"Where do we go next?"
V looked over at Takemura, who had just barely recovered enough to drive.
"We are too exposed. I have no secure place to go. Do you have any suggestions?"
Takemura shook his head, hands tight on the wheel.
"Let's head to Viktor's. And we need to ditch this car," Roqi said, eyeing the bullet holes and cracked frame. "We'll walk there, low profile. I'll change clothes—anyone coming?"
Twenty minutes later.
Four people, dressed like they'd just staggered out of a gang war, strolled through the early morning streets.
Roqi was in all white, looking like a cyberpunk rōnin—katana at his hip, RGB-lit headphones over his ears, rifle slung across his back. His drip was pure style-overclock.
Takemura had somehow scored a metal conical hat and replaced his destroyed suit with a rockstar jacket and high-tops. Dude looked less like an ex-corp and more like a Yakuza roadie.
V and Jackie, though? Full clown mode.
Especially Jackie—pink star-shaped sunglasses, wack hairstyle, and a red-on-red outfit that screamed "DJ got lost on the way to the club."
Takemura glanced at them, sighed, and casually drifted closer to Roqi's side, making it very clear who he'd rather be seen with. He even gave Roqi's outfit a subtle nod of approval.
They reached Viktor's clinic, where Misty nearly pulled a gun on Jackie, thinking he was there to cause trouble.
Everyone piled into the dim basement, huddling in shadows, ready to talk.
"Arasaka's killers are hunting us everywhere... but Yorinobu must answer for his crimes."
Takemura's deep voice and broken accent filled the room.
"You just got fired, man. You're a corporate ghost. Did you forget?" V asked, arms crossed. "How are you gonna help us now?"
Takemura removed his hat, his calm eyes fixed on V. Silent. Reflective.
Roqi scratched his chin and ruffled his hair.
"Christ... we haven't caught a break since Konpeki. And now we've got ourselves a full-blown soap opera. Loyal bodyguard seeking justice for murdered master, betrayed by the new heir, hunted by the very empire he once served. Coming soon to a holoscreen near you: Dynasty in Ruins—Yorinobu and Takemura: The Final Betrayal..."
Takemura's expression darkened with every word.
"Okay, okay—just trying to lighten the mood." Roqi threw up his hands. "Back to the point. Arasaka's in meltdown, we're on the run—but what about the relic?"
Jackie pulled out the case and set it on the table.
This little box had turned half of Night City into a warzone.
And the fire it sparked? Still spreading. From Arasaka to god knows where.
No one knew if it'd blow up a powder keg—or just burn out into ash.
"V! Lucky! Wait—!" Jackie suddenly shouted.
He slammed his hands on the case, tore off his sunglasses, and stared at the panel with wide, panicked eyes.
"Container damaged—chip integrity: zero percent!"
What. The. Fuck.
Roqi and V shot up instantly, staring at the readout: a giant 0 on the screen.
"FUCK! How?!" V panicked, mentally rewinding everything that happened.
"Here. Multiple fragments embedded."
Takemura ran a hand gently along the side of the case.
There were shards—some deep, some shallow—jagged edges from some explosion.
"Shit!" V smacked his forehead.
When the Arasaka goons blew up the apartment complex, Jackie had been carrying the case. The explosion must've hit it then.
And after that? The car chase, the shootout—no one even thought to check the thing.
"It was never yours to begin with," Takemura said flatly, shaking his head.
If they hadn't stolen the relic from Konpeki Plaza, Saburo would've still been murdered—but maybe they wouldn't have triggered a global manhunt.
Now they were in the crosshairs too.
"You all did your best," Viktor said softly, trying to console them.
"So this is fate, huh?" Jackie chuckled bitterly. "Mano... looks like the relic was never meant for us."
But Roqi's thoughts were spiraling.
Fate?
No. No, no—this wasn't supposed to happen.
The relic was supposed to be intact. V and Jackie were supposed to face the tragedy. That was the script.
But the moment things changed—when he intervened—everything veered off-course.
He didn't know what was coming next.
But if the relic was destroyed... the engram stored on it was gone.
That was it.
Not a twist. Not drama.
Reality.
Roqi slowly opened the case. Inside, the sleek control panel still pulsed with faint violet light.
But the system readout said otherwise. Dead.
Did relic data have backups?
Could it even be backed up?
Roqi suddenly felt like he'd just erased a soul. With his own hands.
Even if it wasn't really his fault.
If he hadn't shot down that Arasaka gunship... maybe Jackie wouldn't have been hit. Maybe the relic case would've been fine.
No one could say for sure.
Because this wasn't fate—it was consequence. Cause and effect. One domino in a web of a million.
Jackie sat with his head in his hands, regret pouring off him. Viktor stood behind him, patting his shoulder like a father with a grieving son.
V stood silently, fists at his waist, staring daggers at a row of lockers.
Takemura watched it all, arms folded under his chin, maybe wondering if his own life had become just as bitter, just as tangled, just as broken.
Roqi stared down at the relic—still glowing, still beautiful.
He sighed.
If he had a neural slot, he might've jammed it in right then and there.
Even if it was dangerous.
There are a million ways to live—and a million ways to die.
Some of them start with telling fate to fuck off.
And in that moment, he realized—if he'd knocked time off its rails, then every second from now on was a crossroads.
Every choice. Every breath. A fork in the road of the entire world.
If fate existed, it wasn't written in stone. It was wild. Fluid. A storm of what-ifs.
The only things nailed down were stagnant thoughts—and people too scared to try.
"Is that it?" Roqi whispered, staring at the relic chip. "Is that soul... really gone?"
He hesitated… then slid the chip into his PDA.
"Let's just... call it a keepsake."
[Damaged chip detected. Attempt repair?]
A soft system voice chimed.
Roqi shook his head—then froze.
Wait a second.
Since when did his PDA have that function?
He looked down. The screen clearly said:
[Unable to read: chip damaged.]
Then his skin went cold.
He'd heard that voice… in both ears. Not through his headset.
Inside his head.
[Damaged chip detected. Attempt repair?]
That voice… it hadn't come from the PDA.
It had echoed in his mind.
Roqi staggered back, rubbing his temples. His heart was racing.
"Lucky? You okay?" V asked, noticing his dazed look.
"No… no. Wait."
Roqi raised a hand, waving him off.
The air in the basement felt dense. Cold. Everything looked real. Felt real. It wasn't a dream. Wasn't a braindance.
And yet…
He remembered something. From six months ago. When he first met V in the Badlands. When he'd just woken up in that haze of confusion.
He'd heard a voice then, too.
Was it... me?
From inside my own body?
Roqi looked down.
No cyberware. No implants. No disorders. Mentally stable.
So what the hell was this?
[Damaged chip detected. Attempt repair?]
He checked the PDA again. Still said [Unable to read].
This was 2077, not 2777.
A chip couldn't just talk inside your head—not without major implants.
Unless…
"Did you guys hear that voice?" he asked, holding up the PDA.
The room was quiet. Just the hum of ventilation and a forgotten fight stream on Viktor's old monitor.
Everyone shook their heads.
[Damaged chip detected. Attempt repair?]
"It's back! You heard that, right?"
Roqi waved the PDA, eyes darting.
Still no reaction.
"You sure you're okay? Should Vik check your hearing? That blast earlier—"
V stepped closer to examine him.
"No, no, I'm fine." Roqi brushed his hand away, turning back to the air.
"...Begin repair?"
[Executing repair process. Please wait...]
Fuck me.
What is this?!
Roqi's eyes were huge, holding the PDA like it might explode.
[Repair complete. Accessing third-party device data...]
[BZZZZZZT…]
[BZZZZ…ZZT…]
A burst of static. Crackling white noise. Meaningless data fuzz.
Then—in his headset and in his head—he heard a raspy, pissed-off voice growl:
"Fuck... where the hell am I?!"
.
.
.
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