FOURTH_TIMER: 15%

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

CURRENT_STATUS: "Virus to Control"

ENTRY_DATA:

Songbird's got a name for it now. The Neural Matrix. Sounds fancy, sounds important—but most of all, sounds like a bitch to find. And an even bigger bitch to use.

She swears up and down it's the key, the one thing that could fix what's broken in you. But don't get carried away, you've heard that tune before. Hope's a tricky thing—it lifts you up just high enough to drop you harder.

And even though she's bought you more time, it's still not on your side. This thing? It has to be real. It has to be out there.

You just have to find it first.

"Neural... Matrix...?" Judy muttered, her brows furrowing as she tried to wrap her head around Songbird's explanation.

The netrunner had been talking for a while now, sitting cross-legged beside V just outside a tent in the Aldecaldos camp, the early morning sun beaming down on them.

Panam stood a few feet away, hands on her hips, a deep scowl etched into her face. River was silent, his arms folded and his gaze sharp as he worked through what he had just heard. Rogue stood further back, rubbing her temple as she heaved a heavy sigh.

"Why is it…" the older woman muttered, shaking her head. "...that things always have to be so damn complicated?"

From the moment the sun had crept over the horizon and Songbird had stirred awake, V and his friends had swarmed her for answers. She did her best to explain V's condition, breaking it down in terms they could grasp, but the more she spoke, the more their faces twisted with unease. Confusion clouded their expressions, tension thickening the air. She could feel them slipping away, their grasp on the situation unraveling. And when she mentioned the Neural Matrix, it was only getting worse.

Judy hesitated, arms crossed, her gaze flickering between Songbird and V. "...you really think this 'Neural Matrix' thing can fix him?" Her voice was careful, cautious, like she did not want to hope for something that would only end in disappointment.

Songbird nodded without hesitation. "I do."

Before anyone else could react, Panam cut in, her patience worn thin. "Okay, hold up—what the hell is the Neural Matrix?" she demanded, her scowl deepening. "You keep dropping the name like it means something, but I've never heard of it in my damn life."

Songbird took a breath, steadying herself. "It's a device. A physical one, located somewhere in Night City, I…think. And inside it…" She met V's eyes before continuing. "There's a rogue AI, from past the Blackwall."

The response was instant.

V tensed, and almost everyone else was similarly taken aback at the mere mention of an AI of all things.

The exception was Rogue. She did not react in shock. Rather, she frowned, arms folding across her chest, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes.

"A fucking AI…from beyond the Blackwall…sitting in a box?" V echoed.

"Essentially—yes." Songbird confirmed. "Locked inside. The Neural Matrix keeps it contained, but more than that—it lets whoever finds it use it."

V fell quiet, fingers tapping against his knee as his thoughts churned. Then, out of the corner of his eye, a flicker—like a static-laced memory.

Johnny stood just behind Songbird, arms crossed. The rockerboy's ghostly form wavered, but his stare was sharp as ever. V met his gaze, and in that moment, neither spoke. They did not have to.

This did not sound promising.

Johnny's look said it all. And V could not exactly disagree. They already had an AI on their side—Alt Cunningham, someone already willing to try and carve him out of the Relic's grip. But Songbird had said it herself last night—fixing his problem was not just about the digital side of things. If that was true, then why the hell would another AI be the answer?

Before he could even press the thought, Panam did it for him.

"How the fuck's some AI gonna save a dying man?" she asked, voice lined with frustration, arms crossed so tight it looked like she was holding herself back from outright calling bullshit.

Songbird, to her credit, was not shaken.

"You've got the wrong idea." she said. "The Neural Matrix itself isn't the cure. It's a tool. A powerful one."

She let that sink in for a beat before continuing. "Modern medicine, even at its peak, isn't enough to deal with V's condition. And neither is netrunning. But…if you combine them—if you had a team of skilled surgeons working in tandem with such an AI…"

She exhaled, glancing toward V now. "Tackling V's physical and digital symptoms at the same time—that's how we can help him."

Rogue exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Hell…never thought I'd hear about this again."

V turned to her. "You've…heard of this thing?"

She gave the merc a sideways glance. "Rumours." she admitted. "Back in my day, there was talk of some high-tech vault buried deep underground…holding a device like that. But no one believed it. Sounded too much like a kid's fairy tale—some genie in a bottle nonsense." She scoffed, but there was no humour in it. "An AI, trapped in a cage, forced to obey whoever holds the key."

Rogue then glanced back at Songbird. "And you're claiming it's real?"

Songbird exhaled through her nose, gaze dropping for a moment. "Yeah. I know it is." she admitted. "But I have no idea how to find it…"

Panam let out a sharp breath, crossing her arms as she turned to Rogue with a biting smirk. "Well, that shouldn't be a problem, right?" she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "The oh-so-precious Queen of the Afterlife knows everything that goes on in Night City. Should be easy for you."

V's eyes flicked to Rogue, expecting some kind of reaction. A glare, a sharp retort, something.

But Rogue barely spared Panam a glance. Unfazed, uninterested. Instead, she looked straight at Songbird and V. "I can put out feelers." she said, cool and to the point. "See if anything bites."

Songbird did not look the least bit hopeful. She shifted uncomfortably, shaking her head. "I…wouldn't count on it."

Rogue narrowed her eyes slightly. "Hm?"

"Because if I don't know where to find it…" Songbird continued softly. "I doubt any of your mercs will."

But River, who had been silent up until now, finally broke out of his deep contemplation. He rubbed his chin, thinking. Then, with quiet certainty, he spoke.

"You already do know how to find it." he muttered.

Songbird blinked at him. "Huh?"

The burly detective looked straight at her. "After all…you figured out this device actually exists. So the question is…how?"

V glanced at Songbird, watching as she hesitated. Her fingers twitched slightly at her sides, eyes darting to the floor for a brief moment before she let out a quiet sigh.

"It's a long story." she said finally. "Basically…it was when I breached a Militech datafort."

The story already sounded eerily familiar to V.

The merc recalled his meeting with Mr. Blue Eyes. The enigmatic man had indeed described such a feat when he introduced V to the netrunner he was meant to retrieve.

Judy frowned, still catching up. "Uh…by yourself?"

Songbird nodded. "Yeah."

That answer alone made Judy's brows lift. "Damn…" she muttered, exchanging a glance with V.

V was not exactly a netrunner, hardly dabbling in it outside of necessity, but even he knew what kind of insanity it took to pull off such a feat—let alone by one single person. Militech was not some mom-and-pop corp running firewalls from the last century. Their servers were an ironclad fortress inside cyberspace.

Judy, still wrapping her head around it, tilted her head. "Wait—so why'd you do it? Arasaka put you up to it? Clawing secrets out of the competition?"

But Songbird shook her head. "Nope."

Judy narrowed her eyes. "Then…you just woke up one day and decided to break into Militech's most secure servers for fun?"

Songbird offered a small, almost sheepish smirk. "Yeah. Pretty much."

"You're…insane." the techie whispered under her breath, her tone a mixture of admiration and disbelief.

Ignoring that, Songbird crossed her arms. "I did it to challenge myself. To see…if I could." Her voice carried no arrogance, just quiet self-reflection.

"When I breached those servers, it was like diving into an ocean of data…" she said. "Layers on top of layers of encrypted files, firewalled partitions, redundancies stacked on redundancies. But as I kept digging, a term kept surfacing…a 'Neural Matrix'. Over and over, buried deep in scattered records, fragmented logs that didn't lead anywhere. Nothing concrete, no full reports, just…remnants, basically. Like someone on the inside tried to scrub it all clean…but they couldn't erase every last trace."

She looked back at them, her expression firm. "That's how I knew. Even in their most secure datafort, that name kept slipping through the cracks. Something happened—I don't know what…but it's convinced Militech that the device really is buried. Now I'm convinced too."

River listened closely, his brows drawn in deep concentration as he slowly rubbed the back of his head. He was piecing it together, step by step.

"Yeah...alright, it's like I thought." he muttered. He turned to Songbird, his tone steady. "We're stuck because we're not even on the beginning of the trail. We don't know where to look, don't know where to start. But Militech does. They've already done the hard part—might've found it already, even. We need to learn how far they've gotten, what trail it is that they're following."

He exhaled sharply and gestured with his hand, as if the answer was right there in front of them. "Even if they tried to scrub their servers clean, that information has to exist somewhere. Could be physical records, could be shards, internal reports, hell, even some old exec's forgotten briefcase. But it has to be there."

River turned his sharp gaze toward V, then the rest of the group, and finished his thought.

"Which means the best shot at finding it…is breaking into Militech's regional headquarters."

V stood by the largest tent in the Aldecaldos camp, leaning against a metal pole and sipping from a can of NiCola.

His gaze drifted across the camp, watching as the nomads worked like a well-oiled machine, hauling in the wreckage of the Basilisk from their massive trucks. They moved fast, incredibly fast, clearing the debris as if they had done this a hundred times before—which, knowing them, they probably had.

The remnants of the once-mighty war machine lay in a charred heap, its armor scorched, its frame twisted. Seeing it like this, broken beyond repair, stirred a pang of guilt in him. He knew damn well that using the Basilisk to chase down the Kang Tao AV had been reckless. But it was necessary. It had done its job.

V took another sip of his drink, then turned his head slightly to the right. Songbird stood there, close by his side, even as the rest of their group had split up. She was not saying much. He watched her for a moment, noticing the way her eyes darted, the subtle shift of her posture. She looked uncomfortable. The whispers were hard to ignore. Passing nomads stole glances at her, murmuring to each other even as they tried to be discreet about it. Songbird had picked up on it too.

Not surprising. The Aldecaldos were not quick to warm up to outsiders. It took time. Even longer if you looked like you did not belong—and Songbird, in her tattered yet still sleek corpo suit, stuck out like a particularly sore thumb.

Breaking the silence, V let out a short chuckle. "Heh, you alright?"

Songbird exhaled slowly, crossing her arms. "This just isn't the crowd I'm used to."

V smirked, tilting his can toward her in a half-toast. "Yeah, well. You're a long way from Arasaka Tower now."

She shook her head, dismissing her discomfort with a sigh. "Never mind me. What about you? How are you feeling? Is NeuroGuard helping?"

V blinked, caught off guard. "Uh…NeuroGuard?"

Songbird tilted her head, watching him. "The program I slipped you? To help slow the deterioration. I saw you installed it when I checked your diagnostics, but I'm curious how it's making you feel."

"Oh, right." V rubbed the back of his neck. "Guess I kinda forgot the name. But yeah, I appreciate it. Black market shit never fails to surprise. Haven't coughed up blood once since installing it." He rapped his knuckles against his temple. "Been keeping my brain from totally frying, so that's a win."

Before Songbird could respond, Mitch approached, stepping away from his work on the wreckage of the Basilisk. He wiped his hands on his dark green jacket, leaving faint smudges of oil and dirt behind. Sweat glistened on his forehead—he had been at it since the crack of dawn.

V spotted him and cracked the empty can in his grip before tossing it aside. "So? How's she look?"

Mitch chuckled, shaking his head. "Bringing this baby back to life? That's gonna be a several-month project, at least. She's in bad shape."

V smiled weakly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah… sorry about that. Didn't mean to turn her into scrap."

Mitch grinned, waving off the apology. "Ah, don't sweat it. I know you had to do what you had to do. Besides, this is the kind of work I like. Tinkering, fixing things up, bringing metal back to life? Beats whatever flavour of chores Saul's got lined up for me." He wiped his hands off again, then shot V a knowing look. "Anyway, while I'm busy with this beast, how busy are you gonna be with your top-secret mission with Panam?"

V glanced briefly at Songbird, just for a moment, before turning back to Mitch. He shrugged. "Pretty busy. We've got…a lot on our plate."

Mitch crossed his arms, smirking. "Should've figured. So, what's with this big gig of yours, exactly? Maybe you could at least slip me a hint? I won't tell."

V tilted his head slightly, keeping it vague. "Same old story. About to shit in the shoes of another megacorp while collecting some data we need."

"Hah! Well, you know that'll always get a big thumbs-up from me." Mitch laughed, shaking his head. "Gonna be heading out today?"

"Yup." V nodded, stretching his shoulders. "We'll leave camp soon. Heading back to Night City to take care of biz."

Mitch's gaze drifted past V, settling on Songbird. He gave her a once-over, his eyes moving from her sleek—albeit tattered—suit down to her boots. Then, in a hushed voice, he asked. "The missus really heading back to Night City…looking like that?"

Songbird raised an eyebrow. "Sorry?"

Mitch kept his voice low. "Look, I don't know the details of whatever's going on here, but I don't need 'em. What I do know is that you're a suit. A corpo on the run. Anyone with half a brain can tell with a single glance."

Songbird looked down at herself, at the once-pristine attire now scuffed and torn from her time away from Kang Tao's cold and sterile netrunning rooms. She pressed her lips into a thin line, considering his words.

Mitch shrugged. "Got an old jacket tucked away somewhere. Reckon it'd be your size. Help you blend in better. You gotta get rid of that suit—I'm telling ya."

She hesitated, fingers brushing against the frayed edges of her suit. For a moment, it seemed like the decision was heavier than it should have been, as if the choice between quality or practicality was a genuinely difficult one.

Then, with a quiet exhale, she nodded.

"Alright…thanks." she said. "Let's see it."

V watched in silence as Songbird followed Mitch toward the camp's storage area, her steps hesitant and slow. The bright, burning sun casted long shadows against the rusted metal containers stacked around the Aldecaldos' outpost, the hum of generators the only company the mercenary was left with.

Until a familiar flash of static peeked into the corner of the merc's vision. Johnny materialised beside him, arms crossed over his chest, his shades hanging low on his face.

"You sure about letting her outta sight?" Johnny asked, voice deep and concerned.

V raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You serious? That's Mitch, Johnny. If there's anyone I trust, it's him."

Johnny did not argue. He merely glanced toward the direction Songbird had gone, his expression unreadable.

V studied him for a moment, then sighed. "Alright, spill. You've been weirdly quiet, and—shit, much as I want you to shut up, you're making this kinda awkward."

Johnny did not react immediately. He just stood there, arms still crossed, eyes distant.

V chuckled, shaking his head. "What—Songbird hurt your little feelings that bad by muting you?"

No reaction. No smirk. No usual sarcastic comeback. Just a quiet, weighty pause. Then, in a voice barely above a murmur, Johnny muttered. "This whole thing's a bad fucking idea."

V's grin dropped. His posture stiffened.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

Johnny's gaze flicked to him, cool and measured. "The job. The corpo dickhead that got us into this. Her."

V lowered his head, shaking it as frustration bubbled to the surface. His jaw clenched, breath coming out through gritted teeth.

"Johnny... not this shit again." he growled, fingers twitching at his side. "This is the best shot I've got at getting this fucking thing outta my head, why don't you—"

Johnny cut him off, his voice quieter than usual, but firm. "I know."

"H-Huh?"

"This is the best chance we've got at saving your life." Johnny admitted, staring past the wandering nomads. "Even managed to convince me that Alt might fuck this up."

V's confusion twisted into suspicion. "Then why the hell are you trying to make me doubt all of it?"

Johnny exhaled, shoulders tense. He did not look at V when he spoke. "I'm not. I'm just telling you…this all feels off. Especially the chick." His silver-glowed eyes flicked toward the storage area Songbird had disappeared into. "I'm asking you to keep your guard up, V…not that you ever fucking listen."

V stood there for a moment, lips pressing into a thin line. He glanced at Johnny, but the rockerboy's expression did not waver.

Finally, V whispered, "Whatever." before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving his digital partner standing in the firelight.

His boots crunched against the dirt as he made his way toward his car, parked on the outskirts of camp. He slid down a small, sandy slope with ease, small clouds of dust kicking up around his boots as he reached the bottom. Straightening up, he dusted himself off, shaking the loose sand from his shoes before lifting his gaze.

The Porsche gleamed under the relentless Badlands sun, its metal frame shimmering against the dry heat. But V's eyes were not on the car.

Panam was leaning against the vehicle, arms crossed, looking like she had been waiting.

Her sharp eyes perked up the moment she spotted him. "Heading out now?"

"Just about." V answered simply, making his way over.

Panam exhaled through her nose, shifting her weight. "Rogue and your ex-pig friend took off before anyone even woke up. Where the hell are they heading?"

V stopped just short of her, resting his hands on his hips. "River." he corrected, his voice firm. "His name's River. We talked about this, Panam."

Panam raised an eyebrow at his tone but did not comment. Instead, she nodded slightly. "Alright. So where are River and Rogue going?"

"Touching base back in Night City. Digging around for any trace of info they can get on this Neural Matrix thing." V explained, glancing at the horizon, where the city's skyline loomed faintly in the distance.

Panam studied him for a second, then frowned. "What—now they suddenly think breaking into Militech's regional HQ is going to be a total dead end?"

"Nah. Just a good idea to never put all your eggs in one basket, and all that." V shook his head. "Long shot—the way Songbird's making it sound, this thing is one classified-as-fuck tech…probably won't turn anything up before we breach Militech. But if they do…preem."

Panam nodded slowly, arms still crossed. "Huh… probably should head to the city too. Not for this 'Neural-whatever' thing…" she muttered. "...but to start cooking up a plan to even get inside that main building. Preferably without busting down the front doors and having the entire NCPD on our asses, flatlining us right in the lobby."

V was slightly taken aback. He was still getting used to this—people backing him up in such a way. It was possible he would never get used to it. But he smirked, appreciating it nonetheless.

"Well, in that case, you could crash at my place while we work out a game plan." he offered.

Panam's eyes flicked back to him, and for the briefest moment, the tiniest trace of red colored her cheeks. It was gone just as fast, too quick for the merc to catch.

She opened her mouth, but before she could answer, V added. "As long as you don't mind hanging in an apartment with us two."

Panam immediately frowned. "Us…two?"

Then her expression shifted slightly as realisation dawned. "Wait—you're not seriously going to have that girl stay at your place…right?"

V tilted his head, confused. "Whaddaya mean…? She's on the run now—got no other place to crash…we gotta keep her safe 'til this is all over."

Panam pushed herself off V's Porsche, her arms falling stiffly to her sides as she muttered something under her breath. Whatever it was, it did not reach his ears—just a low grumble, more heat than actual words. The tension in her shoulders did not go unnoticed, though.

Then, without meeting his gaze, she turned away. "I don't need to stay at your place." she said, voice clipped.

"Wait—but you moved back in with the Aldecaldos…you're still renting a spot in Night City?"

"Nope."

That answer made his brow knit together. "Then…?"

"I'll find a motel or something." Panam said, brushing off the question as she adjusted a strap on her jacket. "I'll keep in touch. Let you know if I find any ins for those headquarters."

The nomad did not wait for a response. With a sharp turn, she strode off, boots kicking up small clouds of dust as she crossed the cracked desert ground. The dry wind caught the edges of her jacket, making it flare slightly as she climbed the small sandy hill that led back to camp. Within moments, she was gone, swallowed by the dunes.

V lingered, staring after her. His shoulders slumped, his fingers unconsciously drumming against the car's frame.

"Huh…"

A Porsche barreled down the dusty, sandy roads of the Badlands, kicking up dust as it raced towards Night City in the distance. The setting sun cast an orange glow over the asphalt, the desert heat still clinging to the air.

V was behind the wheel, his grip firm but relaxed, eyes locked on the road ahead. The hum of the car's powerful engine blended with the faint static of the personal link tethering him to the passenger beside him. Songbird sat in the seat next to him, her personal link extending from her wrist, plugged into the port at the base of V's neck, syncing her consciousness with his.

He kept the vehicle fast but steady, knowing that too much jostling could disrupt whatever it was she was doing. She sat unnaturally still, her eyes glowing an eerie shade of blue as lines of data flickered across her pupils. She was deep in his diagnostics again, still studying the intricate web of his condition. The only sounds between them were the rumble of the car, the occasional bump of the road, and the soft static hum from their connection.

Then, she whispered.

"Incredible..."

V's brow twitched, but he said nothing.

Minutes passed, the city growing larger on the horizon, neon piercing the sky. Then she spoke again, just as breathless, just as enthralled.

"Amazing..."

V huffed aggressively through his nostrils. His grip on the wheel stiffened.

"You know…you seeing the thing that's killing me as so nova? Ain't rubbing me the right way, Songbird." he finally protested.

Songbird jerked back like she had been burned, fingers fumbling to retract the link. The thin wire coiled away into the sleek panel on her wrist with a soft whirr.

"Sorry! Sorry..." she blurted out, voice pitched just a little higher than usual. Her hands curled into fists in her lap as she finally looked over at him for the first time since they had hit the road. "I've just…I've just never seen anything like this before."

V grumbled as he rolled his shoulders against the seat. "It's fine." he muttered.

Still, he took a moment to glance sideways at her, careful to keep one eye on the road.

The old nomad jacket Mitch had given her sat snug over her shoulders, concealing most of the chrome underneath. The deep red patches on the sleeves contrasted sharply against the black leather. It fit her well—better than that torn-up suit she had been clinging to like a lifeline.

Then, almost to herself, Songbird whispered. "The whole world's never seen anything like this before…" Her gaze flickered, unfocused, as if her mind had wandered elsewhere. "What's happening inside your head…it's…revolutionary."

A scoff sounded from the backseat, dry and laced with venom.

"Hear that, V? Sounds like you won the lottery." Johnny drawled, his digital form flickering into view. He lounged against the backrest, elbows hooked over both their seats, his presence as casual as it was invasive. His silver-blue eyes gleamed with mock amusement, locked onto V's face. "What a fucking privilege—to be dying for something so revolutionary."

V groaned inwardly. "Fuck's sake, Johnny…"

Songbird, on the other hand, simply sighed, already bracing for the barrage of snide remarks. She did not even bother turning around as she asked, "Obviously…you're still mad at me. What do you want—another apology? I'm sorry that I—"

Johnny's expression twisted, the usual smirk now razor-sharp. He straightened slightly, interrupting Songbird with a hard stare. "You can take your apologies and shove 'em." he bit out. "I want answers."

At that, Songbird finally turned, her dark eyes meeting Johnny's directly. The air inside the car seemed to tighten a bit.

She studied him for a second, then nodded once.

"Shoot."

Johnny's tone was low and rough. "When you first talked, you said you had no choice when you built the chip. But everyone's got a choice. You could've—"

"—stopped?" the netrunner swiftly anticipated the rockerboy's words.

Songbird's eyes sharpened, a flicker of irritation flashing across her face. "First off, like I said, I didn't build the damn thing." she shot back. "I was lead on a team—an entire division, Johnny. And even then, we weren't starting from scratch. We were building on the groundwork laid by the original series of the Relic—technology that already existed."

Johnny leaned back slightly, fingers drumming idly against the headrest of V's seat. "And?"

Songbird shook her head in annoyance. "And how do you think it would've gone if I tried to back out of a project that was promising immortality? What was I supposed to do? Call in sick? Tell them I just wasn't feeling it anymore? Maybe hand in my two weeks like I was leaving some joytoy desk job?" She let out a dry, empty chuckle. "No. You don't just 'leave' the most classified and ambitious project in Arasaka's entire history."

Her voice dropped slightly, something unreadable behind her eyes. "Anyone who tried…well, they wouldn't get far. If you weren't useful anymore, if they thought you weren't pulling your weight on the project…" She trailed off for a moment. "...they'd replace you. Make you vanish and slot in someone new. It was never said outright—never had to be. We all understood the reality of it. They took away our residence—we had to eat and sleep in that damn department…and just barely. We got the message."

She folded her arms tightly, staring out the windshield. "Saburo Arasaka's commissioned project had to succeed. It had to. So I did anything and everything to make it happen—worked myself down to the bone. And…when bone…wasn't enough…"

V's grip on the wheel slackened as his mind reeled, eyes flicking toward Songbird—toward the chrome glinting from underneath her jacket. The sharp, unnatural lines where flesh had been replaced with metal.

"All your chrome…" he muttered, almost to himself, voice barely above a whisper. "It was for…?"

Songbird did not look at him, did not react, not really. Just stared ahead, and when she finally spoke again, her voice was stoic and flat.

"I did what I had to—to keep up."

For a moment, there was nothing but the hum of the car against the desert road. But the rockerboy's voice seeped through once more.

"…why me?"

His voice cut through the silence, stern, irritated, laced with something V could not quite place.

Songbird turned again to look at the ghostly figure leaning between their seats. "Huh?"

Johnny never broke eye contact. "It had to be my fucking engram in this chip?" He hissed, his tone accusatory. "Saburo thinking he could torture me past my grave, keep poking me with a stick, that it?"

He was bracing for confirmation—expecting it. But when he looked at her, really looked, the certainty wavered. Songbird's expression did not shift, did not gloat, did not carry the weight of some large-scale conspiracy.

She just sighed again. A long, drawn-out exhale, like she was steeling herself to deliver bad news.

"Johnny…" Her voice was quieter now. Careful. "Please believe me when I tell you this…I'm not saying it to piss you off."

"Then spit it out."

Songbird hesitated just a fraction of a second before she did.

"Saburo had no say in which engram went into the prototype." She shook her head. "That was up to us. My team."

Johnny's brows furrowed, his expression flickering through a rapid mix of suspicion, confusion, and something else.

"There was no grand plan, no complicated reason why you ended up in the Relic." she continued. "It was random. We made progress with the chip, needed an engram, any engram inside Mikoshi, to begin testing its functionality, so…we took one."

She met his gaze properly again, voice devoid of theatrics.

"It was just bad luck, Johnny. Incidental."

Johnny stared at her, his digital form as still as a glitching frame. His mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to say something—some sharp retort, some cutting remark.

But before Johnny could get a word out, a violent crackling erupted inside V's skull—like a bolt of lightning slamming through his brainstem.

It was not painful, exactly, but it sent his senses spiraling, the world suddenly tilting at a sickening angle. His hands clenched, one barely managing to keep hold of the wheel while the other flew to his temple.

"Fuck!" he yelped, the car veering dangerously before he wrenched it back under control.

His first instinct was to glance at Songbird and Johnny, expecting confusion and questions. But what he saw made his stomach twist.

Songbird was clutching her head, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched tight like she was trying to fight off whatever was happening. Across from her, Johnny was not faring much better—his image flickering wildly, his form blinking in and out rapidly.

V's breath caught. "What the…" he whispered, but Songbird's strained groan cut him off.

"Urgh…I was wondering…when he'd call…" she mumbled.

V's confusion deepened. His head was still buzzing, static hissing at the edges of his perception like a swarm of insects. Then, all at once, his Kiroshi optics flared—a sudden, violent burst of purple overtaking his HUD.

His holocall system came alive, the interface forcibly hijacked, linking to a private number.

"…Ah, fuck." he groaned, reaching a realisation that his enigmatic client was trying to contact him, as Songbird's expression confirmed it.

Johnny's glitching form began to stabilise as the call contacted, but remained disorientated. "The fuck's goin' on?"

V pressed two fingers to his temple as his optics flickered, the image of a certain smug, impeccably dressed man materialising on his HUD—sharp suit, sharper grin, and eyes that always seemed to know more than they let on.

"Hey…Mr. B."