"It seems you're safe… for now," Leon Black said lightly, watching Evelyn from across the room.
With the Voodoo Boys annihilated, the threat hanging over her head had finally lifted. The infamous hackers had been obliterated by Netwatch's decisive operation, and not only was the Blackwall temporarily secure, Evelyn's chances of regaining some freedom had significantly improved.
"Does that mean you're going to let me go?" Evelyn asked, a faint glimmer of hope in her voice.
Leon raised a brow and smirked. "Of course… not!"
He paused dramatically, watching her expression sour. "But keeping you idle isn't productive either. How about this? Every day, you'll watch the news, take notes, and write up your insights. I'll review them when I get back."
Evelyn blinked, confused. "What kind of nonsense assignment is that?"
"And I expect a minimum of eight thousand words," Leon added, grinning. "Detailed reflections. With structure, theme, and deep analysis."
"Eight thousand words? Per day?"
Leon nodded solemnly. "A lot happens in a day. Shouldn't be too difficult, right?"
Her mouth opened to protest, but he held up a hand.
"And if you don't finish," he said, narrowing his eyes, "I'll move forward with selling Judy to the Tiger Claw Gang. Ten percent faster every time you fail."
"You—!" Evelyn froze. Her hands trembled as she glared at him with pure hatred.
Leon turned away nonchalantly. "It won't kill anyone. Should be fine—unless…"
He suddenly spun, locking eyes with her, his gaze sharp as a blade.
Evelyn gasped, her vision tilting. A tidal wave of data and sensory overload crashed into her. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.
"Hmph. Fragile nerves," Leon muttered.
A soft, ethereal female voice echoed in his ear, calm and analytical. "A massive data surge overwhelmed her underdeveloped neural firewall, causing her OS to crash and enter suspended animation."
Leon walked over and gently lifted Evelyn into his arms, placing her on the medical bed.
"She just needs rest now, not more stress," he said softly.
"Integration went better than expected," the voice continued. "But the time cost was higher. This seems to be her current limit."
"That's fine. It's more important she remains 'human,'" Leon replied. He turned to a floating holographic image composed of shifting blue data—Lena Fox, her form stable and glowing faintly. "We still have time."
"Should I head to Pacifica?" Lena asked.
Leon nodded. "Be careful."
She didn't reply. With a brief shimmer of data, her form vanished.
---
Afterlife
"You sure know how to stir up chaos, Johnny," Rogue said with a half-smile, lounging on the oversized sofa. Her eyes glimmered with amusement as she looked across the table at the woman seated across from her.
"You even wiped out the Voodoo Boys?"
"Your intel's sharp," V replied, tossing back a shot of the Silverhand Special. "Didn't expect you to find out so fast."
"Word travels fast in this city. Especially when someone's killing legends," Rogue shrugged. "So—what do you want from me?"
V set the glass down and leaned forward. "I'm looking for Anders Hellman. Know him?"
Rogue's eyes narrowed slightly. "He defected from Arasaka. You looking to catch him?"
"I want to separate myself from Johnny. The Voodoo Boys couldn't do it, so now I'm going straight to the creator."
Rogue didn't say a word. She waved to the back, and soon, a quiet figure stepped into view carrying a small chip.
"Thanks, Nix," she said. "Give it to her."
Nix handed the chip to V, who examined it immediately.
"Kang Tao?" she muttered. The data pointed toward a possible trail. A recently promoted employee of Chenti—a Kang Tao subsidiary—was about to return to their home country. Though the photo was blurry, the timing and resemblance suggested it could be Hellman.
Accompanying the file was a list of Kang Tao's recent cargo and flight activity. One AV stood out. A cargo vehicle of that model, leaving the city soon.
V raised her brow. "That's it?"
"You think that's not enough?" Rogue smirked. "We're talking about Anders Hellman. Even this cost a fortune. If Kang Tao had more control in Night City, you wouldn't get even this much."
V frowned, weighing the options.
"If you're serious about going after that AV, you need to do it outside the city," Rogue advised. "NCPD won't let you engage within city airspace. Jackson Plains is your best shot."
"The Badlands," V muttered. "Great."
"And you'll need help. That AV is fast and well-armed. This isn't something you can solo unless you're lucky."
"You offering a team?"
"I've got someone in mind," Rogue said, tilting her glass. "Local. Knows the terrain. Can handle weapons and ambush support."
V looked skeptical. "Let me guess—some backwater nomad? They won't have the firepower."
"She's different. Try her."
"Any other options?"
Rogue raised her brow. "You got money?"
That was a low blow. V's wallet was emptier than a corpo's conscience. Technically, she was deep in debt.
"She won't help you for free either. You'll owe her a small favor. Ask her yourself," Rogue added, sending over the contact information. "Now go. Good luck."
After V left, Rogue pulled out her phone and made a brief call.
"Yes, I gave it to her. I'll monitor her progress."
The contact she shared?
Panam Palmer.
---
"You've got a way with women," Johnny Silverhand said, materializing next to Rogue's table, arms folded.
Rogue didn't look at him. "Compared to you, I'm still far behind."
Johnny smirked. "Why didn't you show up earlier? Chat her up?"
"She's different now," Johnny said, flicking a phantom cigarette. "I can't look at her the same way anymore."
"Sounds like someone's grown up," Rogue teased.
"Cut the crap. Time to work," Johnny grunted before disappearing again.
---
Pacifica – Grand Imperial Mall
Mosley was still residing in what had once been the Voodoo Boys' stronghold. Now, it served as Netwatch's regional ops center. He still occasionally made visits to Batty's Hotel to collect whatever 'inheritance' remained from the Voodoo Boys' digital cache.
Having led the operation that wiped them out, Mosley had earned a promotion. No longer did he need to dive into the net himself—he had subordinates for that. Still, curiosity sometimes got the better of him.
Strapped into a hacker pod, Mosley now accessed the Voodoo Boys' data vault—a trove of information gathered over decades.
The deeper he dove, the more stunned he became.
"So this is what they were really after…"
He had believed the Voodoo Boys were just after old cyberspace relics—hidden data, lost files, and historical treasure from the internet's golden age.
But no—this went way beyond that.
They weren't just scavengers. They were idealists. Zealots.
Their real plan had been to align with rogue AIs beyond the Blackwall—become vessels, human proxies for artificial intelligence. They wanted to destroy the current world, abandon their bodies, and live permanently in the digital frontier.
Traitors to their species.
Mosley's jaw clenched. "Thank god we stopped them."
Not all Netwatch agents were saints. Many abused their power, manipulated networks for personal gain. But most of them, Mosley included, believed in one thing:
The Blackwall must hold.
Because if it didn't… humanity would face annihilation.
A full-scale collapse of global networks wouldn't just erase civilization—it would invite war. Sentient AIs on the other side of the wall—born from hatred, sharpened by loss—would break through and begin a purge.
No livestock farms. No mercy. Just extinction.
Still, not everything in the data was nightmarish. There were strange, curious fragments too—like interactions with Alt Cunningham.
Her presence fascinated Mosley.
The legendary hacker, once the greatest mind in Night City, the creator of Soulkiller… still intact, still sane, still reasoning.
Still herself, even after all these years beyond the Blackwall.
"Remarkable," Mosley whispered, closing the phantom file. He sat back in his chair, eyes narrowed.
Things were only just beginning.
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