Cyberpunk: The Ultimate Saga

"Is this the method you mentioned?" V asked, examining the small Mewtwo device in his hand.

"Mhm," Judy nodded, her fingers dancing across her keyboard. "I breached Forrest's archives and found a copy of the original Mewtwo. Tracked it. Xiao Ai was shipped to a warehouse."

V frowned. "Why send her there?"

Judy clenched her teeth. "Black Mewtwo."

Mewtwo had become one of the most popular entertainment formats of the era. Affordable, portable, and immersive, it allowed users to feel as if they were living inside a cinematic world. The best Mewtwo productions felt more real than reality, a mix of technology and emotion that left traditional films in the dust.

But like all great tools, Mewtwo had a dark side.

For every person using it to chase dreams, there were those using it to explore nightmares.

There were viewers who craved not beauty but brutality—who relished the grotesque, the perverse, and the deeply disturbing. To them, suffering was art. Cruelty was entertainment. And that desire birthed Black Mewtwo.

These illegal and horrifying simulations depicted scenes of violence, degradation, and torment, carefully recorded to evoke maximum dread. And Evelyn—Xiao Ai—had been forced to shoot one of them.

V didn't know what to say. But he knew what to do.

He tightened his grip on the device and said firmly, "Let's go save her."

Judy looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. Her fingers paused, then moved with renewed determination.

Most Mewtwo chips on the market were just pre-rendered reels—unchangeable and passive. But an original Mewtwo, like the one Judy had found, was raw. Editable. Layered. With enough expertise, you could peel back the tracks and hear the unfiltered truth: voices, surroundings, location metadata—everything.

Hours passed in digital silence as Judy sifted through fragmented signals. Food delivery tags. Whispered names. GPS echoes.

Finally, she looked up. "Got it. This is the address."

V pulled off his visor. "Let's move."

The drive to the warehouse was quiet. Deserted buildings blurred past their windows like ghosts. Once they arrived, the truth was immediately obvious.

The place was empty. Bloodstains on the concrete. Flies buzzing. Metal cages left ajar.

Judy dropped to her knees. "We're too late…"

V crouched beside her, scanning the room. "No. Something's off. This doesn't look like a cleanup. Someone helped her escape."

He moved to a nearby dumpster and retrieved a blood-streaked Mewtwo chip hidden in a discarded coat. Evelyn's coat.

"She left us a clue," he muttered.

Judy rushed over, gently taking the chip from his hands. "We have to analyze this. There might be more."

Just as they turned to leave, a voice called out.

"Hey! Who the hell are you?!"

Three men stepped into the warehouse—members of the Vortex Gang. Their leader, a blonde thug with a sneer and an assault rifle, eyed them like prey.

"You trespass, you pay. Leave something behind."

---

Three hours later.

V groaned as Victor adjusted the plating on his cybernetic arm. "You're saying Evelyn was rescued… by an Arasaka agent?"

Victor nodded solemnly. "Leon Black, yeah. She's in a secure facility in Charter Hill, Westbrook. They're keeping her stable."

"Why didn't I know?" V flexed his fingers slowly. The repair was holding.

"Because Leon wiped your memory." Victor's expression was serious. "I had Misty scan you when you came back. She found gaps. That man sealed part of your mind just by looking at you."

V's heart dropped.

"It felt like I'd just performed a regular operation," Victor continued. "No clue that something was wrong—until Misty caught it in a casual chat."

V stared at the floor, processing it all.

"Leon Black… and Lena Fox…" he muttered. "I need to learn more about them. Hack Arasaka's records if I have to."

Victor shook his head. "That can come later. Evelyn's safe—for now. Your focus should be on Dexter. That guy's still gunning for you."

V hesitated. "I know. But…"

"You still think you can talk to him?" Victor interrupted, exasperated. "V, come on. Jack's life is on the line."

He leaned forward, eyes sharp. "Why do you think Dexter picked you? Because you're a convenient fall guy. Friendly. Forgettable. Disposable."

V stayed silent.

Victor sighed. "Dex screwed up. Big time. He wanted to make a splash when he came back to Night City, but all he did was dive headfirst into a meat grinder."

"If Evelyn or you get captured, Arasaka will crush him like an insect."

V clenched his jaw. He didn't like it, but Victor was right. Jack was counting on him.

"I'm going to check on Jack."

Victor nodded. "Go. Just… watch your back."

---

At a shrine on Sakura Street.

Michiko Arasaka and Yuuto knelt in solemn silence before Hanako Arasaka, who sat with her eyes closed.

"Aunt Hanako," Michiko said, voice trembling with contained emotion, "I want to know how Grandpa really died."

Hanako's eyes opened slowly. "He passed from illness."

"Then why did Goro Takemura defect? Why didn't you let me see his body? Why hide the cause of death? Are we not part of this family?"

Her voice rose with every word.

"Michiko!" Hanako snapped, finally meeting her niece's gaze. "Mind your tone."

"That was my grandfather!" Michiko shot back. "I deserve the truth!"

Though still young, Michiko's presence filled the room with undeniable intensity. Yuuto, kneeling beside her, stayed quiet and visibly nervous.

Hanako sighed. "You're too young to understand the complexities—"

"I don't care!" Michiko stood, eyes fierce. "I'll uncover the truth myself. And I won't let his killer go free!"

Without waiting for a reply, she stormed out.

Yuuto scrambled to bow. "Please forgive her, Ms. Hanako. She didn't mean any disrespect. I'll talk to her."

Hanako waved him off, though not without a tinge of weariness. "You're loyal. Thank you."

Yuuto backed out of the room, head bowed.

Though he bore the Arasaka name, Yuuto wasn't from the main family. His role was clear: protect Michiko. Nothing more.

---

In the hovercar.

Michiko seethed quietly, arms crossed as she stared out the tinted window at Night City's neon glow.

"She didn't even cry…" she muttered. "Her own father, and she didn't shed a tear…"

Her grandfather might've been distant, but he was still family. And her blood boiled at how detached the others seemed.

"Yuto," she said softly, "We have to find who really killed him. He deserves justice."

Yuuto said nothing.

Instead, he glanced subtly at the tiny camera nestled in the upper corner of the cabin. In Arasaka transports, every movement was monitored. Every word recorded.

Leon Black had warned him—never assume privacy. Always assume you're being watched.

Sensing his silence, Michiko looked over. "Yuto?"

He shook his head slowly. It was enough.

Michiko immediately understood. Eyes narrowing, she huffed and kicked his seat.

"Why aren't you saying anything?!"

Yuuto remained silent.

She crossed her arms and pouted, playing the role of the spoiled heiress once more.

Yuuto could only marvel silently. Women are natural-born actors.

---

Back at Michiko's residence.

After dismissing the staff, Michiko shut the doors and turned to Yuuto. "Can we talk now?"

He nodded. "We're clear."

She exhaled in relief. "God, I thought I was going to explode."

Yuuto smirked. "Hanako wasn't wrong. There are things you shouldn't rush."

"Shut up," Michiko muttered, rolling her eyes.

They had grown up together. Michiko might've been royalty in name, but Yuuto had always been her only real companion.

After a short pause, his tone turned serious.

"Are you sure you want to investigate this?"

"Absolutely," she replied instantly.

"This path is dangerous," he warned. "It could cost you your life."

Michiko didn't flinch.

"Even if I die a hundred times, I'll have no regrets."

Yuuto looked at her for a moment, then nodded.

"Then we start digging."

pàtreøn (Gk31)