Cyberpunk: The Ultimate Saga

Biotech Action Office.

"Lord Hess, we've located Lily Cross."

A Netwatch agent burst into the room, a pleased grin on his face, holding a laptop as if it were the Ark of the Covenant.

"Oh? Finally?" Sis Weis, reclining lazily on a sofa and reading a tattered Bible, looked up. A faint, satisfied smile crept across his face.

"You've worked hard."

"It is my greatest honor to serve you, Lord Hess," the agent replied, voice filled with flattery.

"Very good. Let me see what you've found." Hess gestured casually for the agent to place the laptop on the table before him.

"Yes, sir!" The agent swiftly opened the device and clicked play.

The footage came into focus: Lily Cross, seated with companions on plastic stools at a roadside stall, chatting casually over a meal. Their expressions were relaxed, almost carefree.

"This is within Sebastian Ibarra's territory," the agent explained, pointing at a building nearby. "Next door is his underground boxing ring."

As the camera panned to the nearby surroundings, Arasaka Yuto appeared in the frame, having recently rejoined the group. Sis Weis narrowed his eyes and tapped thoughtfully on the table.

"A Father, hmm?"

Though technically outranked by a "dog section chief" who merely shuffled papers from behind a desk, Hess was a field operative, feared and respected for his ruthless efficiency.

In Night City, there existed a massive divide between the upper echelons and the street-level operatives.

The upper class lived in sky-high towers, viewing the lower class as expendable tools.

In contrast, the street-level crowd despised the elite, seeing them as parasites who leeched off society without lifting a finger.

But despite this mutual hatred, the two layers were inextricably linked.

The elite relied on the underworld to execute their will. The underworld, in turn, needed the elite's cash flow.

Enter the middlemen—the ones who walked both worlds.

They were the bridges, able to mediate, manipulate, and maintain the balance between street chaos and corporate order.

Sebastian Ibarra, known only as the Father, was one such man.

Once a priest for the Valentinos, he had witnessed countless bloody turf wars and gang massacres.

Age and fatigue eventually wore him down. Tired of the bloodshed, he shed his old identity and refrained from future conflicts.

Yet, his influence didn't fade. His reputation among the Valentinos remained rock-solid.

Rather than being pushed aside, he transitioned naturally into a mediator role.

Over time, his name carried weight far beyond his original gang. Even megacorporations began to seek his assistance in delicate affairs.

Compared to someone like Dexter, who blustered, vanished, and resurfaced like a second-rate actor, the Father was seasoned, refined.

In Night City, survival wasn't about making noise—it was about lasting.

Those who survived the long game were the real legends.

Just like Rogue.

She didn't need corporate backing—she was the backing.

Anyone who dared to cross her risked war with every merc in the Afterlife. Even corporations hesitated before making her an enemy.

Decades ago, she had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Johnny Silverhand during the assault on Arasaka Tower.

Everyone else from that mission was either dead, missing, or imprisoned.

Only Rogue survived. And she didn't just survive—she thrived.

If there were a hierarchy among middlemen, Rogue stood alone at the summit.

Next to her, even established names like Dakota—limited to her nomadic tribe in the Badlands—seemed minor.

The Father, though not Rogue's equal, commanded deep respect.

He had the Valentinos at his back... and even subtle support from Militech.

That alone made him a force to be reckoned with.

---

Afterlife.

Inside the city's most infamous merc bar, Rogue sat on a leather sofa, legs crossed, sipping a blue cocktail known as Blue Mood—a drink that hid its punch beneath a sweet exterior.

"Give me one reason not to kill you," she said coolly, her eyes never leaving her drink.

V, standing before her, remained calm. To Rogue, he was nothing more than a disposable punk, a mosquito beneath the sun.

"Hey Rogue, still as feisty as ever," a familiar voice emerged—from Johnny, who had momentarily taken over V's body.

Rogue's brows twitched. She straightened and motioned for her guards to leave.

The burly bodyguards hesitated for a second but obeyed.

"Hey, buddy!" V called after the last thug. "Get me an old-fashioned vodka, drown it in beer, and toss in a fistful of chili. Classic Johnny Silverhand."

The thug shot him a glare, ready to pummel him, but Rogue waved her hand.

"Give it to him."

The man grudgingly turned back to the bar.

"The Silverhand Special," Rogue muttered. "No one's ordered that in a long time... Who the hell are you?"

V smiled and lit a cigarette with a flick of his wrist—Johnny's signature motion.

"Son of a—"

Rogue grabbed V by the collar and pulled him forward. "That bastard is in your head?!"

The truth quickly spilled out.

Despite the tension, Rogue and Johnny soon slipped into familiar rhythms—banter, sarcasm, and shared memories. Though sharp words flew, the bond between them ran deep.

Old friends. Ex-lovers. Soldiers of a different era.

"So what's the plan now?" Rogue asked. "Blow up Arasaka Tower again?"

"Damn right," Johnny spat. "And take out that metal freak Adam Smasher while we're at it."

Rogue's expression hardened.

"Yeah... that bastard's got a lot of blood on his hands."

"We'll wait," Johnny nodded. "Until this body gets stronger."

"But seriously... you're sharing a body with a kid? That's rich." Rogue smirked.

"I know, right? What kind of karma is that?" Johnny groaned. "We've got to get separated."

"Only Arasaka tech can do that."

"Exactly why we need to pay them a little visit," Johnny said. "And get this—this girl, V, saw Yorinobu Arasaka kill Saburo Arasaka with her own eyes."

Rogue's eyes widened. "You're kidding."

"Nope."

"So she's the one Arasaka's been hunting in secret... Johnny, you really do know how to stir up a hornet's nest."

Johnny smirked. "That's what I do best."

He stood, straightening his jacket.

"I've got work to do."

Rogue nodded. "Be careful."

"You too, Rogue. Don't go dying on me."

As V walked out of the room, Rogue sat still, gazing into her now-empty glass.

The bar's noise returned to fill the silence, but her thoughts lingered.

Johnny was back.

And so was war.

Øóffer going on for diamond tier

pàtreøn (Gk31)