Melissa Rory—currently a senior inspector in Night City's MaxTac.Criminal record? First-degree murder. Hostage-taking. Attempted murder. Aggravated assault. Possession of military-grade narcotics. Assault, murder, kidnapping, and battery of corporate reps. Assault and battery of NCPD officers. Grand theft. Assault on public officials. Trespassing in corporate zones. Corporate defamation...
Roqi stared at the classified files he'd pulled from the NCPD database, almost in tears.
"This woman's been chasing you?" V rubbed his forehead.
"Amigo… your love life's something else," Jackie muttered, visibly disturbed.
This psycho—someone even a squad of Night City's cyberpsychos wouldn't mess with—was skipping work to show up at his place.Would blowing his brains out make things quieter?
Arasaka was chasing immortality through the Relic. Militech was digging up ruins in the Gulf of Mexico. Kang Tao had just dropped a new line of smart security bots.Everything had spun way off Cyberpunk 2077's original script.
And standing at the edge of this spiraling era—Roqi, V, and Jackie.So… where the hell were they supposed to go from here?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"...You could find someone else, y'know. Someone willing to help a drifter hanging around the border. And the guy in your backseat? Ain't no good brain docs out in the Badlands. You want help? Head to Night City."
Through the fog in his head, Roqi heard voices.
He rubbed his eyes. His skull throbbed like it had been caught in a vice.
Who am I? Where am I? I've forgotten something... something important...
"Hey! Hey, Lucky! You okay?"Before he could answer, two big hands steadied his wobbling head. A strangely familiar face leaned in.
"Can you hear me?"
Bzzzz—
A flash of light hit his eyes. Roqi clutched his aching, buzzing head as pain spiked through his skull.
He was in the backseat of a car, parked inside a messy auto shop.
The man in front of him looked both worried and familiar. Memories crashed and tangled in his head.
"V...? V! You're… V!?"
Roqi's eyes widened in disbelief. His brain locked up—frozen.
"AAAGHH—ZZZ—!!"
Memories collided, syncing with scattered fragments and sending his body into violent convulsions.
Gunfire. A flash. No time to react. The sensation of his body sinking under the ocean beside a massive cruise ship.
The memory shattered—replaced by a storm of flickering, nightmarish images, screaming through his mind with no warning.
[System error detected. Initiating emergency reboot.][Reboot complete. All data rolled back.][Insufficient clearance. Combat Protocol OVER-1 disabled.]
Only after the last system message did the chaos in his mind finally settle.His forehead and back were drenched in cold sweat.
Staring at V—worried, real, right in front of him—Roqi knew something had been erased.
But before he could piece things together, one realization hit him harder than the rest:
He wasn't in his world anymore.
"...I-I'm fine… V."
That trembling sentence was all he could manage.He patted V's hand as if to say, I'm okay.
But the words weren't just for V—they were for himself.His head was a blender full of broken memories and screaming echoes, like banshees in a non-stop feedback loop.
And yet, somehow… calling him "V" felt natural. Like they'd known each other for years. Like the name was hardwired into his brain.
"Glad you're okay," V said, glancing toward a nearby mechanic.He quickly adjusted his tone. "Once we're in Night City, I'll get you the best ripperdoc around."
V's voice grounded him. Roqi leaned back against the seat, trying to breathe through the pain.
V was dependable.If there was anyone in Night City you could actually call a friend—it was this guy.
Roqi didn't know what kind of bond his old self had with V… but right now? Things could be worse.
A fuzzy rock track played from the shop's ancient radio, full of retro buzz.
The TV droned on about space pirates in a serious newscast—
Yeah. No doubt about it. This was Night City.Not his world anymore.
He shut his eyes—
Only to get shaken awake again by a panicking V.
"Haha... I'm okay, V. Really. Don't freak out."
He gave a weak smile. The pulsing in his skull was finally easing up.
"Good. Just remember—if you die, I'm going back and dealing with those bastards myself."
V gripped Roqi's shoulders, dead serious.Like nothing else in the world mattered more.
Only after Roqi nodded did V ease off, finally relieved.
"So—where were we again?" V turned to the mechanic.
"Your friend wants to get his head checked in Night City."
"Not that. The other thing."
"I said I can't fix this piece of junk," the mechanic grunted, not even pretending to care.
V wasn't some clueless rookie. He'd run with the Bakkers and survived the Badlands.A snarky grease monkey like this? Child's play.
"We agreed on the price. I'm not paying a single eddy more."
"Yeah? Then grab my tools and fix it yourself," the guy shot back, arms crossed.
V scoffed and shoved him aside. "No problem. Move."
From the backseat, Roqi watched with mild amusement.He chuckled—careful not to stir his headache.
So this V really was the down-to-earth nomad type.
"I'm thinking of bypassing the coupling and running a direct line from the engine," V said.
Thinking, he said. But the way he moved? Pure confidence.One yank, a wire was in his hand. Shove—it disappeared into a port Roqi didn't even recognize.
Roqi didn't know jack about cars.All he could do was watch as V worked his magic like a chrome-fingered grease wizard.
"That'll keep the compressor spinning. Could cause a failure," the mechanic warned.
V shot him a look like he was staring at an idiot."Did I ask for your opinion?"
Pfft—Roqi burst out laughing, which made his temple throb again.
Yup. That was V. Pure, unfiltered, 100% V.
The mechanic, properly shut down, leaned back in silence.
"Alright… let's see if it works."
V climbed into the driver's seat and turned the key.
Click. Attempt #1—fail.Click. Attempt #2—fail.
Then—VRROOOOM—the junker roared to life.The mechanic, mid-smirk, quickly shut up.
"Not bad," he muttered. "Question is, how long'll it hold?"
"Long enough to get us to Night City," V said. "I'll fix the rest there. Got more important things to do.Lucky—how you feelin'?"
"I'm alright," Roqi nodded.
"Good. Then let's go meet the client. That cool with you?"
Roqi already knew who the "client" was.
Jackie Welles.
Just hearing the name stung.
He hadn't planned on going to war with Arasaka, but if that's what it took to save Jackie—he'd do it.He'd ride a flying fortress to Hiroshima if it meant changing his fate.
He remembered finishing the game's prologue, barely hitting 30 FPS, and watching Jackie die in that damn car.It hit him hard enough to quit the game altogether.
Now here he was—living that story.
V, the merc, had taken a gig to smuggle a client and cargo past the border.That payday was supposed to set him up for life.
No skipping this one.
V fiddled with the radio, but the thing was busted—no signal.He was just about to try calling the client again when two uniformed legs stepped into view.
Quickly, V stashed his gear.
Clatter-clatter… The garage door rolled open. A man in a cowboy hat and shades walked in like he owned the place.
"Hey, Mike. Didn't know you had company," he drawled.
The mechanic—cocky a moment ago—instantly tensed up.
"They just got here. I thought you'd already talked to 'em..."
Hands on his hips, the sheriff gave a lazy wave. "Relax, Mike. Let's talk nice and easy."
His words were friendly—his tone, anything but.
Mike tipped his hat and stepped back.
Pah. The sheriff spat on the floor, his eyes gleaming with contempt.
"Around here, you talk to the sheriff first. Even if you're just grabbing a coffee, you say why you're here."
Classic small-town cop.Scripted lines, scripted swagger. Peak Sheriff.
Roqi stayed still in the backseat. Quiet, tense, but his inner sarcasm was loud as hell.
Still… the gun on the guy's hip was very real.
In the game, you could mouth off to him or peel out of the garage and get away clean.But this wasn't the game.This was real.And if the guy pulled a revolver and shot him right there—no reload. No checkpoint.
"Huh. Didn't realize you had a passenger," the sheriff said, leaning on the roof with a smirk.
"We'll be outta here in a minute," V said, cutting in quick.
"That ain't what I asked," the sheriff interrupted. "Name's Andrew Jones. Maybe you've heard of me. Fought in the last war. Ever hear of the Silver Shogun?"
V nearly shook his head, but stopped himself.
"Not much of a talker, huh?"Jones walked around the car and stomped his boot on the hood.
"This a nomad ride? Heh. Could've fooled me..."
"We'll be gone once it's fixed. No plans to stick around," V said, fists tight on the wheel.
"Good. I don't like strays," the sheriff sneered. "Where's your clan?"
"No clan. No camp. Just us."
"Bullshit. Nomads always run in packs."
"My clan scattered. That's why I'm headed to Night City."
That part was a lie.The truth? He was smuggling cargo. And Roqi.
Watching V, Roqi felt a thought click into place.
If they'd known each other that long—maybe they were once part of the same nomad family.The Bakkers.
The sheriff wasn't wrong.Right now, both of them were strays. Alone.
Maybe that's why V gave a damn.
With the radio dead, V needed access to the local tower to call the client.But the sheriff wasn't interested in helping. He just wanted them off his land.
Even seeing nomads pissed him off.
But because Roqi was there, V held it in.He bit his tongue, swallowed his pride, and drove out into the dust.
"...Thanks, V," Roqi said quietly, the road rattling under them.
"You owe me a life, Lucky," V said without looking back.Translation: Don't mention it.
Roqi watched his back, smiling faintly.
Whatever they'd been through—This bond between them…Not quite brothers.But closer than blood.