"Our president isn't one to sit idle," Marcus said with a shrug. "Rather than waiting to be drafted, I'd rather jump into the pit myself."
He glanced at the others in the vehicle, his voice steady. "Besides, we've got our own mission."
Netwatch.
Sitara's eyes narrowed at the mention of the European-based hacker organization. They liked to play the role of moral guardians, but in reality, they were already meddling deep in Night City affairs. It was time to cut that hand off.
"Isn't the Bureau of Affection supposed to handle this?" Marcus asked, sounding almost sarcastic.
Logically, a threat to national cybersecurity should fall under a government agency's jurisdiction. But despite repeated alerts, no official action had come. Frustrated by the silence, Marcus and his crew took matters into their own hands.
"They say they've got bigger things to worry about," Sitara replied coolly. As the team's PR lead and external liaison, she was well-connected to both government bodies and civil groups.
Josh, who was behind the wheel, chuckled. "Bigger things? Heh. They're probably just preparing for war."
He tapped the dash. "That 'gas pipeline explosion' already showed how messed up things are getting. Now with President Myers lighting the fuse, and Europe getting dragged in..."
"Night City's the powder keg," Marcus agreed, his eyes flicking to the skyline on the horizon. "We may not know when the war begins—but we sure as hell control when the intelligence war kicks off."
Just then, their comms lit up with their mentor's gruff voice: "You hear me, DedSec? San Francisco's best is counting on you."
Grins spread among the team. It was time.
Marcus slipped his headset on and whispered, "Night City… here we come."
---
Night City – Biotech Institute, Deep Zone
A pale, delicate hand pushed open the isolation chamber door. It moved with precision, yet something about it felt... off.
Clack. Clack.
A humanoid doll stepped onto the metal floor, walking awkwardly at first. Her movement was janky, robotic—almost comical. But no one dared laugh.
Several Biotech executives stood by, silent, heads bowed. They knew better than to react.
The doll's movements slowly refined. She started walking normally, then jogging. Leaps. Spins. Somersaults in mid-air.
Her velocity increased. She became a blur, then stopped suddenly.
"Where are my clothes?" she asked coldly, turning her head a full 180 degrees to stare behind her.
A terrified staff member stepped forward, trembling with a neatly folded dress.
The doll slipped into small leather shoes, a frilly blue dress, and let her golden hair drape neatly to her waist.
Satisfied, she began dancing—twirling with grace. But even her dance looked wrong—like a puppet pretending to be human.
Finally, she stopped. Her lips curled into a smile.
"Hello, friends of Night City~"
Everyone bowed instantly. "Welcome, Ms. Lori Olivia!"
She nodded. "Mmm~ You can call me Megan here."
"Welcome, Miss Megan!" they echoed in unison.
She raised a hand. "Ryan James stays. The rest of you may leave."
Only a tall, middle-aged black man remained.
"Ryan," Megan said, voice now oddly childlike, "how did Hess die? He didn't even say goodbye."
Ryan kept a calm expression. "Miss Megan, you know how Lord Hess operated. We only provided intel. No one questioned his methods. His death was... sudden. By the time we reached the site, it was a sea of fire. Nothing left."
Megan's eyes glittered with curiosity. "Is that so?"
Without waiting for permission, she hacked directly into Ryan's system. His eyes widened as his cyberware lit up uncontrollably.
Within moments, smoke curled from his ears, and his body collapsed.
Megan, now satisfied, stepped over his corpse and muttered, "Too much garbage in here."
A voice from outside quickly responded, "Yes, Miss Megan!"
---
Elsewhere in Pacifica
"You ready?" asked Hands, dressed in a crisp blue suit and glasses.
"Yeah." V took a deep breath. She had planned to enter Pacifica after her meeting with Takemura, but his injuries delayed things. So, she chose to handle the chip issue first.
"Go here," Hands said, sending her a location. "Someone's expecting you." Then he disconnected.
"You really think these Voodoo Boys can fix our problem?" Johnny Silverhand appeared beside her, arms crossed, cigarette dangling from his lips.
"Do we have a choice?" V replied, mounting a dusty motorcycle. She preferred bikes—more agile than cars, especially in a city like this. As for where she got it? Tiger Claw gang members weren't exactly good at guarding their rides.
They sped through the streets, the wind whipping around them.
Johnny's voice echoed in her head. "Setting aside the fact they know about Alt… how the hell do they know you have the chip that once belonged to Yorinobu Arasaka?"
"Top hacker rings always have their ways. Maybe they broke through the Blackwall, maybe they hacked Arasaka's files, maybe someone just told them."
"Whatever it is, it's my life on the line," Johnny muttered.
"You're already dead, remember?"
"Touché."
Up ahead, the church came into view.
Dim candlelight flickered through stained glass. A red-glowing skull loomed behind the pulpit. Devoted worshippers knelt, chanting softly.
If it weren't so creepy, V might have mistaken the place for holy ground.
Suddenly, a young man in a hoodie sidled up to her. "Been waiting for you."
"You know me?"
"Got word. You need to find Placide. Start at the butcher shop," he whispered, then melted back into the pews.
V frowned and exited the church, scanning the surrounding blocks. Fortunately, the butcher shop wasn't far.
Inside, the smell hit her first—blood and raw meat.
"I'm looking for Placide," she said to the clerk, catching the sudden change in atmosphere as all eyes turned to her.
"What for?" the man at the counter asked.
"I'm actually here for Brigitte. The people at the church told me to ask Placide."
He pointed to a camera above the door, muttered something in Haitian Creole, then waved her through.
As soon as she entered the back corridor, V bent over coughing violently.
She wiped her mouth. Blood.
"Shit," she muttered, catching her breath. "Gotta hurry."
The presence of Johnny's engram was pushing her nervous system to its limits. Every second counted.
She pulled back a curtain and entered a meat processing room. There, at the far end, stood a tall figure.
Placide.
"Hey," V greeted. "I was told to find you."
He didn't look up, just continued sharpening a large knife.
"What you want?"
"I came for Brigitte. They told me to speak to you first."
Placide finally set the knife down. "Follow me. Not the place to talk."
He led her out a side exit. Outside, the harsh reality of Pacifica welcomed her.
A once-grand building now leaned crookedly in decay. Smoke curled from burning barrels. Children ran barefoot through the dust. Gangsters fired into the air for fun. The homeless lay curled on newspapers reeking of booze.
V took it all in with a hardened gaze.
Placide spread his arms.
"Welcome to Pacifica."
Ãdvåñçé 60 çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)