Badlands Prison, Night City.
Atop the vast mountains of trash, Solomon Reed wandered at an unhurried pace.
He was hoping to scavenge a few electronic components—enough to assemble a rudimentary signal transceiver and gather information from the outside world. Unfortunately, thanks to the inmates' relentless labor, a sizable section of the garbage mountain had already been cleared. Valuable scrap was becoming increasingly scarce.
Reed let out a quiet sigh—but he had no intention of giving up.
He had weathered far worse storms than this.
There was no way he'd fall in some backwater prison.
For the New United States—I can do this.
The strongest agent finished psyching himself up when a guard tapped him on the shoulder.
"Reed. Weren't you injured? Pack up—you're going to the medical wing."
Reed was momentarily speechless before complaining,
"You're sending me now? My wounds practically healed themselves."
The guard laughed.
"Medical was packed before. A bed opened up, so you're first in line. You going or not? If not, I'll give it to someone else."
"I'm going. Of course I'm going!" Reed answered immediately.
Treatment was secondary—what really mattered was seeing Alex.
That River Ward was far too suspicious. There was a high chance he was a Night City plant. Reed had to stay alert.
With that in mind, Solomon Reed headed for the medical wing.
The moment he arrived, he asked the staff for Alex's bed number.
"She was discharged earlier," the medic replied.
"…What?" The strongest agent froze.
The medic shrugged.
"Otherwise, where do you think your bed came from?"
Reed's emotions twisted into a knot.
Then he heard a familiar voice from the hallway.
Looking through the window, he saw Alex and River Ward, laughing and joking, arms slung over each other's shoulders, being escorted back to the cell block by guards.
"Alex!" Reed shouted.
Alex turned her head.
And flipped him off.
"..."
Emotionally hard to swallow—but not unexpected.
Reed immediately rushed for the exit, only to be stopped by the guard at the door.
"Back inside. Patients don't leave the medical wing. Rules."
"I'm not staying anymore!" Reed snapped.
"This isn't a motel. You don't check out when you feel like it. Only inmates cleared by a medical evaluation can leave. Rules."
"I'm fine! Completely healthy!"
"You say you're healthy, that makes you a doctor now? No clearance report, no leaving. Rules."
Three consecutive rules nearly drove Reed insane.
He glanced at the guard's East Asian features and muttered,
"You Chinese?"
"No. Japanese. Why?"
"…Nothing."
Reed resigned himself and lay back down on the bed.
Fine. I'm mostly healed anyway. Two or three days tops, and I'll get my clearance.
With that thought, he forced himself to calm down.
But at lunchtime—
He panicked.
Due to the recent riot, higher-ups had decided to slightly improve inmate living conditions to ease tensions. As a result, a holographic television had been installed in the medical wing cafeteria.
This was supposedly a pilot program—if successful, TVs would later be installed in work and residential areas as well.
The medical wing inmates were ecstatic.
Reed wasn't quite that excited, but he was quietly pleased. As the strongest agent, he could extract clues from news broadcasts—valuable intel for a future escape.
He grabbed a lunch tray, sat in a corner, and pretended not to care about the screen.
Then—
He sprang to his feet, knocking over his tray with a loud crash.
Because the TV was airing the inauguration ceremony of the new New United States President.
A rebroadcast.
"…Viewers, it is now 10:30 a.m. Eastern Time. In ninety minutes, Madam Meredith Stout will be sworn in as the new President of the New United States…"
"That's impossible."
Reed's face changed instantly—though his skin tone hid it well.
Inmates and guards glanced at him, then looked away when they saw it was just spilled food.
"At 11:00 a.m., Meredith Stout arrived at the White House to attend a welcome reception hosted by the CEO of Militech. This event was originally meant to be presided over by Madam Myers, but for well-known reasons, the former president—who brought shame upon the New United States—has been impeached and is currently under federal investigation…"
Each word struck Reed's heart like a bullet.
Strangely enough, his first thought wasn't whether he would still receive a pension after Rosalind Myers fell—
It was whether the nation itself would be destabilized.
But a top-tier agent was still a top-tier agent.
Despite the shock, Reed rapidly analyzed the situation.
He knew Meredith Stout—politically obscure, her biggest asset being her friendship with V. This meant her rise was almost certainly backed by V. Given V's usual methods, she must have secured support from major corporations—at the very least, from Militech.
What was V planning?
Propping up a puppet president to control the New United States from the shadows?
That was…
entirely normal.
Reed felt deflated—but not surprised.
Even under Myers, Militech had effectively controlled the country through sheer military and economic mass. Replacing the president didn't fundamentally change that reality.
At heart, Reed was simply verifying the news.
And the more he analyzed it, the more plausible Stout's presidency became.
Militech background.
Close ties with V.
With those two pillars, her ascension made perfect sense.
Compared to Myers' aggressive posture, Stout's civilian origins made her easier to control—aligning with Militech's interests. Her friendship with V also served as a lubricant between Night City and Militech, deepening cooperation.
More importantly—
If she was V's friend, she likely shared the same ideology.
V had always championed cooperation and mutual benefit. Reed believed Stout would steer the nation away from military expansion and toward economic growth—much like Night City—reducing the risk of future wars.
With that thought, Reed finally felt relieved.
As long as the country was safe, nothing else mattered.
Still—
Relief wasn't trust.
A proper agent never relied on a single source. Only cross-verification yielded truth.
He decided to talk to Alex.
She'd been in the medical wing for a week—and this broadcast had been running for days. She must have seen it too.
Thus, getting discharged ASAP became Reed's top priority.
He assumed it would be easy.
He was wrong.
The doctor diagnosed him with erectile dysfunction—ED—and marked a giant X on his clearance report.
"This is an old injury from past work. It's unrelated to the riot. It doesn't need treatment!" Reed argued desperately.
The doctor calmly sipped from a thermos.
"No can do. If you enter the medical wing, we send you out fully functional…"
"Rules?" Reed growled.
The doctor smiled.
"Correct. Rules. I've already prescribed medication. A nurse will inject you shortly. Side effects include drowsiness—consider it rest."
Reed had no choice.
He got the shot.
He slept.
For three days.
On the fourth day, the medication changed—now it caused hyperarousal. He couldn't sleep at all.
Three days later, the medication changed again—this time causing severe depression.
Reed lamented falling leaves.
Then mourned the brevity of life.
Eventually, he broke down crying over a piece of shit stuck to the toilet bowl that wouldn't flush.
When the effects wore off, even an idiot would know something was wrong.
Reed refused further injections.
The doctor didn't argue.
Instead, they strapped Reed to the bed, pulled down his pants, and brought in over fifty interns for a live demonstration.
Male and female students alike.
The doctor held up the afflicted area with forceps, explaining as the interns took notes and asked questions enthusiastically.
This continued for three more days.
Electric stimulation.
Acupuncture.
Experimental therapies.
Pure hell.
Reed's mental state nearly collapsed.
He knew it was chemical interference—his neurochemistry had been altered to destabilize his emotions. As an agent, he was trained to counter such effects, but the execution was flawless.
There was a master behind this.
Reed guessed correctly.
That master was Alex.
Petty revenge?
She was thrilled.
After three days of inhumane observation, the doctor and interns reached a consensus:
"This condition can't be cured. Cut it off and replace it with a heavy-duty cybercannon."
"Fuck!"
That time, the strongest agent truly snapped.
When Reed staggered out of the medical wing, River Ward watched through surveillance, frowning slightly.
"Effect's not very obvious."
"Relax," Alex said confidently.
"Drugs, mental torture—Reed hasn't broken only because he's professionally trained and tough as weeds. A normal person would already be obedient."
"You FIA folks are terrifying," River muttered.
"We use similar methods in the NCPD, but nothing this efficient."
"We don't have to follow the law," Alex shrugged.
"That's why nobody likes us."
River nodded, then panicked.
"You won't use this on me, right?"
Alex smiled sweetly.
"Promise me twelve times a week, and I won't."
"I said ten!"
"Fifteen."
"Wait—"
"Eighteen!"
"Fine! Eighteen! Eighteen!"
River broke into a cold sweat, glancing at Reed limping along the wall on-screen.
That's my future.
Eighteen times.
Eighteen times!!!
The strongest agent might not have broken—but the future NCPD Commissioner nearly did.
Back in the cell block, Reed immediately confronted Alex.
"What do you think about the New United States changing presidents?"
Alex rolled her eyes.
"Why the hell should I care?"
"You've been getting close to River Ward. That's dangerous."
"Why the hell should you care?"
Reed was growing agitated—something that normally wouldn't happen. But the prior "treatments" had taken their toll.
"River Ward might be a Night City spy!"
"Might?" Alex scoffed.
"He is. He told me himself."
Reed froze.
"You told him what?"
"That you and I are NUSA agents."
"You—!"
"He's a spy. He already knows everything. Why bother hiding?"
Reed hesitated.
…She wasn't wrong.
"But you're FIA," he insisted.
"You swore an oath to the President!"
"Fuck that oath. The president I swore to is about to rot in prison."
Alex sneered.
"You know how it works—new ruler, new loyalists. We're Myers' people. The new president won't tolerate us."
"I'm cutting clean. You should prepare too."
Reed grabbed her collar.
"You betrayed the New United States!"
"The New United States betrayed me!"
Alex shot back.
"Yes, I sold what intel I had. Don't worry—it was harmless."
"Myers is gone. We have nothing."
"Sell intel, I'll help you. Stay loyal, I won't stop you. But don't expect me to live like you."
"I just want a normal life. If you won't allow that—then I'll kill you. I'm not joking."
Reed stared into her eyes.
Then let go.
"I thought we'd go all the way together," he said quietly.
"We were built by Myers. She's gone—this is the end."
She walked away without looking back.
In the control room, River pulled out a chair for Alex.
"Will he waver?"
"No," Alex said with certainty.
"That speech will only make him more loyal."
"Then why say it?"
Alex smiled.
"For the real goal."
"Reed will never betray the New United States. But the more loyal he is, the easier it is for him to side with the new president."
"Time for our persuader to step in. A new president stabilizing power by discrediting the old one—history repeats."
"What we're presenting is a true lie."
The next day—
Solomon Reed received his first visitor since incarceration.
"Hi," Kurt Hansen said with a smile, tossing a commemorative coin onto the table.
"I'm here on behalf of the new president."
He paused.
"And also—on behalf of the former one."