Eyes on the Prize...fight

The howl of jetwash screamed in the background, reverberating through everyone's bodies and rattling their brains. At least Nel seemed to be handling herself better than the first time. The crew all had to laugh at her determination, insistent upon going up with Addie every day until she was able to quell the churn in her gut. There was still some discomfort in her face, but at least now she wasn't losing her lunch after every flight.

Jackson sat across the way, his eyes glued to the holographic representation of the surroundings from the otherwise solid metal doors of their prized aerodyne. His own stomach churned, but not for any reasons related to Addie's smooth handling of Sheila, but more because he vehemently despised their destination. He had never cared much for big cities to begin with, even as a young buck working his way up in the world. Especially after his time in Juarez, he considered it a lesson learned; all that large cities brought was pain and suffering. And Night City was among the worst of them, it's reputation known far and wide the world over.

It was a mega-metropolis with a population of nearly nine million people, well over half of which lived below the poverty line and barely got by; not to mention the sky-high rate of crime and corruption at all levels of the government or the megacorporations that held sway. It was a soulless cesspool, a pit that one might get lost in if they didn't keep their wits about them. Not that living in the middle of the fucking desert was anything to write home about, but at least the air was cleaner than whatever polluted amalgamation rose up between the cluttered skyscrapers to assault their noses and lungs, even behind the closed doors of Sheila's cabin.

Jackson grumbled to himself as he kept replaying his conversation with Panam a few days prior...

--

Panam: "I uh... I still owe you for what you did for us... and I think I may have a way to settle accounts. Easy money."

Jackson: "Great! ...what's the catch?"

Panam: "It's in the City..."

Jackson: "That's a hard pass from me, kid. You know better..."

Panam: "You've done work in NC before...?"

Jackson: "An' every time, I'm reminded why I don' want to..."

Panam: "Please, Jax... you'd be doing me a favor"

Jackson: "Thought 's was s'posed to be you settlin' accounts?"

Panam: "There's a prize fight in three days' time. Big to-do at the H10 megablock... everyone's in an uproar about it. Something about a comeback ten years in the making for some big Animals motherfucker named Razor Hugh..."

Jackson: "Easy money on the wagerin' side, I take it...?"

Panam: "Something like that... I have an unfair advantage in knowing his opponent. Know her pretty well, actually."

Jackson: "Hmm... who is she?"

Panam: "What, and ruin the surprise?! Hell no, cowboy... you want to find out, you come play in the jungle with me..."

--

Jackson mused to himself as he looked out over the City passing by below. He'd heard of, and encountered Animals before. They weren't to be trifled with, big 'roided chrome junkies that they were. They were slower off the line than most... unless you were unlucky enough to encounter one sporting a Sandevistan... but they were built like tanks and could take a punishing just like one too. And Heaven help if they got close enough to get their hands on you.

In the older cowboy's mind, there was a very short list of names he knew that could go round-for-round with a heavyweight like that, and so far his guesses were coming up blank. He had spent most of the trip dreading the entire affair, but if Panam's predictions were right... and she was an unusually good judge of character in most cases... this trip would be plenty profitable for all of them; take the bad with the good, as they say.

Like all teenagers, Jayce felt the polar opposite as Jackson, eyes wide and marveling at the sheer size of Night City. Buildings as tall as the sky spread out for what felt like miles in every direction, Addie and Bison giving her the grand tour of any points of interest. For Bison, it was old hat. He had done his time in the City and then some. It was nice to come back for a visit every so often, his mouth already watering at the sights, but he had no desire to make his home here ever again.

Doc Strong felt similarly to Jackson, albeit less hostile. He'd made a fair few trips here in the past; the one that hung heaviest on his mind was five years prior. He had answered a late night call... a favor... from an old friend and fellow ripperdoc in Watson to help set a leg broken in three places belonging to some gruff and charming old chain-smoking cowboy with the most obscene mustache he'd ever seen. From what little he learned, not really keen to ask more than he needed to know in situations like these, said cowboy and his crew of edgerunners had wiped the floor of North Watson with four rogue MAXTAC operators on BARGHEST's payroll earlier that night... something about a revenge mission. Impressive, to say the least, were it not for the fact that Strong also had to deliver one of his most depressing prognoses that same night. The cowboy was full-'ganic, stubbornly so, and his lifelong nasty habit had left him with terminal lung cancer. That the fellow was even able to stand on his own two feet... much less fight like he had... Strong was impressed. He gave the man six months... maybe... and left it at that.

He always wondered what became of the man. He remembered a younger member of the crew, a scruffy kid... former NUSA pilot or some such... refusing to leave the old man's side. Loyal as a bloodhound, he was. Strong heard a rumor not long after of Militech's Night City headquarters going up in flames. The media reported it as just another cyberpsycho incident on steroids, or maybe some martyr's mission for a greater cause. The media also lied, tending to heel to whichever corp was paying their bills. Strong always suspected the two incidents were related...

Nel had only been to Night City once, and everyone present knew how that story ended. She didn't seem any worse for wear about it, just inwardly happy that she was brought along with the rest of them, although she'd probably never show it. She liked feeling like she belonged somewhere, her brief but deep talk with Jackson a few days prior leaving her with a sense of purpose. She felt like she had found where she was always supposed to be... as if all her pain and suffering actually meant something in the grand scheme.

Like Jayce, she stared with eyes full of wonder at the steel and glass canyons spreading out like veins across the landscape. She really didn't feel one way or the other about Night City as a whole... she had no frame of reference or reason to, but she could do without the noise. A lifetime in the desert, away from civilization, had left her somewhat averse to the chaos of discordant sounds produced by the urban sprawl.

She pulled her eyes away to look across the cabin at Jayce, finding her choom staring right back, a sheepish smile on her face and a flush in her cheeks. Nel had since apologized for the incident on Bison's mats, and it took everything in her to do so. Water under the bridge, as Jayce said with a pinch of Nel's cheek. Still, there was a feeling of something beneath the surface... something raw and screaming to escape between them. Nel could almost smell it any time they were around each other. The last few nights, she felt that same warmth in her gut from their first encounter in the showers, her own wild and feral thoughts leaving her entirely helpless as she tried to sleep in her own bed. She had never known a gentle touch, only pain, and yet she wanted to be taken... to feel Jayce taking her in a primal fashion. Even now, as Jayce mustered all her confidence in a subtle wink, Nel wanted to mount the girl in front of everyone else and tear her apart until there was nothing left... until they were a sweaty mess of conjoined bodies melting into one another. Her eyes widened slightly at the small gesture, quickly darting away to look back out the window. Jayce's eyes cut to Bison, himself smirking and nodding in approval as if to say, "The fuck're ya waiting for, kid?"

It was a good question, and one for which Jayce didn't yet have an answer. She wanted Nel now even more than she wanted that damned motorcycle, but she didn't want to risk triggering the girl in any way. She remained awkwardly stiff and flirty, if only because she wanted more than anything for Nel to truly believe she was safe... that this was her home now, and where she belonged.

All of the crew were shaken from their own thoughts by a slight turbulence of the aerodyne's decreasing altitude. Jackson slid his door open and looked across the cabin, past Jayce and out the other door as Doc Strong did the same. A monstrously gargantuan and tacky yellow and teal building came into view as they crossed one of the many canals running through the City. The building itself towered over any others in the district, its tarnished steel and glass reflecting the twilight of the setting sun. It had to be at least sixty stories tall, and by Jackson's estimation, at least as wide as an Old World football field on all sides. The canal-facing side of the structure had a giant glass panel running from the roof down to the midway point, flashing multiple advertisements to anyone for miles around. Jayce had to blush for everyone's sake, several of the advertisements showing things like Watson Whore or MILFGUARD. Jackson had half a mind to cover the kid's eyes and ears as he tried not to laugh at her expense. Beneath the panel, and matched on all sides of the building were large neon signs of the numbers 1 and 0, indicating this arcological catastrophe as none other than Megabuilding H10... they had arrived.

Addie carefully navigated the space between buildings as they descended further, bypassing the megablock altogether in favor of a multi-story parking structure on the far side. Even only a hundred feet down from where they were only a few seconds ago, all of the ambient light was lost, giving way to a depressing darkness as the smells of the City hit them like a smack to the face. The only light to be had now were the neon signs bending and warping amid an endless fog.

A few more careful maneuvers, and Addie smiled wide as she found their destination on the roof of the parking structure. There were multiple large spaces designated as AVLZs... Aerodyne Vehicle Landing Zones... and all but one were already occupied. She wasted no time moving into position overhead, quickly descending and careful to position herself just so. From where they were, most of the parked AVs appeared to be Rayfield-make, or some other type of sleek, exorbitant, and disgustingly expensive marquee; tailored only for luxury. The crew almost felt out of place, but likely nobody was asking questions of the stripped-down warbird hovering overhead.

Addie called to the crew to brace themselves, the mechanical whir sounding off the deployed landing gear as everyone collectively clenched their assholes and waited patiently. With a startling bump, the freshly filled tires cushioned most of the landing, Addie allowing gravity do the rest as she initiated her shutdown sequence. With a flick of several overhead switches and knobs, the twin-rotors slowed their spin, the tail rotor following as the engines wound down.

Jackson waited patiently for the all-clear, seeing Addie's thumbs up peeking around from the cockpit and into the cabin. He released his harness and stood bent at the knees, habitually careful of the top of the entryway as he cleared the one foot drop to the concrete surface of the parking structure. He turned and offered a hand to Jayce, who just rolled her eyes and hopped down imprudently before giving a playful shove, "Thanks anyway, Pa..."

He chuckled to himself, watching Strong give Nel a hand, followed by the heavy crash of Bison's boots. And finally, the chance he had been silently waiting for; Addie appeared from the cockpit, at first turning the opposite direction before Jackson subtly clicked his tongue. She whipped around, her wavy mane following as she laughed to herself and took the outstretched hand. She gracefully stepped down, eyeing Jackson with a blushing smirk as she said, "Such a gentleman..."

"Yeah, I have my moments, don' I...?", Jackson joked as he reached back in, grabbing his worn cowboy hat and gently placing it on his head before brushing the brim with his fingers. Everything in its proper place, and yet they looked horribly out of place, judging by the flashy clothes and wild haircuts of the other people occupying the roof of the structure. Jayce looked around in wonder at the small groups of people actually sporting purely ornamental cyberware threading or exotic implants, all of them reflecting the neon paradise assaulting her eyes from all sides.

Though nobody said a word, glances were given, everyone looking at the cowboy and his ragtag band of misfits walking past toward the large cargo elevator. Nobody else seemed to be in a rush, leaving the crew to wonder what had crawled up Jackson's ass. He was eager... or anxious... to figure out exactly what Panam was dragging him into, trying his best to ignore the sights and sounds all around him. Addie followed closely behind, Jayce and Nel walking side by side as Strong and Bison brought up the rear.

Nel already looked on edge, her eyes darting everywhere, ears perked to the music playing over loudspeakers, the sirens below and jetwash of the overhead AVs soaring past, and the general bustle of people talking and shouting over each other. She instinctively pulled a little closer to the crew, to Jayce specifically. All of it was new to her, and she already didn't like it. The entire experience was daunting, an itch in the back of her mind to try and shut it out as she dipped her head down.

For the rest of the crew, it was all old hat; they all had seen the City before. Jackson himself was convinced he'd seen it all, and then something entirely and utterly new and foreign left him wide-eyed and staring. With only twenty feet left to the elevator, their path was crossed by what he could only describe as a man-sized orange-striped tabby cat walking on two legs. And that wasn't even the weirdest part about him; he wore an obnoxiously gaudy syn-leather cavalier hat with one side folded up and pinned in place, a bright and dazzling plume of faux-feathers hanging out the back and blowing in the breeze. He had a pair of tall riding boots with folded cuffs to match his hat, shiny and polished, and hanging from a belt on his hip...

Is'at a fuckin' medieval rapier?!, Jackson asked himself as he shook his head and the crew all stopped in their tracks. He stared for a little while longer, a medley of shouting voices snapping him out of his trance as a small group of young women chased after the giant cat while screaming his name... Tony, by the sound of it. As quickly as the exotic creature stepped into their view was he already gone, disappearing into the larger crowd. Jackson shook his head again as he called to the crew, "...one o' y'all put somethin' in my coffee...?"

Bison chuckled as he sidestepped the question, "Bet ya that guy gets all the pussy..."

Jayce reached back and punched Bison's arm as she tried to stifle a laugh, the rest of the crew collectively groaning and rolling their eyes. With nothing left to distract them, they closed the distance to the elevator, the heavy cage doors sliding open to greet them with the dingy interior. If they didn't know better, they'd honestly believe they were walking into a counter-weighted death trap, the open-air shaft rising up into the belly of the megabuilding towering over them. It was a sight to behold, the machinery jutting out and hanging down, leaving them feeling dizzy as if it would all come crashing down at any moment.

Jackson looked to the crew and smirked, "After y'all..."

One by one, the crew filled the empty space while Jackson kept watch, all of them immediately assaulted by fluorescent lights and small screens flashing the day's news or loud and boisterous product placements. Jackson finally took his place, standing off to the front corner as he pressed the button. They were roof-bound, the cage doors squealing with metal against dry metal as they ascended. The sudden lurch of the carriage sent Nel nearly jumping a few inches, her eyes looking everywhere and nowhere all at once as she retracted into herself. Jackson already knew he'd have to keep a careful eye. It was likely she'd never been around this many people or around this much noise, and it was enough to set anyone off. Still, for the moment, she was right where he could see her, and certainly didn't have anywhere to go, so he lit a fresh smoke and enjoyed the few moments of calm, the darkness of the building's shadow consuming them as they crept further and further up.

Before long, they were properly inside the megablock, the levels whizzing past along with the noise. They were whiplashed by moments of dark followed by splashes of interior lights, voices, and music, and then dark all over again. And all the while, the carriage strained and creaked around them, bits of unsettled dust falling and floating in the air.

With each floor passed, a single ding sounded, the panel lighting up to indicate the current level. As they approached level 8, the elevator slowed to a crawl, the creaking sound raising in volume before one final lurch as they were jerked around by the stopping motion. Addie instinctively held her arm out, catching Nel from flying forward as the rest of the crew knew to plant their feet. Nel looked in Addie's eyes, finding a smile and a wink as she tried to relax.

The heavy doors slid open, revealing something of an enigma standing before them. A lone woman, face masked by a hood with aviator sunglasses hanging low on the tip of her nose, lit cigarette peaking out and smoldering. The sleeves of the soft syn-cotton hoodie were pushed up to her elbows, hands hidden in the pockets. Her muscular forearms bore a unique threading pattern, but the most notable feature was a shitty and faded tattoo of an arrowed heart with the letters J + V scrawled inside. The hoodie was zipped just enough to not advertise the woman's bust, but her upper chest and collarbones soaked with sweat were still visible, her medium complexion shining under the overhead lamps. She was lean, cut, chromed, and tattooed all to hell and back. She wore simple Yoro sweats cutting off mid-calf, and a pair of worn training sneakers. She was here to fight.

Everyone held their breath, not sure of what to expect. What they certainly didn't expect was the woman's strong but smooth and striking voice, "Sorry, I'll wait for the next one..."

Jackson couldn't help but play the gentleman and throw caution to the wind as he insisted, "Nah, we got plenty o' room. What's your floor?"

The woman looked up, just enough to show the creased lines in her face and her sharp jaw. Her naturally green eyes peeked over the rims of the aviators before locking on Bison standing with his asshole clenched and a shit-eating smirk. Slowly, her right hand left the pocket, raising up and behind as she pulled the hood back, revealing her full face to all the crew. One side of her head was shaved all the way up, a natural dark brown with patterns cut to match the threading pattern on her face and scalp. Like Jayce, she had a long sideswept undercut hanging over the other side, the tips dyed bright pink and shifting to crimson closer to the roots. She couldn't have been older than forty, but a life in the city... on the streets... running the edge... had left her looking a little worse for wear. Her full lips curled into a smile before she flashed her teeth, catching the cigarette between them as she asked, "Goin' my way...?"

Bison returned the smile, "Been a while... boss."

Jackson's face twisted in confusion as he looked to Bison while the woman stepped into the elevator, taking her place in the front corner opposite from the rest of them. She leaned against the carriage wall, cool and casual, taking small drags and exhaling through her nostrils as Jackson asked the burning question, "Bison... y'know somethin' I don't...?"

"Yeah... uh...", Bison fumbled for his words, seemingly star-struck in the moment, "...y'know how I told you I used to work security for the Afterlife...?"

The crew's eyes all widened as they turned back to their new mystery guest while Bison continued, "This was the one signing the checks and running the show..."

"Rita misses you something fierce, by the way...", the woman interjected, eliciting a laugh from Bison as he fired back, "Glad you're still together... V."

Jackson's eyes glowed in admiration. He'd heard the stories, and he calmly spoke for the rest of the crew's benefit, "Boys an' girls... we's in the presence of Night City royalty... the Living Legend herself."

V nearly spat at the notion as she pulled the cigarette from her mouth, "I'm just a kid from Heywood that got lucky."

"Yeah... we all started somewhere...", Jackson poked the proverbial bear with a smirk, "But you beat Night City at its own game... we're very much obliged."

V looked up and away, seemingly distracted as she uttered distantly familiar words from what seemed like a lifetime ago, "...nice to have fans..."

She was both here and somewhere else entirely, physically present but mentally absent. She spent the rest of the ride up in silence, as did the rest of the crew. Near as they could figure, she was trying to focus on what was to come. They would have expected someone of her position to carry herself with a little more flash and style; her choice of simpler clothing only confirmed what they all suspected... she was Razor Hugh's opponent, and if what they'd been told was even a little bit accurate, she had her work cut out for her.

It was ten years since the spunky brat from Heywood made the chrome-junkie Animal twice her size eat his own words at the Grand Imperial Mall in Pacifica. It was a fight for the history books, and a humbling experience all around for Razor. He not only lost his purse and his pride, but his title and all his corpo sponsors as well. He spent the next several years groveling and grinding his way back to the top. It was actually admirable, if not for the fact that his perceived humility was little more than a sideshow to save face.

In recent months, he'd been back to business as usual in bragging himself up as he wiped the canvas with his opponents left and right. He made it known, loudly and publicly, that he had every intention of destroying the Living Legend of the Afterlife. After tonight, if Razor Hugh had his way, she'd be nothing more than a stain on his trunks and a memory fading away.

So to say that V's mind was elsewhere for the time being... nobody could really blame her. Instead of leaning on her legendary reputation to pave the way for her, she preferred to stay humble and keep her nose in the dirt like everyone else. She'd let her skills in the ring do the talking for her.

And yet, as Jackson subtly watched her, reading her movements and overall body language, there was pain behind the mask she wore. Something was eating at her... but he wasn't about to ask what.

With a final grinding lurch, the elevator stopped, the panel dinging to indicate they had reached the end of the line. Like it was muscle memory, V reached forward ahead of anyone else, bracing herself as she stood front and center and pushed open the manual cage doors. On a normal day, nobody was coming to the roof except to access the corridors for the service and utility levels, so the creature comforts of the residential levels were an afterthought.

And yet, as the doors opened, everyone present in the elevator were reminded this was not a normal day. The sounds of music and raucous cheering assailed their ears while flashing lights and beaming neons impaled their eyes. V carefully stepped forward, a smile breaking wide as she found an old friend already standing and waiting.

Panam turned to her, wrapping her up in a tight hug as she called out, "Hey, you made it! Vik was starting to get worried..."

"Yeah, and I made some new friends along the way...", V nodded her head back to the crew still standing in the cage. Panam looked past and flashed her shit-eating grin as she ushered them forward, "Glad y'all could make it!"

Jackson narrowed his eyes as he stepped up next to Panam, "Ya could'a told me..."

"I told you I wasn't going to ruin the surprise...", Panam fired back, "...still, glad to see I can surprise ya."

V stayed somewhat quiet, eyes wandering off to an erected billboard with a large portrayal of a strong female with an aged face and long grey haired tinted pale teal. Bison's face dropped, his eyes clouded over as he followed her gaze and said, "V, I... I'm sorry."

There was a longing in her face. She missed the subject of the painting... and it tore her up inside. Panam looked along with them, as did the rest of the crew, and despite her misgivings with the old broad, she nonetheless turned to her old friend, "H-How's... I mean—"

V clutched the gentle hand on her shoulder, "We're getting by... just a little weird without Rogue these past few weeks."

Panam felt and looked entirely uneasy about the situation, but she still grabbed V and pulled her in tight all the same. V clutched at the leather of Panam's jacket, holding on for dear life as she fought the feeling welling up inside. It became clear for the crew in that moment; they were throwing their money behind someone who had not only lost a dear friend very recently, but was subjected to torrents of abuse from some meathead motherfucker on top of it. However it played out tonight, it was sure to be a good fight, and if push came to shove, nobody was going to fault V if she decided Razor were better off dumped over the side of the megabuilding with lungs full of Slo-Mo.

She snapped herself back into focus as she asked the pertinent question, "...he here yet?"

Panam shook her head with a tinge of annoyance in her pursed lips as she looked across the ring, "Nah, he's biding his time for a grand entrance... probably waiting to see if you actually showed up."

V scoffed as she pushed past, trying to casually ignore the people calling to her and cheering. Her face turned to stone, wearing a blank expression as she marched toward the ring. There was an older man in her corner standing watch, his eyes beaming even behind Old-World Wayfarer sunglasses. Doc Strong recognized the muscular and heavily tattooed man as one of the best ripperdocs in the City, and an old and trusted friend. He waved, happy to see ol' Vik Vektor waving back with a smile as they all approached.

Though Vik himself would never admit it, he was a Night City legend in his own right. He operated a humble clinic deep in the belly of Watson's Little China sub-district, happy and content to have his own little quiet corner of the world without ever wanting for more. Those days were behind him. The local fixers had kept him busy enough outfitting their mercenaries with the best cyberware available that he had no time or desire to reach beyond his means. What few people didn't know him for his bedside manner as a ripperdoc undoubtedly knew him for his long tenure with the Night City Devils boxing club. He was once among the best of the heavyweight fighters to ever darken the doors, but as age caught up to him, he had spent the last ten years or more in the background, helping to coach the younger generations, among which he counted the Living Legend herself as one of his star pupils, and close friends.

He had known V for years, ever since she returned to Night City from a short stay in Atlanta, and was happy to watch her rise through the ranks of the City's underworld... even if it meant foregoing payment on a few occasions just to make sure she came back alive. She was always good for it, paying what she could, when she could. Such concerns were a thing of the past these days, but Vik never stopped being surprised that the foremost fixer and mercenary in the whole damn City still insisted on coming to see him for any work she needed done.

On the other side of that coin, V's story wasn't for the faint of heart. Her meteoric rise to the top was born out of a sole and singular instinct... to survive. For as long as Vik had known the kid, she had always reached for the stars. It nearly broke his heart when a fateful job cost her the life of her best friend and business partner, but also spelled a seemingly inevitable and horrible death for her.

The job was fairly straightforward; an Afterlife fixer wanted some experimental bio-chip known as the Relic klepped from an Arasaka executive... none other than Saburo Arasaka's own son, Yorinobu. A month's worth of planning and preparation went right down the drain when V witnessed Yorinobu murder his own father in cold blood. Even though she and her partner had secured the package, they were discovered shortly after and had to fight their way out.

Her partner at the time was another one of Vik's pupils... a handsome and charismatic Heywood-born gonk known as Jackie Welles, and one of the heaviest hitters Vik had ever encountered in the ring. He ultimately sacrificed himself so V could finish the job, leaving her broken in more ways than one. The bio-chip was damaged during the escape, forcing V to slot the chip in her own head to preserve its functions. What nobody knew is that the chip contained an engram... the digitized personality construct of one Johnny Silverhand, a notorious rockerboy terrorist and Night City legend who had died during a job gone horribly wrong in 2023.

Even though V completed the job and delivered the goods, her own fixer betrayed her in the wake of the heat caused by Saburo's murder. She was shot in the head and left for dead in the landfills outside the City before the unthinkable happened. The Relic was designed to overwrite the consciousness of its host, allowing the contained engram to achieve a kind of immortality as long as compatible host bodies were available. While it was never designed to be implanted into a living host, the Relic nonetheless fulfilled its purpose, reviving V and at the same time triggering the overwrite procedure. Though she ostensibly returned from the dead, the clock was already ticking as Johnny's consciousness slowly took over her brain.

The fight was on to find a cure... to find any means of surviving. V scoured the City with the few remaining weeks she had to find a way out of her predicament. In the end, the only option she had left was to listen to Johnny's voice banging away in her head. She took on Arasaka head-first and alone, bringing the world's most powerful megacorp to its knees almost overnight. And yet, when it was all over, she had nothing to show for it. The damage was done. Though she had cemented herself as a legend, she still only had at most six months to live once Johnny's engram was removed.

In the wake of Arasaka's demise, V took over the Afterlife from her friend and former fixer, Rogue Amendiares. Though she would forever be remembered, she was left with nothing and no one outside of the friends she had made... and she wasn't about to burden them with her impending doom.

Then, in a sheer stroke of luck, she was approached by a mysterious middleman with perpetually blue eyes operating on behalf of Night Corp. He had the opportunity of a lifetime to offer; a real chance to live again. All it took was an all-out suicide run to the famed Crystal Palace casino and resort orbiting the Earth. She was tasked... along with a particularly elegant but troubled pastel-haired netrunner... with acquiring a high-value item from the Palace's security systems during a rare maintenance window. She was ultimately successful in her endeavor, once again securing her legend and her reputation, but also the payday of a lifetime...

While Arasaka crumbled before the very eyes of the City, Biotechnica had quietly perfected their cloning technology behind the scenes. Combine this with a swift and opportunistic acquisition of the Relic and Soulkiller technologies after the collapse, and suffice to say that the smaller corp had the makings of truly achieving immortality in ways Arasaka never even imagined... and who better to test the viability of the program than a legendary mercenary with nothing left to lose?

Thankfully for V, the procedure was a success, and after a period of recovery and reconstruction, she was back to her old self. From that point forward, she oversaw Night City's underworld and maintained a close working relationship with Mr. Blue Eyes, the both of them balancing each other out to protect Night City's greater interests. The rest, as they say, is history...

Blue, as V liked to sarcastically refer to him, may have had a few choice words about her current predicament, but he had a tendency to leave her to her own business unless there was something that needed handling. She took a quick look around among the sea of bodies, unsurprised to find that Blue was not among them. This wasn't his type of venue, V knew that well enough.

So what do you say to the merc who's seen it all, done it all, and lived to tell the tale? Vik knew better than anyone, reaching down to offer a hand as V graciously accepted while he asked the simple question, "How ya doin', V...?"

She cracked a pained smile as she pulled herself up on the edge of the ring, establishing her footing before she wrapped herself around Vik, the ropes cutting between them as she whispered softly, "T-Thank you for being here..."

Vik softened, his eyes clouding over as he gently closed his arms around V, "No place I'd rather be, kid... ya ready?"

He felt V's head nodding against his shoulder as she sniffed up hard and answered, "Y-Yeah... let's get this circle-jerk over with."

Vik stifled a laugh as he admired V's tenacity and focus amid everything else churning in her head. As they let go of one another, he placed a heavy foot on the bottom rope, pulling up the top to afford his younger choom the space to enter the ring. V quickly tossed her jacket aside, Panam catching it with a proud smile as she nodded and called out, "You got this, babe! Knock 'em dead!"

With one swift jerk, V pulled the yoro sweats away, revealing a worn pair of boxing trunks in Night City Devils livery. In this moment, the full force of V's strength became apparent in her exposed arms and legs. Chrome aside, the woman was jacked, the cut lines of her muscles clear and defined. If nothing else, it was obvious she had been hard at work, no doubt studying under her ripperdoc friend.

The crew slowly moved forward, carefully taking their place at Panam's side as they stared in awe. Everyone knew the story of the Living Legend, but actually seeing her in the flesh, and actually talking to her like just another streetkid trying to survive, suffice to say everyone was left starstruck.

V smiled as she looked down at Panam, then to the crew as she spoke softly, "Enjoy the show, chooms..."

She cut away, looking out over the crowd cheering and shuffling among themselves to get a better view. Her eyes beamed with pride as she threw a powerful fist in the air with a rebel yell, the crowd's volume raising to match her enthusiasm before she obliged Vik and entered the ring to start her warm-up.

Bison nudged Panam with a gentle elbow, catching her attention as he leaned in and whispered something. She nodded her head over to a makeshift kiosk far on the other side of the platform, pointing with an outstretched arm. He nodded with a smile, turning to the crew as he said, "Ante up, chooms... I'll go place the bets."

All things considered, Bison knew the city better than anyone else... and he knew how to handle himself... so letting him hold the scratch was probably the best and safest idea. He collected the hard-earned eddies from everyone present, carefully stashing it in his jacket before he turned to navigate the unwashed masses shoving against each other.

Jackson took a step back with a deep breath, taking it all in as he lit a fresh cigarette and watched the goings-on from under the brim of his hat. He caught Jayce leaning in, pointing out anything of interest to Nel. Their little albatross looked none too happy for the moment, her eyes darting back and forth as she tried to account for the hundreds of bodies and the noise produced. She felt unsafe, vulnerable, and her face didn't hide it well.

He was distracted by a gentle nudge from his favorite aerodyne pilot, whipping her hair back as she handed him a freshly opened and perspiring bottle. He smirked and accepted, holding it up as they clinked the bottles together. Addie chanced scooting in a bit closer to Jackson's side as she asked, "So where can a lass find a handsome hat like that?"

Jackson chuckled as he swigged the beer, "You lookin'a play the cowgirl?"

"I think I'd make a right proper Dundee...", Addie laughed as she grabbed the hat from Jackson's head, placing it softly on her own as she fingered the brim and winked to him before stealing yet another lit cigarette right out of his mouth, "...and you'd be lyin' if ya said it didn't do somethin' for ya."

His heart skipped a beat and he panicked slightly. Addie had always been a notorious flirt, but never had she been that forward with him. He watched with his mouth agape as she trailed off to join a small group of people dancing to the music playing over loudspeakers. She laughed and smiled, fully enjoying herself as her limber body swayed to the rhythms, but her eyes never once left Jackson's. She was beckoning him to join her.

"Ought to do something about that, boss...", the low voice of Doc Strong snapped Jackson out of the Aussie snake charmer's trance, and he looked to his bigger choom as he tried to hide the burn in his cheeks. In the back of his mind, he knew Aiyana would have wanted him to be happy more than anything else. Addie had been a good addition to the team. She wasn't afraid to call people out on their shit. She did a good job keeping Jackson in line, and above all... she had been a good role model for Jayce, helping to guide her on the path of embracing and realizing her own femininity and her place in the world.

She cared, plain and simple... and that singular fact scared the hell out of Jackson as his mind often went to a dark place about the people he loved. His face hardened for a moment before the storm passed, a smile returning as he laughed with Strong and said, "What do you think...?"

"I think you'll rub yourself raw if you keep holding back like you are...", Strong laughed, prompting a shove as Jackson spat, "Fuck you, Doc..."

They both shared a laughing fit, enjoying each other's company in a more casual setting than they were used to. Life at Mother Base wasn't hard for any of them, but there was always something to do, things to be fixed or maintained. It was a nice reprieve for all of them to cut loose for a night and just exist together as a family and not a crew.

Before long, Bison returned, smiling wide from ear to ear as he double-fisted beers in both hands, one arm wrapped around a scantily-clad pretty young thing with a wild haircut and mischief in her eyes. As... proud?... as Jackson was to see the big beefcake enjoying himself, he had to play the bad guy boss as he asked with a smirk and a side-eye, "...bets been placed...?"

Bison nodded as he chugged one of the beers empty in almost a single gulp, letting loose a loud belch, "Eeee-yup... our money's safely in some other gonk's hands now."

Jackson knew his chain was getting jerked, and he let it slide as he asked, "What's the odds on 'is one?"

After a heavy sigh, Bison shook his head before looking up to V stretching and drilling with Vik in the ring, "It's uh... shit boss, it's five-to-one odds in favor of what they're calling the Comeback Kid... if she actually pulls this off, we all stand make a pretty buck."

Jackson's eyes followed the same line as Bison's, fixating on V as he mulled everything over in his head. It was humbling to think that enough people believed Razor Hugh actually had a chance at putting down a fucking Night City legend. He had to assume at least a small part of V believed it was actually possible, judging by the way she and Vik were drilling together with the few remaining minutes they had in peace.

From the side, he could see Bison wanting to ask the question, his eyes cutting back and forth between Jackson and his arm candy. Jackson smiled wide, but not without a tinge of paternal skepticism as he said, "Yeah, a'ight. Go have your fun, jus' don't get lost... we're not waitin' for ya when 's done."

Had he not known Bison as well as he did, Jackson might have instinctively put the big lug on his ass with the way he rushed in, planting a wet kiss on Jackson's cheek with a laugh as his voice trailed off into the crowd, "I love you, hoss...!"

Jackson shook his head, his face stuck in a smile as he turned to Doc Strong, "A fella's got'a wonder... how much nasty shit 'ave you had'a treat him for over the years?"

Strong chuckled, his chest heaving as he tried to hold it in, "Now that's doctor-patient confidentiality, Jax... you ought to know better."

"Yeah, 'at sounds 'bout right...", Jackson joked before the lights all around them dimmed, the music fading out. For several seconds, the only light to be had was from the giant panel screens on the other buildings around them, but the roof of the megablock itself was shrouded in darkness. Similarly, the only sounds were the ambient noise rising up from the crowded city streets or AVs flying by overhead. The likely assumption was that V's opponent was gearing up to make his big entrance, but it was also just as likely that the entire affair had tripped more than a few breakers.

All eyes shifted to the far end of the roof as the spotlights adjusted and formed a circle around the cage doors of another cargo elevator pushing open. Each door was held by a separate arm belonging to separate hulking beings. As heavy bass shook the entire roof and rap lyrics blasted over the speakers at break-neck speeds, an entire entourage of Animals huscle exited the elevator, taking their places on either side to form a path. Nobody moved or said a word, all assholes were clenched, except for the lone contender standing by herself in the ring, defiantly facing the complete opposite direction as she cracked the knuckles of her chromed hands and prepared herself. When she was ready, she spun around and stood with feet shoulder-width apart, eyes narrowed and flashing red with her jaw clenched. Every muscle was tensed and primed to perform as she curled her hands into fists by her side.

At long last, her opponent presented himself, barreling down the artificial path between his crew with heavy footfalls. He was already covered in sweat, his body otherwise shielded by a golden shiny cape. This was a show, and he was the main event. He stopped halfway between the elevator and the ring, pointing with his finger to V as he pulled the cape from his shoulders...

He was bigger than V remembered, at least half a foot taller. His entire body looked as though it could explode at any time, the solid muscles and veins protruding all over. All it took was a safety pin in the right spot and he'd pop like a balloon and fly right off the roof. His eyes were bulging from his head, his dark complexion shining under the bright lamps. He gritted his teeth as he snarled and signaled for V, making fists and pounding his hands together. He was completely off his rocker, but it made for a good spectacle as the crowd cheered louder and louder, drowning out the music.

Finally, he started marching again, taking each step in stride with his head held high. He was on a mission, his eyes locked on the Living Legend as he stopped a pace short of the ring, allowing two of his entourage to step ahead. They easily cleared the ledge of the ring, their bodies just as swollen and grotesque as Razor's. They pulled the ropes apart, providing ample space as Razor himself climbed up, pausing and locking eyes with V before he leaned down and entered the ring.

As the lights raised, the music subsided slightly. The bulk of the lamps were focused now on the ring itself, but it still provided illumination to the immediate surrounding area. A third body entered the ring... a flashy motherfucker with purely aesthetic gilded chrome in his face and arms, and gaudy mirror sunglasses. He held a microphone up in one hand, letting the crowds cheer as he tried to pump them up. V stood several feet away, rolling her eyes at the entire affair as she rolled her shoulders and tried to stay limber. Today of all days, she had no appetite for any of this.

The presenter brought the mic down, holding it in front of his face as he flashed his teeth and looked back and forth between both contenders. The crowd waited in anticipation as he pointed to both of them and said, "ARE YOU READY NIGHT CITY?!"

The cheers resumed even louder than before as the presenter continued, "Tonight's entertainment is brought to you by—"

He was cut off as Razor shoved him out of the way, nearly knocking him over as the mic was snatched from his hands. Razor looked out over the crowds, back to V, then over to the painted mural of Rogue as he pointed and spoke in a booming voice, "Do you miss her?!"

V's eyes narrowed as she gritted her teeth while Razor taunted her, "Don't worry, sugar... you'll be seeing her again in a few minutes!"

He dropped the mic and pounded his massive chest before raising his arms, expecting the crowd to side with him. Instead, the cheers turned to boos and jeering. Even if it was just trash-talk at the end of the day, badmouthing the famed former Queen of Fixers was seen even by the average gonk as being in poor taste. Razor's face contorted to anger as he yelled and swore at the crowd, his voice drowned out and lost in the chaos.

The presenter quickly snatched the mic and got the fuck out of the way as a referee stepped up in his place, signaling to both V and Razor to approach while he laid down the law. A good clean fight was the order of the day, even though he knew it would be wasted on them. He could see the bloodlust in their eyes, but he was still duty-bound to waste his breath.

V craned her neck to lock eyes with Razor towering an entire foot over her and staring back. His breathing was short, sharp, and heavy like a bull preparing for a stampede. His sheer physical presence was daunting, but V didn't even blink. She'd dealt with bigger bullies than him. Granted, she was an entire decade younger when she zeroed the Arasaka Solo of Soloes... the Night City Boogeyman of Legend himself. Never did she think even once as she rendered Adam Smasher into a pile of smoldering chrome that she'd ever be this close to forty years young. She had survived everything the City had thrown at her and more.

She knew she had her work cut out for her, but she wasn't afraid in the slightest. Her blood ran thick with adrenaline and pure rage as all the noise around her faded into the background. She was focused only on the slab of chrome and meat standing in front of her, a righteous fury lighting her up from the inside out as her opponent continued his bullshit over the referee, "No cheap shots this time, sweet-tits... I'm goin' to tear that tight little ass up 'til you're beggin' for mercy."

V blew a wisp of hair out of her hardened face as the referee finished his spiel, calling for both contenders to bump fists. Neither of them wanted to oblige, forcing the referee to raise his voice as he repeated himself. Razor took the chance to assert his dominance as he shoved the referee out of the way with one hand, following with a heavy hook swing from the other. V was ready, stepping back and dodging the shot as she deflected and pushed off to his side while the referee landed flat on his ass and scrambled out of the ring as the bell rang. The fight was on, both V and Razor stepping around each other, both holding their ground and not giving an inch.

They wanted to size each other up, see who was more impatient. V took a deep breath as her stance loosened, shifting to bounce on the balls of her feet. As she kept her hands at the ready, she flashed her teeth at Razor and egged him on, "What're ya waiting for, choom...? Come and get it."

"Let's dance, bitch!", Razor gnashed his teeth and barked before moving in, taking V's bait as he tried a quick but heavy jab. Again, V deflected, pushing off his massive arm as she stepped into him from the side and delivered a solid punch to his gut. She felt the panels of her gorilla arm articulating to deliver the full force of the strike, a loud CLANG ringing out as chrome met chrome with little ill effect. Razor took the hit in stride, laughing out loud as he swung out with his arm and caught V with a wild elbow to the cheek.

V felt the crack of bone against bone as she flew back, losing her balance and landing on her side. She was quick to recover, shaking her head as she saw Razor charging toward her. He led with a slow and predictable overhead haymaker, trying his very best to make good on his word of ending the fight early. V shifted to one knee, bracing her arms over her head as she caught the full force of the downward swing. She strained to keep his arm at bay, steadily losing the battle as the arm inched closer and closer. Razor wound himself up with his left hand, delivering an uppercut directly into V's throat. She was launched several feet in the air, her body flailing before crash-landing against her back on the canvas. Her eyes were slow to open, the night sky and all the lights spinning overhead. She felt sick to her stomach, and she struggled to catch her breath with raspy inhales.

She looked over, expecting the referee standing by and counting, but he was nowhere to be seen. She couldn't blame him for staying the fuck out of the way; there were no rules at this point. All roads led to either V or Razor dying in the ring tonight. The bareknuckle boxing match was anything but... this was a gladiator's arena, and blood was the price to pay for failure

V forced herself to roll over as she tried to push herself up. Instead, she took a heavy blow between her shoulder blades, forcing her face into the canvas as she tried to not breathe in her own sweat. She felt Razor's hands gripping the back of her neck, lifting her up before a rapidly approaching corner post slammed into her chest and knocked the wind out of her. She was sandwiched between the post and Razor's massive body as he leaned into her, breathing in her ear as his hands explored her comparatively tiny frame. He chuckled as he looked out over the crowd watching, eyes wide and horrified at the abuse they were witnessing.

Although V felt Razor's flaccid inches pressing against her back through his trunks, she nonetheless took her chance with enough of an audience around to hear, "I think the steroids did their damage, choom... ain't much there to work with anymore, huh?"

Razor snarled at her, pulling away as the crowd laughed among themselves. V had enough of an opening to throw her own elbow back, catching the flared edge of Razor's pelvis. She felt the crunch of bone and meat, relieved to find herself no long in her opponent's iron grip.

He stumbled back, holding the damaged area of his lower torso as he shouted his frustrations into the open air. V turned, facing him head-on as he charged forward again, eyes glowing red with hate. She didn't have much room in the corner to move, instead abandoning the fantasy of this being any kind of civilized encounter and simply ducking to roll out of the way. She narrowly missed Razor grabbing for her, turning to one knee and standing up as he crashed into the same corner post. She took her chance, landing a well-placed strike to the only part of Razor's spine that didn't appear to be implanted on the surface. He cried out from the impact, his legs buckling from underneath as he fell to his knees.

V kept the onslaught coming, landing blow after blow against the meaty bits of his back and ribs. She had to restrain herself from letting that feral side take over, else she would have started tearing at his subdermal panels to rip out his organs. She had every intention, if she had her way, of feeding him his own shrunken balls for dinner.

At last, the bell rang to signal the end of the round. Why V bothered, she couldn't quite explain, but she stopped herself, stepping back and catching her breath for a moment. It was a hard-learned lesson that old habits die hard; she had trained and drilled with Vik for so long that a small and stupid part of her actually thought Razor would abide by the rules of the ring. Instead, he swung back with all of his strength, trying like hell for his massive fist to find something.

V stepped back as Razor caught only air, spinning himself around with the momentum to face his much smaller opponent. He forced himself to his feet, using the ropes to hold himself steady as his knees knocked together. He resembled a wounded animal, trickles of blood running from the corners of his mouth. To his credit, V had a particularly nasty shiner forming on her cheek, another bruise forming on her throat. She felt the tenderness in her upper back, but tried to put it out of her mind. She had honestly forgotten what his punch felt like.

In some small way, it felt... good. V wasn't invincible, in fact far from it; but to have spent so long at the top of the food chain, it felt rewarding to be tested like this. It was fulfilling to feel somewhat evenly matched, even if she wanted to shit down Razor's neck at the present moment. Instead, she eased up, motioning with her hands for her opponent to come at her as she smirked. She wanted this fight now. She wanted to punish him. That dark side that she thought she had set aside a long time ago was baring its ugly grin at the world, begging to be set loose.

Even Razor looked somewhat afraid at the overall change in V's demeanor, but he had worked far too hard and for too long to let this slip away. This was his well-earned second chance. He forced himself to stand upright, legs unsteady as he tried to balance. Once he had his footing, he took a stance, raising his hands up to guard his face and body as he moved in. He was more controlled this round, biding his time and relying on his drills and instincts instead of raw power and aggression.

V danced around him, trying to bring him in close, but he wasn't biting. He had a much longer reach than her, keeping his distance with quick jab combos. They were easily countered, but the raw force behind each swing was wearing her down and leaving her open. Razor saw an opportunity with a heavy lead hook, to which V blocked, but her chest was left exposed. He grinned as he followed up with a powerful left cross, landing the hit between her collarbones.

The impact sent her reeling back, landing on her ass with a muted thud. Razor didn't waste his chance, moving in to literally kick her while she was down. She narrowly avoided a large foot aiming for her head as she rolled to the side and away. She pushed herself up, finding it hard to take a deep breath from the tightness across her chest and back. Still, she managed to stand up just in time to block and deflect another series of combos as Razor pressed in on her. He had regained some momentum, and he wasn't about to let it get away from him again.

The crowd was enthralled at the match, fully engrossed now in watching every move and every swing. The early bloodshed had locked them in, and now they were stuck wondering how it all would actually play out. Jayce stood off to the side a few feet from Jackson, eyes wide and mirroring V's movements. Nel had retreated a few paces back, trying to get away from the crowd and stand by herself. Her hands were trembling, her face hardened and cold, although nobody seemed to notice. Between the cheering, the music, and the fight, everyone's senses were overloaded.

Back in the ring, V and Razor continued their dance for several more minutes, trading blows and counters until the bell rang again, signaling the end of the second round. One could wonder why the officials presiding over the match even bothered, but this time around, both contenders seemed more level-headed, separating from one another and going back to their respective corners. Razor was met with his entire entourage, providing him RealWater and stim-packs to try and undo the damage already done.

In V's corner, she knelt down, meeting Vik as he pulled himself up to the ring's outer perimeter, shoved a bottle of RealWater in her face and asked a loaded question, "So... how is he?"

V scoffed as she guzzled the liquid, trying not to choke herself before answering between heaving breaths, "H-He... he's prepared... c-came fully loaded this t-time."

"Yeah, the screamsheets were raving about the Comeback of the Decade...", Vik joked as he looked over V's visible bruises and wiped away some blood, "...still, you're keeping up with him pretty well."

"I-I'm no spring chicken...", V chuckled, still trying to catch her breath with a panic setting in her face, "...Vik... I-I don't know that I can beat him... I want to kill the motherfucker, but I don't know if I can do it..."

Vik stepped back, a disappointed look on his face as he barked for V's attention, "Hey! ...who the fuck are you?!"

V looked at her old ripperdoc choom with wide eyes as he chided her, "Time's I remember this little brat from Heywood took on the whole damn city by herself and nearly burned it all down...

"Kid, you're living fucking proof that anything is possible...", Vik continued, seeing the fire building in V's eyes as he jammed a Bounceback into her chest, just over her heart, "Now pull yourself together and go show that preening punk what the Afterlife is made of, y'hear me?!"

V firmed herself up and flashed her teeth with her signature smile that could melt steel, placing a firm hand on Vik's shoulder as she said, "...for Rogue..."

As the bell rang to start the third round, Vik smiled back and parroted Panam while V stood up, "Knock 'em dead, kid..."

Razor was already moving in, pounding his fists together as he grunted and growled. V turned, letting loose a shout from the fresh surge of adrenaline and taking her stance as she met him halfway. Without hesitation, Razor led with another barrage of combos, trying to get an early leg up on his smaller opponent. V deferred to dodging instead of deflecting and countering, saving her energy. She felt like jumping out of her skin.

Her larger opponent threw his signature left cross, slow and heavy but with massive force behind it, and V took her chance, winding up her own cross to meet it. She felt the individual plates in her fist moving to absorb the blow, time almost slowing down as their fists inched ever closer to one another. Finally, she heard... and felt... the crack of chrome against chrome. She cried out against the impact, immediately regretting her decision as her arm buckled under the pressure... but so did Razor's.

The crowd fell silent, and they were both in shock, staggering back and away from one another as they looked at the damage done. Razor's chromed fist was split in half, the artificial bones and tendons shattered and hanging loose like a spider's web as he held his arm in front of his face. On the other hand, the titanium bones in V's left forearm were bent outward at an unnatural angle, breaking through the soft RealSkinn covering and leaving the subdermal plating broken in several places. She looked in awe as she tried to articulate the individual digits to no avail. The arm was locked and useless, little more than a heavy club hanging loose from the rest of her.

That could be useful..., she thought as she looked back to Razor, a smile breaking wide as she pointed with the damaged limb and taunted him, "Man, oh man... I hope they gave you an extended warranty on that chrome, big boy..."

Razor summoned a yell from deep inside, the already-bulging veins in his neck and head pulsing further as his eyes glowed bright red. He let the broken hand fall to his side as he stomped his foot forward before dragging it back. Rinse and repeat, he was charging a stampede, the visible implants in his arms, legs, and back glowing a toxic shade of green. V took a sideways stance with her damaged arm behind her as she dared him to approach with a wave of her right hand. The cyberware seams running from her neck and down her back to separate the individual plates emitted a pale blue light. Both of them had an ace up their sleeves, and now was the time to show their hands. It was all or nothing, all the chips were on the table.

A well-known fact about sandevistan implants was that not all were created equal; on account of the strain induced upon the user's body and nervous system, there was a direct compromise between the allowed length of use and the perceived slowdown effect. Razor's implant was likely tuned for prolonged use, whereas V's decade-old Militech prototype only allowed a short burst of a few seconds. The trade-off was, during that brief period, she perceived time at ten percent of it's normal speed. No other models available on the street could boast such specifications.

V lowered into her stance, her eyes narrowing as Razor disappeared before hers and everyone else's eyes. She felt the heavy falls of his feet crashing against the canvas as she activated her own time dilation, the world around her slowing to a crawl. The blur that was Razor reappeared at perceived "normal" speeds, their dilation matching as his eyes widened at the realization. V gave him a simple wink as her own dilation dropped further, Razor's own movements becoming slowed.

She went to work on her somewhat helpless opponent, effortlessly dodging his lowered battering ram of a shoulder as she charged punch after punch directly into the meat of his exposed ribcage. Even in slow-motion, she saw his legs buckling from underneath as his whole body left the canvas from the impact, and she laid the final blow as she swung her damaged left arm up, bringing it down with all her might against the side of his head.

As the world sped up around her, the small window of time closing and the sights and sounds rushing back, V was left beside herself as Razor's body crashed against the canvas in a splatter of blood and spit. The entire left side of his torso was caved in like crumpled tin foil from V's one-armed barrage, and he was bleeding from his ear, his left eye filling up red from the internal hemorrhage. He was in trouble if he didn't get help soon.

His breathing was shallow and labored as he groaned and rolled onto his back, staring with his one good eye into the polluted night sky. A darkness crept over him as he found himself in V's shadow, her face appearing as she stood over him with a cold stare. She wanted more, the look in her eyes screaming for blood. The world around her disappeared, the void overtaking her as the sounds faded away. Even the persistent ringing of the bell and the crowd cheering were lost on her. She curled her right hand into a fist, the fingers articulating for the deathblow before a firm but gentle hand pulled her back from the edge. She gasped as a single tear ran down her bruised cheek, and she turned and found her old choom with a wary smile as he said, "I think ya won, kid..."

She didn't know what she felt, and her face was blank, jaw clenched. Vik read her mind as he gently nudged her away, "Ain't his time yet to answer to Rogue... let it go... let's go."

"You're lucky...", V spat as she crossed to leave the ring. As one last insult, she kicked his shattered arm out of her path and marched for the corner, not even waiting for Vik to catch up. She leaned over, groaning and arching her back to clear the ropes before struggling to stand up straight again as she looked at Rogue's mural. A light smirk crossed her face as she sniffed up and dropped down from the ring. She held her damaged left arm against her gut, stumbling forward as quickly as she could. She wanted to get the fuck away from here. She just wanted to get home to her output and a strong drink, even though she knew Vik would insist on getting her arm repaired first. She just wanted to stop feeling, even for a moment. She'd felt so much over the last month.

Even Panam didn't have a chance at stopping her for a congratulatory hug as she kept walking right by, blowing past Jackson and Doc Strong without even a glance. Within seconds, she had disappeared from the roof, from the crowd, riding the elevator down alone. She just wanted to be alone...

Vik dropped down from the ring, taking his place by Panam as she looked on with concern and asked, "I-Is she going to—"

"She'll be alright...", the old ripperdoc interrupted, "...these past few weeks have been hard on her, on all of us. You know what Rogue was to this city..."

"Yeah... I do know. She'll be missed...", Panam looked to the mural with a sad smile and nodded. For all her ire once upon a time, even she couldn't deny Rogue's influence and impact over the affairs of the undercity as she looked back to Vik, "Hey, look after our girl, yeah...?"

Vik gave Panam a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he crossed her path, "You know I will... it's good to see ya. Be safe getting out of here."

He nodded to Strong, but said no words as he rushed to catch up with V. The whole affair felt hollow, almost empty... at least until a half-drunk Bison showed up, arm candy still hanging all over him, albeit now with somewhat runny eyeliner and ruined lipstick. He held their tickets in his hand as he called out with a slur in his voice, "Hey boss! Time to cash out?!"

Jackson rolled his eyes and laughed as he nodded. At the end of the day, they were here for a score, and judging by the husk of a man left prostrate in the ring as his entourage tried in vain to drag him away, it was time to collect. Sure as shit the bookies weren't happy about it... likely no one was. All signs pointed to Razor wiping the canvas with the Living Legend's face, and she made him eat those words and then some.

Something caught Jackson's eye right as he was about to light a fresh cigarette while Bison disappeared once again, and his entire face shifted at what he saw. Across the way, Jayce was leaning against a railing, looking out over the city as she tried to enjoy a cold beer... and tried like hell to fend off some young handsy gonk getting a little too friendly. He was a gangly little motherfucker in a spiked leather vest and torn jeans, shitty tattoos all over and bits of metal shoved in his face. At least Jayce's tattoos had meaning.

Jackson walked a straight line towards them, having to not-so-politely shove a few bystanders out of his way. As he got closer, he heard the snickering and carrying-on of the gonk against Jayce's protests and light shoves. She didn't want to plant the kid on his ass, but he wasn't taking the hint. Thankfully for all of them, subtlety was not Jackson's strong suit. Jayce's attention was drawn to a sudden yell as the gonk disappeared from her side. She turned and nearly spat out a mouthful of deliciously hoppy brew as she saw her old man holding the moron out and over the railing by the collar of his vest and the waist of his jeans, feet kicking up in the air as he howled for help while Jackson lectured him, "Di'nt your ol' man ever teach ya the meanin' o' no means no?!"

For once, Jackson had to be grateful for the give-no-shits attitude of Night City's public majority, as it meant the gonk was left to fend for himself with nobody to help him. After a few more seconds of dangling the kid over the side, Jackson pulled him back over and threw him to the ground like a ragdoll, wiping his hands on his jacket as he stepped in and pointed, "Best get gone, son... and keep your fuckin' hands to yourself!"

The kid scrambled and scurried back with wide eyes until he had his footing, running away and disappearing into the crowd. After a short time, the smirk on Jackson's face and twinkle in his eyes returned as he looked to Jayce, "Y'okay, kiddo?"

She took another swig of her beer with a roll of her eyes and her own smirk as she mulled over the last half-minute in her brain before she answered, trying to hold in a laugh, "I'm a'ight, Pa... but thanks for the assist."

"Y'think I overdid it...?", Jackson asked with a feigned curiosity as he leaned back against the railing while Jayce answered, "I think 'm glad Bison never tried that shit... hate'a have'ta clean that mess up when you're done wit'im."

Jackson laughed out loud, nudging Jayce's shoulder as she joined in before he noticed something was off... someone was missing... and his eyes skirted the entire roof as he asked, "...w-where's Nel...?"

Jayce's eyes widened as she whipped around and pointed, "L-Last I saw she was... o'er by that... shed..."

Jackson looked where Jayce was pointing as she continued, "She was gettin' a li'l claustrophobic and overloaded, wanted to be alone for a bit... fuck, where'd she go...?!"

Jackson pinged a quick call to the rest of the crew as he stood up and away from the rail, scanning the area to try and find something... anything, "Eyes an' ears up, y'all... Nel's gone missin'."

Addie was the first to answer, "Comin' back to ya now..."

"We're by the south railin' lookin' o'er the harbor...", Jayce cut in before Strong appeared seemingly out of thin air as he had a tendency to do from time to time.

Only a few seconds later, Bison made his way to the rest of the crew, jacket pockets loaded with eddies as he pointed to an open door leading to a stairwell across the way, "Hey, I... I thought I saw her heading over that way..."

"So why the fuck didn't ya check on her?!", Jackson asked as he grabbed his inebriated choom by the collar before immediately letting go. He breathed in sharply and firmed himself as he apologized to Bison, who only shrugged and nodded in response. They understood one another with no words needing to be said.

The stairwell was as good a place to start as any, and Jackson led the way, helping to clear a path forward as the crew followed close behind. The music and lights were still overloading their senses, making it difficult to make much sense of anything outside of what was immediately around them. Despite the fact that some big motherfucker had nearly died in the ring only a few minutes ago, the crowd wasn't going to pass up a chance to party their asses off into the night. The stage crews had even started disassembling the ring, no doubt to make more room for people to dance and celebrate.

It took the better part of several minutes to cross the roof, but Jackson found the open door leading to the stairwell, and his hand hovered under his jacket and over his holster as he motioned for the rest of the crew to wait. He carefully stepped inside, eyes alert and ears aware. He heard something, but he couldn't quite make it out. Something shaking... clattering... shivering. As the sounds of the crowd and music subsided inside the small structure, the sounds of a small girl whimpering became clearer, driving Jackson to the edge of reason as he bound down the stairs to find its source.

Several flights down, there was a maintenance catwalk with a small nook under the stairs, and as he approached cautiously, there he found their little albatross had somehow crawled under, legs curled into her chest as she rocked herself back and forth, arms covering her face as she cried and tried to hide herself. Her claws were out on one hand, fresh blood splashed and running down the edges. Jackson's jaw clenched as he looked around, finding a small corridor from which a worn boot was sticking out. He chanced peeking around, finding a marred and slashed body of another young gonk laying lifeless, blood pouring from open wounds with wide eyes staring at nothing. He wasn't unlike the moron trying to accost Jayce, and his pants were undone and caught around his legs, all of him on display.

"Ah-h-h shit...", Jackson muttered under his breath and turned back to the nook, trying his best to comfort Nel as he quietly called to her. She wasn't answering, just curling up further and trying to not be seen like she was. Even as much as she tried to cover herself, Jackson could see clearly her tank top was torn down the middle in the front, exposing her small upper body. His eyes clouded over as he tried to reach for her and gently called her name. After a while, she finally moved her arm away, claws still deployed, but Jackson saw her face. Her eyes were shuttering red with tears running down a freshly bruised cheek and bloody nose, and her teeth were gritted as she bawled between heaving breaths.

Jackson's heart broke for the poor girl as he tried again to reach for her before she swatted his hands away, the claws retracting as she did. She knew who he was, but she didn't want to be touched... and hell, Jackson couldn't blame her. He called up to the rest of the crew, his voice breaking, "Down here... I found her!"

It was few seconds before he heard crash of several bodies coming down the stairs, and he looked up, his face sullen at all of it. He locked eyes with Addie as her face twisted with pain at seeing him... and Nel... as he called up to her, "Babe... go and get Sheila prepped."

His brain didn't even register what he'd just called Addie... and if he were lucky, it'd be lost to time and simply chalked up to heightened emotions. She said nothing but nodded and was gone. Jayce joined her old man, trying to think of some way to draw Nel out and let her know everything was okay. Instead, Jackson directed her to stand back as he nodded to the body said quietly, "...I'll need your jacket..."

Jayce didn't hesitate, pulling her arms loose as she put the jacket over her shoulder for whatever Jackson had in mind. He stepped in a little closer, lowering his voice to a soothing drawl, "Nel... it's me... you're safe now. We're here for you..."

He held his arms out, hoping like hell that Nel would bite. After a few moments, the rocking motions subsided, and she uncurled herself as she looked at them both. Jackson gave a light smile as he nodded and motioned with his hands, "It's okay, kid. We'll get ya home..."

Nel looked down, the tears still falling as Jayce moved in a little closer, reaching in to place the jacket around her choomba's shoulders. She jerked away at first, eventually leaning into the soft touch of the syn-leather. She tried to put on a brave face, but she was scared to hell and back and didn't do a good job of hiding it. Jackson tried one last time as softly and gently as he could, with all the love a father could muster, "You're safe, baby... come to me, an' I'll take care of ya..."

Nel's face shifted as she broke down, another wave of tears coming as she jumped out from the nook and into Jackson's arms, wrapping herself around him as she cried into his chest. He secured his arms around her, holding her by her back and under her legs as she curled tighter into him. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss the side of Nel's head as he comforted her and looked to Jayce. She remembered being held like this as a kid, but it was sobering to see it from the outside looking in. She felt a wave of emotion washing over her, but all in all, she was proud of her father. She hadn't seen this vulnerable and sensitive side of him in a long time.

Jackson didn't yet realize he was shedding his own tears, and Jayce smiled as she placed a calm hand on his shoulder and said, "Ya did good, Pa... le's go home..."

...an' away from this fuckin' nightmare of a City..."

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