Chapter 13: Alternative Outlooks

A/N: Here's the new Chapter! Which also means the next four chapters are up on my for early access as well as the chance to vote on the direction of the story!

V puts the Voodoo Boys on the back burner, and we get another perspective~

-x-X-x-

Humming to himself, V nods as he comes to a decision.

“We’ll wait. Let them hang themselves with the rope that NetWatch provides. It’ll be easier to take them out a couple weeks from now once they’re contained, and Evelyn should be good until then, especially with no Doll Chip for them to trace.”

Alt just shrugs, which does interesting things to the optical illusion’s substantial chest as she smiles wickedly.

“Sounds good to me, V. Though you know we have to be careful around NetWatch, right? If they find out about me… hell, even if they find out about you, they’re not likely to take kindly to our existence.”

V grunts, having already thought about that. He’d had a handful of run-ins with NetWatch in the original timeline. On the one hand, he was almost willing to say they were one of the only good sets of corpos. On the other hand, their deal with the Black Wall, general mode of operations, and holier than thou attitude when it came to anything AI… well, it pretty much made V and Alt their enemies… if they ever caught wind of what V actually was, and of the AI fragment he had in his head.

“Yeah, I know. We won’t work with ‘em directly, we’ll just use them Alt, don’t worry. No intentions of letting them find out about us.”

Alt nods, before lacing her hands behind her head and whistling innocently as the two of them continue walking on.

“So… where to next?”

It’s obvious what she’s doing, even out of the corner of V’s eye. Though to be fair, with the way she’s arching her back, that rack of hers isn’t just hovering in the periphery of his vision anymore, but rather dominating it entirely. Huffing, V shakes his head at the somewhat horny AI’s clear intentions.

“… Need to find more work, make more eddies, build more rep. But… we can take a moment to stop by the apartment for some R&R first.”

Alt grins, and V grins right back. After all, as the AI fragment had told him back at the start, her… lust was based on his lust. Her arousal was driven by his arousal. One could say they were… of the same mind, on that aspect.

-x-X-x-

“Here are the detes. Get the merchandise to the buyer, let me know the job is done, and you’ll receive payment, as usual.”

Rogue Amendiares’ eyes glow yellow for a moment as she sends a packet of information over to Panam Palmer. The caramel-skinned Nomad crosses her arms over her substantial chest as she takes in the job, her lips turning downwards.

“Another milk run? When are you going to give us something substantial, Rogue?”

Heaven save her from uppity Nomads. Rolling her eyes, Rogue just shakes her head mutely, not bothering with words. After a beat, Panam huffs and turns away.

“C’mon, Nash.”

Her fellow Nomad and partner in crime follows after her, while Rogue watches them go. Once they’re gone, the large, bulky black man sitting diagonal from her lets out a grunt from the side.

“That’s going to end in heartbreak.”

Rogue scoffs, giving her personal bodyguard a glance.

“And why do you think I’m keeping them on milk runs? That girl is an idiot for trusting that boy. When I set them up on that first gig together, I did so knowing that it was airtight, no room for treachery. It was also not meant to be the start of an extended team-up. But what does that foolish girl do? She decides he’s the partner she’s always wanted.”

A snort of derision leaves the Queen of the Afterlife’s nostrils at that last bit. To be fair to Palmer, it’s pretty fucking obvious what happened. The dumb girl had come out of the Badlands and into Night City because of some disagreement with her Nomad Clan. Rogue didn’t know the details of that, nor did she care really.

Of course, a girl had to eat, which had led Palmer to Rogue’s doorstep. She had a recommendation, and was apparently a damn good driver, so Rogue had given her a chance. But you didn’t get to be Queen of the Afterlife by doing anything by halves. Not only had Rogue set Panam up with a gig, but she’d also decided to test the girl’s instincts and general awareness at the same time.

Nash was a Nomad like Panam, but from what Rogue understood, they came from two very different groups. Nash had ties to the Raffen Shiv, specifically to a group known as the Wraiths. Panam, meanwhile, came from a pack of Aldecaldos. You couldn’t find two more disparate groups of Nomads in the entirety of the Badlands.

However, Panam clearly hadn’t done her research. If she knew Nash was Raffen Shiv, she would have refused to work with him to start with, or at least stopped taking gigs with him after the first. Instead, she’d doubled down and done the last few jobs Rogue gave her with the man.

Obviously, Panam was homesick and grabbing onto anything she could at this point. The dumb girl had heard ‘Nomad’ and just automatically assumed she and Nash were in this together, two young Nomads against the big bad Night City.

Rogue could have warned the younger woman, she supposed. But she wasn’t going to. Some lessons had to be learned the hard way, and after eighty plus fucking years on this damn rock, Rogue had long since given up on mentoring these young fuckers who came across her door.

From her side, as though reading her thoughts, Weyland snorts in amusement.

“Cold, boss. Ice cold.”

Letting the corners of her lips turn up, Rogue just shrugs. They didn’t call her a stone-cold bitch for her bleeding heart.

With that matter settled, Rogue lets her eyes drift across the rest of the club… her club. She might not be much of a Solo anymore, but she was far from out of the game. Queen of the Fixers, they called her, when they weren’t calling her Queen of the Afterlife.

Of course, you don’t get to be her age or in her position without noticing the small details. Rogue’s eyes fall upon her best netrunner, specifically on the slightest downturn of Nix’s lips, and the sight makes the Fixer frown. Sending a ping over in the Netrunner’s direction, she watches as he jolts, having clearly been so deep in thought about something that he wasn’t even paying attention to his surroundings.

After a moment of hesitation, he walks over and sits down in the booth with her and Weyland.

“Nix. What’s up?”

Giving her a wry grin that doesn’t quite reach the eyes behind his dark shades, Nix chuckles.

“Observant as ever, boss. Honestly… don’t know.”

Rogue raises an eyebrow at that. There was too much under fucking Heaven and Earth for anyone to know everything, to be fair. But for Nix to admit it was… well, that was something.

“What exactly don’t you know, Nix?”

The Afterlife’s top Netrunner frowns for a moment longer, before sitting back with a sigh.

“Something’s going on. But then, there’s always something going on. It’s just… ripples. Normally, I can track those ripples down. It’s a hobby of mine see, and it’s always good to find out where the biggest movement on the Net is coming from. Corpos usually, but even their big movements are worth keeping an eye on.”

Rogue slowly nods at that, before sending off a signal to Claire to prepare them all some more drinks. Nix’s words make plenty of sense, and its why she pays him as much as she does. Rogue herself might not be a Netrunner, but damn if she doesn’t understand how crucial the good ones are to have on hand. Even if some of the best wind up burning out long before their time. Most of the best, really…

“Anyways, I caught wind of some ripples… that don’t go anywhere. It’s probably nothing. Definitely nothing to do with us so you don’t have to worry, boss. But it’s vexing all the same.”

Yeah, she could see how that would frustrate the proud, skilled Netrunner. Nix was one of the best of the best. If he couldn’t track down the competition, then it was as good as his skills being directly challenged. Still, so long as it had nothing to do with the Afterlife or her operations, it was of passing interest at best.

Nodding to show her appreciation for Nix’s explanation, Rogue turns to some of her messages for a moment, mentally flicking through them as Claire is busy over at the bar preparing their drinks. Until a couple in particular begin to catch her eye and the corner of her mouth turns down.

“Weyland.”

“Yeah boss?”

“You know a ‘V’?”

The hulking Solo’s mouth scrunches up in confusion.

“AV?”

Realizing the misunderstanding and having no desire to be part of a comedy routine even older than she is, Rogue snaps over the information she’s been given to Weyland, before shaking her head and explaining verbally as well.

“A new mercenary in town. Goes by the name ‘V’, just the letter. He’s coming up in multiple messages I’m getting from my people spread throughout the city, and apparently he’s impressing every Fixer he works with. You heard of him?”

Rogue’s information network was second to none… a title like ‘Queen of the Fixers’ demanded nothing less. However, there was practically nothing better than being on the ground, close to the action. Her own time as a Solo had taught her that. She’d never heard of this ‘V’ before, but Weyland might know more. Unfortunately, after a moment of going through the data she sent him, he grunts and shakes his head.

“Dunno a ‘V’ with this sort of skillset, boss. Might be a cover though for someone from out of town, trying to lay low.”

Rogue hums at that. She would never dismiss Weyland’s words out of hand, she knows the value of his opinion. However, the reports she was getting were not the actions of someone trying to lay low. Oh sure, everything she had in front of her was saying this ‘V’ fellow was a consummate professional who did every job with a quiet that left his opponents unaware he even existed.

But there was staying off of the gangs’ radar for daring to pull off successful gigs on their turf, and then there was staying off the radar of the people who matter. There was no denying that this ‘V’ was doing the former with great skill and alacrity, but in terms of the latter, he was failing utterly. If anyone were hunting down this guy, Fixers like her were the first people they would look to, after all.

“Did you say V? A mercenary?”

Rogue’s eyes dart to the newest to join their group, even as Claire steps up to the booth and sets down drinks for her, Weyland, and Nix. The Afterlife’s bartender is decidedly one of Rogue’s best sources of information. Rogue doesn’t have the time or inclination to keep track of every single person who comes and goes from the Afterlife.

While the place does have a reputation to be maintained, and therefore an exclusivity that is also maintained, Rogue has long since learned that the key word is ‘delegation’. That was why she’d surrounded herself with experts in their fields.

Crispin Weyland was one of the best of this generation’s Solos. Nix was one of the top Netrunners in all of Night City. Emmerick Bronson was her bouncer of choice, guarding the door and not letting anyone in who wasn’t allowed. And finally, Claire Russel was the bartender, who not only made a killer cocktail, but also kept track of the customers for her. Claire had a head for names, so on the one hand, it wasn’t surprising that she might have heard of this ‘V’ guy. However, at the same time, Rogue feels like she should have known if such an entity had already been by the Afterlife.

Frowning more severely now, Rogue tilts her head to the side.

“You know them, Claire? They’ve been to the Afterlife before?”

Claire slowly nods in thought.

“… If it’s the same V, yes. He was with his friend… Jackie, I think the name was. Both were green as can be, but V was particularly wet behind the ears, even compared to his friend.”

The bartender thinks for a long moment more before snapping her fingers.

“That’s right. They were here for DeShawn’s comeback gig!”

Rogue’s eyes widen and she pulls up all of the information she has on that. When Dexter DeShawn had first been run out of Night City, it had been none of her business. Easy come, easy go. And when he’d come skulking back in, trying to make a comeback, that too had been none of Rogue’s business, save for the eddies he’d paid her to be allowed to use the Afterlife’s sealed, locked down mission briefing room to plan his little heist.

Of course, now that the man was dead, the details of what he’d been up to had managed to make their way to Rogue all the same. An attempted theft at Konpeki Plaza ultimately culminating in Saburo Arasaka’s murder and a manhunt for his killer that was still underway and seemingly going nowhere?

Yeah, that was… a lot. It seemed V was the sole survivor of that failed gig. And that meant he either knew who killed Saburo Arasaka or did the deed himself.

… This V’s actions weren’t the actions of someone who should have been pissing and shitting themselves in terror at the thought of Arasaka hunting them down, however. This V was carving out a reputation for themselves in record time as a competent, quiet merc who got things done and so far never failed.

Maybe it wasn’t the same person? Rogue has her doubts about that, but for the moment, she just shakes her head.

“Two different mercenaries, from the look of things. Their profiles don’t match up at all.”

Weyland gives her a look that makes it clear he doesn’t quite buy that. Nix raises an eyebrow but ultimately downs the drink Claire made him and heads back out onto the floor. And while Claire furrows her brow at the declaration, she ultimately nods and heads back to the bar as well.

Could Rogue have sold this information to Arasaka for a boatload of eddies? Of course. She wasn’t going to though. For one, what happened in Afterlife’s back rooms stayed there, or no one would ever trust her again. For two…

Fuck Arasaka.

[X] Switch to ??? POV - 59%

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