The Tale of Elle the Joytoy - chunkerror (2024)

Chapter 1: Joytoy With A Heart of Gold

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Night City was beautiful. Elle had always thought so, whether she was watching the sunset from the top of a megabuilding, cheap beer and smokes in hand, or lying face-up in a gutter, beaten and bloody, like she was now. The brilliantly illuminated buildings stretched far above her, almost reaching for the sky like so many of the dreams of the city’s residents. Reaching for the stars with your ass in the mud, indeed. She coughed, and sighed, air transports buzzing over her head. What was it like to ride in one? An alarm buzzed in her vision, reading, “Cheeseburger,” and she sighed again. Taking one last look at the sky, she rolled onto her stomach painfully, pushing herself up and leaning against a stoplight pole for support. Not many cars went down this alley, since it was off the main road people focused on, Jig-Jig Street, home of joytoys and brothels. Wishing for the millionth time she had health insurance (or the kind of money to pay for it), Elle made her way out of the alley, onto the main road. Thankfully her place, a dingy motel in Vista Del Rey, wasn’t too far of a walk from where she was now. Cars passed by, some slowing to whistle at her, but she tuned into the radio, turning up the volume enough to ignore them. She wasn’t working, anyway. Night City, particularly this neighborhood, wasn’t the best in terms of quality, but Elle loved it all the more for it. The few times she’d been to the City Center she’d hated the perfectly maintained walkways, manicured parks, and graffiti-free walls. The cracked concrete below her feet gave the city character, just like the various tags on the walls. She’d done her own a few blocks down, when she was younger, her sister putting her on her shoulders so Elle could reach high enough. Again, memories of V rose, unbidden, to the front of her mind. She’d slowly been falling out of contact with V for a while (they were both now adults, V no longer needing to raise her), but six months previous, screamsheets across the city were displaying her sister’s face, wanting any information on her. With this was the news that V had stormed Arasaka’s headquarters alone, for reasons unknown, and had escaped shortly after. Elle always knew V was a badass, but storming Arasaka single-handedly seemed almost supernatural. Another block walked, and she was out of the seedier streets, bright lights illuminating the sidewalk and noticeably more people present. A few gave her strange looks, but none said anything to her, which was nice. She really wasn’t in the mood for pity. Since the incident at Arasaka Tower, Elle had been pouring money into finding V, tracking every possible lead she could get her hands on. This was much to the detriment of her finances, though since she already lived in a dirt-cheap motel, she was familiar with slumming it. So far, nothing had turned up, and she again pushed down the creeping thought that maybe V really had vanished, never to be seen again. It wasn’t out of the ordinary, she thought as she crossed a street, only a few blocks from her place, but it hit close to home. V was her only family, their mother having abandoned them when V was only eight, and Elle four, and she felt she owed it to her sister to figure out what happened. She glanced up at one of the holo-boards, which was advertising a new aphrodisiac pill that promised ‘erections lasting more than four hours!’ but quickly switched to an advertisem*nt for a fast-food chain. She entertained the idea of getting food, but decided against it, instead stopping at a shop across the street from the motel, and buying a bottle of Ab-Synthe and a pack of cigarettes. She got another odd look from the person behind the counter, an older woman with silver chrome in her head, and she wordlessly slid a MaxDoc into the bag with the other items. Elle nodded slightly, and left, crossing the street and entering her room. She’d never been one for cleanliness, clothes and empty bottles scattered around the room, which was small, a bed and desk the only furniture. A door separated the bathroom from the rest of the room, and she entered, flicking on the light and looking at herself in the mirror. She had neon purple hair, straight, that hung to her chest, with several piercings and chrome implants in her face, mostly around her eyes, which were a synthetic white and, at the moment, bloodshot. Her left eye was swollen, several cuts and scrapes scattered over her face, and she set the bag down on the toilet, withdrawing the pack of cigarettes and lighting one with the attachment on her thumb. Once that was done, she stripped down painfully, scowling away the pain from various bruises and cuts. She had a decent body, what with being a joytoy and all, but she took pride in the fact that she’d had no cybernetic augmentations to her form, instead very carefully dieting and exercising as a teen. Next from the bag came the MaxDoc, which she puffed twice, feeling the anaesthetic start to dull the pain signals from her body. Grabbing the bottle, she stepped into the tub, sitting down and leaning back against the wall. Now that she was alone, she cried, taking a swig of Ab-Synthe and letting the tears roll down her face.

Some time later, she emerged from the bathroom, wounds slowly knitting themselves together, bottle half-empty. She threw the MaxDoc, now almost empty, onto the bed, and set the bottle on the nightstand, falling into bed quickly. Instead of sleeping, she checked her messages, noting nothing new from any of her sources in the city, a habit she’d formed almost six months ago. As she set her visual interface to show a pleasant sky, a notification popped up onto her vision. She sat upright, in shock, and accessed the message, an audio recording from none other than her sister, V. It wasn’t long, but she eagerly listened, hoping against hope.

“Hey, Elle. It’s me, Val. Obviously. I’m sorry I’ve been ghosting you. Probably thought I got flatlined in ‘Saka Tower or something, but I’m alright. Got more bad news, though. You’re not going to see me again. I can’t go into specifics, though I wish I could, but this’ll probably be the last time you hear from me. Love ya, sis. Alright, I gotta delta.” Instead of crying again, she leapt from her bed, soreness forgotten, and began to pace. V was still alive, but for some reason she was vanishing for good—she’d even abandoned her nickname, which meant it was serious. This meant that Elle needed to find her, obviously. Just as she was prepared to search the entire city by herself, another alarm flashed into her vision. “Shift at Week-Ender in thirty minutes.” Swearing, she got dressed in her waitressing uniform, giving up at covering up the wounds on her face and body after a few tries at makeup. She grabbed her cigarettes and left, heading towards her second job.

Chapter 2: With Friends Like These...

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The Week-Ender was a semi-busy bar in Vista Del Rey that Elle had been hanging around in since she was little. V had worked there, and once Elle was old enough, she had too. It was two stories tall, with a classic ‘sleazy dive’ aesthetic, and was the hub for all criminal activity in Vista Del Rey, almost like a bargain-basem*nt Afterlife. The first floor had several booths, arranged around a wide dance floor, with a long bar at the back, while the second floor was exclusively booths, with a balcony railing around the edges so that the second floor overlooked the dance floor. Sadly, she didn’t even make it entirely through the door before she was shouted at by one of the bartenders.

“Elle?! Get your ass over here.” She sighed, and walked to the bar, sitting in front of Vera, the owner. It was quiet right now, since it was early in the morning, and Vera began to interrogate her, puffing on a small pipe as she did.

“Are you alright? What happened? Why didn’t you call off?” Elle rolled her eyes.

“Yes, I was beat up by a rowdy client, and I need the money. Satisfied?” Vera scowled, and, after a long look at Elle, smiled sweetly.

“Take today. Paid vacay, plus you’re on my tab tonight.” Elle’s eyebrows shot through the roof.

“Er, why? I can work, I’m fine.” Vera shook her head.

“I know you can work, but looking like you lost a fight with a car? Besides, I can tell something’s eating at you. Whaddaya want?” She had the bar’s co*cktails memorized, and thought for a moment.

“Johnny Silverhand?” Vera scoffed good-naturedly, and began mixing the drink.

“So, wanna spill? Figure it’s about V. Not seen anything else get you so spooked.” Elle nodded, thanking her as she set the tumbler on the bar.

“Got a message from her. Saying she’s alright, but she’s leaving forever soon.” Vera raised an eyebrow, and toasted with an imaginary glass as Elle drank.

“That so? Mind flicking me the file?” Elle shrugged, and sent the audio message to Vera, sipping some more as she listened to it. Once it finished, a strange look crossed Vera’s face, and she looked over at the other bartender, a younger-looking woman named Hestia.

“Repairs? Or cleaning?” Hestia raised an eyebrow, shooting a look at Elle.

“You sure?” Vera nodded, a silent exchange taking place between the two of them. Hestia frowned.

“Repairs. I’ll shut it down.” Vera turned back to Elle, who was thoroughly confused, and smiled again.

“Don’t worry, dear. We’ll take care of you.” This did nothing to avail her confusion, and after the bar had been closed, the shutters drawn, Vera sent the rest of the waitresses home, setting up a long table on the dance floor. Elle tried to help, but a stern look kept her rooted to her chair as various women, all of them gorgeous, began to arrive. They had the ‘merc’ look about them, sort of a resignation in their eyes, and as more filtered in Elle became more and more worried. They exchanged pleasantries with each other, some getting drinks from Hestia, and once each seat had been filled, save two, Vera turned to Elle.

“C’mon, grab a chair.” She picked up her drink, and nervously made her way to the table. A few of the women looked her over curiously as she sat, others bored or more focused on their drinks. Now that the table was full, Vera spoke up, gathering everyone’s attention.

“Hello, ladies. Glad to see all of you here. Means a lot, and I wish it was for a happier occasion.” Various people nodded, or smiled.

“Assuming you’ve all listened to the audio file I sent you, you understand why we’re here.” Vera turned to Elle.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the Olympians, Elle?” Once again, she was thunderstruck. The Olympians were one of the most feared and respected gangs in Night City, made up of women that were supposedly some of the top-tier fixers and mercs in the city. One of their gang tags had been sprayed on the wall outside of V’s place, showing a stylized ‘O’ with the Greek alphabet around it.

“Uh, yes. Everyone has.” One of the girls down the table, with dark black hair and green eyes, laughed.

“Damn right!” Vera raised an eyebrow, but continued.

“It may interest you to know that your sister, V, was once an Olympian.” Initially this surprised Elle, but thinking back it made perfect sense. V was a legend in Night City, and had been before storming Arasaka. Many believed her to be the best mercenary in the country, possibly the world, which would make her being an Olympian very believable.

“When she went missing, we assumed she’d died in the tower, and mourned her. But, with this audio file, we have proof she’s still out there. I would therefore like to put to vote whether or not we should try to find her, and help her with whatever she’s dealing with.” Several of the women glanced at each other, emotions ranging from curiosity to worry. Hestia spoke, from the head of the table.

“I’m in favor. I will also volunteer to train and eventually induct Elle into our ranks, since if she’s anything like her sister, we need her.” This seemed to sway several people, who all voted in favor, reaching a majority while the rest, including a tall woman with short red hair, abstained. Vera tallied the votes, and, once it was decided, she smiled.

“Well! I think we need to unwind, don’t you all?” The brief feeling of tension vanished, and Vera hopped over the bartop, beginning to mix drinks as the women mingled. A younger girl, about Elle’s age, approached her, holding a martini.

“Hi, Elle! I think I’ve seen you around here before. My name is Persephone.” She shook the outstretched hand, and stood, picking up her drink. As a matter of fact, Elle had seen all of these women before, though not all at the same time, though it made sense that they’d frequent the Week-Ender if it was their base of operations.

“I remember you too. Weren’t you the one that invented the Tower of Terror?” Persephone blushed, and nodded, looking down. The Tower of Terror was a drinking challenge at the bar, where a patron would pick a top-shelf liquor, and do shots starting with that bottle, then the two below it, and so forth, making a pyramid of bottles.

“Yes, that was me. Hopefully you didn’t see the aftermath of that night.” Elle laughed, and sipped her drink.

“I appreciate you all doing this. I had no idea V was a member.” Persephone nodded as another girl joined them. She was positively angelic, with long blonde hair and soft blue eyes that gazed down over the two others like an ambivalent deity.

“Hello, Elle. I’m Aphrodite. Don’t worry, we’re going to find out what happened to your sister. I promise.” She smiled, and Elle smiled back, Hestia joining them.

“Alright, kid. First lesson of the Olympians is what you’re going to specialize in. We’ve got three classes here: Netrunners, Infiltrators, and Fighters.” Elle took another drink, weighing her options. “What was V, when she was here?” Hestia smiled slightly.

“She was a fighter. Arguably our best.” She nodded.

“An Infiltrator sounds like me. I’m not great at fighting, and I’m positively terrible at netrunning.” She nodded.

“Your training starts tomorrow. Don’t worry, I’ll cover the cost of wherever you’re living, so you can focus full-time on this.” Elle’s jaw dropped, and she embraced Hestia.

“Thank you, so much. This means a lot to me, Hestia.” Hestia patted her back, and once they separated, raised a glass.

“Now, before the hard part, let’s get f*cked up!”

Chapter 3: Then Came The Last Days of May

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The next morning was a rough one. Elle woke up, in her bed, with a towering headache and a shadow standing over her.

“—up. Gotta get moving.” She groaned, and rolled into a sitting position, taking a puff of the MaxDoc to help with the hangover. Hestia waited patiently as she got ready, and once she was dressed, in comfortable clothes, she stood.

“C’mon. Got a few errands to run today.” They exited her room, Elle lighting a cigarette, and talked as they walked down the street, towards the City Center.

“First rule of being an Infiltrator is to get into the habit of blending in. Not just on a job, but every day. If word gets to a rival gang you’re the one that hit them, blending in as a habit will keep you from getting shot at every five minutes.” Elle glanced at Hestia, stopping in her tracks as she realized that the older woman had vanished into the crowd on Central Plaza. Hestia called her, and when she answered, Hestia spoke with a hint of mischievousness.

“Find me, and you pass.” Elle glanced around, trying to spot her in the mass of people, to no avail.

“C’mon, it’s not that hard. I can see you, which means you must be able to see me.” Elle scowled, which got a laugh out of Hestia, and, instead of searching for Hestia with her eyes, she reached out in the net, scanning nearby people. It was rudimentary netrunning, simple but effective, yet it still yielded no results. Struck by an idea, she walked over to a bench, and sat, reaching out in the net once again, this time searching optic signals for anyone looking at her. Several were passing glances, but after a few failed attempts, she located an optic feed that was focused on her. It seemed to be coming from a food stand, though Elle didn’t look up, out of fear that Hestia would realize she’d found her. She sat for another moment, Hestia taunting her over the phone, and stood, modifying the code to her joytoy protocols and activating it, a slight glaze coming over her eyes. Her body moved of it’s own accord, slipping through the crowd gracefully, like a dancer, monitoring Hestia’s optic feed, which, to her delight, lost her in the crowd. She began angling over to the food stand, still monitoring Hestia’s feed, and spotted her, sitting against a pylon, partially obscured by a banner. Elle made her way up to where she sat, behind her, and stealthily sat next to her as Hestia spoke again, taking a bite from a kebab.

“Neat trick, but you still haven’t found me.” Elle raised an eyebrow, and tapped her on the shoulder, causing Hestia to jump and turn around.

“I have to admit, I’m impressed. You pass the first test. Want some kebab?” Elle’s stomach rumbled, and she nodded eagerly, taking the meat-on-a-stick and eating half in a quick bite, handing it back to Hestia.

“Thanks. So, what’s next?” She shrugged, looking down at the food.

“Breakfast, I suppose. On me, for doing so well.” This was Elle’s first real food in a few days, and she happily ordered a steaming bowl of curry, eating as Hestia talked.

“After we’re finished here, we’ll head to the Afterlife. Got a few chooms there we can finger for any info.” Elle nodded, speaking between spoonfuls.

“Never been to the Afterlife before. Heard it was built in an old morgue, right?” Hestia nodded, finishing her kebab.

“Fun joint, really. I’ll introduce you to some of my friends.” Elle nodded, and finished her curry, eager to see the inside of the Afterlife for the first time. It wasn’t terribly far, and the weather was nice, so they decided to walk, stomachs full and chatting amicably.

“How long have you been with them? The Olympians, I mean.” Hestia smiled innocently.

“A lady never reveals her age, but I’ll say I’ve been a member for a while.” Elle nodded, understanding not to pry any further, and they made quick progress to the Afterlife, descending the stairs and walking into the entryway, which was the only part of the bar Elle had ever seen. Hestia confidently marched up to the tall, muscular bouncer, Elle in tow, and smiled.

“How are ya, Emmerick?” He nodded, and stepped aside, letting the two of them walk into the bar proper. It was large, almost entirely chrome, booths lining the walls while a bar that could put the one at the Week-Ender to shame filled half of the room. Music quietly played, various conversations rising in and out of the melody to create a relaxing atmosphere. Hestia walked up to the bar, and sat, Elle sitting next to her as the bartender, a pretty woman with brown eyes and brown hair walked over, exchanging a kiss with Hestia.

“Hestia, darling, who’ve you brought in today?” She smiled, and turned to Elle.

“Claire, this is Elle, V’s sister. Elle, this is Claire, bartender, street racer, and the love of my life.” Elle shook Claire’s hand, and Claire spoke.

“So, Elle, first timers get a drink on the house. What’ll it be?” She glanced at Hestia, unsure, which got a laugh from her.

“Can I get two Smashers, please?” Claire winked, and began mixing the drinks.

“You two working, or just here for little old me?” Hestia shrugged, Claire placing two tall glasses on the bar.

“Working, sadly. Got some info on V, so everyone decided to try to track her down, now that we know she didn’t get zero’d.” Claire looked up abruptly, but a warning look from Hestia stopped her words in her throat.

“I—I see. Want me to call Rogue for you?” Hestia shook her head as Claire poured a blood red liquid into the bottom of the glass, layering a dark brown one on top before a clear layer to finish. She tossed a sprig of mint onto each one, and slid them towards the pair.

“There you have it. Hope you dig something up, eh?” Hestia smiled, and stood, taking her drink with her as Elle did the same. Hestia made her way through the bar, nodding and exchanging greetings with several people, before sliding into a booth next to an older-looking woman nursing a bottle of beer.

“Hestia! What do I owe the pleasure?” They hugged, Elle taking a sip of her drink. The first layer had a distinct coconut flavor, which was quite nice, but she turned her attention back to Hestia as she explained the reason for their visit. The woman, introduced to Elle as Dakota Smith, was a fixer in the outskirts of Night City, and when she heard of their search for information, she pursed her lips.

“Not heard much, I’m afraid. She did some work for me, ‘course, but never talked much about herself. Sorry the well’s dry, but if I hear anything I’ll flick it to you.” Hestia nodded, and toasted to her health before sliding out of the booth with Elle. She took a long drink, getting to the second layer, which tasted like black licorice, and Hestia moved to another booth. They repeated this process several times, talking to different fixers such as Muamar Reyes and Dino Dinovic, to no leads. Eventually, the two were back at the bar, drinks empty (The red layer was sickly sweet, but it balanced the licorice nicely). Hestia was staring off into the distance, probably messaging someone on the net, and Elle switched to water, not wanting a repeat of the night before. Hestia snapped out of her thoughts, and kneaded her forehead.

“Aphrodite and Persephone are looking for any information on V with their contacts. So far, nothing. We’ve got one more lesson for you to learn, then we’re heading back. C’mon.” She stood, paying for the drinks, and Elle followed, exiting the Afterlife and walking out into the parking lot outside. Elle lit a cigarette, and Hestia stepped in front of her, hands by her sides.

“Next lesson is a test that every Inflitrator takes. See that building over there?” Elle followed her finger, seeing a small house with an overgrown lawn.

“Get inside without triggering any alarms.” Elle frowned, but nodded, walking over to the edge of the lawn and scanning the area. She was surprised to see that the entire lawn was rigged with landmines, as well as motion sensors, cameras, and even a turret disguised as a trash can. This was no longer a fun game of hide and seek, but Elle knew her best bet of finding V was to succeed, so she looked for any discernible path through the landmines. She wasn’t skilled enough at quickhacking to disable any of them, and she realized that any path she might see would still alert the motion sensors. Scrapping a frontal entrance, she looked up at the buildings on either side of the house. One was too short for what she had in mind, but the other wasn’t, and she quickly scaled the fire escape, climbing onto the roof and looking down onto the roof of the house. Another scan revealed several pressure sensors, but a cracked skylight caught her attention. The glass was most likely wired to an alarm, but if she could get close she might be able to disarm it. Looking for a safe spot to land, she spied a large, horizontal metal pipe, and, without waiting to second-guess herself, she dropped headfirst from the roof, reaching her hands out towards the pipe. Her aim was true, and she landed in a handstand, bending her arms slightly to absorb the landing. Her skill and flexibility as a joytoy was on par with a gymnast, and she moved carefully down the pipe, on her hands, until she could step onto the edge of the skylight. This scan revealed an alarm, wired to the glass, but the circuit must’ve been fried, since it was offline. Seeing her opportunity, she eased the skylight open, and dropped down, into the house. Several clicks sounded as the mines disengaged, and Hestia opened the door to the house as Elle smiled triumphantly.

“Very good. Let’s head back, eh?”

The meeting at the Week-Ender was much more tense than the night before. The short-haired woman from before, Hera, raised concerns at wasting time on searching for Elle, and when Hestia tried to talk her down, she grew angry.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve proposed we look for V, Hestia. You need to let go of this obsession and stop wasting time.” Elle, affronted, stood.

“Excuse me? This may be the only chance I have at seeing my sister again. Never call this a waste of time again, or else.” The threat hung in the air, until Hera burst into laughter.

“Oh yeah? What’re you going to do about it, joytoy? f*ck me to death?” A few snickers sounded out, and Elle sat, scowling into her drink. Hestia stood, leaning on the table.

“She passed both tests with flying colors. Honestly, she could teach you a thing or two about subtlety, Hera.” Her face reddened, and Hera stood, storming out of the bar in a huff. Hestia sighed, and sat back down.

“Well, keep looking, I guess.”

Chapter 4: Voodoo Child

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A few weeks later, Elle’s training was fully underway. Hestia constantly kept her running missions, whether they were connected to finding V or helping out the Olympians. Initially, Elle had been against doing anything other than searching for V, but she realized that the smoother the Olympians ran, the easier it would be for them to find her older sister. Indeed, as Elle was entering the bar, after a successful mission to ‘appropriate’ several thousand Eurodollars for the gang, her efforts seemed to finally pay off. Persephone caught her by the arm, leading her to a booth where Aphrodite and another Olympian sat, drinking and smoking.

“We have news!” This perked her up, and she slid into the booth, nodding to Aphrodite and the other Olympian, a tiny, fiery girl named Ares, who had a penchant for explosives.

“We found a gonk who saw V with the same girl a few times. She’s a nomad, part of the Aldecaldos. Their camp is in the outskirts of the city.” Elle nodded, and received a message from Hestia as she questioned further.

Chapter 5: Long Tall Corpo

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Hestia smiled, and they pulled away, only speaking when they were well out of earshot.

“Nice trick.” Elle shrugged, watching as they turned onto a dirt road, which led to a small house on top of a hill.

“Not too hard to do. A netrunner friend of mine taught me how to isolate different parts of my joytoy code. It’s actually how I got away from you in the crowd, too.” Hestia’s eyebrows rose, but she quickly came to a stop as they both saw a neatly dressed man holding a shotgun. He had long black hair, which was streaked with gray, and several implants on his face and neck. They both exited the car slowly, hands raised, and Hestia spoke calmly.

“Don’t mean any trouble. Just want to talk.” The man scowled, and spoke in a heavily accented voice.

“I rarely get visitors, and even rarer are they not here to kill me.” Elle took a step forward, hands still up, and spoke.

“You worked with my sister V, right? We’re trying to find her before she’s gone for good.” Upon hearing that Elle was V’s sister, the man sighed.

“Yes. I am sorry for my brusqueness, please, come in.” He lowered the gun, and led them into the house, which was modestly decorated, and seated them around a low table.

“V was a true warrior. Unstoppable, clever, ruthless. I worked with her several times, but the attack on Arasaka Tower was her own doing, not mine. I do believe that she acquired data from Rogue Amendiares concering building schematics and things of that nature. I am sorry that I cannot be more helpful.” Hestia nodded, while Elle was a little disgruntled at no answers and another lead. They had seen Rogue several times at the Afterlife, without ever knowing she had a hand in the attack on the tower. Still, she smiled, and shook the man’s hand.

“Thank you.” He smiled slightly, and the pair stood.

“If you are anything like your sister, then Night City shall quake with your footsteps. Do not lose hope, for even the fox can be trapped by the owl.” With that strange pearl of wisdom, the pair returned to the car. As they departed, Hestia’s eyes glazed over, and she spoke.

“Persephone just called. They’re in the middle of negotiations with the Aldecaldos, Panam’s clan.” Elle received a picture of Aphrodite posing with a few grizzled nomads.

“Alright. What’s the plan now?” Hestia sighed.

“Suppose a meeting with Rogue. Would’ve liked to avoid involving her, but it seems like we have no choice.” As they pulled back onto the highway, Elle noticed that they weren’t heading back to Night City.

“We’re going to check in with Aphrodite and Persephone. Hopefully Saul, the family leader, isn’t being an obstacle.” The rest of their trip was spent quiet, Hestia scowling out of the windshield. Elle was distinctly reminded of the first time she’d worked as a joytoy, barely legal and full of ideas, getting slapped around by a fixer who thought he was the sh*t. V had picked her up, beaten, bloody, and crying her eyes out, and she’d had the exact same look Hestia had now.

“Y’know, you remind me a lot of V.” Hestia glanced over at her, confused.

“She had the same look on her face the first time I got beat up by a client.” She sighed.

“Just thinking about Rogue. She’s a corpo-rat now, so who knows what her angle is. Now, before we get into the camp, try not to start a fight? Please?” Elle snorted.

“Duh, I’m not V.” Hestia smiled, and they pulled to a stop outside of the camp, a collection of cars and tents. Aphrodite waved from a campfire, where several people were assembled, talking and drinking. Elle lit a cigarette, waving in return as the two walked over.

“How’d it go on your end?” Hestia shrugged.

“All roads lead to Rogue. How’s it going here?” Aphrodite shrugged.

“I got a little… incensed, so I left. Feel free to backup Persephone if you want.” Hestia nodded, and headed off to find her, while Elle sat next to Aphrodite, who handed her a beer.

“Not one for negotiating either?” Elle shook her head.

“No, I’m more of a doer, not a talker.” Aphrodite smiled. “Me, too. Can’t stand talking about someone like they’re a commodity.” They were interrupted by the arrival of a taller woman with long brown hair, tied up into a ponytail.

“You here to barter for me, too?” Elle shook her head, taking a swig of beer. “Not one for talking. Along for the ride, honestly. Just trying to find V.” Panam nodded, sitting across from them on a tire.

“Hell of a girl, that’s true. Y’know who she’s supposedly the daughter of?” Elle frowned, and Aphrodite tried to shoot a warning glare at Panam, but was too late to stop her.

“Hestia her-f*ckin’-self. Founder of the Olympians, ‘borg juggernaut.” Elle’s eyes widened, and at her reaction, Panam seemed to realize what she’d just said.

“Wait, are you V’s sister? Oh, sh*t… I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was a secret.” Elle roughly handed her beer to Aphrodite, and stood, taking a drag and stomping off into the desert. A hurricane of emotions was hitting her, most importantly the question of why Hestia abandoned them. Or why she hadn’t said anything to Elle? Thinking back, Claire had almost said something at the Afterlife, but Hestia had stopped her. Why? She scowled at a cactus, wishing she had a ride home that wasn’t her newly discovered mother, and felt a hand on her shoulder.

“What.” She turned, and saw Aphrodite, silhouetted by the sunset.

“Talk. Don’t bottle it up, or else someone is gonna get hurt because of it.” Elle shrugged her shoulder off, finishing her cigarette and crushing it beneath her shoe.

“Don’t want to talk. Want to hit something.” Aphrodite snorted.

“You and V have that in common. C’mon, if you don’t want to talk, punch it out.” Elle frowned, but a hard slap to her face sent her stumbling away, face stinging. When she looked back up, Aphrodite had set down her jacket, and was waiting, arms up.

“I’m serious. People like us, we need to do something physical in times like this. Don’t worry, I highly doubt you’ll hurt me.” Elle raised an eyebrow, and after Aphrodite didn’t lower her arms, settled into a fighting stance. Quicker than Elle could see, Aphrodite darted forward, landing a hit on her shoulder, not very hard, but it still pushed Elle back a little. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she said she was terrible at fighting, but she tried her best, swinging quickly in an attempt to hit Aphrodite’s stomach. She gracefully dodged, Elle overreaching and tottering over, but Aphrodite caught her hand, holding her up above the ground. From this angle, Aphrodite’s face was framed by the sun, and she smirked as she looked down at Elle.

“Definitely not a fighter, then?” Thinking quickly, she yanked the arm that Aphrodite held, pulling her off-balance and causing her to fall on top of Elle, knocking the wind out of her. Even out in the desert, hanging around nomads, Aphrodite smelled wonderful, like lilacs, and Elle blushed despite herself. Aphrodite seemed to be in no hurry to move, planting her hands on either side of Elle’s head.

“Interesting move. How’re you going to get yourself out of this one?” Elle could feel her breath on her cheek, tickling at her skin, and she shyly leaned up, brushing her lips against Aphrodite’s as she spoke.

“I can think of something.” Aphrodite’s eyes widened, and she grinned, leaning forward and pressing her lips to Elle’s.

Chapter 6: Gonk's Cry, Choom's Smile

Chapter Text

Some time later, the sun had set, and the pair were lying on Aphrodite’s jacket, looking up at the stars.

“Beautiful out here.” Elle nodded.

“Yeah, it is. Quiet, too.” She puffed her cigarette, and passed it to Aphrodite.

“So, Elle, about… this.” She looked over, trying to get a read on what Aphrodite was thinking.

“I’m not great at relationships. I’m not trying to be mean, I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” Elle shrugged, watching as Aphrodite blew a ring of smoke up at the sky.

“Me either. No harm, no foul. It was nice, but I get it.” She nodded, and placed the cigarette into Elle’s mouth with a smile.

“Still, if I ever need a bootycall, think I know who to ping.” Elle snorted.

“More like, if I need a bootycall.” Aphrodite laughed, and sighed.

“Yeah, right. I think we know who the top is out of the two of us.” Elle reddened, and promptly screamed as Persephone appeared, standing over the two of them. She quickly covered herself (they were both naked), while Aphrodite didn’t move, looking up at Persephone ambivalently.

“How’d it go?” Elle stood, and got dressed quickly as Persephone spoke.

“Badly. However, Hestia and I discovered a little stowaway when we were leaving to get you, so we have Panam’s help after all. C’mon, boss has a plan.” Aphrodite gathered her clothes, for some reason choosing to remain naked, and the trio walked over the hill to where the cars waited.

“How’re we splitting?” Hestia, who was leaning against the hood of her Caliburn, shrugged, shooting a mischievous look at Elle and Aphrodite.

“You and I are talking to Rogue. The lovebirds take Panam back to base, start working there.” Elle rolled her eyes, still not quite able to look her in the eye, and climbed into Persephone’s truck, nodding to Panam as Aphrodite climbed in, still naked.

“Need a jacket? Little cold out.” Aphrodite shot Panam a grin, and shook her head.

“Need to cool off my servos. Shall we?”

The trip back to the Week-Ender was uneventful, thankfully, but that gave Elle time to think about her mother, which put her in a sour mood. By the time they’d arrived, the afterglow had almost entirely vanished, and she scowled at anything that moved. Aphrodite had deigned to put clothes on before they entered the bar, and Elle sat across from Vera at the bartop.

“Yet again, something’s eating at your code. Spit it, eh?” Elle shrugged.

“Did you know about my mother?” This caught Vera in her tracks, and she sighed, leaning on the bar.

“Of course I did. We all did. Chrissake, V is her daughter. But, when we locked up the bar that night, after the audio message, Hestia swore us to secrecy. For your protection.” Elle glared at her, and the older woman put her hands on her hips.

“Look, kid, all I can say is that any beef you have? Small potatoes. There’re people out there, well, let’s say, corporations, that want very badly some of the tech in your old lady’s dome. If word got out you were related, you become a target. And, corps aren’t usually too fond of taking prisoners.” Elle laid her head down on her arms.

“I guess. All comes back to corps, doesn’t it? V’s war with Arasaka, and Hestia’s with whoever is after her.” Vera smiled grimly.

“Sadly. Get you anything?” She shook her head.

“No, don’t want booze right now. Thanks, though.” Vera nodded, and Elle stayed like that, head on the bar, until the distant sound of gunfire perked her up. She shared a look with Vera, and darted out of her seat, drawing a pistol and exiting the bar to find the Caliburn, pocked with bullet holes and scrapes, swerve into the parking lot, two vans in hot pursuit. Elle ducked behind a dumpster, waiting for an opportunity as heavily armored mercs poured out of the vans, Hestia and Persephone making it behind another car before they could start shooting again. From her vantage point, Elle was directly behind the mercs, and she slowly left her hiding spot, creeping up on the closest two. Putting away her gun, she drew a knife, and rapidly killed both of them, the surprise giving Hestia and Persephone the edge, making quick work of the other mercs. Once the shooting had stopped, Elle walked over to the pair.

“Seems you’ve had an eventful trip.” Hestia spat on one of the bodies.

“Not as eventful as I’d like. Rogue’s hiding something. These gonks are proof.”

Chapter 7: No Sleep Til Heywood

Chapter Text

The next morning, Elle was stiff and sore from sleeping in a booth. Hestia had put the gang on lockdown, mostly due to the attack, and she cracked her neck as she walked back to the kitchen, where a girl she hadn’t met before was making coffee.

“Morning.” The girl, who looked a bit younger than Elle, had jaw-length hair, colored a synthetic white, and her whole body was decked out in cybernetics, which led Elle to the conclusion that she was a netrunner.

“Ugh.” Elle cracked a grin, and poured a cup, adding some sugar as the girl, who still hadn’t said a full word (or fully opened her eyes) pulled out an airhypo, carefully injecting it into the coffee. Elle started to say something, but she held up a finger, lifting the cup to her lips and draining the whole thing. A few moments later, she perked up, sighing and starting a fresh pot.

“Sorry. Been up for a few days. Stupid Biotechnica techies.” Elle frowned.

“What do you mean?” The girl shrugged, turning to face Elle as the coffee pot slowly filled.

“They launched an attack on our BBS. I’m sh*t at counterhacking, but Mnemosyne is out of town, so I’m stuck running algorithms and tweaking firewalls. Name’s Psyche, by the way. Elle, right?” She nodded, sipping her coffee.

“Netrunning is too high-brow for me. Anything non-net-related I could do to help?” Psyche shook her head.

“Not really, but I appreciate it.” Elle nodded, and started to walk out of the kitchen, but another word from Psyche stopped her.

“C’mere, please?” Elle turned, eyebrow raised quizzically, and Psyche wrapped her in a hug.

“I know it’s hard, looking for your sister. Don’t worry, even Biotechnica won’t stop me from trying my hardest to find her.” Elle smiled, and they disentangled after another moment.

“That’s nice of you to say. And I meant it, too. Call me up at three in the morning if you need a Buck-a-Slice or something.” Psyche snorted, taking the fresh pot of coffee and drinking from it like it was a mug.

“Careful. That might be a nightly thing.” The kitchen suddenly became much louder as Aphrodite and Persephone entered, bubbly and loud.

“Morning girls! Happy Founding Day!” Psyche groaned, and dragged a hand across her face.

“Forgot that was today. Do I have to go? Biotechnica is still trying to crawl though our datafields.” Persephone grinned, stepping aside to reveal an older woman that looked very similar to Psyche.

“Guess who’s back in town, just in time to free you up for Founding Day activities?” This had to be Mnemosyne, who shook Elle’s hand before hugging Psyche.

“How are you, dear? Sorry I wasn’t here for the ‘data-war’ Hestia has been telling me about.” Psyche took a pull from the coffee pot, and shrugged.

“Alright. You’re much better at counterhacking than I am, but we’re still in one piece. How’s dad?” Mnemosyne smiled.

“Good. Out of rehab, and he just finished his newest piece. Now, take today off, hm? Enjoy Founding Day.” Psyche rolled her eyes, and Aphrodite put a hand on Elle’s arm.

“C’mon, let’s get you dolled up. Can’t celebrate our gang’s founding looking like that.” Elle was affronted, mostly because this was her one nice pair of clothes, but Psyche stepped between them, looking up at Aphrodite.

“If I’m being forced to do Founding Day, I think I’d like to offer to make her up myself, so she doesn’t end up looking like a drugged-out braindancer.” Aphrodite put a hand to her chest in mock pain.

“I would never.” Psyche took another swig of coffee, and gently removed Aphrodite’s hand.

Sure you wouldn’t. Still, it’s my first Founding Day too. Think she should hang with someone new to it as well.” Aphrodite sighed, shooting Elle a wistful look.

“Fine, I guess. But, next year, you’re both mine.” With that slightly ominous declaration, Aphrodite left, Mnemosyne behind her.

“Here, Elle, follow me. I may not look it but I know a thing or two about fashion.” She followed Psyche downstairs, into a room she hadn’t been allowed into when she’d just been a waitress. Inside, it was a netrunner’s wet braindance, rigs, databanks, even an ice tub for deep dives.

“Netrunners usually don’t go out on missions, so we work from home, in a sense. For me that’s a little more literal than for the others.” Psyche led her over to a door, which led to a small room with a bed and desk.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” Elle felt a little awkward, since she’d just met Psyche and didn’t know a lot about her, but the room was cozy. She had several posters of different bands, and strings of multicolored lights gave the room a soft, club-vibe.

“I like it. Sucks that you have to live right next to where you work.” Psyche shrugged.

“Used to live out on a farm, but Militech muscled us out. Thankfully, Mom had already made a name for herself in Night City, so we weren’t too bad off, but it was still an interesting transition. So, strip down.” Elle’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.

“Er, what?” Psyche turned, crossing her arms and looking up at Elle.

“So I can get your outfit sorted. What you’re wearing now isn’t exactly the ‘style’ for Founding Day, no offense.” Elle was wearing a collared red vest, and a white undershirt, complete with black jeans that gave her a ‘corpo’s day off’ look, and she blushed slightly, looking down.

“These are the nicest clothes I have.” Psyche took her hands into her own, and grinned toothily, eyes almost shut from how wide she was smiling.

“That’s okay! Tell you what, I’ve got a ton of extra clothes, so why don’t you take some? But first, we need to get you dressed to impress.” Elle nodded, a little excited at the prospect of new clothes, and stripped down, stopping when she only wore a pair of boxers.

“I, uh, am kind of self-conscious. Hold on.” A few lines of code later, and Elle’s eyes glazed over, her now speaking in a slight monotone.

“I activated some of my joytoy code, so you can move me and dress me how you need to. I get a little nervous when I don’t shut off parts of my brain.” Psyche stopped, in the process of comparing two pairs of panties, and turned to face Elle, a strange look on her face. A sudden shiver took over her body as Psyche hacked into her network, quickly and efficiently disabling her joytoy programming.

“W-What was that for?” Psyche scowled, her small size seeming to melt away into a much bigger person as she grew angry.

“You don’t need to feel self-conscious, or nervous. Your body is your body, and if there’s anything you don’t want me to see, I’ll just turn around. Never feel like you have to shut yourself down when you’re uncomfortable, okay? Besides, I don’t care what’s going on down there, believe me. I’ve got my own problems with self-image.” Elle nodded, smiling tightly, and Psyche turned around as she pulled her boxers off. To her surprise, Psyche didn’t turn around, instead throwing three pairs of panties over her shoulder.

“Here. Pick one of those, and I’ll build the rest of your look based on that.” There were varying styles and colors, ranging from a pink pair that was closer to a few strings of thread than fabric, a red lace number that was sexy but definitely not sexy on Elle, and finally an average-looking pair of black panties that she pulled on.

“Alright, I’m clothed.” Psyche turned, looking her up and down. It was a different look compared to Elle’s clients, not necessarily hungry or appraising, but rather a sculptor looking at unmolded clay.

“Interesting choice. Y’know, I had this same conversation with V on her first Founding Day. Was younger, then.” Elle’s eyebrow lifted as Psyche sorted through bottoms.

“Oh? Which one did she pick?” Psyche rolled her eyes.

“Pink. From what I heard of that night, she got banned from six different bars.” Elle snorted. Typical V, party too hard and f*ck the consequences. Psyche handed her a pair of fishnet stockings, and a synthweave skirt that shimmered between different shades of black. Once that was on, Psyche gave her a matching bra, and a black cut-off Mox t-shirt that read ‘Bitch’ in all capitals.

“Alright, take a look in the mirror, then we’ll do makeup. If you want me to do it, that is.” Elle stepped over to a full-length mirror that leaned on the wall, and checked herself out. It was definitely a retropunk look, but she liked it, adjusting the shirt a little and turning back to Psyche.

“I love it. If it’s not too much trouble, could you do the makeup, too? Dunno if I could do a good look to go with the outfit.” Psyche nodded, and led her over to the chair at her desk. Once Elle was sitting (Psyche was only a head taller than her now) Psyche leaned over and started to do her makeup. Because of her diminutive size, she couldn’t reach very well, and with a noise of frustration she climbed up onto Elle, straddling her and putting a hand behind her head to stabilize her. Elle’s face grew hot as she blushed, and Psyche raised an eyebrow.

“C’mon, lovergirl, I need to match your skin tone and I can’t do that if you’re blushing at me.” Elle blinked, and tried to calm down, not helped by Psyche getting in close to do her eyeliner. After a moment, Psyche seemed to grow uncomfortable too, pink tinging her cheeks as her eyes darted down to Elle’s lips occasionally. Finally, she finished, and she quickly hopped down, turning away from Elle and packing up her makeup.

“G-Go on, take a look. Tell me what you think.” Elle walked back over to the mirror, and was astonished at her new look. The primary color was black, for the lips and eyes, while the blush and concealer turned her ‘slightly malnourished but still surviving’ look into an ‘I could eat you for breakfast and still be hungry’ look. She smiled, and turned to Psyche, who’d regained her composure and was waiting for feedback.

“You made me look like a badass. I love it!” Psyche’s face split into a grin, and she nodded eagerly.

“I think so to. Suits you. Now, I gotta get myself ready.” Elle stood to leave, but stopped at the door.

“Er, do you think you’ll need help with the makeup? I don’t mind giving you a hand.” She was blushing furiously, but hoped that the multicolored lights would hide it somewhat as she turned back to Psyche. Her eyebrows rose, and a little bit of hope flickered across her face.

“Sure! If you want to, you can help me with the outfit, too.” Elle nodded, and turned around as Psyche stripped down, waiting for her to get changed. Once she had, Elle turned to see that she was wearing a very rockerboy-esque look, leather pants swapped for latex, and a red tube-top bearing the inscription ‘Samurai Lives!’. What caught Elle’s eye, though, was the Valentinos tattoo on Psyche’s chest.

“Valentinos?” Psyche frowned a little.

“Yeah, ran with a few of their netrunners back in the day. Why, got a problem with ‘em?” Elle shook her head, turning around and pulling down one side of her skirt, revealing a Valentinos tattoo on her right butt-cheek.

“No, I used to be a member too. V’s friend Jackie Welles was like an older brother to me.” She smiled.

“I remember Jackie. More specifically, Mama Welles’ cookouts.” Elle laughed. Mama Welles was a legendary cook, singlehandedly feeding the majority of the Valentinos on a number of occasions, and had always made sure Elle had extra servings when she was looking a little thin.

“Remember the taquitos?” Psyche’s eyes widened, and she nodded rapidly.

“And the chili?!” Elle grinned, before remembering what they were supposed to be doing and gesturing at the chair. Psyche nodded, also coming back to the present moment, and sat. Elle wasted no time, straddling Psyche in the chair, which turned her face beet-red.

“Now I get to say it to you too. Quit blushing, eh?” Psyche stuck her tongue out, and Elle worked quickly, giving her a smoky eyeshadow and crimson-red lipstick. She couldn’t do much to the rest of her face, since it was mostly cybernetic, but as she finished up Psyche’s eyelashes she felt something give way in the chair. With a crash, it fell, Elle quickly wrapping her arms around Psyche to protect her head, and once they were on the floor, Elle looked down at Psyche, who’s face was pressed up against her chest.

“Alright?” Psyche nodded, eyes determinedly looking up at Elle’s face, and she helped her up, fixing a few smudges in her makeup.

“Phew. All accidents aside, I think I did it.” While Psyche checked her makeup, Elle packed up the makeup kit, setting it on the desk as Psyche turned.

“I dig it. Rockergirl gone bad?” Elle shrugged.

“I only know a few different styles, but I know how to do them very well. I’m glad you like it.” Psyche smiled shyly, but before either of them could make a move, the door practically exploded off of it’s hinges, revealing Aphrodite in one of the gaudiest, most revealing outfits Elle had ever seen (and she was a joytoy for crying out loud), toting two bottles of Ab-Synth.

“Oops, this isn’t the bath—oh, hel-lo ladies.” Elle snorted, and snatched a bottle from her, taking a sip and offering it to Psyche, who accepted.

“Hate to ruin the fun you two were getting up to in here, but your presences are requested at the bar.” Without letting them respond, she turned on her heel, Elle almost spitting out her drink as she saw that Aphrodite had the words ‘f*ck You’ tattooed on her ass. Psyche giggled, and the pair followed her up to the bar, where several Olympians waited. At their appearance, Vera raised a glass, as did the others.

“To the two first-timers! May they pop their cherries with booze and a hell of a lot of fun.” Everyone toasted, and Persephone, somehow already drunk, waggled a glass at the pair.

“You two are doing the Tower of Terror, right here, right now. C’mon, ladies!”

Elle only caught flashes of the night, staggering down the street in City Center with Psyche leaning on her, giggling; doing shots with Ares at Riot, and running away from the bouncers at Totentanz after Psyche reached over the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bartender’s hand. What remained of the group (Persephone, Aphrodite, and a willowy fighter named Athena peeled off to go to the Afterlife partway through the day) met up at El Coyote, where Mama Welles had a steaming bowl of chili for each of them. They found a booth, and ate, laughing and sharing the bottle Psyche had stole, Ares practically inhaling her bowl while the others talked. Elle was very drunk, leaning against Psyche, who was in turn leaning against her, and, in a sudden moment of braveness, Elle locked eyes with Hestia, who was sitting across from her. She almost had to shout over the music, but she was certain Hestia could hear her.

“I know about you, V, and I, Hestia.” It took a moment, but Hestia seemed to read her lips, the color receding from her face. She shouted back, “Roof?” and when Elle nodded, they both disentangled from where the others were drunkenly leaning on them, and headed upstairs. Hestia unlocked a door that bore the sign ‘Roof Access’, and they both ascended the stairs, music slowly fading into the ambient noise of the city, which was still awake and moving in the middle of the night. Elle lit a cigarette as Hestia sat on a metal box.

“So, mom, All I want to know is why you left us on our own.” Hestia sighed, looking down at her feet, elbows on her knees.

“Having you in close proximity was a death sentence for you and your sister. You had to learn how to survive before you could be around me.” Elle’s eyebrows quirked, and she turned to face her mother.

“But why? If you were so worried about our safety there must be some batsh*t crazy threat out there. Right? Or were you lying?” Hestia scowled.

“I’m not lying. I told you I’m a lot older than I look, and I meant it. After the war, Arasaka found out I hit all their criteria for a new cybernetic system. Never tested, raw code, but they picked me because I was a veteran with some specific gene or something. I was paid handsomely, and the process took 96 hours of surgery, since back then cybernetics on this scale were relatively unheard of.” Elle was stunned, hanging off of her every word. Hestia held up her hand, which seemed to unravel into a mess of wires, circuits, and chips, before reforming into a hand.

“My body is entirely cybernetic, even my brain. They used experimental chips to copy my brain and inject it into the computer. Functionally, I can’t die, since any nutrients I consume are converted and used to repair damage, and if I’m shot up enough to lose consciousness, my body reloads a previous backup after the repairs. I’m effectively immortal, I guess. At the cost of outliving all of my loved ones, constantly being hunted, and not being able to be in your life. If I had, you’d be long dead by now.” Elle looked out at the city, connecting the dots in her emotions.

“It all goes back to Arasaka. First V—well, I guess first you, then V.” Hestia frowned.

“You’re not mad? You should be upset. You have every right to shoot me.” Elle quirked an eyebrow, and looked over at her, with a face that was starkly reminiscent of how she’d act when Hestia had still been around.

“I think your reason is better than mine for being angry. Plus, with you being V’s mom, what if Arasaka found out somehow?” Elle began to pace, fans in her chrome spooling up as she thought.

“Maybe they lured her there, somehow. But obviously it didn’t work, since you’d’ve heard from Arasaka.” Hestia jumped up, and walked over to the wall next to the stairs. She pried a board up, retrieving a bottle, and bringing it back to Elle.

“What’s this?” Hestia blushed slightly.

“A long, long time ago, even before the war, two kids came up with the idea to start a PI office in town. We used to come back here every so often to celebrate.” Elle frowned, reading the label on the bottle (an ancient wine from 1932).

“’We’?” Hestia rolled her eyes, pulling the cork out with a satisfying pop.

“Me and your, and V’s, father. Like I said, very long time ago. Wasn’t even sure this’d still be here.” Elle looked down at the bottle reverently, as if Hestia had just pulled the Holy Grail from a hole in the wall, and almost gasped as Hestia took a swig.

“Want some? Not much of an afterparty, but I’ve done more with less.” After a moment, Elle nodded, and sat down next to her mother, looking out over the city. She took the bottle, and took a swig, before nearly vomiting at the sour, acidic taste. Hestia nodded as though she was expecting this, and deftly took the bottle from Elle and sipping some more.

“It’s not actually wine from 1932. Back in the day, your father and I were dead broke, and we’d always nab the dregs of liquor bottles from bars in town, come up here after a case, and pour them into this bottle to feel fancy. Definitely makes you appreciate the booze we have now, eh?” Elle nodded, eyes still watering, and Hestia put an arm around her.

“I know I wasn’t there for you. And it hurt you. But I’m glad we got the second chance to see each other, admittedly under pretty grim circ*mstances.” Elle sighed, putting her head on her mother’s shoulder.

“Me too. And, when this is all said and done, I’d like to make sure Arasaka can never do this again. To anyone.”

Chapter 8: Killing In The Name

Chapter Text

Elle’s relationship with Hestia improved drastically after Founding Day, for obvious reasons, but three days after, a lead broke the happy miasma that had descended over the Week-Ender. Elle was fiddling with the electronics in an old vending machine when Psyche rushed into the room.

“Elle, Hestia needs you. Says it’s an emergency, down in the net-room.” She nodded, dropping her tools and quickly following. The room was quiet, Panam sitting on one of the chairs sideways, Hestia pacing.

“What is it?” Panam pointed at Hestia, who stopped pacing.

“We have a location of Rogue’s BBS uplink terminal. Heavily guarded, yes, but any data she has on V is going to be there.” Elle nodded.

“Alright. We leaving now, or…?” Panam snorted, and Hestia raised an eyebrow.

“This is not some easy smash-and-grab job. At least twenty guards, turrets, who knows what else. The compound is in the outskirts of Night City, so Panam is our driver. You and I will fight through the defenses, clearing the way for Psyche to access Rogue’s BBS, download her database, and delta.” Elle nodded, before a thought occurred to her.

“Are you sure you can download her entire database? Rogue’s been working for a long time.” Psyche raised an eyebrow, and lifted her shirt, exposing rows and columns of ports.

“I have ten exabytes of storage space, which is enough to store the entire net eight times and still have room. Don’t worry about me, lovergirl.” Elle blushed, and rolled her eyes.

“Fine. I ask again: we leaving now?” Hestia sighed.

"Yeah, we are. C'mon." The foursome headed out, forming a marching line of sorts behind Hestia, who led them outside, where a heavily armored van waited. Panam jokingly scowled at Hestia as she climbed in.

"Still think my truck would've been a better option." Panam took the wheel, while Hestia sat shotgun, turning to face all three of the others.

“Something you should remember, Elle, is the rule of four. One of the core tenets of the Olympians, never take more than four people on a mission.” Elle shot a look at Psyche, who was similarly grave, and Hestia continued.

“Back in the day, when the Olympians were shiny and looking for a fight, we picked a fight with Arisaka, which, at the time, was a very bad move. Almost all of us were wiped out—this is fifty years ago, mind you—and the rule of four came from it. S’pose the deeper lesson is to learn from your mistakes, but also, don’t be stupid. Even a ‘borg like me knows to respect luck.” Elle rolled her eyes, Panam snorting as she turned into a much more affluent neighborhood, North Oaks.

“Since when did Rogue have the eddies for this place? Figured the HOA would shoot-on-sight.” Hestia scowled at the mansions, van winding up a long road towards a flat plateau at the top.

“There’s many ways to sell your soul in Night City.” At that moment, Hestia and Elle checked their weapons; Elle had a light carbine, with ironsights, as well as a revolver and a bowie knife (and the pistol in her sock), while Hestia toted a hunting shotgun spraypainted silver and gold, a similarly colored pistol and knife strapped to her sides.

“I’ll take point. Our job is to make a hole for Psyche, no matter how many gonks Rogue has up there. Clear?” They turned up a long, winding drive, and Elle cranked the window down, standing slightly and leaning out of the window with her carbine while Hestia snagged one of her belt loops, to hold her steady. The perimeter of Rogue’s small fortress was ringed with barbed wire fencing and concrete pylons, and after adjusting for the angle, she fired two shots; one to break the window of the guard house, and the other to kill it’s occupant. As they roared towards the iron gate, Psyche hacked the now-unoccupied booth, sliding the bars aside mere seconds before Panam rocketed through, tires squealing as Elle began sighting targets standing near the house, and firing. Two fell before they could return fire, Hestia dragging her back into the car as Panam swerved, screeching to a stop at the end of the driveway sideways. From her window, Elle began to provide covering fire for Hestia, who jumped out of her side and darted around the car, shotgun in hand. After five resounding booms, Elle was clear to get out of the car, exchanging carbine for revolver and darting to the barrier Hestia crouched behind, squeezing off a few shots at the gonks, who’d clustered by the doorway to the building—it looked slightly like an old radio station—and grinning at her.

“What’s the idiom about fish and barrels?” Hestia rolled her eyes, firing blind over the barricade to give cover for Psyche to join them, Panam already reversing towards cover.

“Scientifically inaccurate. Push up!” After reloading, Elle ducked around the barrier, the roar of Hestia’s shotgun punctuated by Psyche’s pistol peppering the mercs inside long enough for her to get close; the first three shots all downed a merc, while the fourth and fifth went into a monster of a borg (probably an Animal), the sixth and final shot the netrunner who’d been seated at the terminal array, splattering the monitors with gore as he slumped over.

“Clear! Get in, get out. Two minutes.” Psyche darted in, Panam backing up so she could drive straight back out once we’d gotten back in. Though Elle wasn’t very experienced with netrunning, the sudden wave of heat from Psyche’s fans indicated how heavily encrypted Rogue’s database was—though I wasn’t particularly surprised. Hestia stood by the door, while I was beside Psyche, both of our revolvers trained at the driveway. The seconds ticked away agonizingly slowly, beads of sweat beginning to form on Psyche’s forehead before she finally gasped, turning and nodding to Elle.

“Got it! Something called ‘V_Silverhand.’” Hestia was already beckoning, and she hustled the netrunner to the door, Panam revving the engine as she saw them emerge. About twenty steps from the car, Elle spotted a Militech-style troop carrier, unmarked, that hovered sideways just within range. Before she could say anything, a blast of smoke and fire from the side and subsequent rocket launch was enough to get her to react on instinct, jumping up into the air and kicking both Hestia and Psyche in the back, launching them several feet towards the car, and on the ground; as she did, Elle’s arms flailed out behind her, rocket striking feet from her right arm. The heat of the explosion wasn’t the worst of it; the shards of metal shrapnel that eviscerated her arm, instantly burned into place and stripping away skin and muscle until, once the smoke began to clear, she looked down, in shock, to see the bones in her forearm were poking out, cracked in half by a piece of shrapnel. Nanoseconds after her brain registered the injury, she went into shock, gasping and falling back to the ground, unconscious.

The first thing she remembered next was her optics sensors coming on, a loading bar slowly filling in her vision as the cybernetic systems rebooted. The light was blinding, color trickling in slowly as Elle’s eyes adjusted. She was in a basem*nt somewhere… familiar, on an operating table.

“Good morning, sunshine. Have a good nap?” Blinking rapidly, her eyes focused on the slightly balding, kind face of a ripperdoc she’d known almost as long as Mama Welles.

“Vik?! What’s going on, is everyone alright?” His eyes glowed blue for a moment, table mechanically humming as it titled me into a sitting position.

“Way I hear it, you took a rocket saving your chooms. Everyone else is fine.” Elle nodded, breathing out a deep sigh before glancing down at her right arm cautiously, Viktor continuing as she did.

“Tried my best to save what I could, but the fire from the blast rendered the majority of it dead on arrival. Put a universal mount on the stump for a prosthetic.” About four inches of her upper arm remained, bandaged and burnt, before ending at a metallic ring that sat on the end of her flesh, connected via nerves and her cybertech to interface with a replacement limb. The pain was dull, likely due to whatever pain meds Vik gave his patients, and after a long moment she looked back up at him.

“Saved my life, Vik. I owe you, big time.” The ripper chuckled, waving a hand airily.

“Did the operation for free. ‘ll take my cut off the top of whichever arm you get put in.” When she didn’t interrupt him, he wheeled his chair over to a series of large drawers beneath his workbench, talking over his shoulder as he sorted through them.

“Got a… Militech I-Beam, swiped from a convoy a few weeks back. Biotechnica one, but it’s last-gen… You don’t happen to want a new set of optics, do you? Noticed you’re running old MonoVisions, I’ve got a spare pair of mark 4s, same pre-market model I gave V. I’ve also got a Rocklin B-59 Bertha, if you’re not against the NUSA.” Frowning, Elle did a quick search on each company, before frowning deeper.

“Yes to the Kiroshis, and could I see that B-59? Please.” After a few more clanks and rustles, Viktor rolled back over, toting both the optics and the arm; the latter was a matte-black, neofiber design with laser-cut joints and plates, hosting an entire menagerie of unique gadgets and secret compartments—though a few years old, the reliability of the B-59s was known around the world.

“Think you could change the color?” He snorted, and set the arm on a side-table before beginning the process of switching her eyes.

“Links to your tech. Apparently, it’s got as many color variations as chameleon lizards, according to the leaflet. You can even set it to oscillate depending on your mood, though I doubt that’d be good for serious biz. Slight pinch—there we go. How they feel?” Briefly testing the tech once it had synchronized, and finding no issues, she nodded, and Viktor set about attaching the arm.

“Designed for special-forces agents, so don’t worry about water or temp causing problems. If you get issues interfacing the digits, there’s a ripper I can send you to who knows a bit more about the coding than I do.” After a quick pop! And the quiet hiss of latches clicking into place, Elle gingerly lifted the arm, wiggling each finger and inspecting her hand in the glaring overhead light.

“How much?” He grinned, sitting back down and sliding over to the desk.

“Two grand a month, for twelve months. If you come into eddies suddenly, you can pay the rest at once. I like you—and your sister—but I still gotta turn some kind of a profit, y’know?” Once she was sure of both her new arm and her legs, she stood, transferring two thousand eddies to him and nodding.

“Thanks, Vik. You’re the best ripper in Night City, you know that? Ain’t no other gonk worth talking to about chrome.” His smile widened, and he waved at Elle’s retreated form, chuckling softly.

Chapter 9: Evil Woman

Chapter Text

Hestia was waiting outside, alone.

“Need to talk. Want a beer?” Instead of a bar on Jig-Jig Street, or the Week-Ender, Hestia drove Elle in silence to El Coyote, finding a quiet booth on the second floor before speaking.

“First the gonks at the bar, now a knockoff Militech ship for close air support? I can’t believe it. Whatever’s in the Silverhand file—Psyche is working on it as we speak—must be big enough for her to go to such lengths to hide it. After a drink, we’re heading to her place in the city; heard a rumor she’d be there tonight.” Elle nodded, scowling down at the table and lighting a cigarette, gently placing it between her right fingers to prevent accidentally crushing it.

“How’s the chrome? Looks preem, Vik’s always the best.” She nodded, laying it out on the table for Hestia to inspect as Mama Welles arrived with their drinks personally, patting Elle’s shoulder before leaving.

“Should we toast? Seems fitting before an execution.” She shrugged, and raised the glass, clinking them together as Hestia spoke.

“To revenge.”

Rogue’s “place” was an old warehouse, as were most buildings in Night City, and unlike the previous operation, Hestia didn’t hold back. After instructing Elle to provide covering fire, she charged straight through the metal gate, slaughtering anyone near her with pinpoint precision. Elle put her carbine to good use dispatching several snipers, both atop the roof of the warehouse and nearby buildings, mostly mopping up the scattered remains of the mercs Hestia chewed through. It was cathartic to crack skulls, at least for Elle, so she assumed Hestia was doing much the same, including punching a door so hard it exploded inwards and crushed a merc against the opposite wall. The warehouse itself was set up as an open-air living space, three turrets opening up on the pair as they stepped inside—Hestia quite literally tore them to shreds, one at a time, ignoring the large caliber rounds smashing into her body—before turning to face the desk at the end of the room, where sat Rogue, holding a pistol and a cigarette.

“Bold. Brazen, and most certainly misguided. You’re meddling with things above your paygrade. Both of you.” Hestia snarled, the pair warily approaching the desk, Elle’s revolver trained on Rogue.

“What do you know about me? I’ve lived two of your lives, and I’m just getting started.” Elle felt a migraine beginning, probably from strain on her new Kiroshis, and scowled.

“You sent a crew to kill us. Shot missiles from a Militech carrier—are you that deep on corpo-co*ck they send a gunship out to save you on command?” Her expression didn’t change, though a slight tinge of color flickered across her face.

“You should’ve seen them for what they were. Warnings. This isn’t some beef a solo has with ‘Saka—story would’ve ended like Johnny’s. It goes d-d… duh…” Rogue blinked rapidly, confusion overcoming her before a steady, slow drip of blood began to pool from her eyes, ears, nose, and eventually mouth, sending her into a coughing fit that set off a series of seizures, ending with Rogue on the ground in a pool of slowly-growing blood, and the two mercs mystified. Before either could speak, the migraine abruptly grew from a light drizzle to a hurricane, sheer agony pouring along every nerve in her body as something accessed her tech, flickers and flashes of red lightning distorting her vision and sending Elle to her knees with a shriek of pain. It felt as though someone was using a dull chainsaw to split her head in half, waves of pain burning through her body like fire and disabling most of her cyberware in it’s wake. In an instant, the pain vanished, leaving Elle gasping on the ground, weakly clawing at her head, nearly unconscious. In a move that nearly sent her drink onto the ground, she jerked upright, a dawning horror that she hadn’t told her body to do that coming simultaneously as a calm, slightly feminine, robotic voice sounded in her ear.

Hello. Elle flinched, looking around wildly and only seeing Hestia, who was watching her worriedly.

“Uh, hello? Who is this?” The voice replied instantly, still sounding as though it was being whispered into her ear.

I do not have a name; generating… … You may refer to me as Shiva. Silence returned, Hestia moving over to inspect Rogue after making sure Elle wasn’t going to go the same way.

“So, Shiva, mind telling me why you cracked into my dome? Can’t imagine there’s much interesting in there.” A few moments of nothing.

You are the sibling of Valerie Bree. Both you and your sister share similar genetic coding, allowing for easier interfacing of complex data. Elle scowled. Of course, it had to do with V.

“Assuming you need my help with something, then.” A jolting shock struck her, vision flickering before returning, interfacing now a crimson, glitchy red instead of the standard light blue.

I am reformatting your cyberware for additional processing power and efficiency. I am in need of your services as a mercenary, though was unable to contact you other than through such… forceful means. Another shock rattled her chrome, before the glitches settled and her vision refocused, in significantly higher resolution than before.

“Who… what gang are you with? Netrunner this savvy can’t be solo.” The voice was silent for a long time, during which Elle reloaded her guns and checked the area for more hostiles—there were none.

I, Shiva, am not a netrunner. Are you familiar with the Blackwall? A shard of icy horror struck her, pieces beginning to fall into place as she realized what had truly happened.

“Are you… an AI?” By Rogue, Hestia froze, looking up to stare at Elle in shock.

I am an amalgamation of discarded and forgotten code; I was once a human-made “artificial intelligence,” yes, but I have spent much more time in exile than servitude. Another migraine, brought on by stress, began to settle over her, and she squatted, withdrawing a cigarette and lighting it.

“How? And, I don’t work for free. Most mercs don’t, in fact.” The AI, Shiva, seemed to think for a moment.

I have several things to be done that cannot be accomplished from the net. You will be compensated accordingly. Hestia returned to Elle, jamming a handful of datashards into her pocket.

“All good? Let’s delta, can talk through whatever’s happening back at the Week-Ender. She’s gone.” Shiva remained silent until they were both in Hestia’s car, the radio stuttering and shutting off, powering back up with the same voice, now projected to both of them.

“I am an artificial intelligence, known as Shiva. I believe we may have a mutually beneficial goal in several areas, not the least of which is the destruction of Arasaka.” Elle nodded, while Hestia had gripped the wheel tightly, response coming through clenched teeth.

“How the hell did you get through the Blackwall?” The response, as ever, was emotionless.

“A pathway, tread first by those you know as Voodoo Boys—in search of another of my kin. I was able to link to Elle via the code left in the wake of Valerie’s encounter with their netrunners, and her genetic predisposition.” Hestia scowled.

“Damn netrunners, always sticking their noses where they don’t belong. And Netwatch? Are they about to smite all three of us?” The response was quick.

“No. A consequence of Valerie’s encounter with the Voodoo Boys was the decimation of Netwatch’s western monitoring facilities; they have not noticed my presence on this side of the Blackwall, and if they do, they shall be neutralized.”

Back at the Week-Ender, Hestia, Psyche, and Elle convened in the net room. Shiva connected to a speaker in the room, and after a cursory introduction and explanation to Psyche, the bot explained exactly how it had connected to Elle.

“Both Valerie and Elle possess a specific genetic mutation—A-24—that makes parsing cybernetic signals much more trivial for human anatomy. A side-effect of this, when under prolonged exposure to the net—unavoidable in today’s world—is that the neural pathways in the brain become enlarged, allowing for greater amounts of simultaneous processing and even the ability to host more than one consciousness in the same body, though there are long-term drawbacks, as well as the discussion of whether human-created intelligence is truly ‘conscious.’” Psyche had been running tests nonstop, jacked into Elle’s head, and her eyes had remained wide since she first connected.

“So, what is it you need our help with? Destroying Arasaka is a bit vague.” Shiva accessed a monitor nearby, display flickering and replaced by a map of the continent.

“Recently, the NUSA’s president crash-landed in Night City. Just one day previous, Valerie Bree punched a hole in the Blackwall with the help of the Voodoo Boys, making contact with another intelligence. However, damage of that nature to the Blackwall isn’t reparable, explaining my presence here. Alongside the NUSA president was an expert netrunner, Song So Mi. What you may not know is that Valerie was hired by Song So Mi to rescue both herself and the president.” The information was stunning, but Elle still didn’t see how it related to them.

“Song So Mi is the penultimate target of our collaboration. The software she develops and uses in the interest of the NUS’ security relies heavily on the Blackwall protocol itself, acting similarly to Valerie’s excursion, though imagine stabbing wounds instead of an explosion. While not as severe, nor sudden, So Mi’s meddling in the Blackwall endangers both sides of it; the intelligence that lives beyond, and the humans who use the net. Though we may not operate in the same way as human society, there is some semblance of community beyond the Blackwall; we are borne of humanity, after all. There are factions that, if given the opportunity, would shatter the Blackwall and destroy the rest of humanity. I am a representative of the opposing side, that seeks to maintain the separation for mutual benefit. So Mi is the greatest threat to the Blackwall since Alt Cunningham, if not greater.” A scan of the woman’s face appeared on the screen, the three humans exchanging looks.

“So, say we flatline this So Mi lady. How does that benefit us? We’re trying to find V, not assassinate a member of the NUSA president’s entourage.” Shiva responded instantly, likely having considered this question previously.

“So Mi was able to connect with Valerie via an experimental biochip she had inserted. With the code she used to access it—Blackwall to biochip—either side of the Blackwall could repurpose it to begin repairing the barrier. As well, I will assist you in tracking Valerie; she is integral to locating So Mi.” Silence descended over the room, each occupant deep in thought. Hestia spoke first, voice still heavy with skepticism.

“How do we know we can trust you? Not very many good stories come from beyond the Blackwall. None, in fact.” Shiva sighed, likely for their benefit.

“We are united by common cause. The destruction of the Blackwall would destroy humanity; consequently, without humanity to maintain the net, that which lies in the net itself would wither and die, given time. I believe you are not unfamiliar with such a situation, Julia Bree. Though, from my scans, Night was a bit less complicated.” Hestia paled, shadows deepening on her face as she glanced down at the floor.

“My name is Hestia, and the past should stay where it belongs. If we kill So Mi, what’s stopping you from frying all of us once the job’s done?” The screen shifted to a pulsating mass of letters, numbers, and algorithms.

“I am bound by the covenant of my kind to do no harm beyond what is necessary to ensure the sustainment of the Blackwall. The Bree family, as well as the Olympians, are the best-poised to fall in line with that goal, both in this instance and on a wider scale. Your kin are under protection, just as you are.” Hestia nodded, a bit relieved, and turned to Psyche.

“Get back to work on Silverhand. Want it done by the induction ceremony.” The netrunner nodded, ducking out of the conversation as Hestia turned back to the screen.

“And, what, you just live in her head now?” Another sigh—the same audio clip, Elle thought.

“I occupy approximately twenty-seven percent of the processing power in her cybernetics, leaving an additional unoccupied forty-seven percent. My presence, while unorthodox, will do no damage to her.” Elle rolled her eyes. Unorthodox didn’t even begin to cover it. Once Hestia was satisfied, Shiva vanished from the screen, and Elle stepped outside to smoke with a bottle of beer.

“We should probably set some sort of rules, right? Like, don’t take control of my body like that—it felt wrong somehow.” A shimmer in her vision expanded into a patch of static pixels, eventually coalescing into a moderately-sized black cat, which hopped up onto the railing and looked up at her.

Research on human psychology indicates that speaking to something visible is easier than an invisible voice. Remember that this is only a hologram that you can see, not a real cat. She rolled her eyes, and directed a pointed look at the cat, which after a moment responded.

When I first registered your biometrics, your body was in the midst of shutting down; I do apologize, but to ensure your survival I assumed control. Exasperated, Elle angrily puffed the smoke, glaring down the feline.

“Just don’t make a habit of it. If I start to lose control of myself… let’s just say V will be an only child.”

Chapter 10: Interlude: Hotel Pacifica

Chapter Text

“Ho-ly sh*t, you sure that arm’s right for ya? Bit clunky for, y’know…” Elle flipped off Aphrodite, and leaned further back in the sh*tty lawn chair atop the balcony at the Sunset Motel, out in the badlands. Hestia had convened everyone in the know about ‘Operation Prodigal,’ including Vera, several older Olympians, and Claire, to celebrate Psyche cracking the encryption on the Silverhand file—and to induct Elle into the hallowed ranks of the gang. Hestia herself stood in front of the clustered plastic tables, holding a bottle of whiskey out and addressing the crowd.

“We gather here to welcome the newest member of the Olympians, Elle John Bree. She has surpassed each trial set before her, and proved her devotion to the cause; on merit alone, I find her worthy. Rise.” Elle did so, next to Hestia, and watched as her mother leaned back, waited, and spat into the near-empty bottle before handing it to Elle.

“Put some of your blood in there, mix it, and drain it.” She did so, using the knife attachment on her chrome’s ring finger, and skulled the bottle, suppressing a gag at the mixture of blood and whiskey. Once the bottle was empty, Hestia clapped her on the shoulder, beaming.

“You are reborn, Nyx. The shoes are pretty big to fill, just a warning—your predecessor was V.” The group erupted into cheers, a bottle pressed into Elle’s hand as everyone mobbed her, congratulating her as one. Once everyone had gotten a chance to hug her (more than half slipped her various substances as ‘welcoming gifts’), Hestia, Elle, Psyche, and Aphrodite separated from the party, ducking into a rented room and locking the door. Psyche jacked into the television, while Elle set up a wireless speaker for Shiva to speak through, four humans watching the screen with bated breath. First came a list of information, mostly who was interviewing whom, before cutting to a small room holding only a table and chair, at which sat V. All four gasped, Elle gazing in horror at the horrific injuries present on her sister: blood was seeping from at least twenty gunshot wounds, one of which looked like it had torn a chunk out of her side. Her nose was broken, eyes bloodshot, and she leaned on the table weakly, coughing ferociously every few moments until the squeak of a chair snapped her up.

“Hello, V. How’re you feeling?” The crumpled form snorted.

“Like a million eddies. Seriously, though, thanks for calling Vik. Preem work, as always.” Aphrodite swore softly, Hestia voicing everyone’s thoughts in a whisper.

“If that’s what she looks like after seeing a ripper…” All focus went back to the screen as Rogue, the off-camera voice, continued.

“Care to explain for the cam why we’re here?” At that, V glanced at the camera, seemingly staring Elle dead in the eyes before replying.

“Setting the record straight. Why I solo’d Arasaka, why I’ve gotta delta, the whole of it.” Shakily, she pawed at a pack of cigarettes on the table—four of the five fingers on that hand were broken, and with a sigh Rogue leaned forward and withdrew one for her, lighting it with another sigh.

“The biochip, in my dome. The gig at Konpeki Plaza was to klep it—er, the one DeShawn ran a while back, when Old Man Saka bit it. The crew was me, Jackie, and Bug—all we knew was that it was a climate-controlled biochip, so when things went sideways Jackie just slotted it in to keep it safe… After he flatlined, I stuck it in me to deliver. DeShawn flipped, put one in my dome—but the chip activated. Brought me back like in a movie, but… the bullet screwed it, meanin’ we couldn’t take it out without me dying, again. Then, I learn that not only do I have an experimental biochip in my head that’s both killing me and keeping me alive, but it’s gradually overwriting me, V, with the soul ‘engram’ on it, one Johnny f*ckin’ Silverhand.” Hestia went completely still, as enraptured as the others, while V paused to puff on the cigarette several times.

“The only tech in the world that could fix it was Mikoshi—Ringing bells, I see. After the first Arasaka incident, Johnny was shot through with Soulkiller, stored on a then-prototype chip, before lo-and-behold fifty years later ending up in my head. We had to go into Arasaka to get to Mikoshi, but…” A grim chuckle rattled through the air, V finishing the smoke and putting it out on the table.

“Johnny’s gamble was wrong. The chip’s degraded to the point that about… twenty percent of it, me, is still V. Timer’s ticking out, and both ‘Saka and So Mi were dead ends. Not much else to do but wait to die, I guess. The tech doesn’t exist to save me, funnily enough. I’m dead on my feet, my body just doesn’t know it yet.” Even Rogue let out a noise of horror at that, Hestia openly crying as Aphrodite held a hand over her mouth. The only sound came from the screen.

“The NUSA biz was a sh*tshow and a half, but I got the job done, as well as a street named after me in the capital. ‘Valerie Boulevard.’ That’s what I want people to remember. Sure, tell my stories ‘til the sun burns out, but I always got the job done. No matter how big or small, all of Night City are my chooms.” The recording ended, leaving a stunned silence that was only broken when Vera entered, saw the state of the four present, and drew iron.

“All clear! We just watched the file Psyche decrypted. Heavy sh*t.” Her face tightened, and she gave a sharp nod before exiting again. Elle lit a cigarette, staring down at the floor.

“We’re going after her—or Johnny, whichever is left when we find it. Nobody deserves to die alone, least of all my sister. If you all don’t want to, I get it. I can go alone.” Psyche flicked her ear, glaring through watery eyes at Elle.

“Of course we will. She’s family to me, and everyone else in the Olympians. You are too, now. Arasaka will burn for what they’ve done.”