A seventeen-year-old girl with a small chest leapt over the wall of the seemingly abandoned warehouse, cautiously looking around. With short blonde hair, fair skin, and blue eyes, she nervously licked her dry lips.
"Vanessa, are you sure the intel you got is reliable? You know I'm risking my neck here!"
"Relax, Dorio."
The woman on the other end of the call made her long-haired avatar wave dismissively at her mercenary's concern.
"I'm Vanessa Doofenshmirtz. I never assign a job unless I've cross-checked it and it's highly reliable. Margin of error is under ten percent."
"But this is a Scav nest!"
"Correction: it WAS a Scav nest."
Dorio frowned at that, though she did ease up a little.
"Gang war? Maelstrom? Then there won't be much left to take..."
She glanced with disappointment at the large, empty duffel bag slung over her back. Looked like there wouldn't be a good haul today.
"No, seems the Scavs got a visit from some butterflies. I think you've heard of them."
Dorio froze as she realized what her fixer was implying.
"...You're shitting me. That person was here?"
She scanned her surroundings more nervously, searching for any trace of green.
For the past four years, rumors had been spreading through Night City about a young, hooded, masked figure with a wooden staff who appeared and vanished at will—always heralded by emerald green butterflies.
Their supposed existence made some "believers" the butt of jokes, but a few gangs and fixers knew the rumors weren't as fictional as they seemed…
The Scavs had been suffering at the hands of that ghost, and were beginning to fear it like they feared Adam Smasher himself—especially given how every encounter ended…
"Relax, that was half an hour ago, and no one's come out since. Just do what you always do—get in, grab any weapons or gear you can in fifteen minutes, and get out without looking back. We've got at least thirty minutes, but better to play it safe."
"Got it."
Dorio took a deep breath and walked toward one of the side doors of the warehouse. Every time she was about to pass in front of a surveillance cam, the feed either cut off or the camera turned away.
"At least Vanessa's doing her part," Dorio muttered, pressed herself against the door, and, hearing nothing, carefully turned the handle and slipped inside.
Her optics blinked rapidly as she scanned through the interior office window. Everything seemed clear, and her bag fell off her back without her noticing as she processed what was in front of her.
"Holy mother of chrome…"
The warehouse was filled with Scav corpses—at least sixty of them—but not in the usual way, splattered and mangled as she had grown used to seeing.
Their skin looked dried out, their implants degraded like they hadn't had maintenance in decades. And regardless of whether it was their eyes, ears, mouths, or skin—green growths had sprouted from them in a way that was beautiful… but utterly grotesque.
But it wasn't the plant-infested mummified bodies that made Dorio freeze.
It was the fear.
"Dorio, everything okay? You stopped moving all of a sudden."
"He's here…" Dorio was so terrified she didn't even realize she wasn't responding to the call—she'd spoken out loud.
The hooded figure, surrounded by sixty corpses and seemingly distracted by something on one of them, turned around slowly as if noticing her words.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…" Dorio cursed internally, realizing she could have hidden—but her nerves had betrayed her.
"Dorio, is something wrong? Answer me!"
Vanessa's voice urged her to respond, sensing something was off.
But Dorio couldn't move. The figure's gaze felt analytic—like it was deconstructing her layer by layer to get at her most guarded core.
And it was awful. She felt exposed, naked even. She wanted to draw her pistol, if only to stop feeling that way.
But in the end, the figure simply shook its head—and to Dorio's shock, dissolved into several emerald green butterflies that scattered in different directions.
"That didn't look like a hologram…" Dorio thought as her legs gave out and she dropped to her knees, gasping for air once she realized she'd stopped breathing.
"Dorio, I swear if you—!"
"I'm fine. I'm fine."
"What happened? Why didn't you answer?"
"Didn't you see inside the warehouse with the cameras?"
"I couldn't. Guess they're too old and don't work. The Scavs didn't even bother replacing them."
Dorio looked at the cameras on the walls—and sure enough, they were in the same degraded state as the Scavs' implants. Which was strange, since some of those camera models were clearly new and shouldn't have been like that.
"The butterfly person was here. Right in front of me."
"WHAT?!"
Vanessa nearly jumped out of her chair on the other end.
"Yeah, I don't know what they were doing, but it seems the legend's real."
Dorio took a moment to regain control of her legs and focus as she approached the grotesque corpses. She wanted to run—but she needed to recover some gear to afford her immunosuppressants.
Yet as she looted each body, something felt off.
The weapons were in terrible shape, as if they hadn't been maintained in decades. Same with the implants—nothing salvageable. Not even the parts were worth anything.
With no other choice, she headed to the back of the warehouse, away from the "crime scene," and that's when she hit the jackpot.
"Hey, Vanessa. You know any ripperdocs interested in unused implants?"
"Some. Depends on what you've got, I can reach out to the right ones."
Thanks to her dad, Vanessa knew all kinds of ripperdocs—from the elite to the hackjobs. She just needed to know what was on offer.
"Listen, I think the Scavs just received a chrome shipment—real chrome, not the junk they yank out of people! This place is full of unopened crates and containers with mid-grade implants, some even rare models. We could make a fortune if we get it all out!"
Vanessa bit her lower lip, calculating risks and gains.
"How many crates?"
Dorio sent photo after photo with her optics.
Vanessa whistled at the sheer quantity and quality, though her tone was resigned.
"It's good—too good. We can't take all of it on our own or we'll get in trouble. We'll have to call in reinforcements, which means splitting the loot."
"I could grab the most expensive implants in my bag first and leave the rest—say some Scav already looted them or used them."
"That's… actually a good idea."
Vanessa hadn't expected that from Dorio. Not that her merc wasn't smart—but she rarely took initiative on plans like this.
"Do that. I'm marking the implants you need to take. Leave the rest. I'll make some calls and let others pick up the leftovers. We'll only get a cut, but it's still a better haul than we expected tonight."
Dorio smiled like a kid on Christmas morning. With the money from this job, they could upgrade their chrome.
Maybe even leave that megabuilding behind and move to somewhere nicer—less ad spam!
She carefully packed the marked implants, and even tucked away a couple of extras she was personally interested in for later—but the excitement didn't last long.
A thought crept in.
"Hey, Vanessa..."
Dorio couldn't help peeking over one of the taller crates to stare again at the mummified, plant-infested corpses. Still just as grotesquely beautiful as before.
"Mmm?"
"I know this might sound stupid, but... should we be worried that guy will find out we made a big score behind his back? He looked busy until I interrupted him and he just… left."
Vanessa froze.
She hadn't considered that—but it was a valid concern.
Would the hooded figure be angry if they took advantage of the situation like this?
After all, it's one thing to swipe a few scattered weapons—but this haul? This was a gold mine.
The photos Dorio sent practically whispered that this guy was definitely the vengeful type. Better to play it safe.
"We'll set aside a portion for him, just in case we run into him again someday."
"I'm all for that."
Especially since Dorio was the one most likely to "run into" him again if luck turned sour.
"Who are you selling the rest to?"
"I'll start with the nomad ripperdocs, probably. Depends if they'll pay well or get cheap. I heard the Aldecaldos have been restless lately—might be able to bait them. If not, I'll try the Valentinos, and if that fails, I've got clinics lined up that'll take them for sure."
Prioritizing some factions was simply about currying favor and reputation, things a fixer like Vanesa can use more skillfully than money.
"And Dorio?"
"Yes?"
"When you've secured those implants, come see me. We need to talk about how you ran into a ghost."
"Oh…"
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