Work Text:
From being that so despised corporate rat in Arasaka to a street-savvy merc, what would you lose?
With the trauma team membership that came with the indenture of your body, dressed in a well-tailored suit that at least resembled a person, the chance to take out the boss in the bathroom by disguising as a slip-and-fall accident, indulging in genuine beef steak with champagne, and transforming from high-end goods at Clouds to seeking treatment from "ripperdoc" on Jig Jig Street.
If someone says they don't miss the somewhat decent life they once had, it's a lie. If everything went as planned, just as V said, she would be sitting in the seat her former superiors occupied, taking down anyone who got in her way, was disrespectful, or gave her orders. She would be wearing a shiny gold-plated nameplate with "Arasaka Counter Intelligence Division Head" or something even more prestigious, stepping in polished shoes to share a drink with the NCPD chief, instead of having to kill a few barghests to sneak into Black Sapphire like she does now.
Damn, this place is truly fucking upscale .
But V quickly began to enjoy this atmosphere, using the excuse of needing to "disguise herself a bit more." she welcomed with open arms to "Johnny's Favorite" tequila brought to her one after another by the courteous bartender. After all, Songbird was busy dealing with Handsen, and Reed disappeared—out of sight, out of mind.
A man and a woman, both with red hair, spoke in a thick French accent. Freckles adorned their cheeks in a striking similarity.
"I hope we're not disturbing you two," V squinted and smiled. As long as she wanted to, she could be quite polite.
The French duo, carefree as they were, were more than happy to have company for a round of gambling. V, with an air of generosity, clapped her hands, "Bring this gentleman a glass of real water, and I'll have a bourbon just like this lady. Three in total, my treat."
The man furrowed his brows, but the woman seemed unfazed. She shot him a glance, casting a soul-stirring smile, with a tone of rising and falling, "Don't worry, mon frère, I'm not intended to fuck her."
Aurore Cassel and Aymeric Cassel, one reserved to the point of being taciturn, the other was hottie from the hell. The cat-like eyes were fixed on V, as she smoothly blended French words with English in a syrupy mix. She knew perfectly well how to wield her charm. As she spoke, she extended her hand, shiny black nails slowly scraping across V's hand. Clearly a question, but V heard it as a languid flirtation. Damn, is the French education system all about exuding charm with that roundabout, phlegm-like tone at any given moment?
Écouter les autres en secret n'est pas une bonne habitude, V.
V, slightly embarrassed, pursed her lips and chuckled. Well, if they figured it out, they figured it out. Who cares?
How much did she lose that night? Eighty thousand or a hundred thousand? V couldn't remember. All she recalled was Aurore's laughter lingering in her ears. The floodgates of conversation burst open like a dam. You call me bastard and bitch, and I call you a dumbass French. Putain de merde, learned that from you, Aurore.
V swore it wasn't intentional to leave Reed alone. Blame it on his "terrible disguise." She had always said a suit should be tailored if you want to make an impression.
In the end, with the lingering suspicion that "Handsen had secretly dealt with V in Black Sapphire," Alex decided to give V a call. "Heptagram Hotel at your service, transferring to Room 3303," the voice on the other end said.
"Well, well, trying to probe a bit more, and you've found your way to the hotel, huh?"
After nearly a minute, a muffled female voice at the other end said, "Chier, fait chier! Busy now! Nonnnnn, not, ne vous arrêtez pas, V." Alex raised an eyebrow, considering whether to make a slight adjustment to the plan. Another round of breathy sounds, intertwined and indistinguishable, audaciously penetrated her ears. "You're quite something, V," Alex decisively disconnected with a smirk. Some are having a meal, and some are footing the bill, and someone's bill is already on its way.
V woke up to the sun.
"Really don't understand you delicate French folks," V had been grumbling since she entered the hotel last night. "Room facing south, indoor temperature at 25°C, air humidity at 50%, soy wax candles (scented with sandalwood, moss, and lavender), and fresh flowers cut naturally on the same day."
A bathrobe, personally tailored by the renowned designer of Kerry Eurodyne, set the new trend in Night City, with a touch of Japanese charm. It's said that there were only two of this design in the entire city, and the other belonged to Arasaka's princess, the granddaughter of Saburo Arasaka, Michiko Arasaka. V tied a beautiful bow around her waist, poured a cup of coffee leisurely, and just as her lips were about to touch the cup, she suddenly slapped her forehead. Oh fuck, had a plan with So Mi today!
Fuck, speak of the devil.
If it were someone else, there would at least be some time to prepare. Unfortunately, it was Song So Mi, and even more unfortunately,it was V who encountered Song So Mi. In the blink of an eye, the netrunner girl, Song So Mi, dressed in an FIA jacket, stood in front of V, arms crossed over her chest, four cybernetic eyes locking onto each other. V grinned, revealing eight upper teeth in a standard smile, swaying the coffee in her hand, "Morning, So Mi, wanna cup of coffee?"
"Look at the time. If you still remember our agreement, change out of your fancy robe and let's go, quickly."
V glanced down at herself, her legs still bare. "Alright, alright. Damn, I can't find my jacket..."
Song So Mi furrowed her brow, once again pondering the question she had thought about countless times before: how did this person climb to the second in command in Arasaka's Counter Intelligence Division?
"Heptagram Hotel at your service. Your package has been delivered to your room door. Please collect it in time."
"What? V, did you even leave your jacket in Black Sapphire?"
Song So Mi received a smirking smile, those eyes still blinking.
The crisp sound of footsteps in polished shoes approached from behind. A certain red-haired woman yawned, clad in a vacuum gold suit adorned with lace, so extravagant it almost blinded onlookers.
She walked straight to V, uncaring of the (in a physical sense) surroundings, cradled V's face in her hands, and planted a kiss on her lips. In the next moment, she strolled to the doorway, the entire process taking just a few seconds. V still maintained a stiff posture, her face turning as red as the roots of her ears.
Another enthusiastic blow-kiss, the hand with black nail polish stretched out, twirled, even if she hadn't been drinking, she seemed half-drunk, "Merci～ma louloutte……"
V widened her eyes, then promptly pretended not to care, politely smiling, "You're welcome." As if speaking of some minor favor, not much more significant than helping an old lady cross the street.
Song So Mi started to laugh too, a smile that made V a bit uneasy.
"Hey, Val, you're up really early, but I gotta go now. Anyway, thanks for the hospitality!" Another woman rushed out in a hurry, one high heel on her foot, and the other still in her hand, limping away through the doorway.
"Oh, that... a lady I crossed over on the street yesterday... It's dangerous to be outside so late, especially in Dogtown... what if she gets caught by Scavengers..." The projection in front of her began to flicker. Song So Mi was almost exploding with anger; V felt the room floor creaking under her footsteps before realizing it was the sound of electric currents in her head.
"Anyone else? You better call everyone out at once!"
"None, really, So Mi, that's it."
"V, you better fucking explain this to me."
"Alex told me the behavioral faceplate needs to detect emotional fluctuations. All roads lead to Mikoshi, I just changed my road..." V quickly ran through the entire sentence in her mind and concluded that: facts matched, and reasonable.
I'm way far better than her, Song So Mi said in a cold voice, adding before disappearing, on hacking skills.
As the biggest and most mysterious intermediary in Dogtown, Mr. Hands always spoke in a soothing manner. The rewards were generous, not to mention the lavish praises he never hesitated to give. His sweet words could elevate you to the heavens, but if you relaxed just because of that, you would be gravely mistaken.
Hands spoke a bunch of gibberish, and V let it go in one ear and out the other, hoping that the chip had a detailed record of the entire gig, preferably recited verbatim by him. She was currently sitting in a VIP room, gripping the genuine leather sofa with white-knuckled fingers, almost sinking into it.
Each second felt like an eternity, and the air hung heavy with unspoken words and suppressed emotions. The leather beneath her quivered with the subtle vibrations of her body, absorbing the weight of the moment.
"The client wishes to remain unaffected, so you need to be discreet, understand?"
God, you're gonna kill me... Damn, I'm on business!
Felt like countless hearts were beating in her chest, her belly, and even in her head. V lowered her head, hoping the strands of hair on that side would cover her face. The hair in front was already damp with sweat, sticking messily to her forehead.
Many years ago, back at the Arasaka Academy, there were often troublemaking kids from influential families, acting all high and mighty. V was never afraid to fight them, even if she lost and ended up lying on the ground, she would stare wide-eyed, desperately holding back tears.
But this was entirely different. Damn, my professional ethics, my reputation, my commission...
My all wonderful extraodinary decent qualities, all ruined...
She fought to hold her breath, feeling like she was about to suffocate. She wanted to answer with a "Yes," but it turned into a hot breath spraying out in bursts from her nose.
"You're not in your best condition today, V. Do you need someone else to take over? I have other gigs suitable for you."
"No!" V suddenly raised her voice, speaking to someone else actually.
"Well, don't be so temperamental, Miss V. It is, truly, a bit troublesome, but the payment is beautiful. Details are in the attachment."
Thank goodness, he finally finished talking.
Mr. Hands took a small sip from the glass on the table, then sat back on his sofa, caressing the supposed-to-be cold and smooth perfect leather. Seeing the pockmarks and scratches on it, along with the merc's precarious figure, he couldn't help stroking his beard and deep in thought.
V emerged from the depths of a harrowing experience, her escape resembling a descent from hell. As her legs faltered, a resounding thud echoed through the air, and she found herself kneeling on the plush carpet, her tense back pressed firmly against the wall. With reckless abandon, she inhaled the air around her, gradually releasing sounds that she desperately tried to keep from breaching the seemingly inadequately soundproofed walls.
"Dear V, I believe a portion of this commission should be appropriately deducted as compensation for my private property..."
Damn it...
Cursing under her breath, she grappled with the aftermath. The enhanced tendons in her legs pulsed uncontrollably, the cybernetic system humming and drowning out every sensation except the relentless pounding of her heartbeat.
It was akin to a free fall from a towering mountain peak straight into the fathomless depths of the ocean. The weightlessness left her feeling as though a part of her very being had been hollowed out, and she clung to the carpet with a desperate need for support.
Please, So Mi, don't... let me down... DON'T do this… Fuck, I'm begging you...please...
The tone, once almost pleading, gradually transformed into a stifled, low sob.
Exhausted and drained, she lay sprawled on the floor, her eyes closing in relief. Fortunately, she had instinctively blacked out the surveillance before entering. Otherwise, who knows what kind of breaking news footage they would have captured and made it to the headlines of N54.
Hey, So Mi, what is this all about... Damn, didn't see this coming, quite ruthless......
I told you, Song So Mi said softly, from the distance but straight to her head, I'm way far better than her.