The Afterlife was always cold—but not just in the way that sank into your skin. It was cold in its bones. The walls were made of stories soaked in blood and gunfire. Ghosts walked here, not people. V leaned against the bar and tried not to think about it.

Dexter DeShawn was late, as usual. Power move. The kind of thing men like him did when they wanted you to know they held the cards.

V rolled her eyes and sipped on something vaguely alcoholic, pretending not to notice the way Jackie sat a little straighter every time someone glanced their way. He looked like a kid before a school play—nervous, proud, trying not to fidget. But she knew better. He was hoping tonight would be the start of something big.

"Relax, Jack," she murmured. "You're gonna give yourself a stroke."

He grinned at her. "Come on, V. We're in the Afterlife! This gig? It's what we've been bustin' our asses for."

She managed a faint smirk. "Guess so." Her tone didn't match his enthusiasm.

But she meant it—kind of. The Afterlife. How many mercs had died chasing a seat at this bar? How many of their names were still whispered in back alleys and flickering shards, always with a mix of awe and warning? She'd heard stories, thinking they were half-myth. And now she was standing in the middle of it.

For a second, it felt like she belonged here. Like she'd clawed her way into the pages of Night City folklore.

Then she remembered why they were here.

Arasaka.

The heist.

Her stomach twisted. Legends were made in this place—but just as often, they were buried under it.

Jackie exhaled through his nose, catching the shift in her tone. "You still think we should've pulled out?"

V didn't answer right away. She glanced around the bar—at the mercs with chrome-plated limbs, the solos with cyberoptics glowing like specters in the dark. Everyone in this place had a dream or a death wish. Usually both.

"I think we're poking the bear," she finally said. "And that bear wears an Arasaka logo and doesn't lose."

Jackie didn't answer immediately. He looked into his drink, swirling the ice. "I know it's risky. But it's Arasaka, chica. You know how big this is."

"Yeah," she said softly. "I know better than anyone."

She didn't talk about her time there. Not to anyone except Jackie. The corridors of Arasaka still haunted her—eerie red lights, cold metal, and eyes watching from behind mirrored glass. She'd been their loyal dog once, chasing orders and biting on command. Until they stamped her old man's death onto a spreadsheet, called it "acceptable collateral," then years later, stabbed her in the back.

Now she was about to steal from them. It should've felt like revenge. Instead, it felt like playing chicken with a train.

Claire was wiping down a highball glass, the same easy rhythm in her hands as the bass from the bar's speakers pulsed through the air. She didn't look up right away, just nodded toward the back. "Looks like your guy is here. Back booth, same as always."

Jackie swiveled on his stool, already grinning. "Gracias, Claire. You're a gem."

V gave her a small nod, fingers drumming lightly on the bar. "Appreciate it."

Claire offered a half-smile, still working through her stack of glasses. "Good luck, you two. Not every day folks get called to that booth."

Jackie laughed under his breath. "Guess we're not just 'folks' tonight."

V pushed off her stool, the familiar weight of her pistol brushing her side. Together, they moved through the glow and grime of Afterlife, past eyes that lingered a little too long and conversations that paused as they passed.

Dex finally showed, flanked by his huscle, T-Bug, and his chrome-plated ego, the scent of expensive cigars curling in the air around him. He sat in his exclusive back booths, like a black hole in human form, drawing attention without effort. He talked like he owned the room, like he was already sipping champagne on the other side of the job.

"Jackster, Miss V! Glad you could make it," Dex said, lifting his glass. "Tonight, my friends, we make history."

"I'd settle for makin' it out alive," V said dryly.

Dex grinned, his gold tooth glinting. "With the right prep? Piece of cake. Take a seat."

V shot the huscle a look. He gave them a curt nod and stepped aside, letting them into the booth. Jackie stood taller than usual, smoothing down the front of his jacket. He kept nudging V with his elbow like a schoolboy on the cusp of something great.

"Relax," she muttered, slumping into the seat across from Dex.

Jackie sat next to her, eyes darting between the fixer and the netrunner. T-Bug met V's gaze briefly—cool, unreadable as ever.

Dexter DeShawn leaned forward, that signature smirk never leaving his face. His gaze flicked between V and Jackie, and tapped the table with a couple thick fingers. "Alright, let's see it. Flathead. Put it on the table."

Jackie lifted the large case he'd been carrying at his side and unlocked it with a metallic click. He pulled out the Flathead—Militech bot repurposed for infiltration, all sleek chrome legs and barely suppressed menace—and placed it carefully on the table. Its segmented body twitched, servo-motors clicking softly as it adjusted to its surroundings like some chrome-plated spider.

Dex's gold tooth glinted as he looked it over. "Now that's a thing of beauty. Damn fine work, both of you."

"Custom job," T-Bug added from her spot across the booth, her arms crossed and eyes flicking over the bot. "More legs than a Joytoy lineup, and a toolkit to match."

"So," he drawled, lounging back with that ever-present smugness, "you two managed to snatch the Flathead from Maelstrom. Heard that was no small feat."

Jackie chuckled, shaking his head. "You could say that. Those gonks weren't exactly rolling out the red carpet."

V nodded, her expression neutral. "Had to clear out their hideout. Wasn't much choice."

Dex's eyes narrowed slightly behind his aviators, curiosity piqued. "Didn't think Maelstrom would part with that tech easily. How'd it play out?"

Jackie leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Walked into All Foods, tried to play it cool. Their leader, Royce, wasn't havin' it. Things got... heated."

V smirked faintly. "Ended with us walkin' out and them not walkin' at all."

Dex let out a low whistle, leaning back deeper into his seat, one thick arm draped over the backrest like he owned the place. "Well, ain't that something. Glad you two came out in one piece. That Flathead's gonna be our golden ticket."

He reached into his vest with a slow, deliberate motion, like the whole damn city could be hiding in his inside pocket. Then, with a practiced flick, he slid two data shards across the table—the sound of metal on glass a soft snick that cut through the ambient bass.

"Here. Slot it in."

V and Jackie each picked up a shard, the metal cool against her fingertips. Without hesitation, she slotted it into her neural port with a practiced motion.

A soft click, then the sharp flare of her HUD flickered to life. The world around her dimmed as the overlay took over—data streaming fast. Lines and grids formed in glowing wireframe, building themselves layer by layer.

Konpeki Plaza unfolded before her eyes: the sweeping lobby, elevator shafts marked with blinking nodes, clusters of surveillance systems like spider nests, patrol routes snaking through hallways in rhythmic loops.

Dex continued while she scanned. "That shard's got the full breakdown. Floor schematics, security schedules, ICE layouts—everything we could pull from the inside without settin' off alarms."

"Ay carajo," Jackie muttered, glancing over. "This is some corpo-level detail. Looks like a fortress."

T-Bug, who had been observing them, snorted. "That's 'cause it is a fortress. We're talking Arasaka—paranoia's baked into the walls. We cracked it through back channels, scrubbed clean. You'll be walkin' through that place like it's your own funeral procession—if you screw up."

V's face remained impassive as she let the maps scroll in her vision, memorizing choke points, security loops, guard patterns. It was tight. Tighter than any gig they'd run before. But not impossible.

"We've got a window. A small one. And the trick to slipping through it is the alias." T-Bug's lips curled into a half-smile.

"Alright, here's the rundown," Dex began. "Yorinobu Arasaka's penthouse is on the top floor. Security's tighter than a nun's—well, you get the idea. Cameras, motion sensors, guards patrollin' every corridor."

T-Bug chimed in. "The Flathead will be crucial. We'll use it to breach the local security network, disable alarms, and give you a clear path." She paused, eyes narrowed. "There's an AI running the penthouse. We need to blind the systems so it doesn't flag you the second you get inside."

V studied the layout, her eyes flicking over the wireframe blueprint as the security nodes blinked red, each one a potential obstacle. Her mind worked quickly, processing every angle, every possible risk. "Entry point?" she muttered, her voice low, calculating.

"You'll enter through the main lobby, posing as corporate clients." Dex said. "Your in is through a Japanese exec named Hajime Taki. Mid-tier Arasaka suit. He's in town negotiating a hush-hush weapons deal. Staying at Konpeki while he waits for the next round of talks." Right on queue, details of the Arasaka exec flashed in her HUD.

V frowned. "He know we're jackin' his name?"

Dex chuckled. "Not a clue. And that's what makes it work. We've spoofed a private meeting in the hotel's guest registry—real clean."

V frowned, her fingers tapping lightly on her knee. "And if he finds out?"

Dex leaned forward, his tone shifting to something colder, more calculated. "Then make damn sure he doesn't. As far as the front desk is concerned, Mr. Taki's expecting two high-profile corporate clients: Kiera Sato and Ramon Martinez."

Jackie raised his brow. "Ramon Martinez? Seriously?"

Dex smirked. "Could've gone with Raul, but Ramon's got that certain je ne sais quoi."

V let out a soft snort. "Kiera Sato, huh? Sounds like she drinks overpriced matcha." She leaned back in her seat, arms crossed.

"Just don't act like some wide-eyed tourist," T-Bug advised, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized their faces. "Walk in like you belong. Corpo swagger. Polished chrome. Dead eyes. They eat that up. You know what I mean, V."

With T-Bug and Dex, it was clear they'd pick her for the job because of her history with Arasaka. It didn't take much to know that her past there gave her an edge—an edge that would make her blend in perfectly.

"I know."

T-Bug cut back in. "Our ghost meeting's logged in the system. Security'll check your IDs and direct you to the suite—no questions asked. But listen close: no irons. Any firearms will set off their alarms and blow your cover. The exec you're impersonatin' is flagged for high-level arms negotiations, so the Flathead won't raise suspicion. It should pass as a demo unit—nothing more."

She leaned in slightly. "From there, we deploy the Flathead into the vents and guide it to the penthouse's security hub. Once it's in, I'll jack the system—blind the cams, loop the feeds, disable sensors. We'll have a clear shot."

V's eyes narrowed as the penthouse schematic lit up in her vision, each line and node sharp against the backdrop of her thoughts. One access point. Dozens of hazards.

"Once T-Bug is in," Dex continued, "you ghost through to Yorinobu's suite, lift the chip, and get the hell out. No bodies. Clean and quiet."

"As quiet as Night City gets," V muttered, pulling the shard from her neural port.

Dex grinned. "That's the spirit."

Jackie beamed, wide and easy, like he already saw the eddies rolling in.

V's stomach twisted. Her fingers twitched, the ghost of cold metal brushing her skin, nerves on edge. She gave a tight smile, forced and thin. This wasn't nerves about the job. It was something deeper. Older. A feeling that came from walking into too many rooms where she didn't know who'd make it back out.

Dexter took a slow puff from his cigar, exhaling the smoke with a deliberate ease. "And timing couldn't be better. Yorinobu's out of town for a high-level board meetin' at Arasaka HQ. Means the penthouse is locked down but empty."

V turned the data shard over in her hand, her gaze fixed on it as she mulled over what Dex had said.

It all lined up too neatly. The perfect timing. The clean registry. The missing Arasaka prince. Everything sliding into place like someone greased the rails. That's what bothered her. In Night City, nothing ever ran this smooth—unless they weren't seeing the whole board.

"This biochip..." she said slowly, voice low. "What's the real story behind it? Why's it worth so damn much?"

T-Bug straightened slightly, her tone turning serious. "The Relic's a prototype of their Secure Your Soul program—top-tier Arasaka project. Word is, Yorinobu Arasaka took it for himself—he's plannin' to either sell it to NetWatch or use it to undermine his old man's authority."

Dex nodded. "It's a key part of Yorinobu's grand scheme. The chip could change everything about Arasaka's power dynamics."

T-Bug continued, her voice more cautious now. "But it's fragile. This isn't just some data drive you can stuff in your pocket. It's got a narrow window for stability. Needs to be kept in a maintained temperature range. Too high, too low? The chip's fried. There's a reason Arasaka keeps it locked in that damn penthouse. It's in a secure cooling safe, so one of you will need to jack into it so I can unlock it remotely."

"Great," V muttered, her voice laced with sarcasm. "So no pressure."

T-Bug gave a tight smile. "Just another day at the office. It's in a special cryocase to keep it stable, though. Once you get it, make sure the cooling unit's on, and don't jostle it too much. If you fuck that up, it's toast."

T-Bug leaned forward, her fingers steepled as she addressed V and Jackie. "Once you reach the hotel, I'll be your guide. So keep your channels open and clear."

Jackie gave a thumbs-up, his grin wide. "Got it, T. We'll follow your lead."

Dex clapped his hands together, drawing their attention. "A'ight, enough of that. Time to suit up."

T-Bug slid a sleek, black garment bag across the table toward them. Dexter took a slow sip from his glass, then set it down with a quiet thud. "Here are your Arasaka exec suits," he said, his gaze sharp. "Tailored to fit, with all the right insignia. Wear 'em well; they'll be your ticket past the front desk and into the penthouse."

V stared a moment longer than she intended at the garment bag, her eyes fixed on the Arasaka logo emblazoned across it. She never thought she'd get her hands on an Arasaka uniform again.

Dex's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "I've arranged for transportation. A Delamain with the Excelsior package will be waitin' for you outside. Provides maximum security, armored protection, and advanced defense systems. It's a big deal—especially considerin' the heat we're about to bring down on Arasaka."

Jackie raised an eyebrow. "Excelsior package, huh? Sounds fancy."

"Damn right it is," Dexter said with a smirk. "Top-tier Delamain service. You two'll be cruisin' in the lap of luxury—safest ride money can buy."

He tapped the table again, the glint of gold in his grill catching the low light. "Now, let's talk numbers."

Jackie crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, let's. What's our cut?"

Dex smiled, like he'd been expecting that question. "You two pull this off clean, you walk away with thirty percent. Each."

Jackie's brow creased. "Thirty? For goin' into the lion's den? That biochip's worth more than this whole bar, hombre."

Dex held up a hand. "And you think gettin' you in there, clean IDs, cover story, luxury transport, and my rep on the line comes cheap? Everybody's got skin in the game."

V's voice was cool, her eyes locking with Dex's as she leaned forward slightly. "We're riskin' more than rep. We get seen, we don't walk out. You want us to ghost Arasaka's golden boy and steal his crown jewel—we deserve more."

T-Bug raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Dex considered them for a moment, then nodded once. "Alright. You drive a hard bargain. Thirty-five. That's final."

Jackie looked at V, and V gave a subtle nod. It'd do.

"Deal," she said.

Dex grinned wide. "Knew we'd come to an understanding." He got up, adjusting his vest. "Then it's go time. Change into your suits. The Delamain'll be waiting just outside the Afterlife. Don't forget the Flathead."

He pointed a thick finger at them. "And remember—once you step in that car, you're on the clock. No screw-ups."

T-Bug pushed back from the booth and gave them a quick nod. "One slip-up, and it all goes south," T-Bug warned, her eyes flicking between V and Jackie. "Stay low. This isn't your run-of-the-mill job."

Jackie smirked, leaning back in his seat. "We're pros, T."

"Yeah, well, I've seen your idea of subtlety, Jack," T-Bug shot back, not missing a beat.

With that, they turned and walked out of the booth, leaving V and Jackie alone, the weight of the heist pressing down on her chest.

Jackie leaned toward her, practically vibrating with excitement. "Can you believe this shit, V? This is the major leagues!"

V forced a smile, but the doubt still clung to her. "It's something."

Jackie's grin faltered as he caught her hesitation. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "This is it, V. We take this, we're not just 'nother job—like Johnny Silverhand, the ones they talk 'bout in whispers in places like this. Afterlife legends, you hear me?"

V didn't answer right away, her gaze distant as she traced the rim of the data shard in her hand. The idea of being remembered as legends, of leaving a mark on Night City—it was tempting. But deeper inside, something held her back.

She shifted uneasily, her arms crossed tightly as she focused on the plan, the promise of eddies, of a chance out of the gutter. Part of her still wanted to prove something to Arasaka. The eddies were tempting, but what weighed on her more than anything was both of them making it out alive.

Jackie saw the heaviness in her eyes, the weight of the past pressing down on her. Jackie leaned back, studying V with a raised brow. "What's up, chica? You look like you're about to bail outta here any second." He gave a sly grin. "I get it, though. Big job, big risks, I know the drill."

V shot him a quick glare, not in the mood. "I'm not bailing, Jack. Don't start."

Jackie chuckled, leaning in a little closer. "Nah, nah, I'm just sayin', I get why you're a little tense. Can't blame ya, it's a helluva job we're walkin' into. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't feelin' the same shit."

V's eyes flicked over to him, her voice clipped. "I'm not 'nervous,' alright? I'm makin' sure we don't fuck this up."

Jackie held up his hands, feigning innocence. "Hey, no judgment here, just sayin'—Damn, V, you're lookin' all kinds of paranoid over there. Ain't no 'Saka ghost gonna jump out and grab you."

V stayed silent for a beat, her gaze steady—hard, but not as cutting as before. With a low grunt, Jackie pushed up from the booth and circled to her side. He slapped a hand on her back—firmer than he meant to—making her jolt slightly in her seat. Her smaller frame didn't quite absorb the hit, but he just grinned, eyes glinting with mischief.

V shot him a sideways glance, voice flat. "You always gotta hit like a freight train?"

Jackie chuckled. "Just makin' sure you're still breathin', chica."

She gave the barest hint of a smile, but her fingers tightened around the data shard like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

"I'm gonna suit up," she said, setting the shard on the table and sliding out of the booth before he could catch anything else written on her face. "You should too."

She walked through the bar's narrow hallway, past chipped walls and rusted pipes, and slipped into the restroom. The flickering fluorescent light buzzed overhead like a swarm of synthetic hornets. She locked the door, turned toward the cracked mirror, and stared.

The suit hung neatly in the garment bag she'd picked up on the way in, and she touched the lapel stitched with the Arasaka logo, fingers ghosting over the fine weave—a stark reminder of the suffocating control the corpo exerted over every corner of the world. It wasn't just a brand—it was a symbol of the power they hoarded and the chains that still weighed her down.

V stared at the fabric for a long moment, jaw tight. It looked the same as the ones she used to wear. Same cut. Same color. But this time, it felt heavier. She slipped it from the bag like it might crumble in her hands, like pulling on a second skin she thought she'd shed for good.

She finally peeled off her leathers, layer by layer, until it was just her and the cold stink of the Afterlife restroom. The mirror didn't lie—small frame, wiry muscle, old scars. Easy to miss in a crowd, easier to underestimate. Sliding into the suit felt like slipping into an old skin—tailored, sharp-edged, built for command.

But the woman in the mirror didn't look like someone in control.

She looked like a ghost.

Dark gray optics, cold and unblinking, flickered beneath tired lids. Thin cybernetic lines traced from the corners of her eyes, vanishing into her temples like veins of metal under skin. Her reflection stared back, all sharp angles and sleepless vigilance, like even it didn't trust her anymore.

There was a time she walked Arasaka's halls like she belonged. Her old man had been in field ops—nothing flashy, just the grit and grime of corpo field work. Until a job went sideways, some corpo kid playing war games got him killed, and Arasaka filed it under acceptable losses. Just like that.

She should've walked away then.

But she didn't. She worked her way up, hungry to prove she had what he didn't—skill, power, and brains to match. Jenkins saw that fire and fed it. Gave her control over counter intel, made her believe she was untouchable.

Until he needed a fall girl.

One bad meeting, one twitch in the power chain, and suddenly she was out—flatlining in the gutter, cyberware fried, creds locked, identity scrubbed. Just another discarded asset. Another ghost in the city.

That was Arasaka.

She stared harder at herself, jaw clenched.

Her hands tightened into fists. The suit still fit like a second skin, but it didn't own her. Not anymore. She had a job to do, and she needed her head clear.

As she reached for the door, her holo buzzed softly-an incoming message. She glanced at it.

Dexter DeShawn: Meet me at the No-Tell Motel after. Good luck, miss V.

V stared at the message for a beat, then closed the screen.

She exhaled slowly, let the tension bleed out, and zipped the garment bag shut.

By the time she stepped back into the bar, Jackie was already on his feet in his corpo suit, eyebrows shooting up the moment he saw her. For a second, V almost laughed—he actually looked the part. With that samurai topknot and the large Flathead case he was carrying, he could've passed for an Arasaka dog without missing a beat.

"Well damn, chica," he said with a grin. "If you wanted to look like a corpo, you nailed it."

She raised a brow. "You sayin' I didn't before?"

He laughed, handing her the data shard. "This time, you look like you own the building."

"Let's hope we make it out without buyin' it," she muttered, tucking the shard away.

As they passed the bar, Claire leaned out from behind the counter, a smirk tugging at her lips as she eyed them both. "You two sure clean up nice," she said with a teasing glint in her eyes, her gaze lingering on the sharp cuts of their suits. "After you're done, swing by the bar. I'll pour you two a drink. On the house."

V didn't smile, but a subtle shift in her posture and something faintly appreciative in her eyes gave her away. She nodded once.

"See you around, Claire."

With a final glance, V and Jackie walked out of the Afterlife together. The flicker of neon lights reflected off wet pavement, casting a ghostly glow over the street. Jackie flashed a crooked grin, shoulders easy. "¿Listos, chica?" he teased, giving V's arm a playful tug.

V's lips stayed flat, but her eyes flicked to the Delamain idling under the streetlamp's jaundiced beam. Her voice was cool, certain. "Right behind you, chico."

Jackie laughed—bright, defiant—then slid into the car. V followed. The doors shut with a soft, decisive click.

The world outside blurred into streaks of light. And if the Devil waited at the end of this road… well, V had already shaken his hand once.