FOURTH_TIMER: 17%

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

CURRENT_STATUS: "Make It Up, Break It Up"

ENTRY_DATA:

Doors don't open like this often. Not to places like that. Militech's regional headquaters—it's fortress-grade, crawling with prying eyes, cameras, and enough black ops to make your teeth itch. But it seems like it's finally here. A window. Brief. Fragile. Gotta move fast, or it'll slam shut for good.

What does Militech got to do with the Neural Matrix? Still anyone's guess. But they're hiding something—always are. And you're about to step into the belly of the beast to find out.

Getting in's already risky. Getting out? That's the part nobody likes to talk about.

Pray that your luck holds.

The sound of an electric guitar filled the Glen apartment—off-key, clumsy, but heartfelt.

V was hunched over his couch, shoulders slack, fingers trying to play the tune of "Never Fade Away" from memory. His boot tapped a quiet rhythm against the floor, syncing loosely with the muddled notes. Clearly not Samurai-level…but it passed the time.

The blinds were half-drawn, letting in streaks of sunshine through the windows. His gaze flicked occasionally to the muted holoscreen, where static sat in place of the calls he had been waiting on—Rogue, Panam, Judy, maybe even River. No one had pinged him back yet regarding any ideas. Not since the plan to break into Militech's regional HQ was last discussed. Coordinating such an infiltration was not going to be easy, especially with the weight of Militech's wrath looming overhead.

The merc's own research so far did not reveal any weaknesses or opportunities either.

V leaned back into the couch with a creak, guitar still cradled in his lap.

It had been a few days since Songbird moved in. Weird, at first. V had gotten used to living alone, waking to nothing but the hum of the city. But now, another soul occupied the space. Lived in it. Breathed in it.

And somehow…it was working out alright. The apartment was big enough. She did not ask for much. Spent most of her time either resting or connected to his system via a personal link wire, pulling up data on the Relic like it owed her answers. V watched her closely every tine. The way she scrolled through code with tired eyes, tilting her head back and forth rhythmically as she tried to make sense of such a unique condition. She was not looking for a miracle. Just…trying to understand.

Problem was, that was all she could do. Analyse. Diagnose. Hypothesise. Over and over again.

But no fix. Not on her own. Not without that damn Neural Matrix.

V glanced toward the small dining table across the room. Half a Burrito XXL still sat in its wrapper. Next to it, a pack of pickled kelp sticks. He frowned.

"…Damn. Shoulda learned to cook." he whispered to himself.

He was not sure if she heard him from upstairs. She had been rather quiet today, resting on the bed on the second floor, but he had noticed it—her skin had started to lose a bit of its colour. Not just pale. Washed out.

V knew most of her body was synthetic and infused with chrome, but that did not mean she did not need care. Real care.

He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and let out a long sigh.

Materialising in, Johnny Silverhand laid stretched across the other end of the couch, boots resting where V's head had just been the night before. His shades were low on his nose, expression unimpressed as his ghostly gaze stared up at the ceiling.

"If you're gonna butcher one of Samurai's best—" Johnny muttered lazily, "—least you could do is make it sound less like you're choking a dying alleycat."

V groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Jesus—popping in just to heckle me?"

"Not my fault we share the same ears." Johnny said with a grin, then added. "But hey, you're getting better, at least. That last chord? Only made me want to rip out one of our eardrums instead of both."

V leaned back with a dry laugh, arms slung along the back of the couch. "Remind me to ask Songbird how she managed to press the fuckin' mute button on you."

Johnny chuckled, always delighted when the merc managed to match his own snarkiness.

They fell into a short silence—comfortable, in its own weird way.

V glanced at the guitar again, fingers twitching like they wanted to try again, but hesitated. His voice dropped just slightly. "Fuck…why does it always sound wrong?" he asked, not really looking at Johnny. "Every time I try to play…shit sounds so flat."

Johnny did not respond right away. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, fingers interlocked behind his head. When he finally spoke, his tone lost the bite—just a mellow murmur.

"Cause you're playing to kill time, not to say something."

V turned to glance at him.

Johnny kept going. "Real music's got soul. Heart. Purpose. You ain't feelin' shit, guitar won't either. Play when you need to—when there's something in your gut you gotta get out—and trust me, the strings'll know."

V blinked once, then gave a soft scoff. "Pfff…you're a real dramatic bastard, you know that?"

Johnny smirked. "Yeah, but I'm right."

A sudden metallic clatter broke the air—deep and distant.

Both men turned toward the hallway.

The apartment's elevator.

It shuddered, hissed, and started to rise.

V stood slowly, setting the guitar aside as his senses sharpened. Johnny rose too, flickering beside him. They waited in tense silence, the low mechanical grind echoing through the walls until the elevator finally reached the top floor with a loud ding.

The doors slid open.

Panam stepped out, dust on her boots and fire in her stride.

She walked straight into the apartment like she owned the place, eyes scanning briefly before locking onto V. Without saying a word, she flung something at him in one swift motion.

V caught it instinctively, palm closing around the object. A shard.

He raised an eyebrow. "Huh? Wha—Panam…?! What're you doing here? What's this?"

Panam crossed her arms. "Something you need to see."

Before V could ask anything more, the sound of soft footsteps on metal caught both his and Panam's attention.

Songbird descended down the stairs from the upper level. Her hair was slightly messy, strands sticking out like she had just woken up from a restless nap, but her complexion had improved—still pale, but not so ghostly as it had been the past few days. There was a little more light in her eyes now, a spark of awareness as she reached the bottom and looked between the two of them.

"…what's going on?" she asked, her voice touched with curiosity. Then she noticed Panam. "Oh. It's your friend."

V glanced sideways at Panam—just in time to catch a flicker of something strange in her face.

Annoyance.

It passed quickly, buried under her usual no-nonsense exterior, but V did not miss it.

Panam ignored the comment entirely and kept her attention locked on V. "Slot it." she said simply, jerking her chin toward the shard in his hand. "Got something for you. From Rogue."

That made V straighten up more.

He started to raise his hand to the port in the base of his neck—but before the shard made contact, Panam wagged a finger, stepping in close.

"Ah, ah. Not yet. Wait."

He blinked. "Wait? What for?"

"Just…wait."

He glanced between her and Songbird, who had come to lean quietly against the edge of the staircase railing, observing in silence. The three of them stood there in an awkward triangle of stillness.

Then—brrrzzzz—the silence shattered as V's holo-interface flickered to life. Reading the interface, the merc immediately saw who the call was from.

He looked back at Panam.

She just gave him a satisfied look and nodded once. "There it is."

V sighed and answered. "Yeah. V here."

The call crackled to life, Rogue's sharp voice spilling into the room immediately.

"V. I imagine Panam's already reached you? Given you the shard? Assuming she's learned how to follow instructions and be on time, that is."

V instinctively glanced at Panam.

She could not hear a word of the conversation—but her arms were already crossed tight, her jaw visibly tense. Even without audio, the vibe was clear. She knew Rogue was running her mouth again.

V smirked just slightly and muttered, "Yeah. She's here."

He turned the shard between his fingers. "What's on it?"

"Details. Believe I've finally found a crack in Militech's armour." Rogue's voice lowered slightly. "Something you can use to breach their regional headquarters. It's not a guarantee—but it's likely to be the best chance you'll get."

That got V's attention.

He glanced toward Johnny, who was now lounging coolly against the wall nearby, arms folded but with one brow raised in interest. He gave V a silent nod of approval.

V did not hesitate. He slotted the shard into the port at the base of his neck.

With a brief flick of internal static, a glowing holographic projection bloomed into view in front of him, hovering just above the table. The tall, boxy structure of Militech's regional headquarters spun slowly in blue light, surrounded by network lines and various tagged access points. Alongside it were the faces of several individuals—employees, likely. A woman and a man. Each one tagged with a rank, department, and a brief notation of their responsibilities.

V narrowed his eyes slightly, watching as the HQ model zoomed in on one of its side entrances, pulsing red.

"Alright…" he said, his voice low and focused. "Talk me through it."

"The guy's called Adrian Vossek." she began, the name pulsing next to the rotating blueprint. "Top-tier Neurobehavioural Stability Consultant. Has contracts with corpos from Biotechnica to Orbital Air. But this—this'll be the first time Militech's bringing him in."

V let out a dry chuckle. "You mean…a shrink?"

A brief pause. "Yeah. A very expensive, very efficient one." Rogue replied, voice laced with sarcasm. "Don't let the title fool you—Vossek's not here to hand out tissue boxes. He's the kinda guy they call in when someone's about to lose it, but is too valuable to terminate. He talks them down, tunes them up, and puts them back to work."

"Sounds charming."

"He's got one hell of a record. Execs with psychotic breaks, soldiers with burnouts, engineers going flatline from overstim—he stabilises them all. Keeps the cogs ever turning."

As she spoke, the schematic panned to an executive level floor. A profile picture flashed in V's vision—sharp features, unsmiling lips, dark green hair pulled back, a pristine black Militech suit. Her eyes stared out of the display, cold and lifeless.

V squinted. "And her? The one with the stare like she's got a kill-switch wired to her pupils?"

"That..." Rogue said. "...is Irina Petrova."

Johnny, sitting cross-legged on the couch beside him, slowly turned his head.

"She's the one Vossek is supposed to meet." Rogue continued. "Top-level Systems Strategist. One of the regional pillars Militech's been leaning on since Yorinobu's little tantrum at Konpeki. Works twenty-hour shifts. Barely sleeps. Refused all personal leave. And—get this—her sister, Nadya Petrova, died recently. She insists that she's fine—but her work has still slowed. Militech's not having it."

V continued to listen closely, not yet recognising the strangely familiar name.

"Vossek was booked to visit her in a few days for their first session. Only problem? He's been stuck off-world for the past week. Caught up in some corporate arbitration bullshit. That's our in."

Rogue's voice dipped. "You go in as Adrian Vossek. Songbird spoofs the security grid, makes you show up on their system like you've always been in their logs. Petrova's never met the guy, and from what I hear, she doesn't give a shit who he is so long as he signs the clearance forms."

V remained quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on Irina's profile. "And while I'm inside…"

"Yes." Rogue said immediately. "The moment eyes are off you, you're gonna dig. Get into their research logs. Download whatever they've got on that 'Neural Matrix'."

V let out a short chuckle, finally tearing his eyes away from Irina's profile. "How the hell's a street kid like me supposed to pass for a corpo shrink?"

Rogue did not miss a beat. "You already did once. Remember Konpeki Plaza?"

That shut him up. His smirk faltered. Memories flashed, and he looked away, jaw tight.

"Yeah…" he muttered. "Worked out real well last time."

Rogue did not press further. She did not have to.

V exhaled and gave a small, resigned nod. "Alright. I'll do it. Just tell me what I gotta do for now."

"For now, study the shard. Make sure that netrunner of yours does too. Get the right clothes. Memorise Vossek's tone, phrasing, speech patterns—hell, learn what brand of synth-coffee he drinks if you have to. This isn't a smash and grab, V. It's theatre. I'm sure you understand."

He nodded once more, but a lingering thought itched at the back of his mind.

"Still…" he said, rubbing at the stubble on his chin. "...how'd you even get info this deep? A private meeting inside Militech HQ? How'd you manage to get that leaked?"

There was a smirk in Rogue's voice. "Wasn't me. It was forwarded to me by your little techie friend."

"Judy?" V blinked. "Wait, she pulled this?"

"Yeah. Been working overtime, burning herself raw." Rogue said. "Tearing into Militech's outbound comms—backdoors, spoofed VPN routes, the whole circus. Took her days to breach their encryption long enough to grab even a whisper of that appointment."

V leaned back against the couch, genuinely surprised. "Damn…"

"Even the boneheaded Panam…" Rogue continued. "...delivered the shard, just like I told her to. Didn't argue, didn't hesitate. Both of them got paid, sure—but they're still putting in work. Even now."

V almost smiled. It was not smug, it was not triumphant. It was sheepish—grateful, even.

"Good for you." Rogue added, her tone shifting just a notch softer.

He nodded, still holding that slight smile, when a thought bubbled up.

"Any word from River?" he asked, quieter now. "Haven't heard from him the past couple days."

"No." Rogue answered plainly. "But I wouldn't push it. I imagine he's still dealing with his own hell. That kid he took in…what's his name?"

"Kaito." V murmured, voice distant.

"Right. Probably has his hands full, even with the payout. Let him come back on his own terms, I'd say."

V nodded again. "Yeah…I get it."

The merc removed the shard momentarily from his neck, shifting the shard between his fingers, its faint glow pulsing. There was something he was still wondering.

"One last thing, Rogue…" he murmured, eyes narrowing slightly.

He could hear her pouring a drink in the background. "Make it quick."

"Why are you still helping? You got paid too, right?

The silence on the other end of the call stretched just a second too long. Then, it came out, flat as concrete.

"I didn't get paid."

V blinked. "Wait—what?"

"My promised payout's much bigger." she said, her tone dry, impassive. "But your client made it clear—I'm not getting it 'till you find the Neural Matrix."

He sat there, stunned. Even Johnny raised an eyebrow from his spot on the couch, visibly impressed.

"What're you…saying?"

"I'm telling you—" Rogue said. "I'm only getting what I'm owed once you get what you're after."

V opened his mouth to ask just what kind of reward was on the table, but Rogue was already a step ahead.

"I've said what I need to. Slot the shard. Don't fuck it up."

The call ended with a soft click, her image vanishing from the corner of his vision.

He exhaled sharply, just as two shadows stepped closer from either side—Panam and Songbird, both quietly watching him.

"So?" Panam asked, nodding at the shard. "What'd she say?"

Songbird cocked her head slightly, hair tousled, curiosity shining behind tired eyes. "We've got a plan?"

V sighed and sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked down at the shard again.

"There's this Militech employee…" he started, his voice slow, still trying to process everything. "Name's Irina Petrova."

As soon as the name left his lips, something twisted deep in his gut. His pupils dilated slightly. Across from him, Johnny sat upright like someone had flipped a switch.

Petrova.

Nadya Petrova.

The name hit him like a shard through the skull.

Suddenly, he saw it all again—the chaos of the metro, the screaming passengers, the blur of chrome and blood. The way her mantis blades shrieked through metal. How she lunged at him with those wild, vacant eyes. The sound of gunfire. MaxTac's boots thundering on the train floor. The final shot.

Irina Petrova…her sister.

V's eyes slowly met Johnny's. The rockerboy did not say a word—did not need to. Both understood.

Panam gave him a curious glance. "Uh, V? You good?"

He hesitated.

For a second, just a second, he considered telling them. The metro. The blood. The insane, unbelievable coincidence.

But then he shook it off.

"No point complicating things…" he muttered under his breath, too low for either woman to hear, then straightened up, prepared to share the details.

"Alright…lemme tell you what we got."

The sun cut across the skyline, reflecting off chrome towers and casting long shadows over the glinting veins of the city center. Traffic was light, for once.

V's Porsche glided along the road, its engine humming low beneath the sounds of the city—distant sirens, distant lives. So much glass and steel around him, and yet he could not stop thinking about what lay inside one of those towers.

That…Militech Regional HQ.

A fortress in a city of secrets.

V had barely said a word since they left the apartment. The shard was still fresh in his head—every blueprint, every floor schematic, every security rotation and blind spot. He had replayed Rogue's words over and over till they had etched themselves behind his eyes.

Songbird was dead quiet too.

She lay flat in the backseat, head tilted just enough to catch glimpses of the passing skyline through the tinted windows. A blanket draped over herself, her fingers nervously tapping out a silent rhythm on the seat.

V had offered to let her stay behind. Said he could handle the preparation part of things himself.

She refused. Said she needed to see it for herself.

Maybe it was restlessness. Maybe it was guilt. Or maybe she just did not trust anyone else to steer the plan into motion but herself.

V pulled up at the curb close to Avante—a slick, high-end tailor shop that would have the exact threads he needed for his disguise.

The Porsche's engine purred low as he parked.

He took a deep breath, leaned back in his seat, then twisted around slightly to look over his shoulder. "You good back there?"

There was a pause.

Songbird shifted slightly under the blanket until she pushed it away. Her eyes met his—half-open, tired, but sharp beneath it all. "Yeah…" she said, voice quiet. "Just…thinking."

V raised a brow. "What about?"

Her eyes did not meet his this time. Instead, they drifted sideways, gazing out of the window. Lights danced across her reflection—pink, gold, violet. She gave him a small, almost bittersweet smile.

"Just weird, I guess." she said quietly. "Seeing Night City like this. Out on the street. Like a normal person."

She rested her head against the seat.

"When I first left home—left my country—I got shipped straight to Arasaka Academy. Total lockdown. Life became study, drills, neural discipline, black glass walls. Barely saw the sun. Then came Arasaka Tower. Relic project. Even more walls. More locks. Fancier prison."

V stayed quiet.

Songbird gave a dry chuckle. "Then Kang Tao. Another cage. Different corp. Same script." she leaned her head back. "I've lived here for years, V. Years. And I don't even know what most of this city looks like."

There was a silence between them. V wanted to say something. Something comforting. Or clever. But the words did not come.

She sighed, then clapped her hands together. The tiredness melted off her features, replaced with that distinct confidence of hers that he was starting to get familiar with. "Alright!" she said, perking up. "We ought to get moving."

V smirked. "...how're you gonna get out without every scanner and cam in the district pinging your face?"

She gave him a sly look—did not answer.

Instead, she leaned back in her seat, nestling deeper into the shadows of the car. Her eyes closed shut. One moment passed, then two, then her head slumped forward, chin to chest, like someone had just flipped her off-switch.

"Songbird…?" V muttered, shifting in his seat.

Then, a flash. His optics buzzed with static for half a second as his biochip's interface blinked to life.

And just outside the car, standing at the open passenger window, was her—or rather, a holographic projection of her. Transparent, glitching at the edges, but still her.

She leaned in, elbows on the door, head tilted playfully. "I have a way."

V let out a short chuckle. "Right…you can do that."

The projection grinned.

She stepped back from the car and fell into a stride. "Well? come on then." she said over her shoulder, voice cheeky and teasing. "Keep up."

V snorted and flicked off the ignition. The car gave a soft whir as it powered down. He pushed open the door, stepping out into the daylight.

Wind brushed past him—warm, carrying the scent of synth-leather and fried soy-meat. He stood still for a second, feeling the city breathe with him. The traffic hum and the constant chatter of passersby, he had known it all since the moment he was born.

Songbird's projection was already a few paces ahead, glitching faintly with each step but still moving like she owned the whole street. Her translucent form shimmered in the sun, reflecting the flashes of billboard ads and the towering glow of the skyline.

As he fell into step beside her, she turned her head left, then right, eyes wide.

"Your optics are feeding me everything." she murmured, gaze flicking over people, signs, even a noodle cart being manned by a chrome-armed vendor. "It's chaotic…noisy. Kinda overstimulating."

V chuckled. "Yeah, that's Night City for you. Overclocked senses or nothing at all."

They walked. Past chrome-plated corpos in sleek suits. Past tech junkies fiddling with black market cyberware. Past joytoys, tourists, trauma teams and gang members. Nobody paid them much mind—just another pair of shadows moving through the city.

The noise got louder the deeper they went. Ad drones buzzed above them. Billboards screamed in a dozen dialects. The heat from the concrete pulsed up through V's shoes. The projection of Songbird kept flickering beside him, turning every few meters to soak it all in—eyes darting, lips curling in either amusement or wonder.

Reaching the very centre of the city, they hit a circular ramp—white, sleek, and packed with people, winding its way gently upward like some spiral leading to heaven.

Or maybe to hell, depending on which corp's logo was waiting at the top.

Step by step, they climbed.

And then, finally, at the top of the winding path…they got a perfect view of it.

Militech's regional headquarters.

It stood like a monolith, all matte-black steel and gold-lit edges. Not as tall as Arasaka Tower, but no less menacing. Its walls were thick, brutal, stacked like armour plating. Rows of red-sparked windows flickered erratically, as if the building was glitching—or breathing. And across its face, a koi swam in electric orange, its tail forming arcs of light that wrapped around the tower like an ominous warning.

Songbird stopped, her projection pausing beside him.

V planted his hands on his hips, exhaled through his nose, and let out a long, low whistle.

"Damn."

Without missing a beat, her flickering form hopped up onto the railing of the elevated path. With the city glowing behind her, she sat down, legs crossing effortlessly, both hands gripping the edge as if to help herself stay balanced.

"Still nervous?" she asked calmly with a confident smile. "About the plan. Vossek."

V glanced up at her—eyebrows raised. He scratched his jaw, thinking for a second, then gave a tired shrug.

"Read the shard. Read it again. Watched a couple hours' worth of the guy's therapy logs 'till I damn near started talking like him." He grimaced. "I'll manage. Even if pretending to be a rich corpo shrink makes me wanna gargle acid."

Songbird chuckled. "I'm sure you've had worse gigs."

"Sure I have." V admitted, then jabbed a finger at her. "But I swear, if I have to use the phrase 'let's explore that feeling together' without throwing up in my mouth—someone better owe me a drink."

That earned a proper laugh from her. "Noted."

V's smirk faded. He glanced over his shoulder at the monolithic Militech HQ. "That reminds me. All this hinges on one thing…you really think you can breach Militech's systems in just a day? Falsify records, beat their scans, make them see Vossek when they're looking right at me?"

Songbird blinked slowly. Did not even flinch.

"Breach?" She smiled, almost to herself. "Don't need to breach what I already have access to…"

V's brow furrowed. "Huh…?"

Her gaze drifted, suddenly far off. She looked like someone who had said too much.

"Oh, uh, it's... a long story."

V took a little step closer, confused. "I'm all ears?"

But she leaned back slightly, swinging one leg idly over the other. "We don't have that kind of time. Besides—" Her tone turned relaxed again. "—you should be focusing on what you'll say to your 'client.'"

"Irina Petrova…" V muttered, grimacing like the name tasted sour.

"Is…there a problem?"

He crossed his arms. "Nah. Just...gonna be an interesting convo."

"Well…" she started, brushing an transparent strand of hair behind her ear. "...you'll only need to talk to her until eyes are off you. After that, I'll walk you through the rest."

She gestured toward the Militech building, the glowing fish above them flickering as if responding to her voice. "Top floors are mostly administration, exec suites. We're not interested in those. We're aiming for systems architecture, archive decryption vaults, project dev clusters—anywhere they might've buried data on the Neural Matrix. Could be one floor. Could be spread across a dozen. But I'll be in your ear the whole way."

She tapped her temple, then pointed directly at his.

"Relic connection means I'll be with you, every step. You don't need to worry about getting lost."

V's jaw tensed, the weight of the op starting to settle like freezing ice in his gut. But he managed a nod.

"...Thanks, Songbird." He paused, then spoke again, under his breath. "Tomorrow…we're breaking in tomorrow. You and me."

She smiled, playful again for just a second. "Don't forget, before you go playing therapist-slash-spy, we need to get you looking the part. Avante's waiting. You can't walk into their headquarters looking like…well, you know…"

"Yeah…yeah, I know."

The two of them were side by side—netrunner and mercenary, flesh and data—gazing up at the intimidating sprawl of Militech's tower. Red text scrolled across reinforced glass. Yellow lights climbed the seams like circuitry in a machine.

Her voice lowered to a whisper as they both stared at the building.

"After that…it's showtime."