Biotechnica Tower.
Unlike Arasaka's rigid and austere atmosphere, Biotechnica felt slightly warmer. At least they put some plants in the lobby—just enough to inject a hint of life into the cold white décor.
"Welcome to Biotechnica, Deputy Director V," the receptionist greeted respectfully.
V gave a small nod. "I have an appointment with Joanne Koch."
"Yes, the appointment is confirmed. Please proceed to the reception room on the 32nd floor."
V took one step toward the elevator, then doubled back and grabbed Sasha's hand, pulling the pink cat-girl inside with her.
Ever since entering Biotechnica Tower, Sasha had been in full "out-of-body" mode.
V knew she was taking advantage of the moment to tinker with Biotechnica's network, so V simply covered for her—better than letting the silly cat crash into a wall.
Nearly an hour later, Sasha finally returned to herself. She exhaled in relief, glanced at V standing by the window overlooking Night City, hesitated, then said sincerely:
"Thanks."
If V hadn't distracted attention for her, she definitely would've slipped up. Sasha was simple—whoever treated her well, she treated well. She'd decided: even if V was a corpo dog, if V ever asked, she'd tell her the truth.
V was a good person, probably.
But V turned around with a puzzled look. "Thanks for what?"
Sasha blinked—then smiled.
Yep. V was a good person.
"It's nothing." Sasha hopped lightly over to V's side, peeked down from the window… then immediately stepped back, trembling.
"Afraid of heights?" V asked.
Sasha denied instantly. "Not at all!"
Yeah, that meant she was terrified.
Blushing, Sasha hurried to change the subject. "So… what is this place?"
"Reception room," V said. "Joanne Koch's busy. We're to wait here."
Sasha wasn't surprised—corporate execs always had a sense of superiority.
But V added, "Let's go."
Sasha froze. "Go? Where?"
"Back to Arasaka Tower."
"Huh? Aren't we waiting for Joanne?"
"No need. I'm here on behalf of Arasaka to discuss cooperation. If she dares keep me waiting this long, her attitude's already clear."
V said calmly, "If I weren't waiting for you, I'd have left already."
Sasha couldn't help but smile. "And you say you don't know why I thanked you?"
V shrugged. "I don't want to get involved in your shady business. Just don't leave any traces."
"I won't! I'm amazing!"
"Sure, sure."
"Hey! Don't brush me off!" Sasha puffed her cheeks and followed V out of Biotechnica Tower.
Before they got into the car, she glanced back and asked anxiously, "So… Joanne rejecting cooperation is fine?"
"It's fine. This was only the first touchpoint. It's normal between corporations. Joanne Koch sets the price sky-high; next, it's my turn to bring it back down."
"That sounds so complicated." Sasha looked at her. "Is this how you usually work?"
V raised a brow. "Why ask all of a sudden?"
Sasha scratched her cheek. "Just… wanted to know you better."
V chuckled. "There's nothing to know. I'm just a regular person."
"No," Sasha shook her head softly, "you're pretty interesting."
"Oh? How so?"
"I—I don't know…"
V couldn't help but laugh. "Silly cat."
—
Over the next few days, V contacted Joanne Koch several more times.
After rounds of bargaining, Joanne finally agreed to "information exchange"—still far from being a real ally.
Joanne Koch was a brilliant pharmaceutical specialist.
Strength of smart people: extreme rational self-interest.
Weakness of smart people: also extreme rational self-interest.
She could easily sell Biotechnica intel, had zero loyalty to her company, and was easy for V to draw in.
But she was also excellent at self-preservation. Without decisive benefit—or decisive leverage—she wouldn't fully commit.
And corporations had no clean people.
V wasn't clean.
Joanne wasn't either.
Only problem: Counter-Intel was currently in silent mode. V couldn't act openly.
She tapped the table with her fingers, not impatient at all.
No leverage?
Then create leverage.
Ever since Joanne first agreed to exchange intel, the leverage had already been seeded.
V simply needed to wait for the fruit to ripen.
The only regret was that it would take time.
But time had carved her into something precise and patient, even as it once tore her apart.
She could wait.
Her eyes flashed blue again as she launched another breach at the security bot.
Alarm. Failure. Kicked out.
"Strange…" Sasha frowned. She had watched V put in real work; the scripts were flawless. Why did breaches keep failing?
"Maybe you need a break. You're pushing yourself too hard," Sasha concluded, attributing it to mental strain.
"Don't worry. You taught me well. I can feel the improvement. You'll get your full commission."
V restarted her run.
"I'm not worried about the damn commission! I'm worried about—ugh!" Sasha stomped her foot. "I'm taking tomorrow off! A full day!"
"Approved," V replied without even looking up.
"You—!!" Sasha grabbed her bag and stormed out.
Tomorrow was the job, clearly.
Young mercs were so easy to read.
To someone like V, a veteran of blood and lies, Sasha was transparent.
V glanced at her retreating back, then dove into the data lattice again.
Other people's business wasn't something she wanted or could manage.
Her priority was improving herself.
Losing her carefree life was lonely enough—
but losing strength meant losing everything.
She could feel it: she was at the threshold. One more step, and she would reclaim what she had lost.
She could not stop.
—
Late night, on Bream Street.
Rapid knocking.
Viktor opened the door.
V stood outside—alone, like a ghost in the night.
"Miss V, right?" Viktor asked. "What's the matter?"
"I need an implant surgery."
"Now?" Viktor blinked. "Do you know what time it is?"
"Three forty-two a.m.," V replied. "Vik… you're the only one who can help me."
Viktor stood silently for a long moment, then stepped aside.
"Come in."
V carried a metal case into the ripperdoc clinic. She wasn't surprised—Vik was simply like this, a good man. And she was grateful—because he was a good man.
He switched on the lights, put on his assistive gloves. "What do you want implanted?"
"This."
V opened the case. Cold vapor spilled out, revealing a long, gleaming shard.
"Well damn. An Arasaka net access port? Never seen this model on the market," Viktor muttered.
"Arasaka Type-IV Net Access Port," V explained. "Latest from the labs. Scheduled for release end of 2076."
Viktor raised a brow. "You sure you won't get in trouble for getting your hands on this?"
"Relax." V was calm. "It's been officially declared scrap. All remnants and the report were processed."
"Heh. Corporations…" Viktor snorted. He picked up the Type-IV, turning it in hand. "You really want this installed?"
"Yes."
"Considering your neural cluster is a mess… this is going to be dangerous."
"What's the success rate?"
"Fifty-fifty."
"A fifty-fifty coin toss. Nice. Do it."
V climbed onto the medical chair.
"Hold on, I'm not done." Viktor pulled up her holographic scan. He pointed at her skull. "You've got a Militech Berserk MK5 embedded. To replace it with a Type-IV access port, I'll have to dig the entire OS out. Dangerous even for a healthy person—and you're not in great condition."
"Can you do it?"
"I can. But not with much confidence."
"How much confidence?"
"Ten percent."
Silence filled the clinic.
Viktor sighed. "You should go to your corp. With their tech, success rate jumps to thirty percent at least."
"No," V refused immediately. "I don't trust the corporation."
"You're gambling with your life!" Viktor snapped. "You don't trust them—do you trust me that much?"
"Yes, Vik. I trust you."
V's tone was steady. "Even if the corporation gave me a hundred percent, it wouldn't be worth your ten."
"You—!" Viktor sputtered. He stared at her. "Did your math teacher have a brain injury or something?"
"Haha… maybe. Too long ago to remember."
He prepared the tools, holding the anesthetic. "You can still back out."
"Do it, Vik. Don't hold back. This life was saved by you."
"I don't remember saving you."
The needle slid in.
Darkness swallowed her.
She drifted in a vast ocean—awake yet asleep.
Glowing jellyfish floated by.
When she touched one, she realized they were made of 0s and 1s—new lifeforms of pure data.
She opened her eyes. Pain stabbed through her skull.
"Awake? If I hadn't personally cut open your head, I'd swear you were the newest model of Sandevistan-powered android," Viktor said, holding coffee. "Congrats, kid. You hit that ten percent. Lucky day."
"Must be because I've got an angel named Viktor." V sat up, rubbing her forehead.
"Hmph. Flattery accepted." Viktor sipped his coffee. "So you're planning on becoming a netrunner now?"
V didn't deny it. "You noticed?"
"Not hard. Netrunner OS puts the least strain on nerves. Makes sense for you."
He brought up the holo again. "Switching from Berserk OS to Netrunner OS will feel wrong at first. But the brain adapts. Expect nausea, migraines, maybe light sensitivity. All normal."
"Sounds like catching a virus."
"Not wrong. Except this virus is certified." Viktor handed her a spray can. "Immunosuppressant. One dose now, then every eight hours for three days."
She inhaled. Pain eased almost instantly.
"Damn, Vik. Still got golden hands."
"Save the praise. Here's the real warning." Viktor's tone sharpened. "As a ripperdoc, I strongly advise against combat. Even netrunning is risky. But this is Night City—trouble finds you even if you don't find it."
He pointed at her sternly.
"Three minutes. That's the maximum time you can stay connected. Any longer, and your neural cluster turns into grilled squid. Three minutes. No exceptions."
—
When V stepped outside, it was already night—neon bright, streets alive.
The surgery had taken fourteen hours. She'd slept six more.
Twenty hours gone.
It was now 11 p.m. the next day.
"An entire day vanished… just like I vanished a year ago." V murmured. "Time's strange."
She called a Delamain and returned to Arasaka Tower.
She had left her Militech Berserk MK5 with Viktor—
her past, her softest weakness.
Leaving it with the person she trusted most was right.
Lights flicked on when she entered her office—and so did the security bot.
Its square head turned toward her.
V stared back.
Her eyes flashed blue—
and the world became a sea of 0s and 1s.
Sasha didn't understand why V kept failing her breaches.
But V did.
Before today, she didn't have a netrunner-grade access port. She was using outdated remote scripts—primitive breaching.
But now?
Now she had the Arasaka Type-IV Access Port.
She could run direct-protocol quickhacks.
If she'd been a trickle before—
now she was a tidal wave.
The supposedly impenetrable data matrix shattered instantly.
The bot's ICE tore like paper.
Crack.
V launched Reboot Optics and Sonic Shock simultaneously.
The bot spasmed, sparks bursting from its boxy head, before collapsing.
[Sonic Shock]
Upload Time: 0.2s
Duration: 23s
RAM Cost: 2
Untraceable. Deafens target, disrupts comms. Causes unconsciousness when combined with Reboot Optics or Memory Wipe (robots/turrets crash instantly).
[Reboot Optics]
Upload Time: 0.3s
Duration: 15s
RAM Cost: 7
Blinds target, lowers accuracy, increases headshot damage, refunds 3 RAM per headshot, and spreads the quickhack to nearby enemies.
V needed to avoid frontal combat, so these two hacks—blindness + deafness + potential knockout—were perfect. And they had low RAM cost.
RAM—her memory pool—determined how many hacks she could execute at once.
Type-IV gave her +9 RAM.
Her Intelligence had grown from 3 to 9 over the past days—each 4 points gave +1 RAM.
She'd also written a small program that granted "Queue Breach," giving +1 RAM and allowing two hacks on one target.
Total: 12 RAM.
It looked game-like, but in this world, this was just how neural diagnostics visualized themselves.
As for Sonic Shock and Reboot Optics?
She wrote those herself.
Schematic memorized from her previous life.
Both were Iconic-tier quickhacks.
V collapsed into her executive chair, trembling.
Not from fear.
From exhilaration.
She had power again.
Not one percent of what she once had—
but power was power.
The difference between none and some was infinite.
Now… many things were possible.
She felt a fire rising. She had been dormant too long. She needed release.
She was a merc. Her hands were bloody. She was used to wounds, to madness.
Only in combat did she taste freedom again.
God, I really am beyond saving.
V poured herself a drink and downed it.
The burn from throat to stomach cleared her mind.
No.
This wasn't the moment to celebrate.
Her power was still too small.
Showing her hand too early would only invite danger.
She would hide in the shadows and grow—
not the reckless girl from years ago.
She would wait, sharpen, bide her time—
and strike only when it mattered.
She poured another drink, but didn't drink it.
Drinking alone was too lonely.
She suddenly thought of Sasha.
What was that rainbow-colored cat doing now?
Was her mission going well?
Unconsciously, V's gaze drifted toward Biotechnica Tower outside the window.