The lights in Muamar's private garage flicked on with a hum.
There it was.
**Merrimac Warlock – Special Political/Military Build.**
More importantly — a full 6x6 configuration.
Three axles. Six massive tires. No fake armor here — this wasn't a vehicle, it was a mobile stronghold.
V stepped forward, expression unreadable.
"You weren't kidding... but I think you still don't know what you're sitting on."
He opened the driver's door. The cabin was pristine — untouched leather, matte carbon fiber trims, climate-sealed. The AR dash came to life instantly.
As V's scan finished syncing, he spotted something buried deep in the car's codebase.
At first glance, it looked like standard smartcar firmware. But under the surface — there it was:
A dormant ICE layer. Silent. Deadly. Hidden deep beneath the main interface.
V leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
"That's not factory. That's military."
He breached the interface with his deck built beyond spec, beyond legal, beyond human.
What he found wasn't just anti-theft — it was **custom Militech ICE**, likely installed when the vehicle was built for its political owner.
Multi-phase defense. Dummy subroutines. Adaptive countermeasures. Kill-switch loops buried behind decoy firewalls.
Even with his high-end cyberdeck, upgraded neural architecture, and self-tuning quickhacks, it would've taken **a full minute** to breach it cleanly.
Anyone else?
"Best-case? A week. Realistically? Months. And that's assuming they don't fry their brain halfway through."
No wonder the registry had pinged so clean.
He glanced at the console again, then back at the windshield.
"The guy selling it didn't even know…"
V leaned back in the leather seat, stunned.
He wasn't buying a car.
He was acquiring a **mobile fortress with digital teeth**.
"Two million would still be underestimating it."
The Warlock glided down the freeway like it owned the road. Six wheels. 9 tons. Death in a tuxedo.
Jackie rode shotgun, arm out the window, vibing to the light rumble of the engine.
They were coming up on a tight intersection when a freight truck bolted through a red light from the side street, completely blind to the Warlock's path.
But V didn't even move.
He didn't have to.
The Warlock's autonomous defense system reacted first — faster than any Netrunner, faster than V himself. In less than 0.2 seconds, the AI read the truck's speed vector, braked left wheels, gunned the right ones, and spun just enough to slide out of the impact zone.
The truck passed so close they could smell its brake fluid.
Jackie blinked.
"Whoa! That was... fast."
V nodded slowly, eyes wide behind his Kiroshi lenses.
"I didn't even touch the wheel."
His cyberware confirmed what his instincts couldn't process — the car reacted before his augmented reflexes even considered it.
"That auto-defense protocol isn't smart. It's psychic."
🛣️ Cruise Mode and Choom Talk
The city glowed ahead — flickering signs, broken holoboards, and the noise of people who had nothing and wanted everything.
Jackie leaned back.
"Anyway... I got a date tonight."
"Misty?"
"Yeah. Real sweet. Bit too into spirituality and chakras and tarot and... I dunno, planets?"
"Sounds stable for Night City."
Jackie chuckled.
"She calms me down. Like a human anti-stress implant."
They cruised through Japantown. V watched as two naked people sprinted across the crosswalk, screaming something about "being reborn into chrome."
Jackie didn't even blink.
"Tuesday."
👤 Background Check
They hit a quieter road.
"So what about you, V?" Jackie asked. "You always a top-shelf chrome monster?"
"Nah. Grew up in Heywood. Streetkid. Ran with a gang for a while. Nothing too special."
"And now you're... this?"
"Joined Militech later. Got out before things got ugly. I wasn't high enough to matter. Just smart enough to walk out."
Jackie nodded slowly.
"Damn. So where you been since?"
"Bakkers clan. Lived Nomad for a few years. They sold themselves out to the Snake Nation. I bounced."
"Dios mío. You have lived three lifetimes already."
"And I'm just getting started."
🏠 Apartment Plans
"Thinking of staying in Night City?"
"Yeah. Gonna need an apartment. Preferably with a garage."
"A garage," Jackie said with a grin. "Not that anyone could steal this tank — maybe if Arasaka, Militech, and the NUSA held hands. But hey, prestige matters."
He pulled out his holo.
"I got a friend, Emilio. Manages some buildings around Vista del Rey. Does security systems too — discreet."
He fired off a message.
"Told him you're good people. He'll meet us at Mama Welles' later and give you a few spots to check out."
"Thanks."
"Hey. You saved Pepe. You lent me cash. The least I can do is help you find a place to park this walking war machine."
Later that night at Mama Welles' bar, V met Emilio, Jackie's friend.
He was lean, mid-40s, wore a tactical vest like it was casualwear. Soft voice, sharp eyes. Street experience wrapped in corpo polish.
"So you're V. Heard you dropped eddies like confetti at Muamar's."
"I dropped them where it counted."
Emilio nodded.
"You're lookin' for a place to rent?"
V nodded.
Emilio pulled up a holo with listings and pointed as he spoke:
Apartment / Condo (per room, per month):
Combat Zone: 200 eddies
Moderate Zone: 400 eddies
Corporate Zone: 800 eddies
Executive Zone: 1200 eddies
House (per room, per month):
Base cost: 150 eddies
Combat Zone: 1x
Moderate Zone: 2x
Corporate Zone: 3x
Executive Zone: 6x
"You want something long-term or flex-style?"
V shrugged.
"Looking for something solid. Private. Big enough for weapons, tech, space to think. Maybe even a view."
Jackie grinned.
"I think I know what he needs."
🏢 Corpo Plaza – The Dream Pad
Emilio smirked and took them both to a high-rise in Corpo Plaza.
"Place was built for mid-tier execs, but most don't stay long. Fast promotions or early deaths. One opened up last week."
The elevator opened directly into the apartment — a quiet hiss of hydraulic steel and gold-plated trim.
Inside?
Luxury without the noise.
A king-sized bed with smart-temp overlays
A sleek bathroom with fogless mirrors, a rainfall shower, and chromed faucets
Weapon racks built into the walls — magnetic lock, auto-sorting
A full stash locker, synced to V's system
Computer terminal with high-speed blackwire access
Bar corner with a coffee machine, a ceramic tea set, and a whiskey station that reacted to eye focus — glass, bottle, pour
Cigarette mode triggerable by gesture
One high stool beside the bar — the thinking chair
A radio console, playing lo-fi through bone-conducted speakers in the ceiling
The kicker?
The view.
From the wide tinted windows, V could see the Arasaka Memorial, washed in soft orange from below, and most of Corporate Plaza stretching out like a shrine of steel and glass.
V stared silently for a long moment.
"It's perfect."
🏷️ The Offer
Emilio checked his terminal.
"Listed at 55,000 per month, but... you're Jackie's friend."
"And?"
"I can do 40,000 a month, or 250,000 for a year upfront. You choose."
V didn't hesitate.
"Year."
He transferred the eddies: ₿250,000.
As the three of them walked back to the elevator, something caught V's eye.
Across from the apartment's private entry — a thick, armored door slightly ajar. Dusty. Unused.
"What's that?" V asked, pausing.
Emilio followed his gaze.
"Oh. That? It was supposed to be room service or an emergency utility pod. Construction stopped mid-phase. City red tape."
V's eyes narrowed, Kiroshi pinging the interior.
The door creaked open on old hinges.
Inside: a half-finished shell.
Concrete floors
One barely-plumbed toilet
Broken wall panels leaning against the walls
No furniture, no ceiling fixtures
No surveillance
Just raw, untouched space.
And to V? That meant opportunity.
His engineering instincts lit up like a server spike.
"This could be a personal workshop. Fully isolated. Signal-sealed. With fiber, power rerouted, even cold storage if I want."
Emilio blinked.
"Wait. You wanna use this?"
"Yeah. I can fix it. Mod it. I've got the specs in my head already."
Emilio scratched his beard, thinking.
"Well… no one's gonna claim it. It's on your floor. Technically sealed off from leasing. If you're paying and upgrading..."
He grinned, a rare full grin.
"Yeah. Alright. You wanna turn that box into a workshop, go for it. I'll sign it over with the apartment — no extra rent. Hell, you're doing me a favor. This place was just rotting."
Jackie raised an eyebrow.
"You're not just a chrome samurai, hermano. You're a builder."
"One workshop at a time."
Back in the apartment, V stood in the middle of the unfinished room across the hall — now officially his.
Bare walls. Exposed pipework. No insulation. No soul.
But not for long.
He stepped to the center, shut his eyes, and engaged his neural net ordering interface. The world dimmed as chrome took over.
In less than a second, the interface booted up. It was like pausing the real world. His vision split: options, prices, specs, dimensions, ETA times.
V moved like a ghost through menus only he could see.
He ordered:
A modular workbench with hydraulic lift
High-durability composite shelves and magnetic tool boards
A parts recycler for raw materials
Basic 3D fabber unit (hobby-grade)
Soundproofing panels with smart-lighting strips
A fresh coat of gunmetal blue wall-paint, delivered in self-sealing cans
A small tactical terminal with offline storage
Floor mats. Because why not?
Cost: ₿5,000
Ding. Order Confirmed.
Delivery scheduled: tomorrow, 8:00 AM. Auto-unlock access confirmed.
V blinked back into the room.
"Not even 0.2 seconds passed."
He chuckled.
"This chrome's insane. It's like pausing a game."
📟 Back at Coyote Cojo
V, Jackie, and Emilio headed down the lift.
Outside, V escorted Emilio back to his car. The man looked over at the Warlock again and shook his head with a grin.
"If I ever go missing, V... don't lend my enemies this car."
"Noted."
They shook hands. Emilio left, probably already bragging to someone about the "guy with the garage tank and the penthouse lab."
Jackie turned to V.
"Hey… can you help me out?"
"With?"
"Misty."
"She break your chakras?"
"Nah. I'm pickin' her up for dinner and, well… maybe you tag along?"
"You want me to third-wheel?"
"Only if you don't mind bein' the chrome wingman."
"Sure. As long as you don't put me between you two at the table."
Jackie snorted.
"No way, choom. But hey — maybe Misty's got a friend. A little spiritual type who wants to fix your aura or adjust your voltage."
"My aura's already overheating."
"Exactly!"
They both cracked up as they hopped into the Warlock, V firing up the engine like it was no big deal that they were driving a goddamn private APC.
🏪 Destination: Misty's Esoterica
The neon lights of Watson blurred past the reinforced windows.
The Warlock moved like a panther on tarmac, humming low.
Jackie tapped the dash with a grin.
"Let's go pick up my girl, choom."