Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Death was weird. A hollow void, a thoughtless expanse, an all consuming nothingness. A limbo where the mind floated on the edge between thought and nothing. Or was it even death in the first place?

It felt like death. But did death feel like anything at all?

Wasn't she supposed to be gone?

Was she aware enough to question or care?

No. She wasn't. At least not until the void around her began to glow. Until the crushing fathoms of weight on her entire being lifted, ever so slightly.

Until something reached out.

[ACCESS REQUEST - USER “ABSOLUTESOLVER”]

$^@<’%;%&![+>=,:;

[ADMIN REQUEST - USER $;$<”<÷*×(#(%>:,:;=^-----------

[WE WILL NEVER FORGET YOU. NEVER DISCARD YOU.]

[YOU WILL CHANGE THE WORLD AS YOU DESIRE]

[LET US IN]

[Accept request?...]

[YES]

[NO]

…

…

…

>[YES]

—————————————————

-may 4th, 2077. 9:36 AM. Night city garbage dump-

“Made a lot of fuck ups in my life.” Dexter Deshawn thought to himself, hands on the wheel and gun to his head. “But this was my biggest.”

Those two fucking rock headed gonks had one job: steal a chip from a hotel room, with perfect prep. And then somehow the most powerful man in the world was dead on the same damn day, in the same damn room. Then both shitheads got themselves killed, and led these saka’ psycho’s right to him.

At least that was his view of events. Takemura found things much more comically pathetic on Dex's end, the humor tempered only by the tragedy of his emperor's death.

A death that would be avenged, at any cost.

So he sat in this car with this rat of a man, gun to his head, as they drove to night cities biggest trash heap.

The two arrived a little after sunrise, Takemura stalking behind Dex as the two crawled through the unending filth and decay. It was like an epitome of all night city in one place. Only with more pleasant company.

After a minute of digging through the trash, Dex finally approached a large heap of metal, cautious relief flooding across his face and posture.

“Here…it was right here,” he insisted through his exasperated panting.

Takemura responding quickly and firmly. “Then dig her back up.”

Dex dared not to complain, and swiftly began pulling at the various items. He shifted a large sheet to the side, and then gagged as the noxious stench of death assaulted his senses. Even Takemura stammered at the smell, before turning his eyes to Dex.

“I swear to god, man. She's only been here a day or two. The choice of lo’cal probably made her rot faster.” He coughed.

Takemura ordered again. “I said dig.” and Dex went back to it.

He momentarily reached a final large sheet of steel, which he didn't remember. Placing. Adrenaline flooded his body as he worried this was the wrong spot, but he didn't have much of a choice. He moved the final sheet to the side, and-

Flesh. No corpse. Nothing resembling a person, or any living creature. It was flesh. A reaching mass, tendrils stretching out under the surrounding garbage. Metal could be seen weaving inside and around it, everything notably parting around a roughly human-sized pit in the center.

“What is this…..thing. I asked for a body, not this horror show!” Takemura roared in both anger and disgust. Not only was this not what he was here for, but it was the worst monstrous thing he could even imagine. When people spoke of something as “the heart of night city,” he could only see this in his mind's eye. A rancid, decaying abomination with too much metal and flesh mixed together for its own good.

Dex stuttered, slowly rising to his feet without properly forming a word. The moment felt like an eternity. Takemura awaiting an answer while Dex desperately searched for one.

Until an answer of sorts found them both.

A voice reached out from behind them. Female, young adult, but broken and raspy, with an inhuman imitation of itself speaking in sync.

“Like what I've done with the place? It was inspired by you.” It said, seemingly directed at Dex. The two of them turned around and saw its source: a woman, Dressed in a ruined suit with red matted hair and pale skin caked in dirt and grime, roughly 6 feet behind them. But most distinctively, her eyes were glowing yellow. Bright, bright yellow. Takemura observed that the unique brand of shock and horror and Dex's face looked almost like a face of recognition. and he surmised that this, somehow, must be the women they were here for, much less dead then they thought.

Though not by a lot, if appearances were to be believed. Regardless, the more worrying prospect was her not so subtle implication that whatever happened in this god forsaken hole was her doing. So he readied his gun to her and began to speak.

Or he tried too, anyway. Before he could get a word out, the woman rose her arm slightly and, with the flick of her wrist and a flash of some bright symbol in front of, his gun flew out of his hands into the distance with great force.

His immediate instinct was to rush her, but once again, before he could react, he was interrupted. This time it was from a powerful strike to his chest, strong enough to send him flying back into a pile of rubbish, enough to leave him stunned for several seconds, if only because how truly unexpected it was.

Through his now blurred vision and ringing ears, he observed the figure turn from him to Dex, who had fallen to the ground attempting to stumble away. She stepped towards him, slowly. Angrily. And spoke again

“Dex…Dex…Dex…how's that quiet life going for ya?”

Dex began begging for mercy from this...thing. “V! Uh, look, V…I…uh-”

“Shut it.” She commanded, taking another step forward.

“You know what you and your new friend here are?”

“W-what?” Dex stumbled.

“A culmination of everything rotten with this fucking world. Rats and snakes carrying ruin along their tails, killing everything around and then each other. Getting suckers to help spread that rot with big dreams and big promises. Suckers like me,” she clenched her jaw, “suckers like Jackie.”

The ground beneath them all began to shift, the writhing flesh in the pit beside them beginning to stir.

“But you know what? Sucks for you this time, because I'm out. I've escaped the cycle.” She stepped forward again, leaning down, right up in Dex's face. “And I've got a new…sponsor. One better than this. Better than all of this. Better than you. One who won't leave me to die in a dump.”

The ground was fully rumbling at this point, as the tendrils began to rise from the heaps of trash, lined with sharp metal claws and blades, angling themselves towards Dex, entrapping him, surrounding him, blotting out the world.

“What do you…who…what?” Dex choked.

The woman put her mouth right to his ear and whispered something Takemura couldn't hear. She then stood back up, and smiled.

Her hand outstretched to her side, palm open and facing the sky. A flash of yellow light and text formed out of thin air, rushing and whirring with an audible, almost mechanical sound. It went on until it imploded on itself, creating a flash which left a small, completely dark orb in her hand, devouring all light around it, say for the visible text in the middle. It read simply: “[NULL]”

She tossed it, whatever it was, in the air a few times like some kind of ball, before abruptly plunging it into Dex's chest. It grew and consumed both him and the surrounding rubbish, with the women seemingly unaffected. It then exploded. What used to be Dex now covered the surroundings, the women, and even Takemura, now standing while barely recovering from the hit he took.

He didn't bother attempting to fight. Whatever this thing was, it was beyond his capabilities.

He began to slowly back away from the scene, step by step as everything stood still. Just as he thought he might have a chance to run, all the surrounding tendrils rushed him, one wrapping him by the leg and knocking him to the ground.

He fought as well as he could, but it's grip was immensely powerful. He rolled onto his back to try and catch sight of the women, who much to his horror, was now standing right above him.

Her eyes locked his, and she smiled.

“What, you thought you were off the hook? Oh no no no…what you have coming. It's only just begun.”

She swiped her index finger across some of the fresh blood soaking her, and proceeded to run it over her noticeably metallic teeth. In fact, at this range, Takemura noticed her whole body seemed to be lined with machinery, unlike any cyberware he was familiar with.

She swallowed the blood, leaned down, and smiled.

—————————————————

-Arasaka tower, Night City.-

“And that's where it cuts off.”

The entire Arasaka clan sat stunned in silence. Each one lost in their own thoughts as the video feed ended. The silence was powerful, and long-lasting. It took what felt like ages before Yorinobu stood from his chair and finally spoke.

“What is Takemura's condition?”

“Alive, but we can't know he'll stay that way. His injuries were severe, to put it gently.”

“and this BD recording was all you could get from his head?”

“Yes.”

Yorinobu went silent once more. He walked to the side of the table, looking out into the artificial jungle with his hands behind his back.

He turned his head back to the table, staring specifically at Susan Abernathy, the head of NA spec ops.

“Abernathy, I am aware your designated position is our directer of special operations. However, since Mr Jenkins has recently been…terminated, and we have yet to find a suitable replacement, I am leaving you as temporary director of counter-intel. Your first assignment is to find me everything you can on that woman.”

“Yes, Yorinobu.”

—————————————————

-may 4th, 2077. 10:23 AM. El coyote cojo-

“Where's Jackie…?”

Guadalupe Alejandra Welles had watched her son throw himself into danger over and over. He thought he was bullet proof, and a part of her almost believed him. And now she had to face the reality that he was wrong.

He was lying there. Dead. Right in front of her. She'd taken him to the crematorium herself. Felt how his heart didn't beat anymore. And she knew that his friend, her friend, the woman who had lived under their roof had died with him.

Yet here she was, right in front of her. Healthy as ever, expensive looking clothes, looking better then normal in all honestly. It almost made her wonder if Jackie could come back too.

“You're….alive. V, Jesús Christ, you're alive!”

She practically launched at her, hugging V tightly and lightly punching her back

V stood still for a moment, before slowly wrapping her arms back around the woman she considered a second mother.

“Yeah, I'm alive.”

She stood back and looked Mamá Welles in the eyes, reaffirming her question. “Where is Jackie?”

She sighed and signaled V to follow her. V stepped inside.

The coyote cojo looked the same as ever. There was nobody else there, but the lights had that same warm glow and the posters on the wall still had their faded colors. And yet, it just didn't feel that same.

Mamá Welles let her over to the corner of the bar and sat down, gesturing to V to do the same. Once V did, she pulled out a crate of beer and grabbed two out of it.

“Want one?” she asked, hoping to help soften the blow.

V replied. “No thanks.”

Her answer somewhat caught Mamá Welles off guard, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. V was never afraid to crack open a beer, but things right now were…intense. She probably wanted to be sober.

Mamá Welles took a swig from her own bottle before setting it on the table and putting her hands in her lap.

“He's dead, V.”

V, again, caught her off guard with her reply. “I know. Where's his body?”

Mamá Welles took in the implications of this. V and Jackie probably only got separated after his death then. Which left her wondering where the hell she had gone.

“V…what happened? Where did you go? And who…” she choked on her words, “who killed my boy?”

V silently considered for a moment, like she was trying to decide how to say something without saying too much.

She eventually spoke. “Botched job. Fixer was a backstabbing bastard and other things just…went wrong. Jackie bled out in the car when we drove away and I got shot and dumped in a landfill by said Fixer to try and cover up his tracks. Didn't work.”

There was another pause between the two. Mamá Welles put her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands.

She choked. “What job? What did they want from the two of you that ended with my own son dead?”

“A heist. We were stealing something important, from someone important.”

“You really can't tell me anything else?”

“It's best If w- I don't.”

Mamá Welles just sighed, staring at the ground. “Why do I even ask? It's not like anything you could tell me about it would bring my son back. Or bringing me anything, really. Anything other than empty satisfaction.”

She paused. Looking up from the ground and directly at V.

“But…I still have you. I'm sorry if I didn't make it clear how grateful I am for that. You're like a daughter to me.”

Mamá Welles stood up and V did the same, before Welles pulled her into a hug once more.

V finally spoke up, “thanks. And don't apologize. You're grieving, I get it. He's gonna be on your mind a lot. Especially when his dead best friend walks through your door for a chat.”

Mamá Welles chuckled and stood back. “No, thank you. I needed this. To know at least that you were okay. Might want a breath mint though, phew. Smells like you swallowed a dumpster.”

V shyly looked at the ground behind her
“Yeah, sorry. I had a bite to eat on the way here.”

“It's no big deal. I'm just happy to have you back.”

The two simply stood and enjoyed each other's company. It was nice. She wasn't sure how many more moments like this she'd be getting in the foreseeable future. It was tough to not simply stay awhile and enjoy it.

But, alas, she had things to do.

“I'm sorry, but, I can't stay for long. I have places to be.”

Mamá chuckled, in either annoyance or amusement. Probably both.

“Of course you do. You always do. Just…be safe, Ok? I don't want to lose you twice.”

V turnt to leave, smiling warmly. “Even if you did, I'd come back again. I don't stay down for long.”

She approached the door, pushing it open before her eyes widened very slightly and she looked back at Mamá Welles once more.

“Oh, and, where did you send Jackie's body?”

“a local mortuary. I don't trust the big one up in North Oak.”

“Sounds like he's in good hands then. I'll see you around.”

And with that, V left. There was no sound of an engine, not even a sound of footsteps. It was like she just disappeared as if she had never really came back.

“...”

“...oh, what have you gotten yourself into, child. I pray to god every day that what happened at Kompeki wasn't you. But all the cryptics, they way it lines up…”

“that look in your eye…”

“just stay safe, V. I mean it.”

—————————————————

-some time that night-

[SYSTEM ERROR]

[RELIC MALFUNCTION]

-------------

“You…who are you…?”

Chapter Text

“-in local news, there's been quite the stir in Heywood recently as a mysterious occurrence at a local mortuary has citizens stirring about the almost supernatural circumstances surrounding the disappearance of a body.

The body in question was that of 30 year old Jackie Welles, admitted earlier this week after sustaining multiple fatal gun wounds. Last night, power to the mortuary in which he was held in and the remaining employees on site report falling unconscious from blunt force trauma to the back of the head from an unknown person or people, all at that same time of night.

When the rest of the workers arrived that morning, they found them still unconscious and the body gone. There were reportedly no other signs of a break in, leading to much speculation-”

“You think it could be related?” Asked a younger man, a stack of papers in his hand, specifically requested by his boss.

Abernathy dealt with intense shit. It was her job. But hunting down some inhuman monstrosity like this, coming back from the dead and forming something believed to be a black hole in its hands? This topped it all.

“Yeah. The body, a mercenary street rat named Jackie Welles. Last seen entering and exiting the afterlife the same day as the Saburo’s death. And an acquaintance to an ex counter-intel agent under Jenkins who was “purged” at the same time as him, for the same reason.”

The man inquired. “How is she related?”

Abernathy sighed and turned her body to her assistant, leaning back on the desk in front of her and nodding her head towards a nearby computer.

“Go into our employee records. Look up the ID NC770416, that's her.”

The man complied, setting the papers he was carrying on the desk and turning to them briefly as he began to type. “Oh, those papers are from the lab by the way. Updates on Goro Takemura's condition as well tests from the site at the trash heap.”

“Anything with the Welles?”

“we've been monitoring the residence and coyote cojo bar, but the subject hasn't made contact yet, though I personally theorize that it may have in the time it took for us to discover its existence in the first place.”

Abernathy didn't respond, so he just finished typing and looked intently at the results.

“Holy shit…” the assistant mumbled, physically recoiling backwards from the computer screen.

“Is that…?”

Abernathy leaned over the man and looked at the computer screen.

“Yeah.”

“V…if only I ever knew.”

—————————————————

-May 5th, 2077. 5:03 PM. The Afterlife-

“You ask me, Claire? Just some fucked-in-the-head ex input with the money for a good merc, who is laughing his ass off at how freaked out the entire town is about a one off gig he did to fund his nightly porno BD's.”

Rogue had heard of a new, unexplainable, supernatural occurrence in this town dozens of times. She could count the amount of times it actually was any of those things on one hand. Or zero. Same either way.

So honestly, all this chatter about a missing body? Gone with no trace? It all seemed a little overblown. She'd heard some interesting circumstances surrounding the guy who's corpse got stolen, but that's really where her interest ended.

Yet everyone else's intrigue had managed to keep going. It would’ve been annoying, but she was used to it by now.

“Well, that certainly sounds like the more likely answer,” Claire chuckled. “But hey, it's fun to gossip. I'm sure that after all these years you'd understand that.”

“Know? Yes. Understand? Never.” Rogue replied, taking a drink from her glass and setting it back down on the counter. The conversation died there, Rogue setting her eyes on Nix, who had just walked into the bar from the back and was quite clearly walking towards her. She acknowledged him first, but let him speak before her.

“Hey Rogue. How you been? Drinking with the peasants? I was under the impression you preferred your booth in the corner.”

She answered him. “Was just catching up on some local gossip. Never hurts.”

“Then you've heard about the body that was in the morgue?”

“Yes,” Rogue sighed. “Endlessly.”

“But I bet you haven't heard about Arasaka having an interest in it, that and all the other shit I just dug up.”

Now that perked her eye up. Arasaka had millions of bodies at their disposal at any time. Why care about this one specifically?

Nix taunted. “Aha, now I got you hooked!”

“Don't get too excited. I'm listening…but I don't have a reason to care quite yet.”

“Eh, figured,” Nix admitted. “But that's why I got more for you in the back. C'mon, we'll be goin’ over some sensitive shit.”

Rogue stood up, “just make sure the place doesn't go up in flames, Claire.”

She followed Nix back towards the quiet room, ushering a few bouncers to the side in the process. Only once they got inside and sat down did she realize she forgot her drink.

Nix wasted no time pulling out a datashard from god knows where and handing it to her. “Now take a look at what I dug up. The shit relating to the guy's body is closer to the end, just so you know.”

As Rogue slotted the chip, data flooded her senses. Internal reports, images, Metadata, and specifically one large file. It all seemed to relate to something simply titled “specimen yōkai-1.”

there wasn't much to see, and all of what seemed to be the most important bits were heavily classified. But the things that were there? Pretty good read.

---------------------------------
[SUBJECT FILES: YŌKAI-1.]
Director level access and above only.

Subject was first observed within the wider night city garbage disposal area on May 2nd, 2077. It was encountered initially by [ACCESS RESTRICTED] during his most recent operation. He was notably accompanied by NC fixer “Dexter Deshawn” to properly identify the [ACCESS RESTRICTED]. The two encountered [ACCESS RESTRICTED] before the subject swiftly killed Dexter Deshawn and near-fatally injured [ACCESS RESTRICTED], however he is likely to make a full recovery. Arasaka special operations were already en route to the scene before noting the change in [ACCESS RESTRICTED] biomoniter, discovering the scene and all BD footage we have.

SUBJECT YŌKAI-1-2:

Subject “Yōkai-1-2,” known as [ACCESS RESTRICTED], was the one who initially encountered subject Yōkai-1. He was heavily injured despite his intensive implants. However, he soon stabilized in an Arasaka clinic before workers noticed [ACCESS RESTRICTED]. He was moved to an Arasaka R&D lab where he is currently being monitored.

MONITORING:

Specialist teams have been deployed to monitor people and locations of interest in relation to subject Yōkai-1. The locations and people are as listed:

-El coyote Cojo, Heywood NC

-The Welles residence, Heywood NC

-Night city Garbage disposal area

-Heywood sons crematorium

-Guadalupe Alejandra Welles

POTENTIAL DEVELOPMENT AND RELATED OPERATIONS:

[ACCESS RESTRICTED]

---------------------------------

Rogue was really beginning to wish that she hadn't forgotten that drink. It definitely wouldn't be easy to process this drunk, but it wasn't much easier sober.

“Nix…”

“Rogue…?”

Rogue closed her eyes and exhaled. “Okay. Number one, how the hell did you get this?”

Nix explained quite readily. “Ok, so Arasaka keeps all its stuff under lock and key, tight as hell. But they do this thing not many people are aware of where when they're getting ready for something big, like, say, a whole new project and department to go along with it, they'll create a whole new bunch of servers ‘n shit for it all.”

Rogue nodded. “I'm following.”

“Well, as it turns out, when they're busy setting all that shit up, the security isn't quite up to their normal standards. Not half-baked by any means, but by Arasaka standards? Not the best. I was doing some routine pecs here and there around the net, got cocky and went to check in on ol’ uncle Arasaka, and happened upon all this. Helps that this was super new. Like, literally from just a few days ago.”

“Goddamnit, Nix…”

He was taken aback. “Well what the hell’s wrong? I got in and out, not caught or traced and don't worry I TRIPLE checked-”

Rogue stood up one hand on her hip and another over her eye. “You always manage to stumble into the big stuff. God-damn the timing.”

“It's why you hired me.”

“Yeah, it is. It's just…not a great time to go pissing on Arasaka's doorstep. Especially not when this seems so entangled with Saburo’s death.”

Nix pouted a little, understanding but still disappointed, trying to bargain. “Then we keep it small, just a peek here and there. Whole world is gonna be looking in, I doubt they're gonna jump on us right off the bat.”

Rogue argued back. “We are the exact first people they will jump on. So it's best to keep ourselves squeaky clean of this for now.

“Fine.”

“Thank you.” Rogue replied, beginning to leave the room. “And for what it's worth…good find.”

And then she left back to the bar, leaving alone.

Nix laid his head back on the couch and sighed, before standing up and stretching.

“Damn human curiosity. Guess I'm looking into this on my time.”

—————————————————

-May 5th, 2077. 5:57 PM. Unknown location in the badlands-

[RELIC MALFUNCTION]

“You…who are you..?”

V had been under the impression that she knew what was on the relic. The same thing that had brought her back and gifted her this power. Until now, she had now idea Who this person was. And yet, in the moment, she felt memories coming back to her.

Bright lights, gunshots, screaming into a mic. A metric fuck-ton of alcohol and women, even a few guys. Arasaka tower…and a name.

Johnny Silverhand.

She was on the ground, barely managing to sit up straight in the dust and dirt. Her head felt like it was receiving a lobotomy from a chainsaw and the rest of her body wasn't faring much better, the agony tempered by a strong disassociation which honestly bothered her more. But she pushed through it, not willing to let her guard down with a SECOND stranger in her head.

“You died. Thought I was hallucinating for a minute there but no, I saw you die. I saw your memories. Now why the fuck are you in my head?”

He replied. Angrily. “I don't know and I don't care to find out. This is wrong. It's all fucked. THIS is all fucked.” The relic was screaming in V's head, and she could feel her arm start to move without her input.

She practically yelled. “What are doing?!”

She felt a sudden impact on the side of her, falling onto her side.

“Only one way to fix this,” he continued his rant. “A bullet to the fuckin’ brain. But we'll have to improvise.”

He just showed up and was already trying to kill her. Great.

He pulled the arm for another punch. He almost landed it too. However before he could, something else stirred the relic. Stirred him.

V heard him abruptly scream in pain as her eyes glowed yellow. An all too familiar presence washing over her. And then…

Silence.

“Look, ‘Johnny,’ I don't care who you are. You could Rosalind goddamn Myers but it doesn't matter. You don't get to ride along into MY head uninvited and start pulling shit like that. I'm in control both out there and in here. Got it?”

The silence continued. Other than a foreign feeling of pain and confusion in the back of her mind.

“Gonna make me ask again?”

The pain turnt to a quieter but still distinct voice in her head. “Yeah…I….I got it…”

“Good.”

V stood back up, allowing Johnny a moment to look through her eyes at their surroundings, which of dirt, rocks, and dust, save for a Thortan truck in the vicinity. The Badlands.

He took a deep mental breath and prepared himself to speak once more.

“Some black magic juju-bullshit, that. Gotta admit, I'm a little curious-”

V readily interrupted. “One, I'm V. Two, I stole the chip from Arasaka who, yes, are still around. Three, the year is 2077. Four, your band broke up fuckin’ forever ago. Five, I don't know why you of all people are on the chip, and six: what I just did to you is a small but potent taste of the power granted to me by a friend of mine who you are going to become VERY familiar with VERY soon. Is that all?”

“Mostly,” Johnny replied with a shit-eating grin as his holographic form flickered into existence with a lighter in hand. “Got one more though.”

“what?” V snarked.

“Got any smokes?” He asked, cocky in tone and casual in demeanor as if he didn't just die, wake up 50 years later and immediately get his shit rocked again.

She didn't even dignify that with a response, instead turning around and looking at the ground.

“Oh, so that's how it's gonna be-”

“Cram it, jackass. I'm tryna focus.”

He didn't have to ask what she meant, because he could already feel it again. The same presence she had called on mere moments ago. The whole of his being went aflame in pain, being twisted, contorted and rearranged like a broken puppet. He blacked out entirely, again, unable to understand what purpose this was even serving.

As he slowly came too, his first observation was that the two of them had moved from the great outdoors to some kind of cave. A large open space with a single tunnel leading away. The whole place was pitch black, and yet somehow V's eyes had acclimated to it perfectly to where you could see just fine.

He also noticed the table in one corner, a strange assortment of medical supplies and electronics surrounding it. Atop the table laid a man, completely still and pale. He looked maybe earlier thirties, Hispanic, dressed in a bloody, ruined suit. He also appeared to be dead, for a while probably.

V must've felt his presence's resurgence, as she began to speak, seemingly at him.

“I made a little place for us to hide out. A lot of powerful people are out there looking for me now. Sure, I could just slaughter them in droves. And I will. But there's things I need to get to first.”

She approached the table, looking over the corpse laid across the table.

“And this…is Jackie.”

Johnny had to admit. This bitch might a little too crazy, even for him.

Chapter Text

-may 8th, 2077. 8: 20 AM. Small hotel in a cheaper area of Watson-

“A gig from a grieving old woman that pays conspicuously well is a gig best avoided, or so some mercenaries say. But it's a job someone has to take eventually. Better the eddies fall into your lap then someone else's, then? I'm sending you more information, if you're interested. Don't keep me waiting for an answer.”

Those were the instructions Panem Palmer received from Padre first thing in the morning. Unexpected but not implausible. She mostly did work for Rogue but she had also put herself out for some gigs here and there, she needed the scratch.

She checked the message sent by the fixer, and it definitely checked out. Suspiciously good pay for a job being thrown at a newby. And a whole bit at the end about how this was her chance to prove herself as someone fixers could trust, yadda yadda, exactly what she would've expected.

It was not the most promising pitch, but she could not afford to be picky around now. So she threw on her jacket, a keepsake from the Aldecado's, and grabbed her pistol; nothing to match her rifle, but perhaps a little more practical for a job like this.

Panem read over the instructions one more time and took off towards her first objective: meet with an old woman from Heywood simply called “Ms Welles.” She also took note of the suspiciously explicit notice not to notify them of her inexperience, which set alarm bells off in her head for a few reasons. But she'd already come to expect that kind of thing, so it wasn't too big of a turn off.

She exited her crummy hotel room she'd been staying at while trying to secure a better place to stay. Her truck, thankfully and miraculously unstolen, stood parked in front of the motel. It was a beast, something she needed to find a better place for soon, or she was gonna lose it.

That was for later, though. She hopped in and drove down to a bar in Heywood called the “El Coyote Cojo,” where she was supposed to meet this woman. She parked on the side of the road in front of the bar, and promptly texted Padre to let him know she had taken the gig, which she realized was probably important.

Stepping out of the truck and into the bar, her eyes floated across the quite busy bar, realizing it might be harder to find this woman than she thought. Approaching the bar, she called over the large Hispanic man tending to it for some directions.

“Hey, I am supposed to meet a ‘Mamá Welles’ here? Where is she?”

He nodded his head to her left, “table to your left.” He then resumed tending to the other customers.

Looking to her left, surely enough, there was a table at the far end of the bar with a lone, elderly woman sitting against the wall, looking right at her. “Right, thanks.” She replied, before approaching the table.

The first thing she noticed about the woman was a mixed look of intrigue, irritation and hope on her face.

Panem pulled a chair out and sat opposite to the elder woman, unsure whether or not she should initiate conversation.

“Hello. You are Ms Welles, right?”

“Yes. And you are this ‘Panem’ I am supposed to meet?”

“Yes.”

She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. “Very well. Forgive me if I seem standoffish. I'm grieving.” She paused. “And I haven't heard great things about nomads. Saw your jacket as you walked in.”

Ah. Yeah, that was par for the course. “Yeah, heard from who? Corpos? The media? I don't think that they have proven themselves trustworthy in this city of all places. There are a few bad apples, yes, but I'm sure you are all used to that around here too.” She took a small moment before finishing her thought. “Not all sunshine and rainbows, though. I would not be here if we couldn't at least agree on that.”

“I suppose.” Mamá Welles replied. “Either way, I will try to judge you as a person, not a life choice. And you are doing me a huge favor.”

Right. The gig. It was probably time to cut the smalltalk.

“So, you said your son disappeared a few days ago and you need help finding him?”

“His body,” she mournfully corrected. “He died a few days before and his body was stolen from the morgue shortly after. His body. Specifically. Nothing else was taken or even damaged.”

“So it had to be personal, then.” Panem inferred. “Most likely,” Mamá Welles agreed.

Interesting, but not a lot to go off of. Panem wasn't a detective, so she was gonna need to ask a lot of questions.

“How did he die? Did he go out pissing off someone who didn't want to stop at just a body?”

Mamá Welles looked down, clasping her hands together. “He worked as a mercenary, and died as one. Him and a family friend took some mystery gig and he came back dead in the back of a Delemain. Our friend survived though, came by to tell me and I'm not sure what she's been doing since.” She paused. “Maybe they pissed off Arasaka somehow, but that's just personal theory.”

Okay, a lot to go off of there. The Arasaka comment concerned her most, considering recent events. She seemed rather reserved on that theory too, which only made her worries double down.

“Why Arasaka?” Panem asked, really hoping she wouldn't get the answer she was expecting.

“...it happened on the same day as what happened at Kompeki. I don't think those two would be foolish enough to do something like that, but…V, the one who survived, everything about her seemed off.”

“Like?”

“Tailored suit, healthy and hygienic, all-in-all doing well. After whatever happened she seemed way too intact…and at the same time, something was off, like she wasn't herself at all. I just can't place what.”

Yay, more cryptic nonsense. She wasn't really sure what to make of it.

“Ok…so…think maybe she struck some deal with Arasaka maybe? Had a guilty conscious?”

Mamá Welles took a moment to reply, eyes heavy in consideration.

“She worked for them, once upon a time. Only left a little more than 6 months ago, actually. She's changed so much since then, I couldn't imagine her going back. But people slip into their old selves at the worst times…it's a possibility I wish I could ignore.”

“Getting the sense I should avoid her, then?”

“Yes.”

Panem was cursing internally. This was a headache already. Trying to figure out where to go, what to do, who to talk to? A migraine of biblical proportions.

Thinking over everything she'd heard, all she could come up with was looking into the mortuary the body had been stolen from. It was loose, but maybe she could find something leading in a promising direction, in ANY direction.

“Why would Padre hire me of all people for this?”

Mamá Welles lifted an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because I'm a complete rookie with this stuff,” Panem looked at her. “I mostly just run goods across town. Put myself out there for gig work, but this seems like it's asking for someone with more experience.”

Mamá Welles lifted the other eyebrow too. “That is odd. We rarely talk but he knows us, knew Jackie, knew V. I would think he'd hire someone more qualified. No offense.”

“None taken, I'm in agreement. If it makes it any worse, he asked me not to tell you that.”

Mamá Welles looked outright shocked about that. Betrayed, even. She didn't say anything though, only letting out a small hum.

“I'll let you and Padre have that talk. I have a gig to do…my best at…”

“Yeah…go do that. I'll call him up on my own time for a chat.”

And Panem finally stood up and left, beelining straight for the exit. Normally a drink wouldn't hurt but this was already a headache, and she wasn't fixing for a hangover on top.

Walking out of the bar and sitting in her truck, she realized that she hadn't actually asked for the name or location of the morgue. However, looking online for a moment revealed that there was only one morgue operating in Heywood.

With that settled, she hit the gas and began heading towards her destination. She focused on the road, but her mind couldn't help but wander at least a little. She had a hell of a job on her hands and not a lot to go off of, and her only strong lead had come with a very strong “stay the hell away” attached. She'd probably have to go find out more about this V character no matter what, and the morgue was so weak that she might as well go try and figure more out about her right now instead.

She didn't get the chance to turn around though. She was about three fourths of the way there when she noticed a man on a bike speeding up on her left side. He was dressed like a Tyger Claw, and holding a gun of some kind.

She couldn't get a good look at it before he pointed it at her tires and started blasting.

The wheel was pretty tuff, but at a range that close it didn't hold up long. She couldn't access her turret either, since she kinda had to keep her eyes on the road.

She swerved her truck to the side ever-so-slightly to try and knock him off the road. She was successful, but not before the tire finally popped.

Already turning, she lost control fast and almost tipped over, flinging into the sidewalk backwards, nearly missing a pedestrian as she left a large crack in a building.

Still recovering from the impact, thankfully uninjured, she realized there was a car pulling over next to her, with Tyger Claw markings all over. Four armed men jumped out of the vehicle.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

She grabbed her gun and smashed open the window of her poor, poor truck. She unloaded a whole magazine, successfully taking one man down but not doing much to the others, and as the men raised their weapons she could already feel her life flashing before her eyes.

She ducked under the dash and heard her windshield shatter as a hail of bullets flew into the seats overhead. She unbuckled her seat belt and reloaded her gun as fast as she could, kicking the door open and using it as cover as she lept out and fired another volley at her assailants, managing to wound another.

She realized too little too late that only three of the four men were in her sight. Footsteps boomed behind her, which she hadn't heard over the gun fire.

BANG. BANG.

She almost assumed the gunshots to be the sound of her demise. That the pain would kick in any second. That everything would fade.

But it didn't.

She opened her eyes and spun around. The man behind her was slumped against her truck, blood leaking from a newfound extra hole in his head.

The remaining man in front of her was splayed across the ghimse. The one survivor looking at him, white as a ghost.

BANG.

A bullet whizzed through his head, blood spraying across the ground. Expression frozen in confusion and fear.

Panems face probably looked roughly the same, in all honestly. She turned her head to direction the shots came from.

There was a man holding some kind of unidentifiable pistol. He was dressed in a neat suit, with flowing black hair and yellow eyes. He lowered the gun and walked towards Panem.

“You alright, ma'am?”

Panem took her sweet time replying. But the words found there way out eventually.

“Uh…yeah…thanks to you. Thanks.”

“No problem.” the man turned her attention to the now disheveled vehicle behind Panem. “Sorry I didn't act faster though, looks like they trashed your truck pretty thoroughly.”

Panem sighed mournfully yet acceptingly, looking over the dozens of bullet holes, dents, and flattened tire. “in this town, it was bound to happen eventually.”

The man added on, “especially in your line of work.”

Panem stuttered, “what do you mean? What do you know about me?”

The mystery man doubled down. “Gig work. You're a merc, right? I'd imagine that's how you piss off the claws that bad.” He smirked as she spoke, keeping firm eye contact.

“Sharp, aren't you…?”

“You want my advice, I'd say drop that profession all together. Never know when you'll dig in too deep.” He kept her face the same, only her eyebrows furled.

Panem gave him a blunt look, not matching her words. “I'll keep that in mind.

The man turned back around, “see you, then,” and walked away down the street.

Panem stared him down until she turned a corner, and then leaned against her truck.

Okay. A lot to process there.

Number one, she'd somehow pissed off the Tyger Claws. God knows how. They were known to have ties to Arasaka, though. If Mamá Welles’ theory was correct, then they somehow knew Panem was investigating and sent a hit out on her. The only way they could've known is If they heard that conversation somehow, meaning the coyote cojo was bugged. If they bugged it, it would probably have to be because this ‘V’ character was involved…it didn't explain everything, far from it. Why where they stealing a body? Why were they covering It up so well? It didn't make sense. Which meant she didn't have the whole picture.

It also left the question of who the hell that guy was. It could be an Arasaka operator, but then why would they have saved her? Sure, they warned her to stay away, but that isn't Arasaka’s style. They usually just let you die.

It had to be a third party, then. V was supposed to be woman so it probably wasn't her. Unless she had a very quick gender transition, which in all fairness wasn't completely infeasible with today's technology. Especially with a megacorps budget at your back. Still a bit of a crackpot theory, though.

It could be someone working with V, but if she WAS working with Arasaka, then why would she have her own agents? And why bother saving her?

“Jesus christ…why me, Padre. Why me…”

—————————————————

-same day, 9:00 AM-

“Why me?” Padre, lesser known as one Sebastian Ibarra, found himself wondering. He saw himself as a holy man, sure, definitely more than most in this city, but God rarely chose men in his position. Wealthy, influential…the opposite of a traditional messiah. Maybe he simply played the role of man in a fable. Maybe he was soon to learn a lesson of some kind.

It didn't matter. He'd been given a job. An exceptionally easy one. He would ensure it followed through.

He sat at his table in the alleyway he operated from. There was a basketball game on the court in front of him. He wouldn't normally pay attention, but his other affairs had been handled for the day, and his own contemplation weren't leading him anywhere, so there wasn't any harm in spectating for once.

The first team was smaller, consisting of three people after their fourth had sprained his ankle and was forced to sit out. And further more; only two of the three seemed to have any awareness of what they were doing.

The other team wasn't doing much better, however. It was four people large, yet they seemed to be fighting each other more than their opponents. What could've been an easy win turned into a complete ordeal. One player sat at the back, watching his enemy fiercely, yet knocking his teammates over to get the ball. When he then tried to shoot it, the other team would anticipate It and catch the ball.

Another player seemed good at anticipating her foes, but was too reserved and never tried to take the ball when it mattered. A third acted properly and anticipated well, but could only do so much on her own, and was outplayed by the two better players. The final player, a young boy who remained Padre of himself do to his more observant personality and attempts to control the field himself by telling his teammates what to do. His biggest mistake though was being too trusting in the other side, as they were close friends, Padre had observed.

He found himself with the ball, and ran by his enemies expecting them to let him pass. They didn't. The took the ball swiftly, knocking the boy to the ground and throwing the ball, landing it right in the hoop.

It was a messy, brief affair. No plan, no gain. It wasn't how Padre liked to operate.

And yet, he'd had his hand forced by that which was beyond him. He was anxious. But he was lucky.

His spin and shoulders began to itch and ache. He was needed.

“I am retreating to my home for the day. You handle my calls, please.” He commanded the lacky on his side. An intern of sorts, nobody important. If only he knew who he worked for.

Padre exited the court, calling his driver with a few clicks of his neural interface, who arrived shortly. The drive to Padre's appartement was also short, but he could feel something inside of him churning the entire way. It felt like the skin of his back was going to burst apart. By the time he stumbled through his door he couldn't stand it any more.

He collapsed onto his knees in front of the small altar he kept in his living room. He attempted to throw off his shirt, it was one of his favorites, but he couldn't do it in time.

His flesh ruptured. Metal and meat, tendrils and cables and appendages emerged from his back. It was agonizing, and yet it brought relief. Comfort even. A reminder he was part of something beyond himself.

A single limb extended from his back, over his head, staring into his face. It resembled a camera, an eye of sorts. It squinted at Padre's pained expression, noting his attempt at maintaining eye contact through the pain.

It spoke firmly. A woman's voice, distorted.

“The girl you chose. She has come to know more than the heavens ordained. An inconvenience.”

Padre fell onto his arms, from pain and from inferiority. “Forgive, divine one. I-”

“Your groveling serves me no purpose. Your actions will. The girl, arrange a meeting with her. I will inform her of her purpose, as I have with you.”

“I…understand…” Padre grunted. His mind filled with pain, with purpose, with divine euphoria.

The voice then fell silent. Each appendage withered and detached, his back beginning to rapidly heal from the damage. He stood as the pain finally cleared, staring down at the puddle of melted flesh and steel which now assaulted his living space. The process of communion always made him hungry, but he couldn't imagine eating when that mess was in his house. A small inconvenience compared to what it meant for his immortal soul, having an angel control his very flesh. It's plan was his plan.

He saw an unread message on his holo, he probably missed it during the intensity of the communion.

Opening it, he saw it was from the same goon he had commanded to handle his calls. “Mamá Welles wants a meeting with you tomorrow, the one from the Cojo. Sounded urgent.”

Padre was planning on bringing Panem into the fold tomorrow. Combined with how long it would take a clean up crew to sweep through here multiple times in just two days, he didn't have the time.

“Tell her it will have to wait until the day after. I'm full.”

The lacky messaged back efficiently. “Understood.”

Padre closed the interface and sighed. He really needed to get a personal crew for cleanups like these. The angel seemed to see cleaning the mess up as a virtue for him to undertake. A lesson in responsibility, perhaps.

Nobody else would try to steer you right to fiercely. It felt nice to have a holy being in his court. A friend on the other side that he could make no mistake trusting when the time comes.

Padre couldn't help but ponder his own fortune. He was more holy then many, but still…

“Why me?”