Joanne Koch's apartment. The workstation hummed faintly in the dim light.
V's eyes glowed blue as she dove into the ocean of data.
Joanne had slit open V's sleeve and was carefully treating the wound on her arm.
"It really was Goro Takemura," Joanne said. "At 01:22 last night he jumped his uplink to this terminal from an outdoor comm antenna, using a Militech NET800 military decoder."
V reported the traces she had found across the Net to the two people in the room.
"No wonder he was Saburo Arasaka's bodyguard," Xu Zhong murmured. He was still feeling the aftershocks from having been stabbed through the lung by Takemura; his hand kept touching the wound out of habit. "Good thing he's dead."
"Don't celebrate too early," V's face hardened. "There's someone behind Takemura."
"Who would help a wanted Arasaka man?" Xu asked skeptically.
"I don't know, but the clues are glaring." V analyzed coldly. "One: where did he get a NET800 decoder? Military-grade hardware needs channels and funds—price alone is beyond what a fugitive could bankroll. Two: he hacked Koch's machine at 01:22 and was able to ambush tonight—too fast, impossible without support. Three: he escaped Tokyo and immediately found a safehouse and an operational base here. Arasaka's forces were sweeping; how did he evade them? Exclude pure luck, and there's only one conclusion…"
"Someone's helping him," Xu finished.
"Exactly."
"Who would have the motive and the access? If it's another local boss, maybe. If he used a Militech NET800—could it be—"
"Not Militech people." Meredith Stout walked in and peered at V's bloodstained form. "Calling a NET800 requires my authorization. I didn't see any request. That means the unit was black-market."
Xu pressed on: "What if it was someone above you—like Militech's Night City president?"
"If so, he could bypass my clearance—but it would leave traces. Even if he wiped them, why would he help Takemura? What benefit? Militech would want Arasaka to stay shamed: 'can't even find the founder's body.' Mare's logic is they either ignore it or leverage it—never openly send someone to recover a corpse. A dead body isn't attractive to Militech."
"Biotechnica might be interested in Saburo's corpse," Joanne interjected while loading a potent injection into a pneumatic syringe and looking at V. "But those medical maniacs collect specimens; they won't hand a corpse back to Arasaka—much less conspire with Takemura to assassinate Arasaka leaders in Night City."
Joanne pressed the syringe into V's neck with a soft puff.
V's mind was fixed on who was behind Takemura; she let Joanne work without fuss.
Xu suddenly caught the angle: "Militech and Biotechnica don't benefit from Saburo's body. Kang Tao neither. Arasaka would prefer Saburo to vanish so second-generation succession is unimpeded. None of the four major parties has an obvious motive to help Takemura. Or—what if they helped him for a different reason, and the corpse is just his personal obsession? Whoever's behind him used his obsession as cover. Their real purpose is—"
"To kill me," V completed. "They support Takemura not to reclaim Saburo's corpse, but to eliminate me. Takemura is merely their blade."
Xu's eyes went wide. "Arasaka people?"
V snorted. "The higher-ups have finished fighting; now the leftovers are starting. I've apparently blocked someone's path."
"Yorinobu?"
"Could be Michiko."
"What about Hanako?"
V analyzed: "The Arasaka family pinned detention on Takemura to resolve blame, but ultimately someone must win. The loser won't be able to stay at Tokyo HQ—Night City becomes the only fallback. Whoever wants to rebuild their base here will want me gone first."
"Michiko grew up in Night City; if she lost in Tokyo she'd naturally return here. Yorinobu has no deep roots elsewhere; Night City's internal complexity makes it attractive. Hanako, the conservative local faction—least likely. We can mostly exclude her."
"So Michiko's the prime suspect, then Yorinobu."
V's tone turned pragmatic: "It's speculation. I'm an outsider to their family politics—I only infer. But whoever it is doesn't matter as much. Instead of fretting on their menace, make ourselves stronger. Stout—start the heterotype program."
Meredith arched a brow. "You sure? That thing burns cash."
"You think my public projects have been charity? I've made my cut." V's face tightened with that familiar, cold calculus. "Start the heterotype plan."
"Alright." Meredith brightened perceptibly. "Combining Arasaka single-soldier mech tech with Militech exoskeleton expertise—I've been waiting for this."
V looked to Joanne. "How long before Saburo's side can be woken—when does our rock star get conscious?"
Joanne smiled and recited numbers as if counting beats: "Three."
V blinked. "Three months?"
"No—two."
V's expression shifted; another number followed.
"One."
V sagged and collapsed face-first onto the table, blacking out.
"V—?!" Xu cried.
"Don't worry. I only gave her triple-dose sedative. Let her rest," Joanne said calmly.
Meredith pinched V's cheek with a mock-complaint. "God, how is this perfect face so relentlessly stern? Stop frowning—such a waste of beauty."
Xu was utterly bewildered. "Why sedate V? What's going on?"
Joanne waived and projected a hologram of V's brain scans: red hot zones of damage. "V's severely hurt."
Xu stared at the patchwork of crimson. His voice trembled: "How long?"
"Three days," Meredith answered.
V drifted through blackness.
A colossal, impossibly enormous jellyfish-like creature stood before her, radiating a warm, gentle glow.
"What are you?" V asked.
The jellyfish hummed softly. "Wake up, our Valérie."
V flinched. "How do you know my name?"
Instinctively she reached out—and the jellyfish dissolved like foam, collapsing into a smoke made of zeroes and ones that swallowed her whole.
She coughed and opened her eyes.
"Could you stop smoking in front of the patient?" V groused at Meredith, who blew a languid plume of smoke.
"You can still curse. Means you're recovering. Welcome back, our Sleeping Beauty."
"'Our'?" V blinked. A dream fizzled at the edges.
"How long was I out?"
"Three days."
"What about Takemura's body?"
"Recovered by your Counterintelligence."
"And the incident?"
"All over the news—WNS, News54, even underground nets. People keep talking about Arasaka's top officer being assassinated and grievously wounded. Candles sold out across the city."
"Candles?" V asked blankly.
Meredith snapped her fingers. The holo-screen flicked on and showed the square at Arasaka Tower. Hundreds of candles—tall, short, thick, thin—burned in the plaza. People gathered: veterans, kids, sexbots, salarymen. Some prayed silently; others murmured. Everyone left a lit candle. The glow multiplied.
"Not just Arasaka Tower—every district has prayers. In Heywood especially, the poor have practically replaced the Virgin with your face in the church statues. As soon as word of your coma spread, they started singing hymns. V—the whole Night City hopes you wake up."
V's ocular implant felt overheated—evidence of prior neural damage. "Bullshit. I'm not dead. Candles are for idiots."
Meredith flicked ash. "Learn something from Lucy."
"No way!"
V hauled herself from bed, stripped off the hospital robe, showered, and dressed in a suit. She tied her tie, the mask of the executive snapping back into place.
"How are the projects?" She poured tequila.
"All proceeding. Xu keeps an eye." Meredith replied.
"What about Dogtown and Seaview? Is Hansen behaving?"
"All smooth. Xu is watching."
V frowned. "Does he know?"
"He knows. The kid's been overworking himself in guilt—acts like your injury is his crime. It's… impressive. Chinese sense of duty is wild. If I were into men, I'd marry him."
V cut her off without hesitation: "Don't be ridiculous. You can't marry Xu Shiming's grandson."
"Ouch. That stung." Meredith grinned and snapped a cigarette back to seriousness. "Enemies hidden in shadow—what's your move?"
"Simple: lure them out." V took a sip of tequila. "If they want me dead, they'll try again. We wait."
"You'll bait yourself?"
"The best bait."
"It's dangerous."
"Which is why I need your help. How's heterotype manufacturing?"
Meredith's eyes lit. "This single-soldier rig is the best toy we've ever had. Want to see?"
"Let's go."
They took an AV down to Watson Industrial. The corporate-alliance factory looked ordinary above ground; beneath, it housed racks of high-tech development labs.
Over time, the underground facility absorbed many discarded researchers—pariahs who'd been shoved out of big corps for politics, embezzlement, or simply being inconvenient. V gathered them all. Initially a ragtag crew, it grew into a force. Not top-tier by corps standards, but formidable.
"Looks like Xu was right," Meredith quipped. "Talents are among the people."
"Even you and I were plucked from the street at different times," V smiled. "No need to be modest. Let's see our new toy."
They passed five security checks—three mechanical, two human—then entered the heterotype R&D bay.
"Welcome, Deputy Director V. So glad you're safe." The lead engineer bowed—Kayo Nakamura, spectacled, mid-40s, unremarkable in looks, plain in dress. She was a former Arasaka staffer: top school, no connections, stuck with menial tasks. Her husband had died; she had a son. To pay tuition she once considered moonlighting in the Cloud, but a humiliating audition had rejected her because, as she was told bluntly: "ugly." The insult burned. She drank, was beaten on Twisty Street, lost belongings, and still dragged herself to work the next day. Night City chewed the weak.
Then one night V found her sitting on the bench in Kabuki and changed her fate: she'd been recruited rather than sold off. That decision altered Nakamura's life.
Now Nakamura's pride radiated as she introduced the heterotype prototype.
"Not a common exoskeleton or simple suit," she explained. A hologram showed an armored silhouette like ancient plated armor rendered in modern alloy.
"This is the experimental heterotype. Skeleton employs Militech's latest exoskeleton tech—graphene-infused titanium-tantalum honeycomb. Density is one-fifth of steel, tensile strength 63 GPa. Joints incorporate non-Newtonian fluid dampers: on impact, micro-particles instantly crystallize to dissipate kinetic energy as heat."
"The shell is inspired by Arasaka single-soldier armor—3D-printed self-healing liquid metal with melting point 3620°C. Damaged areas induce metal-glass phase shift via embedded nanobots and repair at 1.2 cm³/sec. Surface covered by plasma stealth coating—an optical-camouflage upgrade—able to warp visible light and radar signatures by modulating electron density."
"Power systems plagued us—until Kang Tao's portable battery tech rescued us. We now integrate Kang Tao's Zhu Long-II D-T fusion cell: via magnetically constrained inertial compression, reaction cavity compressed to ping-pong ball size. One charge yields peak 3.2 terawatts, continuous operation for 72 hours. Energy distribution uses quantum topological routing: prioritizes ion pulse thrusters, electromagnetic muscle bundles, and shield generator."
"Previous energy designs remain compatible—back-mounted silicon carbide thermoelectric harvesters recoup heat differentials and kinetic energy; an emergency spinal bio-battery can catalyze blood glucose for 30 minutes of emergency power. Those modules increase bulk and reduce mobility; equipping decisions will be field-dependent."
"With Kang Tao energy tech, we can now realize the shield system. It generates hexagonal EM deflection nodes covering the suit: superconducting coils generate a 5 Tesla toroidal field capable of diverting 90% of kinetic weapons and charged particle beams. For lasers, the outer armor vaporizes within 10 ns to form ablative plasma clouds—scatter ratio 87.3%—effectively all-around invulnerability."
V raised an eyebrow. "Control?"
"Neural direct interface—Biotechnica's 2048-channel flexible electrode array. Latency under 0.1 ms. Problem: brain load huge. To control normally you need 200–300 petaFLOPS; full performance demands 500 petaFLOPS or more. The former might be achieved with training; the latter exceeds brain limits. I recommend downgrading channels to 1024—latency to 0.3 ms, computational demand halved."
"No need. I'll handle compute. Just finish manufacturing." V's voice turned into an order.
Kayo bowed. "Yes, ma'am."
V surprised her by smiling faintly. "You were the one who planned to buy a gun to rob a data bank, right? Nakamura Kayo? I knew you were talented, but you rising to chief designer—impressive. Take care of heterotype production. And your son—still in school, right? How's he doing? Need help?"
Kayo froze, then replied in a rush: "He's graduated—he's been admitted to Arasaka Academy."
V's eyes softened a touch. "Good. I'll have David look after him. If his grades hold, I'll make sure he gets into Arasaka."
For the first time, Kayo felt a stir of defiance toward V. "Deputy Director V, can't my son avoid Arasaka?"
"And go where?" V asked.
"I want him here—with you."
"You sure? It's not glamorous."
"If he doesn't want it, I'll break his legs and chain him here," Kayo said dead serious.
V couldn't help laughing—this was pure mother logic.
She meant to say something parenting-wise but had no experience, then Xu arrived.
"V—your wounds aren't healed. Don't run around." He scolded.
Okay, retract earlier comment—she had a big kid now.
"All surface wounds. Moving helps healing," V said. "You rushed here—what's up?"
"Koch asked me to bring you to her." He winked. "She made a new drug. It helps your injuries."
This wasn't surface damage—it was neural injury.
V understood. "Let's go. I want to hear good news."