Deputy Mayor's Mansion
"Doctor Nina, how is my husband?" Elizabeth asked, her voice filled with worry as she sat beside Jefferson's bed.
Deputy Mayor Jefferson had been under enormous pressure due to the recent election. Lately, he'd been suffering from frequent memory lapses—sometimes forgetting things that happened just the day before. The family doctor had found nothing unusual, but Elizabeth, unwilling to give up, called in a second opinion. Nina arrived for a full diagnostic and, after reviewing the results, brought in Viktor. There were things she couldn't confirm alone.
"Your husband's condition is... unusual," Nina said carefully, exchanging a glance with Viktor. "We found evidence of intentional tampering with his neural operating system."
"Tampering?!" Elizabeth exclaimed, her face pale with disbelief. "That's impossible! He's been completely focused on the campaign and postponed even his routine physical. How could anyone have accessed his system?"
"That's beyond our scope," Nina admitted. "I'm a doctor, not an investigator. I suggest hiring a skilled mercenary or hacker—someone who can dig deeper."
"Why not just call the police?" Viktor asked. "Wouldn't the NCPD have the resources to track this kind of tampering?"
Jefferson, now seated on the couch with Elizabeth's help, spoke up before she could answer.
"If we involve the police, this becomes public. The media would have a field day. Political opponents would spin it and destroy us," he said, his voice low and bitter. "At this stage of the election, any scandal—real or imagined—could ruin everything."
Elizabeth nodded gravely. They were stuck between protecting Jefferson's health and guarding his reputation. Neither option was good. With limited internal resources, Jefferson turned to the two experts in the room.
"Do you have any recommendations?" he asked. "Mercenaries, hackers, private detectives—anyone trustworthy."
Both Nina and Viktor went quiet.
Nina immediately thought of Leon Black. His team had Arasaka backing, which meant cutting-edge tech and skilled operatives. But Arasaka didn't get involved in local politics lightly. Leon followed his own principles—and rarely bent them for municipal matters.
Viktor considered V, the lone merc he had helped train. She was talented and, more importantly, free of political entanglements. But this wasn't a simple job. If what they suspected was true, it could be far more dangerous than they realized. Still, the decision should be hers.
"I'll make a call," Viktor said finally.
"Me too," Nina nodded.
With Jefferson's permission, they stepped into different corners of the room and dialed their respective contacts.
---
Downtown – 'Death Dance' Bar
V leaned against the bar's rusted frame as the call ended. She inhaled deeply, letting the scent of liquor, sweat, and neon burn her lungs.
Another gig. Another mess.
Still, this one was different. If what Viktor said was true, this was a way into the upper echelons of Night City. With the Deputy Mayor's backing, she could get access to weapons, tech, and protection. If she played it right, she'd climb faster than she ever imagined.
Of course, the catch was solving the problem first.
"Let's take it one step at a time," she muttered.
She glanced at Johnny, who materialized beside her with his usual devil-may-care grin. V smirked back, then let him take control of her body. She pulled back the gun slide with a sharp click and whispered, "Then let's get to work."
---
Leon Black's Research Lab
"Thinking of taking it?" Lena Fox asked, watching Leon hang up the phone.
Leon leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin.
"How's the data analysis going?" he asked instead.
"About halfway," Lena replied, stretching slightly. "A lot of the files were corrupted—probably from forced extraction. It's taking time to isolate anything useful. And... I'm still not fully recovered, so I'm splitting my attention."
"Then forget the Jefferson job," Leon said flatly. "Too broad. Too messy."
Trouble brewed in Night City every hour. He couldn't chase every shadow. This one smelled like political sabotage—and maybe something worse, like a rogue AI. High risk, little reward.
"Not worth our time," he muttered. "We've got no stake in it."
That was Leon Black's rule: No benefit, no action. He used to chase influence and recognition. Now? A bit of side cash and peace were all he cared for.
"Arasaka wants us moving," Lena said, relaying the latest orders. "Ethan Cross's intel sweep is almost done."
"Let him finish," Leon yawned. "Steal what you can, run if you can't."
Lena chuckled. "If Ethan hears you treating his hard work like that, he'll probably cry."
"Good. I could use some entertainment."
---
On the lab's TV, a reporter droned on:
> "According to Military Technology's spokesperson, the explosion was purely accidental. The company expresses its deepest condolences to the families of the victims and promises full compensation. Mr. Anthony, Head of Operations, personally visited the injured..."
Leon rolled his eyes as he watched Anthony play the role of the grieving corporate martyr—hugging families, cursing underlings, promising justice.
"Corporate dog," Leon scoffed.
The screen showed victims sobbing with giant compensation checks in hand. Tears mixed with barely concealed relief. They weren't allowed to speak out. But at least they got the money.
Then, someone in the background caught Leon's eye.
"Lena," he said, pointing at the screen. "Isn't that our 'friend'?"
Lena zoomed in. "Yep. Doesn't look like he's doing well."
---
Biersen's Tragedy
How could this happen?
Biersen stood numbly, shaking hands with a Military Technology supervisor he'd only ever seen in news feeds. His wife—she had only gone out to scavenge some parts.
Now, she was dead.
Twenty thousand eddies. That's what Military Tech gave him. Enough to shut him up. Blood money.
His shady dealings with Leon had earned him a lot—but when Military Tech found out, they stripped him bare. Breach of contract. Fines. Seizure of assets.
His world crumbled overnight.
His mother, critically ill, died screaming—no funds for painkillers.
His infant daughter, Rose, born with a congenital heart defect, clung to life. And his wife—malnourished and weak—dug through garbage, trying to find enough to buy food.
Before leaving, she had looked at him and whispered, "Biersen, get stronger. We still have our child."
Her voice echoed in his skull.
My child... Right! I still have Rose!
He rushed home, his legs barely carrying him. It was feeding time. Rose needed to eat.
But—
Military Tech vehicles. In front of his home.
"No!! Rose!!"
Biersen screamed and bolted forward, only to be shoved back by a corporate security guard.
"You defaulted on your contract. By law, the next generation serves to repay the debt."
They pried the crying child from her crib.
Biersen lunged, eyes wild, but the guard raised a gun.
"Interfere, and you'll pay the price."
"ROSE!!"
Bang!
Blood bloomed across his chest like a grotesque flower.
He fell to his knees, arms outstretched. Ro—se~
His hand trembled... then dropped.
The infant girl cried out, reaching for the father who would never hold her again.
---
Back at the Lab
"Sad story," Lena said, her tone half-sarcastic, half-sincere.
Leon said nothing, eyes still on the screen.
"Do we help?" she asked.
Leon exhaled slowly.
"No. We move on."
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