R.O.B. 37

The safe house was quiet.

Bo sat cross-legged on the floor between the two cots, eyes fixed on the man in the chair by the door. Kensi was behind her, curled up like a kitten on a bad day. Even asleep, she looked ready to bolt.

V hadn't moved much. One boot planted firm, hand near his belt, head tilted just enough to fool anyone watching. But Bo wasn't fooled.

He wasn't sleeping. Not fully.She'd seen enough tough guys play dead to know the difference.

Her eyes followed the lines of his arms, the way the jacket didn't hide the tension beneath. No need to see his face to know he was listening.

He hadn't spoken since they landed here. Locked everything down, made a call with a voice full of quiet force, then sat like a loaded gun with the safety off.She should've been more afraid.But she wasn't.

Trust wasn't given freely. But something about him clicked. Old scars, old habits. The kind of weight you carry when the world tries to kill you and misses by an inch.

Bo rubbed a sore spot on her wrist where some Claw had grabbed too hard.This city wasn't home. Didn't even feel like Earth. It smelled like blood and battery acid, anger soaked into the pavement. Like her worst nights in New Orleans, spread out into a skyline of chrome.

But this man?He belonged here.

And that unsettled her.

She leaned forward, eyes locked on him and the gun at his hip.

Not the one he'd used at the club, that was something else. Heavy. Mean. A weapon with history.Bo shook her head slightly.

"You ain't street muscle. Not really."

Still no response. Not a twitch.She smiled slow.

"I ain't stupid, sugar. You don't move like muscle for hire. You move like you've been here longer than the streetlights."

She sat back, folding her arms.

"This city... it's got a rhythm. Ugly, loud, like it's chewing through everything. But you? You don't fight the current. You move with it. Like it knows you. Like it remembers."

Kensi stirred behind her. Bo didn't look.

"You don't have to talk," she said. "Not yet."

She watched the red light pulse with her heartbeat.

"I don't know what you are or where we are, but something tells me this ain't your first time pulling someone outta the fire."

Silence stretched.

Then a soft exhale. Not tired. Alert.

Bo smirked, eyes closing for a moment.

"Yeah. That's what I thought."

She glanced at Kensi. The girl murmured and twitched in sleep, still fighting shadows.

Kensi was curled tight, clutching the blanket like it might keep her grounded. The pistol she'd grabbed still rested in her palm. Her fingers flexed once, holding the last thread of control. Then still.

Bo's chest tightened.

Kensi wasn't soft. They'd seen worse. Grew up in different places but walked the same alleys. Fought monsters, human, and worse. But this place hit different.

Night City didn't just take. It changed you.

Pressed in deep and rewrote your pulse.

Even worse, it had already started.

Bo noticed when they first hit the alley outside the club. A shift in the lights.

Something metallic beneath Kensi's sleeve. Too smooth. Too clean. Not skin. Not scars.

Chrome.

She didn't know what had been swapped. Arms? Something deeper? But it hadn't been there before.

Whoever dropped them here had done more than move them.

They'd rewritten the rules.

Kensi hadn't said anything. Maybe she hadn't noticed. Or maybe she was too afraid to ask the questions behind her eyes. Maybe she thought silence would make it go away.

Bo knew better.

She tucked the blanket tighter around Kensi. Instinct. Maybe pointless, but it felt right. Familiar. Protecting what you have, even if you don't understand its shape anymore.

They'd survived worse.

But this was new. Different. Not just trauma. Transformation. Unasked. Unwelcome. Irreversible.

Bo leaned back, spine aching.

Her eyes found V, still silent. Watching without watching.

He hadn't moved. But she was sure he'd seen the chrome.

He hadn't said anything. No comfort. Not his style. He gave space and time. Let them come to him. No pressure.

Mercy or experience.

Probably both.

Bo curled in tighter, tired but wired. Rest was miles away. Her nerves hummed like live wires.She didn't know where they were. What changed. Why the air felt different. But the city was biting.

She glanced at Kensi, then back at V.

They weren't okay. Not yet.

But they were breathing.

That was enough.

...

His vision darkened briefly as overlays kicked in. A wireframe shimmer covered the room. Bo sat cross-legged near the center. Kensi curled behind her.

He blinked.

The scan began.

Target One: BO

Identification: Partial

Cybernetic Integrations:

• Subdermal reactive armor plating (tier II)

• Ocular upgrade package (low-grade Night City compatible)

• Lymphatic filtration reroute (experimental)

Status: Stable

Notes: Unregistered chi energy detected. Pattern irregular. Recommend observation.

The chi signature hummed like old blood magic mixed with something new. Wilder. It pulled at him, not just as V, but deeper. Not native to Night City or his new home in the Potterverse.

He shifted focus.

Target Two: KENSI

Identification: Partial

Cybernetic Integrations:

• Dermal mesh weave (adaptive, low-tier)

• Neuro-relay architecture (offline)

• Compact bone lace framework

• Sleeper augment: Mantis Interface (locked)

Status: Stabilizing

Psychological flag:

Trauma Response Level 3

Heart rate variable. Muscle tension elevated in sleep.

They hadn't just been moved. They'd been restructured. Efficient, clean. Like the implants had always been there. No rejection. No surgical residue. Just rewired souls in borrowed shells.

He opened a personal log.

Request: Cross-reference known history.

Query: "Bo" and "Kensi" previous context markers?

The interface pulsed.

Then a quiet reminder:

You catalogued their entire lives and still need a hint. Try opening the Library, genius. You built it for a reason.

No barriers. No encryption. Just a nudge to check his own records.

Josh exhaled, focused.

He closed his eyes, sank inward.

The noise of Night City vanished. Replaced by stillness carved from habit and memory. His mind unfolded as Josh's Library, shifting halls of truth, archive, armory, anchor. Shelves twisted between stone and steel. Lights flickered like thought-forms. Data and memory bent to command.

Two tomes rose:

"Bo Dennis""Kensi Malikov"

No need to open. He rested his hands on their covers. Their individual stories weren't fully known. But he remembered their world, the grit, laughter, monsters without claws but with faces. The bond the firmed through shared trauma. Their bond wasn't perfect, but real. Built on survival.

The Library offered presence. Connection. Enough.

He opened his eyes.

The hum of the cyberdeck returned.

Joshua Myrddin was still here.

So was V.

And two very lost girls.

They weren't alone.

...

The safe house buzzed low. Red light pulsed. Filter hum constant. Circuitry crackling quietly.

Bo hadn't moved. Still cross-legged, watching.

The air shifted.

Kensi stirred.

A breath. Sharp. Shaky. A whimper.

"BoBo…"

Bo turned. The nickname pulled her back.

Kensi sat up, gasping. Eyes wide, skin clammy. Hands clutching the blanket like an anchor.

"BoBo, I had a bad dream," she whispered. "There was blood and noise and those people, and you were bleeding and I…"

Her breath hitched.

Bo moved to her side. "Easy, baby girl. You're alright."

Kensi blinked, eyes darting. Concrete walls. Red lights. Strange hum. Then she locked eyes on the man in the chair.

"Who…"

"He's why we're not still in that nightmare," Bo said softly.

Kensi looked down at her hands, froze.

She turned them slowly. Chrome caught the light.

"What… what the hell is this?"

Her voice cracked. Her thumb traced the seam at her palm's heel. The flex joint hissed faintly.

Bo said nothing.

Kensi looked up, pale. "BoBo… what's going on?"

Bo's silence said enough.

Tears filled Kensi's eyes but didn't fall. She clenched one hand, wincing at the servo's unfamiliar resistance.

"I don't remember asking for any of this."

The man stood, calm.

"No one does."

Kensi flinched. Bo steadied her arm.

He crouched to meet her eyes.

"You're safe," he said. "You're wired, but it took. No rejection. Better than many get. If anything, It's some of the cleanest work I have seen outside of a corpo job."

Kensi blinked, unsure whether to scream or listen.

"Who are you?"

"Call me V," he said. "Long story short, I pulled you out. Bo helped keep you grounded. Simple."

Kensi glanced at Bo, then at her hands.

"I shot someone."

"You did," Bo said softly. "Two. Maybe three. You didn't miss."

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

V straightened. "There's a basin behind the ammo bench."

Kensi didn't move. She curled forward, elbows on knees, breathing hard.

Bo sat beside her, quiet, hand resting on her back.

V scanned the city map. No threats. For now.

Kensi's voice was hoarse. "I don't know what to do now."

"Drink," Bo said. "Eat if you can. We'll figure the rest when the sun's up."

Silence held, but it no longer pressed.

They were awake. Broken, altered.

But alive.

The city hadn't killed them yet.

....

One Hour Later - Current local time. 9:04 AM

....

The safe house stayed quiet. Bo sat on the edge of a cot, watching Kensi shift restlessly on the other. The red light flickered softly, casting long shadows. V stood by the console, eyes scanning the district map, sharp despite the calm.

He didn't speak. Instead, he reactivated the stream silently, tuning into the chat without announcing it. For now, he ignored messages, monitoring silently, answering questions while speaking to Bo and Kensi.

Bo broke the silence.

"Where exactly are we?"

V glanced at them, voice steady. "Heywood. My safe house. Around the corner from Mama Wells' place, El Coyote Cojo."

Kensi frowned. "Okay, but where is that?"

"Night City," he said simply.

Bo tilted her head. "What is Night City?"

V's eyes flicked between them and the glowing map.

"A city like no other. High tech, loud, always moving. Full of people chasing power, money, survival. It's rough and dangerous. Doesn't forgive mistakes. It'll chew you up and won't even bother spitting out whatever is left."

The girls exchanged looks. Bo's jaw tightened. Kensi flexed her fingers, uneasy with the chrome beneath her skin.

V's gaze returned to the map. "You're safe for now. But your tech isn't fully online. You'll want a ripperdoc soon. This place," he gestured, "can't fix what's inside."

Bo met Kensi's eyes. She nodded. "We'll get that done. After rest."

A pause. Unspoken fears hung heavy.

V turned back to the map, awareness split, watching the girls, tracking the district, and following the silent chat pulse. He said nothing about the stream, answering only what was needed, steady and controlled.

Bo softened. "We'll circle back when the time's right."

For a moment, the room was still. Outside, the city hummed, indifferent.

They were broken, wary.

But breathing.

For now, that was enough.

......

The lights in Vic's clinic were low, softer than the last time V had been here. Familiar antiseptic hung in the air, clinging to chrome and dust alike. The whirr of diagnostics, the low pulse of biofeedback monitors—same as it ever was.

Except this time, the patient wasn't V.

Kensi lay on the main chair, unconscious, her arms strapped in place more for safety than restraint. Her right forearm was split open along a panel seam, exposing chrome and servos that didn't belong to any standard catalog.

Vic stared at the readout, slack-jawed.

"This is... impossible," he muttered.

Bo stood nearby, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. She was keeping it together, barely. Her gaze flicked between Vic and the girl she called sister.

Vic continued muttering to himself as he manipulated the interface, zooming in on neural grafts and feedback loops. "No scarring. No inflammation. These implants are bonded tighter than bone. Who the hell did this?"

V said nothing. He just watched.

Vic turned to him, eyes wide. "You seeing this? No corpo makes mods like this. Not even Biotechnica. This is surgical poetry."

"Some of it," V said evenly. "Check the blades."

Vic blinked, went back to the girl's arm, and whistled low. "Ah, hell. These things are misaligned. Servo timing's off by at least thirty milliseconds. Fit's all wrong, wrong tension bands, these… these are cheap knockoffs grafted onto high-tier baseware."

He stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. "They're functional, but they're gonna rip her apart from the inside if she extends more than twice in combat."

"Can you fix them?" Bo asked.

Vic looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "I can do better than fix them. I can replace them. Won't take ten minutes if V still has that storage locker with the old toys."

V moved toward the back cabinet, thumbed a lock open, and pulled a matte black case from under the medbench. He popped it. Inside were three iconic-level mods: monowire, thermal katana sheath, and a fresh pair of mantis blades that still gleamed like they were forged yesterday.

"You still hoarding old legends like some cyberpunk dragon?" Vic asked.

"Knew they'd be useful someday," V replied. "This counts."

Bo stepped closer, watching him.

"You said you knew her. Or people like her."

V nodded. "She's not from here. Neither of them are. Whatever tech they had before... it got recompiled when they dropped in. Looks local, but it's not. You're seeing transposition. Magical, technical, hell if I know."

Vic raised an eyebrow. "You're serious."

V said nothing.

Vic walked around the chair, still glancing at the readouts. "She's stable, but I want to re-route some of the muscle junctions and replace the faulty dampeners. The software's top shelf, even if the hardware's mismatched. Like someone copied it out of a corpo manual and printed it off a rogue AI's back pocket."

He looked back at V, voice lower. "And you. You're walking around like Johnny never happened. Like that construct didn't fry your insides to toast. How the hell are you still ticking, much less glowing clean on every scan?"

V looked at the floor, then met Vic's gaze squarely.

"There was a job. Real hush-hush. Deep black."

"Arasaka?"

V shook his head. "Worse. Something older. Something off the map."

Vic narrowed his eyes. "You died, V. I saw it. You were breaking apart from the inside out."

V leaned against the wall. "Let's just say I made a deal. Should've killed me. Didn't. Put me back together better than before."

"Who could do that?"

V smirked. "I'll tell you when we're not neck-deep in bounty hunters sniffing around for Bo and Kensi."

Vic nodded once. "Fair."

From across the room, Bo asked, "Bounty hunters?"

V didn't answer. Not with words. He opened his wristdeck, tapped into the silent stream. A pinned message hovered at the top.

LOCKED USER: SHADOWWIRE

Rumor confirmed. Two new players in the game. Relocated assets. Package value rising. Hunters inbound.

Bo stepped up beside him, reading it over his shoulder.

"How many know we're here?"

"Too many."

Vic swore under his breath and turned back to Kensi. "Then let's get her combat-ready. No time to waste."

He paused. "You said you had more gear?"

V opened the other two cases. Inside: a smart rifle, pre-Caliburn kinetic pistol, and a cloaking shard paired with a subdermal shield booster.

Bo let out a low whistle. "We hitting a war zone?"

V locked eyes with her. "We already did. Now we're walking out the other side."

Bo nodded. Once.

She turned, kneeling beside Kensi as Vic got to work. The girl stirred, groaning faintly, but didn't wake.

Bo smoothed a hand over her hair, whispering, "We've got you. No matter what they did. No matter where we are. You hear me? We've got you."

Kensi didn't answer.

But she didn't flinch either.

That was enough.

The sun climbed sluggishly over the city's horizon, casting pale gold light through the high slats in the safe house windows. Night City didn't sleep, but it slowed just enough for moments like this to slip through the cracks.

V stood by the wall console, scanning the route. "Time to move."

Bo looked up. "Where?"

"Ripperdoc," V said simply. "Someone I trust."

Kensi grunted, still curled on the cot, but her eyes were open. Tired. Guarded. But open.

---

Vic's Clinic – Mid-Morning

The hum of retrofitted machinery echoed through the cluttered confines of Viktor Vektor's clinic. The faint scent of ozone and antiseptic lingered in the air. Bo stepped in first, eyes flicking across shelves of chrome, cables, and tools. Kensi followed close, blanket still draped over her shoulders like armor.

Vic looked up from his workbench, goggles perched on his head. His eyes narrowed behind them, locking onto V.

"You've got some balls walking in here like this," he said flatly. "Last time I saw you, you were half-dead with another man's memories melting your brain."

V smiled faintly. "Good to see you too, Vic."

Vic stood slowly. He looked V up and down with a disbelief that bordered on reverent fury. "No. No, this... this ain't possible. Your neural mapping was slagged. Sandevistan fried. You were running on fumes. And now… you're just..."

"Whole," V said, shrugging. "Give or take."

"Bullshit," Vic muttered, crossing the space and gripping V's arm, checking ports, fiber tracings, synaptic alignments. "This is, hell, this is better than what I installed. Everything's clean. Too clean. This is corpo-grade, top shelf. Arasaka wouldn't even give their own execs this kind of finish."

Bo watched from the edge of the room, silent, eyes sharp. Kensi sat in the chair by the far wall, still too stiff to relax.

Vic finally pulled back, rubbing his face. "You gotta tell me who did this. This is magic. Some of these ports shouldn't even be compatible. And yet…"

V's gaze dipped for a moment. "Let's fix them first," he said. "I'll tell you everything after. But you might want to pack a bag."

Vic paused. "That a threat?"

"No," V said, softer now. "It's an invitation."

Vic blinked. Then nodded slowly. "Alright, choom. Alright."

He turned to the girls and gestured. "Alright, let's see what we're working with."

Bo stepped forward cautiously. Kensi followed, arms crossed tight.

Vic's hands were gentle but methodical. Scanning, checking, muttering to himself as he worked.

"Jesus. This girl's running a compact bone lace with zero inflammation. And that neuro-relay architecture? Offline, but pristine. No scarring. No firmware junk. This ain't just corpo work, this is pre-market. Like someone built it straight from a blueprint inside a fever dream."

He turned toward Kensi. "This... this right here, though. Mantis Blades. Faulty as hell. Could lock up mid-deployment, take half your hand with 'em. I can swap them out. Ten minutes, tops."

Kensi blinked. "You're sure?"

Vic looked offended. "Kid, I've been rebuilding mercs longer than you've been alive. Yeah. I'm sure."

Bo crossed her arms. "How bad is the rest?"

Vic hesitated. "Nothing critical. They're built to survive, not thrive. Basic mesh, adaptive but slow. Internal comms are hardwired to old protocols. I'd say they were meant to be… disposable, but someone gave a damn about doing it right."

Bo's jaw tensed. "We've been used."

V knelt beside the workbench and unlocked one of the older cabinets. He pulled out a small, hardened case, slid it open, and revealed three pieces of iconic-tier gear: a reflex-boosted tactical optic, a stealth-field interface mod, and a next-gen dermal implant kit wrapped in a biogel sleeve.

Vic's eyes widened. "That's Blackwall-tier gear. You've been holding out."

"They'll need it," V said. "We've got a problem coming."

---

[Incoming Message – Fixer Ping]

V's neural link buzzed once, soft but sharp.

> Incoming Job Alert:

Fixer: Maro

Target(s): Unregistered Cyber-Types, Female. Last seen with local asset "V." Reward: 45,000 eddies. Alive preferred. Dead acceptable.

Rumor Level: Tier 3, gaining traction in Watson and Heywood.

V didn't blink. But his grip tightened on the bench.

Vic saw it. "That ping wasn't friendly, was it."

"No," V said. "They're coming."

Bo tensed. "For us?"

V nodded. "You're anomalies in a city that doesn't tolerate unknown variables. Someone saw the fight at the club. Word got out. Fixers are starting to sniff around."

Vic leaned back. "Then you need gear, clean IDs, and a burner base. Fast."

V looked to him. "Still got that surgical printer?"

Vic grinned grimly. "For you? Always."

...

Kensi was sitting still, watching her new hands flex under the fluorescent light. "Why are you helping us?"

V didn't answer right away. Just leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

"Because someone once dragged me out of a fire I didn't ask to be in," he said. "And maybe this time, I'm paying it forward."

Bo didn't smile. But her eyes softened.

Vic looked between them. "Well then. Let's make sure you all live long enough to regret it."

....

Late Afternoon, Heywood District]

The sun hovered low over the skyline when they reached the edge of Heywood. V led the girls through a maze of alleys and side roads until they stopped at a narrow parking ramp tucked between two aging storefronts. A steel panel, flush with the concrete, blinked once with faint blue light.

V pressed his palm to the reader.

A click. The door slid aside with a smooth hydraulic hiss.

Inside sat a black Quadra Type-66, crouched in the shadows like it had been waiting for orders. Its interior lights flickered to life as they stepped in.

Bo gave a low whistle. "This yours?"

V nodded. "Yeah. She's been with me longer than most people have."

He moved to the rear and opened the trunk.

Inside was a perfectly organized weapons cache. Rifles, pistols, reinforced armor pieces, tactical packs, spare mags, and a few high-grade mods arranged in foam-cut slots. Nothing casual about it. This wasn't a panic stash. It was preparation.

Kensi stared. "You keep all this in your car?"

V pulled out a reinforced jacket and shrugged into it. "Not always. But when I do, it's because I don't like surprises."

Bo reached in and picked up a knife, testing its weight. "This isn't a stash. It's an armory."

"Take what fits," V said. "Just know what it does before you pull the trigger."

Kensi lifted a custom pistol from its case, the light catching on etched sigils along the slide. "This one's... weirdly light."

"Smartframe. Runs on sensor sync. It'll adjust to your grip after a few shots. If you don't like it, there's more."

Bo found a smaller rigged blade, tucked it into her boot. "You always pack this much firepower?"

V offered a slight grin. " Define... always."

" Usually it's only when I'm expecting trouble, which is every Tuesday in Night City. "

The Quadra's dashboard lit up with a quiet alert. Incoming transmission. No name. Just a string of code.

V tapped the side console. The message played through the internal speakers. The voice was filtered, but familiar.

"V. Word's out. Your two passengers? There's a bounty now. Not small either. Someone dumped the club footage into the local net with a data tag. Clean work. Military-grade trace. That ain't gang muscle behind it. That's corps or someone with their level of reach."

"You've got shadows moving. Watch your corners."

The message ended.

Bo leaned her forearms on the edge of the trunk. "So... we're popular."

Kensi frowned. "Someone's trying to scoop us up?"

"Yeah," V said, closing the trunk. "And they've made it worth the effort. Mercs won't care who you are. They'll just see numbers."

Kensi looked down at her hands. Her fingers flexed again over the chrome. "I didn't ask for this."

"I know," V said. "But it's yours now. All we can do is survive with it."

Bo glanced back toward the street. "You got a place in mind?"

"One more safehouse on the west side. Old stash spot. Gear, backup creds, clean tags. Might still have some burner IDs left."

Kensi tilted her head. "This part of the plan too?"

V stepped around the car, opening the driver's door. "This part is the plan for when everything else falls apart."

He slid into the seat and started the engine. The Quadra responded with a quiet purr, ready.

Bo and Kensi loaded into the back.

No one spoke.

Outside, Night City carried on like nothing had changed.

But for them, everything had.

And time was running out.