"V!"
"Placide!"
Their eyes locked—pure hatred burning between them. The Voodoo Boys had taken a beating. Netwatch's ambush, combined with the chaos unleashed by the Animals, had nearly destroyed them. And now, standing before them, was the one who escaped it all—V.
To Placide, that betrayal was unforgivable.
But this wasn't about words anymore. The time for negotiation had long passed.
V's blood was boiling. Used by the Voodoo Boys and nearly killed. Then manipulated by Netwatch and almost deleted again. She had been nothing more than a pawn in both of their games—twice in the same damn day.
And Johnny? Inside her head, his fury matched her own.
No more talk. Only violence.
The moment Placide lunged forward, V met him head-on. His bulky figure, already battered from his earlier fight with the Savage King, lacked its usual strength. His cybernetic enhancements sputtered with damage, his body barely keeping him upright.
But he still tried.
V was done playing.
She blocked his punch, then drove her fist into his gut, knocking the wind out of him. Placide gasped but kept fighting—until V screamed, "F* your mother!**" and shoved her pistol into his mouth.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three deafening shots.
Placide's head exploded in a mist of blood and cybernetic debris. His body dropped, twitching slightly, and V spat on the ground before firing three more shots into the twitching corpse, her rage still boiling over.
Only after her breath slowed did she notice the figure approaching—smiling, clapping.
Mosley. A Netwatch agent.
"Well done, V. Impressive performance. Ever considered working with Netwatch?"
V didn't even look at him. "We'll talk later," she muttered, exhausted and hollowed out.
Mosley chuckled, unfazed. "Suit yourself. Here's my contact." He tossed her a digital card and walked away without another word. There would be other chances.
Behind him, the Savage King of the Animals stepped forward. "Very hard," he grunted in admiration, then followed Mosley, leaving V standing alone with Johnny's voice echoing in her head.
"Well, look at you—earning the Animals' respect," Johnny smirked. "Hard woman. I like it."
"Screw off, Johnny," V muttered, a tired smile tugging at her lips.
Maybe she had earned something. Respect, perhaps. Or just a reputation.
The Voodoo Boys' headquarters was in ruins, and their influence in Pacifica would crumble soon enough. Maybe it would spiral the district further into chaos. Or maybe it would bring some temporary peace, forcing the rest of the gangs to think twice.
Either way, V was done with it.
---
"V, are you okay? What happened?!" River's voice came through the comms.
"I'm fine," V replied weakly, slumping against a wall. "Let me sleep. I'll tell you everything after."
"Alright. Rest up," River said softly, disconnecting. Then, as if to himself: "Leave the rest to me."
---
Elsewhere, a digital screen glowed in a small, cluttered room.
"Everything good, Josh?" Marcus asked, checking his gear.
"All good!" Josh gave a thumbs-up. "When Mosley tagged V with that tracker, we piggybacked a locator onto Mosley's terminal. Now we'll know everything he does."
"Perfect," Marcus said, shouldering his pack. "Just wait for my good news."
"Be careful out there!" Josh called after him.
---
Later that Evening — Night City Broadcast
"Good evening, folks! Welcome to another episode of Intelligence Says It All! I'm your host, Ruth Zheng!"
Ruth's energy was electric. Today's package wasn't just juicy—it was explosive.
She leaned into the camera with a wink. "Did anyone feel that massive blast from the abandoned factory in the North City Industrial Zone? No? Just me?"
She played a few seconds of static, then snapped to a series of dramatic images.
"Everyone's been speculating. Gas explosion? Secret corp skirmish? Alien invasion?" she laughed. "Well, I've got the real scoop—and it's hotter than a Militech reactor core!"
The screen flashed again—footage of two corporate logos clashing.
"It was a small-scale war between Militech and Biotech! Apparently, Biotech stole research from Militech, and in retaliation, Militech raided one of Biotech's black gold vaults."
"Things escalated fast," she added, her tone darkening. "Militech sent in an elite squad, but Biotech's Deputy Head of Operations, Sis Weis, tore them apart. Militech retaliated by launching a short-range missile."
She played a video: a shaky handheld clip showing a missile strike, roaring flames, and a mangled Flathead bot. Both logos were visible. It was real—raw, unfiltered.
"These aren't your typical gangland shootouts, folks. This was corporate warfare on our streets!"
As more footage played—showing outposts, skirmishes, black-gold safes—Ruth's tone grew more intense. "Each attack. Each retaliation. It's all here—timelines, images, zero editing. You want truth? We deliver."
Viewership spiked. Her program had already surpassed the ratings set when Leon Black exposed Arasaka Saburo's death.
This? This was even more entertaining.
Her coverage included everything—from the first truck ambush to the final factory showdown. Each clip lined up perfectly, each claim backed by footage.
And none of it could've existed without Leon Black's generous funding—ensuring the media captured every moment of carnage.
---
Inside Militech Headquarters
On a massive screen in a pristine command center, Ruth's show played in real time. At the top corner, a viewership ticker spun wildly upward.
SLAM!
David Copperfield slammed his hand against the table.
"Get Anthony in here, now!"
The Flathead bot had been stolen, and now they were being framed? This kind of public humiliation was intolerable for a corporation like Militech.
Anthony Gilchrist entered swiftly, his face grim. He had already seen the footage.
"I thought we buried the Flathead mess," he muttered.
"We were framed," David growled, now seated calmly in his chair.
"I'll find out who did this," Anthony replied, cold and precise. But he already had a suspect. That woman. The one from the phone call.
They'd tried to silence her. But clearly, they had missed something. Stout had been removed too early. No loose ends had been left—but now, it seemed someone had played a deeper game.
David narrowed his eyes. "Biotech lost a black gold-grade safe?"
Anthony nodded. "Apparently. But I doubt it was anything important. Just a branch-level facility. If it were truly high-value, Biotech would've locked down the city."
David agreed. "If it were really top-tier tech, they'd be calling in orbital reinforcements."
They sat in silence for a moment, watching Ruth Zheng wrap up her broadcast.
---
Final Segment – Ruth Zheng
Ruth leaned closer to the camera, her voice conspiratorial.
"And before we go—here's one last juicy bit of intel. According to our sources, the explosion at the industrial zone not only caused massive collateral damage—it also paralyzed Biotech's security division."
She smirked. "Their Deputy Head, Sis Weis? Rumor has it—she's dead."
Then she smiled sweetly at the camera.
"Stay safe out there, Night City."
End of broadcast.
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