Chapter 1: Beginning (Normal Situation)
Night City never sleeps. It throbs day and night, an electric jungle. The dark spaces between the tall, gleaming buildings teem with activities of the grift. I love Night City. It's so alive, so unpredictable. Much like me, I'd like to think.
Now that the sun had set, the city looked like a ripe plum primed to be plucked. I adjusted my black trench coat, strolling deeper into this concrete forest. A neon-lit ad flickered on the top of a high-rise.
"Fortune & Fame Await!" it promised, its voice echoing through the city. I scoffed, "Yeah, right after I win the lottery." I didn't have time for empty promises. I needed work, real work, not some jacker's wet dream.
I ducked into a darkened alley, my boots splashing in puddles of god-knows-what. Night City's rain was as gray as its morality. The neon lights reflected off the wet ground, casting a kaleidoscope of colors onto the worn walls of the alleyway.
I could hear the distant hum of traffic, the laughter of a group of gangers around the corner, and the faint thrum of a synth band playing in some seedy bar. The air was thick with the smell of ozone, smoke, and the ever-present scent of Night City's underbelly – desperation.
I approached the door of mypartment, a cramped studio wedged between a derelict cyberdeck shop and a grimy noodle joint. The door creaked open, revealing the dimly lit, cluttered space within. My home was a mess, a testament to my transient lifestyle.
Mechanical parts and cybernetic trinkets were strewn across the floor, mingling with empty food containers and crumpled-up netprintouts. The walls, once a stark white, were now a patchwork of graffiti and torn posters, each one telling a story of a life lived on the edge. The flickering neon light cast long, dancing shadows, giving the room an eerie, otherworldly glow.
I dropped my bag onto the rickety table, sending a cloud of dust into the air. I coughed, waving my hand in front of my face. It was my first time home since the heist, since Jackie died . A pang of guilt hit me, sharp and sudden. I pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. I needed to find work, real work, Night city wasn’t a place that gave you time to grieve.
I pull up my contacts, need to start calling fixers for jobs. I’ll start with Regina, Watson’s finest . She picks up on the third ring, her voice as smooth as the silk jackets she loves wearing.
"V, it's been a while," she purrs, "Heard you've been keeping busy."
"Regina, always a pleasure," I reply, skipping the small talk. "Look, I'm in need of a job, something to help me pay this month’s rent."
She chuckles, a sound like ice cubes clinking in a glass. "Oh, V, you know I'd love to help, but... your little stunt at Konpeki Plaza has made you... toxic.
No one wants to touch you right now. You're radioactive, girl."
I sigh, running a hand through my long brown hair. "Come on, Regina. You know I'm good for it. I've always followed through on jobs."
"Oh, I know you have, V. But this is different. This is... big. Bigger than you. Bigger than all of us. You've poked the bear, and now the bear wants your head on a platter."
I lean back in my chair, hanging the call up without another word. I’ll try Wakako, that old witch always has some dirty work . She picks up almost immediately, her voice a low rasp like she's been smoking a pack a day for the last century. Which, knowing her, she probably has.
"V, what do you want?" she growls, not bothering with pleasantries.
"Wakako, I need a job," I say, cutting to the chase. "Something quick, something clean."
She laughs, a sound like gravel crunching under heavy boots. "Quick and clean? With your reputation, girl? You're dreaming."
I grit my teeth, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice.
"Wakako, come on. I just need something to tide me over until this heat dies down.” I pleaded, hoping she’d see reason.
Wakako sighed, her breath crackling through the comm. “No V, you bad news, I don’t want Arasaka after me too!” Wakako snapped, hanging up before I could respond. I let out a sigh, rubbing my temples. This was worse than I thought. I was blacklisted, left to rot in Night City's underbelly.
I was about to try my luck with another fixer when I’m struck with a heavy migraine. I pass out on my apartment floor. When I wake up I’m met with the sight of…Johnny Silverhand?
The legendary rockstar, now some kind of digital ghost, stands over me, his silver robotic arm crossed over his chest. His medium black hair is a mess, and his rough, gravelly voice echoes in my head.
"Who the hell are you” he barks, his body flickering like a faulty holo-projector.
I groan, pushing myself up from the cold, hard floor. "You're Johnny Silverhand, aren't you?"
He raises an eyebrow, or at least, I think he does. It's hard to tell with his digital face. "And you are?"
"V," I reply, standing up and brushing the dust off my clothes. "Am I dreaming” I ask, looking around the room, still trying to wrap my head around the situation.
Johnny Silverhand laughs, a sound like distant thunder. "Dreaming? Maybe, maybe not. Depends on who you ask." He uncrossed his arms, taking a step closer. “. The arasaka biochip, their revenge for me nuking their fuckin tower back in ‘23. Means I can’t feel the sweet release of death. Also means my consciousness is uploaded into whoever inserts the chip, which you did for whatever fucked up reason ." He points a finger at me, his image flickering again. "So, V, welcome to the wonderful world of having a ghost in your head."
I rub my temples, feeling the faint throb of the chip. "Great," I mutter, "Just what I needed. A digital squatter."
Johnny chuckles, his voice echoing in my mind. "Hey, I'm not complaining. It's better than being stuck in the Net, or worse, deleted."
I sigh, looking around my apartment. The mess, the clutter, it all feels heavier now, more oppressive.
Having Johnny Silverhand's voice in my head is like having a loud, obnoxious roommate who never shuts up. I glance at the crumpled netprintouts, the empty food containers, and suddenly, I hate it all. I need order, I need control. I can't think straight with this chaos.
"Alright, Johnny," I say, my voice echoing in the small room. "Let's get one thing straight. You're in my head, not the other way around. I'm the one calling the shots here."
Johnny snorts, a sound like static.
"Sure thing, sweetheart. I'm all yours."
I roll my eyes, turning my attention back to my contacts. I need to find a job, anything to get some cash flowing in. I scroll through my list, skipping over the fixers who've already turned me down. Ugh, I need a burger, and to clear my head , I think to myself.
I head out of the megabuilding and round the corner to Tom’s diner , a classic dive with a neon sign that flickers 'Open 24/7'. It's not much, but it's my spot, my sanctuary amidst the chaos of Night City.
As I push open the worn-out door, the smell of grease and coffee hits me. It's comforting, familiar. The place is half-empty, the usual late-night crowd hasn't descended yet. I slide into a booth, the red vinyl squeaking under me.
The waitress, a middle-aged woman with a tired smile and a name tag that reads 'Marge', notices me and nods.
"The usual, V?" she asks, her voice as warm as the fluorescent lights above her are not.
"Yeah, Marge," I reply, smiling back. "Thanks."
She turns away, leaving me alone with my thoughts, or what should be my thoughts. Johnny's voice cuts through the silence in my head.
"You come here often?" he asks, his tone mocking.
I ignore him, focusing on the worn-out tabletop, tracing the grooves and scratches with my finger. Marge returns, placing a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of cheeseburger in front of me.
The coffee is black, strong, just the way I like it. The burger is greasy, the bun slightly burnt, but it's perfect. I take a bite, the taste of salt and fat exploding in my mouth. For a moment, everything else fades away - the heist, Jackie, Johnny's voice in my head. It's just me and my burger.
at least it was, until a portly Hispanic man plopped himself across from me in my booth. “Heyyy hermana, you V?
You the one everyone's talkin' 'bout?” The man asked, his eyes darting around the diner like he expected someone to jump out and arrest him at any moment. He was dressed in a flashy maroon suit, a stark contrast to the grimy interior of the diner. His fingers were weighed down with chunky rings, and a thick gold chain peeked out from under his collar.
I swallowed my bite, wiping my mouth with a napkin before speaking. “Depends on who's asking,” I replied, my voice casual despite the sudden tension in my shoulders.
I took a sip of my coffee, watching the man over the rim of my cup. “What's your name?”
He leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. “You can call me Carlos. I'm with the Valentino's.”
Ah, the Valentino's. A name that sent shivers down the spine of even the most hardened Night City residents. They were the local gang, made most of their money through narcotics and pimping, their reach stretching from the grimy streets of the slums to the neon-lit alleys of the corporate districts.
“Carlos, huh?” I said, putting my cup down.
“What can I do for you, Carlos?”
Carlos chuckled, a sound like a rusty engine trying to start. “Straight to business, I like that. You know, V, we've heard a lot about you. A real hotshot, they say. A true Night City legend.”
I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Flattery won't get you anywhere, Carlos. Spit it out, I ain't got all night.”
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Alright, alright. Word on the street is, you're looking for work.
High-paying, no-questions-asked kind of work. Am I right?"
I leaned back, my eyes narrowing. "And what makes you think I'd be interested in that kind of work, Carlos?"
He shrugged, his gold chains clinking together. "Because, V, you're blacklisted. Every fixer in Night City is too scared to touch you. You're a pariah, a leper. But us, we don't care about that. We see potential, opportunity."
I took another bite of my burger, chewing slowly as I considered his words. He wasn't wrong.
I was a pariah. But did that mean I was desperate enough to work for the likes of the Valentino's? I swallowed my bite, my eyes locked onto Carlos'. "And what exactly do you want me to do for this 'opportunity', Carlos?"
Carlos grinned, showing a set of tobacco-stained teeth. "We have... a business opportunity for someone with your unique skills. It's simple, really. You provide a service, we provide the clients. A... mutually beneficial arrangement, if you will."
I raised an eyebrow. "A service? You mean like...
muscle? Enforcement?" I asked, already knowing the answer. The Valentino's weren't exactly known for their legitimate business practices.
Carlos laughed, a sound like broken glass. “Ehh you could say that, sí. Come to the glen, I’ll show you what we’re talking about. It’s not so bad, and the pay is excellent. Plus, you know, it’s not like you got many options at the moment, no?” Carlos smirked, leaning back in the booth, his eyes never leaving mine.
I toyed with the idea, my mind racing. I needed the cred, that was for sure. But working for the Valentino's? That was a whole different ball game. They were dangerous, unpredictable. But then again, so was Night City. And so was I.
I finished my burger, washing it down with the last of my coffee.
I wiped my hands on a napkin, my mind made up. I wasn't thrilled about the idea of working for the Valentino's, but Carlos was right. I didn't have many options. I needed the cred, and I needed it fast.
"Alright, Carlos," I said, sliding out of the booth. "Let's go to the Glen. But I'm not making any promises. I want to see what you're offering before I sign on for anything."
Carlos grinned, standing up and buttoning his maroon suit jacket. "Smart girl," he said, leading the way out of the diner.
The neon lights of Night City greeted us, casting long, dancing shadows on the wet streets. The rain had picked up, a steady, monotonous drumbeat on the pavement. Carlos hailed a cab, the yellow vehicle pulling up to the curb with a squeal of brakes.
"To the Glen, amigo," Carlos said to the AI driver, sliding into the backseat. I followed, the door slamming shut behind me. The cabbie took off, the engine coughing and sputtering as we merged into the late-night traffic.
The ride to the Glen was a silent one.
Carlos stared out the window, his reflection in the glass a grim reminder of the world outside. I watched the cityscape blur past, the neon lights casting eerie shadows on the rain-soaked streets. The cabbie, a silent AI-controlled vehicle, navigated the labyrinthine streets of Night City with an efficiency that was almost unsettling.
As we pulled up to the Glen, I could feel the weight of Johnny's gaze in my mind. "The Valentino's, V? Really?" he scoffed, his voice echoing in my head. "They're scum, the lowest of the low.
They deal in flesh, V. You're better than that."
I shot him a glance, my eyes hardening. "Better than what, Johnny? Than surviving? Than making a living in this shithole of a city? I didn't ask for you to be in my head, remember? I'm doing what I have to do." I said, stepping out of the cab and into the pouring rain. The Glen was a grimy, neon-lit stretch of road, lined with seedy bars, rundown motels, and pawn shops. It was uncontested Valentino territory.
Carlos led the way, his maroon suit glistening in the rain. He walked with a swagger, his gold chains clinking with each step. I followed, my trench coat pulled tight against the cold.
The rain soaked through my hair, plastering it to my face. I wiped it away, my eyes scanning the surroundings. The Glen was a far cry from the glittering towers of Night City's corporate districts. Here, the neon lights were faded, the buildings worn and weathered. The air was thick with the scent of cheap synth-booze, cigarette smoke, and desperation.
Carlos stopped in front of a rundown motel, its flickering neon sign reading 'Joy Palace'. The letters buzzed and flickered, casting an eerie glow on the wet pavement.
Carlos turned to me, his face a mask of fake sincerity. "Here we are, V. Welcome to your new... workplace."
He gestured towards the motel, a greasy smile spreading across his face. "This is where you'll be... providing your services."
I raised an eyebrow, my eyes scanning the seedy motel. Bouncer at a brothel, how the mighty can fall I think to myself, not knowing the truth of what Carlos is offering yet.
I take a deep breath, the smell of cheap perfume and even cheaper booze filling my nostrils. "Alright, Carlos," I say, my voice steady despite the unease twisting in my gut. "Let's see what you've got."
Carlos grins, like a cat that's just caught the canary. He leads me into the Joy Palace, the door creaking open to reveal a dimly lit lobby. The carpet is threadbare, the walls are adorned with faded holo-pics of scantily clad women, and the air is thick with the sound of muffled laughter and cheap music.
The reception desk is a cluttered mess of chipped wood and flickering screens, manned by a bored-looking woman with bright pink hair and a nose ring.
Carlos strides up to the desk, his heels clicking on the worn-out floor. "Evening, Maria," he says, his voice smooth as honey. "Could you open up the office for me” he asks, flashing her a smile that's all teeth and no warmth. Maria sighs, pushing herself up from her chair. Her eyes flick to me, then back to Carlos. She shrugs, hitting a button under the desk. A door behind her creaks open, revealing a dimly lit hallway.
Carlos gestures for me to follow, his gold chains clinking softly. "After you, V," he says, his voice mocking. I step into the hallway, the door closing behind us with a heavy thud. The hallway is narrow, the walls lined with peeling wallpaper and flickering lights.
The air is thick with the scent of old cigarettes and the faint, underlying smell of something more sinister. I walk behind Carlos, my boots echoing on the worn-out carpet. Johnny's voice echoes in my head, a low growl. "This place gives me the creeps, V. You shouldn't be here."
I ignore him, focusing on the task at hand. I need cred, and if that means walking down this seedy hallway, then so be it. Carlos stops in front of a door, the number '13' hanging crookedly on the faded wood.
He turns to me, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Here we are, V. The main event." He pushes the door open, revealing a small, cramped office. A desk sits in the center, covered in stacks of netprintouts and chipped holo-chips. Behind the desk, a man sits, his face obscured by the shadows. Carlos steps aside, gesturing for me to enter.
"Sit down, V," he says, his voice cold and hard. I hesitate for a moment, then take a seat in the worn-out chair across from him. He leans back, his eyes never leaving mine. “I think you're in a bit of a predicament, aren't you?" I raise an eyebrow, my guard instantly up. "What do you mean?" I ask, my voice steady despite the unease twisting in my gut. Carlos smiles, a slow, cruel smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "I mean, V, that you're blacklisted. No one wants to touch you. You're toxic, a liability. And yet, here you are, needing cred, needing to survive. Isn't that right?" I clench my jaw, hating the truth in his words. "What's your point, Carlos?" I ask, my voice sharp.
Carlos leans in, his eyes gleaming with a cold, calculating light. "My point, V, is that you're in no position to refuse our offer. You see, we have... information. Information that could make your life very difficult. Information that, let's say, could link you to certain... activities, shall we say? Activities that could land you in a lot of trouble with the wrong people." He leans back, his fingers steepled under his chin, a smug smile playing on his lips. "So, you see, V, you're not here because you want to be. You're here because you have to be. I’m sure Arasaka would be very interested in hearing from us should you reject my offer" He lets the words hang in the air, a heavy, oppressive weight that presses down on me. I feel a surge of anger, of defiance, but I push it down, swallowing it back. I need to play this smart. I need to keep my cool.
I take a deep breath, my eyes locked onto Carlos'. "Alright, Carlos," I say, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "What exactly are you offering?" Carlos leans back, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Well, V, as you've so elegantly put it, you're in a bit of a predicament. You need cred, and we need... talent. So, we've come up with a mutually beneficial arrangement." He pauses, letting the words hang in the air. "You become a joytoy, working the streets for us." He gestures vaguely towards the door, the smirk never leaving his face. "And in exchange, we'll make sure that certain... information stays buried. We'll keep Arasaka off your back, and you'll have a steady stream of cred coming in." I feel a surge of revulsion, of disgust. A joytoy. A prostitute.
That's what he's offering me. The anger that I've been holding back threatens to boil over, but I push it down, grinding my teeth to keep my mouth shut. I need to play this smart, I remind myself.
Carlos watches me, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He enjoys this, I realize. He enjoys seeing me squirm, seeing me struggle. He's a predator, and I'm his prey.
"Let me get this straight," I say, my voice carefully neutral.
"You want me to sell my body on Jig-Jig Street, and in exchange, you'll keep Arasaka off my back?"
Carlos shrugs, a smug smile still playing on his lips. "More or less, sí. It's not so bad, V. You're a pretty girl, you'll make good cred. And think about it, you'll be helping out your fellow Night City residents, giving them a good time, making their nights a little brighter." He chuckles, like he's just made a joke.
"But don't worry, we'll make sure you're well taken care of. You'll have a nice place to stay, good food, and all the synth you can drink. And who knows, you might even enjoy it." He winks, a gesture that makes my stomach turn.
I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. I want to punch that smarmy smile off his face, but I hold back. I need the cred, and I need to keep Arasaka off my back. But this... this is a new low.
The idea of it makes my skin crawl, but I force myself to keep my expression neutral. I can't afford to alienate Carlos, not yet. Not until I figure out a way out of this mess.
"Let me think about it," I say, my voice carefully measured. "This is... a big decision."
Carlos's smile fades, replaced by a cold, hard stare. "There's nothing to think about, V. You're in no position to negotiate. You take the deal, or you take your chances with Arasaka.
It's that simple." His voice is cold, his eyes harder than the chrome of his gold chains. I swallow, the lump in my throat bitter and heavy. I've been backed into a corner, and I know it. But I'm not ready to roll over and die just yet.
"What kind of protection are we talking about?" I ask, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "I mean, what's to stop Arasaka from coming after me anyway, once you've gotten what you want?"
“Arasaka don’t tussle with the gangs , V. They don’t want the trouble. They’ll leave you alone so long as they think the Valentino’s have you under control. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, you see? They get a scapegoat, we get a patsy. Everyone wins.” Carlos leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the desktop. “So, what’s it gonna be, V? You gonna play ball, or you gonna make this difficult for yourself?”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to say. “Alright, Carlos. I’ll do it.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue, but I pushed them out, my voice steady and resolute. Carlos's face split into a wide, greasy grin, his teeth a flash of white in the dim light. "Smart girl," he said, leaning back in his chair. "You won't regret this, V. We'll take good care of you." I doubted that, but I kept my thoughts to myself. I had a feeling that Carlos wasn't the type to appreciate skepticism.
He stood up, buttoning his maroon suit jacket. "Alright, show me what you got then, whore” he growled, his voice dripping with contempt. I felt a surge of anger at the word, but I pushed it down, swallowing it back. I needed to play this smart, and that meant not reacting to his taunts.
I stood up, my chair screeching against the worn-out floor. I walked over to him, my hips swaying with each step. I could feel his eyes on me, hungry and eager. I stopped in front of him, close enough that I could feel his breath on my face.
"Is this what you want, Carlos?" I asked, my voice low and sultry.
I could see the hunger in his eyes, the lust that was written all over his face. He was a pig, a disgusting, vile creature, but I needed this. I needed the cred, and I needed to keep Arasaka off my back. And if that meant fucking Carlos, then so be it.
Carlos licked his lips, his eyes roaming over my body like a starving man eyeing a feast. "You know it, V," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Show me what you got."
I reached up, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
His skin was rough, speckled with stubble. I could feel his pulse, steady and strong, under my fingertips. He was a beast, a monster, but he was my monster now. I leaned in, my lips brushing against his. He growled, a low, animalistic sound that sent a shiver down my spine. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer, pressing me against him. I could feel his hardness, straining against his pants, pressing into my stomach.
Carlos's hands were rough, calloused from years of work. They roamed over my body, squeezing, pinching, claiming.
I gasped as he bit down on my neck, hard enough to leave a mark. Fuck, that hurt, but it also sent a jolt of electricity straight to my core. I moaned, grinding against him, eager for more.
Carlos chuckled, a dirty, filthy sound that made my insides clench. "You like that, don't you, you little slut?" he growled, his hands moving to my breasts, squeezing them roughly through my shirt.
I could feel my nipples hardening, pressing against the fabric, eager for his touch. I moaned, arching my back, pushing my tits into his hands. "Fuck, yes," he groaned, his fingers finding my nipples, pinching them, twisting them. I gasped, the pain mixing with pleasure, sending shockwaves straight to my pussy. I could feel it, throbbing, aching, desperate for his touch. Carlos must have sensed it too, because his hands moved down, popping the button on my jeans, yanking down the zipper.
I wiggled out of them, kicking them off to the side. I was standing there in my panties and a tank top, my nipples hard and visible through the thin fabric. Carlos looked me up and down, a hungry, predatory gleam in his eyes.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "I can't wait to fuck that sweet little pussy of yours."
I felt a surge of heat at his words, my pussy clenching in anticipation. I wanted him, wanted to feel him inside me, hard and throbbing.
I reached out, my fingers tracing the bulge in his pants. Carlos groaned, his hips bucking forward, seeking more contact. I unbuckled his belt, popped the button on his pants, and slowly pulled down the zipper. His cock sprang free, hard and aching, pressing against his boxers. I could see the outline of it, thick and veiny, straining against the fabric.
"Fuck, V," Carlos groaned, his voice ragged. "You're killing me."
I smirked, my fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers.
I looked up at him, my eyes locked onto his as I slowly pulled them down, revealing his cock inch by inch. It was thick, the head already glistening with pre-cum, veins pulsing with desire. Carlos groaned, his hands fisting my hair, guiding my head down.
"Suck it, V," he growled, his voice laced with lust. "Suck my cock like a good little whore."
I obliged, my tongue flicking out to taste the bead of pre-cum at the tip.
Carlos groaned, his fingers tightening in my hair. The taste of him was salty, musky, and I resented it. I opened my mouth, taking him in, inch by inch. His cock was thick, stretching my lips, filling my mouth. I could feel him hitting the back of my throat, and I relaxed my muscles, taking him deeper.
"Fuck, yes," Carlos groaned, his hips moving in rhythm with my mouth. "That's it, you little slut. Suck my cock like you mean it."
I could feel his hands in my hair, guiding me, controlling me.
I was just a tool for his pleasure, a toy to be used and discarded. The thought should have pissed me off, but it only served to turn me on more. I moaned around his cock, the vibrations causing him to groan in response.
"Fuck," he growled, his hips pistoning in and out of my mouth. "You're a natural, aren't you, you little whore? You love sucking cock, don't you?"
I couldn't respond, my mouth too full of his thickness, but I hummed in agreement, my eyes watering as he hit the back of my throat.
Carlos's grip on my hair tightened, his hips moving faster, fucking my mouth with abandon. I could feel his cock swelling, his balls drawing up, and I knew he was close.
I braced myself, my fingers digging into his thighs as he fucked my mouth with abandon. I could feel his cock throbbing, his hips jerking as he came, his hot cum filling my mouth, spilling down my chin. I swallowed as much as I could, but it was too much, too fast, and some of it dribbled out, running down my neck, staining my tank top.
Carlos groaned, his hips finally stilling, his cock twitching in my mouth. I pulled back, gasping for air, my lips swollen and sensitive. Carlos looked down at me, his eyes glazed with lust, a satisfied smirk on his face.
"Fuck, V," he said, his voice hoarse. "You're a fucking natural. I knew you'd be good, but Jesus..." Carlos repeated, his breath still ragged. He zipped up his pants, his eyes never leaving mine. I wiped the remnants of our encounter from my chin, my stomach churning. I loathed myself for what I'd just done, but I pushed the feeling down, burying it under a layer of cold, hard resolve. I needed this, I reminded myself. Besides, it wasn't like I hadn't done worse in my life.
I'd killed, I'd stolen, I'd done things that would make most people's skin crawl. This was just another job, another means to an end. I could do this, I told myself. I had to.
Carlos reached into his pocket, pulling out a credchip. He tossed it onto the desk, the plastic rectangle skittering across the worn-out surface. "Here's your first payment," he said, his voice cold and businesslike now that the lust had faded. "Consider it a signing bonus."
I picked up the credchip, pocketing it without looking at the amount.
It didn't matter how much it was; it wouldn't be enough to make me feel any better about what I'd just done. I could feel Johnny's presence in my mind, a heavy, oppressive weight. He hadn't said anything during my... encounter with Carlos, but I could feel his disapproval, his disgust. I pushed the thoughts away, not ready to deal with them yet.
Carlos stood up, buttoning his suit jacket. "Well, I see no reason to waste any time. You have the skills but you need to look more… enticing if you want to draw in clients.” Carlos smirked, his eyes roaming over my body, lingering on my breasts. “We need to make you look the part, chica.” Carlos said, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. “You’re a pretty girl, but you need to stand out on Jig-Jig Street. You need to make men drool, make them beg for more.”
Carlos smirked, gesturing to the door. “You go to fingers, tell him I sent you.” Carlos said, his voice firm. “He’ll set you up, something... appropriate for your new line of work.” He winked, a gesture that made my stomach turn.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I felt dirty, used, and I hated it. But I needed the cred, and I needed to keep Arasaka off my back. So, I would play this game, for now.
Carlos walked over to the door, opening it for me. “Remember, V, you're one of us now. You work for the Valentino's, and you answer to me.
Don't forget that, whore." He gave my ass a sharp slap. His voice was cold, hard, and I knew better than to argue. I stepped out of the office, the door clicking shut behind me. The hallway was still dimly lit, the air still thick with the scent of old cigarettes and something more sinister. I walked down the hallway, my boots echoing on the worn-out carpet. "You didn't have to do that, V," he said, his voice a low growl. "You don't have to do this at all.
You could walk away, find another way out of this mess."
I sighed, Johnny's voice echoing in my head. "And what way is that, Johnny? I'm blacklisted, remember? No one wants to touch me. I need cred, and I need to keep Arasaka off my back. This is the only way."
Johnny was silent for a moment, then he sighed. "So you resort to whoring yourself out? There’s other options"
I sighed, pushing open the door to the lobby.