finished preparing for his last shift at Leblanc. "Either way, I look forward to our continued partnership. Whatever trials may we come to face, we shall tackle them as brothers and sisters in arms."

It made V giggle. Yusuke definitely had a way with words. Granted, V, Judy and River weren't official members of the Phantom Thieves, but the sentiment still held.

Truth be told, the solo would miss having the boy around.

Aside from the sappiness, it was likely a good idea to have someone close to Ishida for the time being. If only to keep an eye on things. The Inoshishi was likely trying to crack down on the businesses under their control as a result of Madarame's confession. From what Iwai had said, Madarame was closely affiliated with them.

"Just be careful, kiddo. Need some iron?"

"V, please don't give a teenager firearms outside of the Metaverse." River grunted. He, too, had just awoken and had begun fixing himself some breakfast. "Ignore her, Yusuke. Be sure to keep in contact."

"You have my word. The Inoshishi will pay dearly for their harassment."

Eventually, Yusuke left with both his suitcase and the Sayuri. Once the theatre attic had gone quiet, Judy finally emerged from her room. Completing the trio of interdimensional time travellers. With their afternoon plans set, they still had the entire school day to kill. "Any update on those Night Corp files?" V asked. Judy shook her head with a groan of defeat.

"It was a fuckin' miracle I managed to crack the files I did," she huffed, shovelling cereal into her mouth. "I ain't a Netrunner. BD decryption I can do no sweat, but Night Corp file encryption ain't no joke. We'll need an expert. Or somehow gain legit access."

V wracked her brain.

The average Netrunner was a dime a dozen. It took something special to stand out from the crowd. V knew a few such examples.

"I'll head out to Dakota's. I got a Nomad choom out that way who's a fuckin' genius when it comes to this shit." If Carol wasn't game, then her next port of call would have to be the Afterlife. Although, she would rather avoid landing in Rogue's debt if she could help it. Or at least, more debt than she already had. V shivered. "Wanna swing by Lagoona Bend, Jude?" She asked, trying to shake the thought of a lecture by a pissed off Fixer. In response, Judy gave a reluctant shake of the head.

"It'd be nice, but can't. Gotta check in with Suze. Prolly has a whole fuckin' landfill of BD's for me to work my magic on." She huffed. A full day of editing porn sounded like hell to V, but for Judy, it was her day-to-day. Much like how shooting up gang hideouts and hunting bounties was V's day-to-day. Even if said activities had slowed down considerably recently.

Either way, Judy was bound to work herself ragged. V made a mental note to take the techy out somewhere special.

With that mentally settled, she turned to River. "How 'bout you?"

"I have a day job, too y'know. Might not have any cases right now, but I'm still responsible for Randy's recovery."

"Fair enough. Give Joss my love and tell Randy I said hey."

"He talks a storm about you. It'd mean a whole lot if you paid him a visit." River made a pointed glance toward V. He had since finished his breakfast and had begun to clean the used dish and cutlery. "Maybe not today, but… sometime soon?"

"Absolutely. I'll swing by on the Arch. Maybe let him take a few laps around the house?"

"He'd like that. You're welcome, too, Judy."

The techy looked unsure. "I… don't know him, though. Wouldn't it be fuckin' awkward for him to be hangin' around some random woman?" V didn't want to hear any of that. She scoffed, lightly tapped a knuckle on Judy's forehead and followed with a kiss.

"You ain't some random woman, babe."

"Right. Besides, he needs to talk to more people, anyway." River added.

Judy still wasn't convinced. V gave a nod of understanding. Meeting new people never was Judy's strong suit. It took a hell of a lot for her to open up even a little to V. And that was only because of tragic circumstances. Their first meeting wasn't exactly the most friendly. Judy was more annoyed at having to talk to someone who wasn't Evelyn, Suzie Q or Mateo. Social anxiety was a bitch like that.

Still, after another few moments, the girl finally relented.

The Hollo rang on for a few seconds. The droning tone ran through her mind loud and clear. Even over the noise of cars, screamsheets and advertising billboards. The standard for any and all streets of Night City. Then, it stopped abruptly as the other end finally picked up. Panam's voice answered with a groggy slur. "Fuck, V. Do you have any idea how early it is?" She groaned over the sound of engines in the distance. Loud, revving engines. It amused the solo as she glanced toward the clock imprinted over her retina.

"Pam… it's almost noon."

"Oh shit, really!? God damnit." There was a shuffle, another groan and the distinct clinging of empty glass bottles. Followed closely by a loud thwacking noise "Fuck! Ow! Fuckin'... what asshat left their damn… oh, that's mine. Ugh, my head."

"Sounds like you had a fun night last night. Special occasion?"

"Nah. Some of Dakota's boys were brewing some hooch. The sampling party… got a bit rowdy."

The solo chuckled.

A Nomad party - no matter how small or unimportant - was always a little more than simply 'rowdy'. There were likely races, shooting competitions, half-way decent barbeque and a ton of stories around the fire. The Aldecaldos knew how to throw a rager. "How are things at Dakota's, anyway? You were in a bind last time I was around."

"We pulled through. Thanks to you getting that shipment back from the Raffen, we made the deadline. That means no lecture from Saul. Win win." The Nomad was grunting and shuffling about. It painted the vivid picture of a pissed off woman, with a hangover, stumbling about in a feeble attempt at getting dressed. "Thanks again, by the way. Preem work like always. So, wh- ow, fuck, stupid jacket buckles…" the sound of a few clicks and a zip filtered through the Hollo, "what can I do for you, V?"

"Can't I call a girl for a social?" V smirked.

"Oh fuck off, V." With mock offence, Panam gave a fake scowl.

"Is Carol in town?"

"Carol? Yeah, she's running a city side job. Why?"

Contemplating filling Panam in on everything, V gave a short hum of apprehension. "Got some files that need cracking. Top shelf shit. I can spin it to you straight, but… not over the hollo."

"Sounds serious. Judy can't handle it?"

"She managed to crack a few. We hit a dead end, though. Need to bring in the big guns."

There was a short pause followed by the sound of a car door closing with a 'thunk'. "Alright. I'll head over. Job's in a warehouse complex up on Eisenhower Street East. I'll zip the deets in a few."

"We're not crashing anything, are we? Last time I wandered into one of Carol's city jobs, I had to bluff my ass off just to get the gonk Scav to back off." V winced at the memory of Carol's annoyed glare. Sure, the bluff worked and the Scav paid up in full, but it was way too close. Teddy did say things would have gone south without V's intervention, but still.

"It's just babysitting duty. Heh, I mean… 'performing security detail for valuable cargo awaiting transportation via a third party buyer'."

V could practically hear the wry smirk on Panam's lips. "Riiight. Preem. See you there."

The call ended and V let out a satisfied sigh. She glanced up at the signage for Lizzy's bar in its shutdown state. The tint of her sunglasses cast a dulling shade over it, taking the edge off the morning sun. She then locked eyes with one of the bouncers standing guard. The Mox gave a nod with a wry smirk. It was Rita. V could recognize the silicone shine of the bouncer's chrome anywhere.

Waving a returning greeting, V placed a foot on the kick-stand of her Arch. With a flick and a flourish, the engine roared to life, blazing a trail away seconds later.

It was thankfully a relatively short ride to the warehouse. She was already in Watson, so all she needed to do was steer clear of any Maelstrom occupied areas. Even if it was usually only the night time when things got dangerous, it was still common practice to avoid outright conflict no matter the time of day.

Within ten minutes, V arrived at the designated warehouse.

Pulling up just next to a vacant lot opposite the destination, she decided to wait for Panam. Barging in uninvited to a babysitting gig was a good way to get shot at.

It wasn't long before the hulking, heavily armoured Thorton trundled into view. A familiar arm poked out of the window and gave a wave which V returned. "So, what is all the cloak and dagger?" Panam asked as soon as she stepped out of her pride and joy of a ride. The rush job of her clothing gave her jacket a lopsided look, coupled with the very identifiable look of a woman with a hangover.

"Shit's gotten… really fuckin' weird for me recently."

"Even more weird than having a dead terrorist rotting your brain?" Panam raised an eyebrow.

"That's fuckin' standard compared to the shit that's happening. Come one, I'll fill you in after." V replied. Reluctantly, the Nomad followed suit. "What's the cargo, anyway?"

"No idea. We got paid to sit on it, not look in it."

Which was fair enough. Discretion was always the word of the day for Nomads.

The warehouse was - much like most other units in the area - barren except for a single shipping container standing in the centre. Crates and portable terminals surrounded the container and several Nomads were stationed at other points around the building. V knew each face, but her attention was drawn to Cassidy and Carol.

The two were idly leaning against the container casually sharing a smoke.

"V." Cassidy nodded, grinning at her approach. The grin turned mischievous as his eyes locked with Panam's. "Pam."

"Eat a dick, Cass." Panam frowned. Though she couldn't hide the slight twitch of amusement. "I'll beat you next time." At which, the cowboy chuckled as if to egg the woman on. Panam no doubt would take the bait, but at least for now, she remained responsible. "Any updates?"

"Comms chatter hasn't picked up anything," said Carol, tapping a finger against the headset she was wearing. "Just waiting on the buyer to pick up the pace. Fuckin' city dwellers think they have all the time in the world. Oh. No offence, V."

"None taken. Corpo client?"

"Pfft. What do you take us for?" Carol finished off the cigarette and flicked it across the warehouse. "Reggie came to us with the gig. Client's some new hotshot solo thinking he owns the Afterlife after one job."

V knew the type. Hell, she even was one in her youth. Most didn't make it past the second job. Those that did often earned some notoriety, but it took a lot to keep the steam going in this town. Either way, whatever this cargo was, the client had probably splashed out on some frivolous import from overseas. The first big payday always dragged the worst financial decisions out of new solos.

Panam sniggered quietly. "Sounds familiar." She glanced toward V who promptly flipped the Nomad off.

"Alright, Pam's call mentioned you have some files for me. I assume you have them."

"Yep." V fished out the small black case containing three shards. "Like I said, top shelf security."

Carol took the case, opened it and glanced down at the shards. "Who's the owner? Different groups use slightly different methods." She asked with a hint of curiosity and a small amount of apprehension.

After a short sigh, V answered; "Night Corp."

"No shit?" At the mention of the corp, everyone was taken aback for a moment. "Definitely not standard ICE." Carol took one of the shards and slotted it into her personal link. The distinct blue glow of her Kiroshis lingered for a few moments as her focus seemed to drift off into the distance. A hum passed her lips. "I see. Tough cookie. Multiple layers, ICE all the way through. Someone wants to keep their secrets secret. I can crack it, but I'll need time. Days. A week, maybe." She ejected the shard and placed it back in the case.

"Preem. We pulled a lot of data, so the key words I'm looking for are Shade, Radiant Blue One and MaxTac." V explained. The context behind it was better off left unsaid for now. The less Carol knew of this whole situation, the safer the rest of the Aldecaldos were.

There were a few curious glances sent her way, but V adamantly - albeit apologetically - kept silent. As with any other job for a Nomad, discretion was king. Carol simply shrugged and agreed to leave it at that. Following her lead, the rest of the Nomads did the same, going back to what they were doing; a whole lot of nothing. "I'll be sure to call when I finish up." Said Carol. Impatience began to creep in on her expression. "When is this asshole supposed to be coming?" She asked toward Cassidy.

The older Nomad shrugged with a snigger. "Any time he deems necessary," he replied with a wry, mocking tone. "City folk got nowhere to go 'n' all day to get there. No offence, V."

"None taken. Again." V checked the time. There was still considerable time before she had to regroup with Judy and River. Extra eyes on 'precious cargo' never hurt anyone. "I can stick around for a couple hours. Free extra gun?"

Carol and Cassidy gave each other a glance before shrugging. "Knock y'self out, V. Don't expect much trouble, anyhow," replied Cassidy.

Panam groaned, rolled her eyes and gestured toward her Thorton. "We will keep a look out front. This warehouse is freezing my tits off." A particularly pointed glare at V told the solo to follow. It seemed her curiosity finally got the better of her and wanted to know the details right now. Not that V could blame her.

"So… you're saying Night Corp is trying to use something called the Metaverse to… use people's souls in creating infinite energy? And that they have created synthetic creatures that mimic a power called Persona?" Panam blinked as she stared at V. The cramped interior of the Thorton prevented her from gesturing too much, but with what little movement she had, she made use of with wild hand gestures and physical inflections of a confused, borderline hysterical Nomad. Again, V couldn't blame her. "Are you fucking high, V? Please tell me you are high."

"Haven't touched drugs since Atlanta."

"Alternate dimensions? Cognitive creatures? Physical manifestations of people's desires?"

"That about sums it up."

"Fuck me…" Panam rubbed a finger against the centre of her forehead. "And I thought a terrorist ghost from fifty years ago was hard to believe." The rubbing continued with increased pressure. "So that's what you needed radio equipment for? To give to this Lynn girl?"

"Uh huh. Brilliant kid. She and her chooms are the reason I'm still alive. Would have flatlined if not for them."

"This is… a lot."

"You fuckin' bet. I still don't get it, myself."

The two women fell silent and V's focus returned to the street just out front of the warehouse. Eisenhower Street wasn't exactly the busiest around this time of day, so the traffic was minimal at best. There were entire twenty minute intervals between certain passing rides. Needless to say, this type of job had little interest for a reason.

At least it gave V time to fully give Panam the whole story rather than just a half-assed, minimal version.

It was a lot. No denying that.

But this wasn't the first time V had this exchange. At least Panam hadn't threatened to lock her up in a mental institute like Takemi had.

"So… these… Palaces," the Nomad suddenly spoke up again, "anyone can have one?"

"Apparently so," V shrugged. She didn't know the exact details, after all. "Mine came from my desire to survive and the resulting rage and frustration of a futile search. Now that desire's been fulfilled and I'm trying to work on my other issues, my Palace has gone. Checked already. Oh, and before you ask; no, you don't have one. Nor does Saul or any Aldecaldo for that matter."

"I… think… that is a good thing?"

V didn't know if any of the Aldecaldos used to have Palaces, but for now, all was quiet on that front. In a way it made sense. Nomads didn't attach themselves to a place long enough to develop any kind of significant connection.

"Hey, we got movement." V spotted three vehicles speeding down from the north. Large, black vans. Judging from the decals glaring in the sun, it was obviously Maelstrom. "Is this solo a 'borg head?"

"No." Panam replied and immediately radioed Carol. "We have three Maelstrom rides heading toward us. Might just be passing by, but they look like they're on a fucking mission."

"Got it. Iron ready, Cass. We might have trouble after all."

Sure enough, the three vans skidded into a drifting turn and crashed through the warehouse's main doors. The armoured vehicles made the old, rusted metal look like tissue paper. There was immediate yelling and a volley of gunfire into the air.

"Oh fuck! V!"

"On it!"

The two women launched themselves out of the Thorton and charged forward. They were cut off as the rear-most van's back doors burst open. A heavily armoured, hulking behemoth of a man rushed out from within at full tilt. The exoskeleton grafted to his already extensively chromed body added so much mass, the concrete cracked under foot.

Most Linear Frames were designed to keep weight to a minimum. It left several weak points exposed, but offered greater mobility. This one was different. Weight was the last factor in mind. Thick armour formed a rounded carapace up its back, giving the look of something similar to an armadillo's shell. Joints were covered in a similar fashion. It was more of a walking tank than a Linear Frame.

The pilot cackled with mania in his heavily modulated voice as he rushed forward.

V's Sandevistan spurred on a burst of speed. The solo lunged to the side and fired off a few shots at the Maelstrom. Panam followed suit with a rapid burst from an SMG. The low calibre rounds did little but plink off the armour.

"WANNA FUCKIN' DIE!? I'LL BE FUCKIN' GLAD TO KILL YA'! HAHA!"

Glowing red lights burned from where a human's eyes should have been. He raised up a heavy arm and levelled a HMG toward V. The thundering gunfire spat lead in a deadly trail that slowly honed in on the merc.

She charged forward, directly toward the 'borg and lashed out with razor sharp Monowire.

It coiled around the barrel of the HMG and with herculean effort, it cut straight through the gunmetal. The damage forced the next round to backfire and detonate. With a beastly growl, the ganger threw his off hand into a powerful haymaker.

Chrome met flesh as the blow heavily collided with V's stomach. Air rushed from her lungs and the force sent her skidding across cracked paving stones.

"V!"

"I'm fine. Shoot his fuckin' motor servos!"

"REINFORCED JOINTS! YOU LADIES AIN'T GONNA SCRATCH ME WITH THOSE FUCKIN' PEASHOOTERS!"

The sneer on the filthy, rugged jaw pissed V off. The sound of gunfire had broken out from within the warehouse. Mainly automatics. Low calibre. A couple of AJAX models if V had to make a guess.

All the munitions obviously went into this guy alone.

That just meant Panam and V only needed to stall him while the other Nomads dealt with the small fry. Understanding crept across both V's and Panam's jaws in the form of a grin.

Once more, V lunged forward. A surge of power sparked from her spine. Time slowed to a crawl as the merc ran. She circled the man and tried to look for any kind of exposed circuitry or design flaw. There was none obviously visible at a quick glance.

The effects of the Sandevistan faded and time sped back up once again.

The HMG might have been taken care of, but the 'borg had plenty more firepower. Heat burned from within an arm mounted barrel. It was a built in ordinance usually fitted to the Militech Centaur. Although the Linear Frame the Maelstrom was using wasn't a Centaur, it had several parts from that product. It was an amalgamation of robotics and death.

A chunk of superheated metal pierced forward, missing V by an inch. It slammed against the ground with a shaking boom as if a meteor had just struck from space.

She had faced Millitech Centaurs before.

The power source connected to the arm mounted heat cannon was bound to be somewhere on the Linear Frame's back. Yet the damn thing was built like a tank.

A vent. There had to be a vent.

Just as the thought came to V's mind, the metal monster raised the heat cannon and made a pumping gesture. Along the carapace on the monstrosity's back, several exhaust flaps opened and hot air burst out like jet engines. Somehow, these 'borg-heads had fixed the biggest flaw in a Centaur's design.

Credit where it was due, Maelstrom were kings of all things shiny and chrome.

Even still, the overheating was still a factor. In other words; a weakness.

"Did someone shit themselves? Steaming turds ain't a good look, right Pam?" V mocked.

The Nomad instantly picked up on the play. "Smells like roach piss and rotten syn-meat! Is that frame just a glorified diaper? Does baby want a bottle?" The two began to circle the beast, taunting and occasionally firing a few rounds into the armour.

Like a rutting, pissed off rhino, the 'borg snarled and lifted the heat cannon once more. "WANT ME TO FUCKIN' BURN YOU LADIES ALIVE!?" An orange glow came to life within the gun's barrel once again. Concentrated heat lanced forward in a stream, hitting one of the Maelstrom vans. It melted a large hole within seconds. "FUCKIN' BITCHES! STAND STILL SO I CAN FUCKIN' ROAST YOU A-FUCKIN'-LIVE!"

"A sloppy shot is a huge turn off. I'm getting so cold!" Panam sneered, spitting another volley of low calibre fire.

The 'borg was getting angrier and angrier with each second.

"IF YOU BITCHES LIKE RUNNIN' SO MUCH, I'LL TURN THE FUCKIN' GROUND TO LAVA!" He cackled with a howling mania. The guy was so far beyond Cyberpsychosis, it had almost circled back into sanity. Almost.

Pure heat blasted against the ground, casting white hot shards of stone to shoot in all directions. V caught one such stone on the shoulder, leaving a nasty looking burn. She winced and changed her path. The cannon was reaching its limit as indicated by the steam and smoke beginning to plume from both the closed vents and the gun itself.

"If you want to roast us, you're gonna need more than that. This is prime steak, honey!" V laughed, slapping her own ass.

Another stream of pure heat lanced through the air. This time, it managed to hit squarely in V's shin. She cried out in pain and tumbled to the ground. The 'borg roared with laughter and raised both arms in victory. As if he had won some imaginary boxing match. V grinned. The blow was brutal, to be sure, but it was precisely what V wanted.

Mid celebration, the exhausts flew open and burning air bellowed like dragon fire. It knocked him off balance as the sudden intense venting surprised him.

As he was caught up in the shock, Panam had leapt onto the back of the beast. "GET THE FUCK OFF ME, YOU BITCH!" He cried. Then there was a distinct click. Panam forced an object into the exhaust and threw herself off onto the ground next to V. In a smooth motion, an Airhypo had already slammed into V's thigh.

Just as the stim kicked in, the grenade Panam had planted detonated inside the exhaust.

It blew a huge chunck of heated armour off the carapace. A second detonation knocked the 'borg to the ground as the coolant system exploded with fiery destruction. Circuitry sparked and servos groaned. The cannon was out of commision. And for a good few seconds, so was the entire frame.

"Finish him off, Pam."

"One step ahead of ya'"

Panam pulled a Nue pistol from its holster and quickly placed the barrel against the incapacitated 'borg's exposed head. Without so much as a second of hesitation, she pulled the trigger and painted the paving stones beneath with a dark shade of red.

The warehouse fell silent. The firefight inside had ended also. "Carol, Cass, you guys dead?" Panam called into the building.

"Nope. Kickin' like a mule in heat." Cassidy replied, stepping out from a cloud of smoke. Casually, he loaded rounds into his revolver and chuckled to himself. "Like shootin' fish in a barrel. You two had the big guy to wrangle? Nice job. Shame I missed the rodeo."

The rest of the Nomads emerged. A few scratches and superficial wounds, but alive. The worst of it was a bullet to the shoulder on one of the younger Nomads.

"That could have gone a lot worse. Thanks, Pam, V." Carol nodded her gratitude yet scowled at the sight of all the dead Maelstrom. "Someone squealed. No way these 'borg-heads could find this cargo on their own." The prospect of this being a tip-off was as clear as day. No doubt, it was the solo who had set the gig up to begin with. It was an idiot move that many up-and-coming mercs made.

Screw over the third party to try and save some eddies.

It never worked. Yet they never learned.

"Pick over the leftovers," Cassidy turned to the other Aldecaldos and gestured to the various corpses, "these mighty kind folks gave us some stellar rides free of charge. Be a waste to let 'em rot here." Following suit, the crew got to work on pulling iron, ammo and other goodies from the corpses. Three others split off and took a van each. The engines rumbled to life and cleared out from the interior. "Take 'em back to Dakota's. We'll scrap two for parts and prep the last for cargo runnin'. We're down a Butte anyhow."

The next hour was spent disposing of the bodies and clearing out the debris.

It wasn't until way past noon when a lone individual arrived with a disgruntled, sour frown etched over his jaw. The shipping container had taken a few hits during the conflict, but only left scratches and small dents in the metal. Not a single round had made it through into whatever was inside.

Despite that, the individual growled. "I was paying for top fucking level protection and you give me damaged goods."

So this was the solo responsible for the gig.

He fit the bill. Loud attire, a cocky swagger, large iron strapped to his back in an incredibly impractical fashion. Not only that, he was barely out of his teens.

V leant against the shipping container and glared daggers at the solo. Every Nomad present knew what the scam was now. "You a container collector, or some shit? Each to their own I guess." She sneered and tapped a knuckle against the corrugated metal. "What's in the box?"

"I… know you." The solo's eyes narrowed and widened as he studied V. There was a small moment of adoration in his expression. Though it was quickly stamped out in favour of irritation. "What's 'in the box' is worth more than what you'll make in your life. I'm not paying you useless Nomads shit. Can't even keep a container safe…"

"That's a shame." Said Carol.

Cassidy nodded. "Guess we're keepin' the cargo."

"No you're fucking not!" The kid struggled and pulled the modified AJAX rifle from his back. No one even blinked at the gesture. This kid was definitely not from Night City. "I asked for pristine condition, you're delivering garbage."

"I'm getting bored. Can we hurry this up?" Panam growled and sat down on a crate near V. "Put the iron down, kid. You'll hurt yourself."

Cassidy tipped his hat and chuckled to himself. It earned him an AJAX barrel aimed in his direction. "Kid, you're outnumbered fifteen to one. Not even Billy the Kid could'a beaten those odds. Besides, the contract you signed with the Fixer clearly stated you forfeited ownership of the cargo if y' failed to pay us."

"Nice try, though. Something to consider in the future; maybe don't tip off Maelstrom in an attempt to skip out on paying up." V sighed. "You're in over your head."

The solo's shoulders slumped and he placed the rifle across his back once again. At least he was smart enough to realise he had screwed up. He sent Cassidy the payment and once everything was settled, the Nomads stepped away from the container. It allowed the solo to punch in the access code and with a pneumatic hiss, the container swung open.

It was - as V had suspected - a Rayfield.

Custom built and painted with a garishly fluorescent green finish. It honestly hurt to even look at. A younger V would have begun salivating at the sight of a Rayfield in any capacity. Now, the lustre had worn off. It was just an overpriced waste of CHOOH 2. Not to mention she had free access to an Aerondight whenever she wanted thanks to Kerry.

Despite the dents and scratches on the shipping container's exterior, the ride was completely untouched. The solo grunted a few expletives and drove off into the distance. V gave him an hour before the ride was stolen or shot to pieces.

Either way, it was out of the Aldecaldo's hands and no longer their responsibility.

"Thanks for sticking around, V. Things might have gotten a bit stickier without you." Carol had to admit that much. She wasn't one for flattery, so V took the thanks with enthusiasm. "I'll get to work as soon as we get back to Dakota's. No charge."

V wasn't about to turn down free service. She nodded and shook hands with the Nomad. Now that this whole incident was behind them, the Nomads each rolled out, leaving V alone with Panam. Their conversation from earlier still weighed heavily in the air and for a few moments, Panam stood in silence with hands on her hips. "Shit." Bluntly, she sagged her shoulders. "Your vendetta with Arasaka was one thing. Night Corp, now? When will it end? The NUSA Government? The Crystal Palace?"

"You know 'Saka wasn't my vendetta." V growled. "Am I supposed to just ignore it? You didn't see the fucking torture Night Corp is putting Shadows through. They're sucking the life out of people."

"What else is new?"

"Literally. Not just metaphorically."

Again, Panam sighed. She kicked a small shard of debris across the ground. "No, you'd never be able to ignore it. I know you well enough to know you just can't help yourself." A wistful grin crossed her lips. "Well, you've always been there for me, so if you need me, I guess I could join you."

A familiar feeling of energy pulsed in V's chest. Power tingled at her fingertips as the mysterious voice whispered into her ear once again.

I am thou, thou art I

Thou hast acquired a new vow.

It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity.

With the birth of the Strength Persona, thou hast attained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power.