R.O.B. 37

PLAYER STATUS: Joshua Myrddin

Level: 15

EXP: 14,275 / 18,000

Title: The Anomaly

Class: None Assigned — Multiclass Eligible

---

Base Stats:

Strength 78

Dexterity 79

Constitution 80

Intelligence 178

Wisdom 136

Charisma 77

Perception 100

Luck 79

System Note: Big brain energy detected — now just try not to waste it on bad decisions.

---

Current Inventory Highlights:

• Portal Gun (C 519b)

• Rick C 137 Neural Archive — Decryption in progress

• Transfer Token Fountain World

• 2.4 Liter Uncorrupted Portal Fluid

• Collapsible Shield Watch — Wrist-mounted shield, resists magical attacks

• Multiversal ID Token — Interdimensional identification

• Wand — 14.5 inches, multiple rare woods and a Thunderbird tail feather core

• Custom Wand Holster — Forearm mounted, auto-sealing

• Collapsible Battle Staff — Oak with dark silver alloy reinforcement

• Malorian Arms 3516 — Signature pistol

• Johnny Silverhand's Retro Sunglasses

• Johnny Silverhand's Jacket — Leather armor

• Johnny Silverhand's Cigarette Lighter — Flamethrower capable

• Tattooed Arm Cyberware — Nanofiber muscle enhancements

• Enchanted 3-Piece Suit Set — Armored, climate adaptive, self-repairing

• Uncharged Lightsaber Handle — Indigo blade, bonds to destiny

• Miniature Pensieve — Stores single memories externally

• Eye of Agamotto Replica — Reads encrypted magical texts, potential memory restoration

System Note: Collecting all these is cute. You call that hoarding?

---

Augmentations:

• Secondary Heart

• Lynx Legs — Double jump capability

• Kerenzikov Reflex Booster

• Military Grade Cyberdeck

• Subdermal Armor

• Neural Interface

System Note: Your cyberware's top tier. Life choices? Still a question mark.

---

Johnny Silverhand Set Bonus:

Equip all Johnny gear to gain:

+25 Charisma

+20 Strength

Rebel Spirit passive — Fear resistance, intimidation, health regeneration

---

System Commentary:

You show all this on your status page? Bold move. Four years of sweat and you finally unlocked me. Adorable.

...

[Incoming Call – Meyers]

The comm buzzed sharp and immediate. Meyers' voice cut through the static like a blade.

"You messed up, V. Time to surrender. You were supposed to stay dead."

V's grin was cold, voice low and steady.

"Funny thing about staying dead. Didn't stick. Didn't want to stick. What, you want me to roll over and die again? Sorry, that ain't how I work."

Meyers hissed, anger barely contained.

"NUSA won't forget. You crossed lines you can't come back from."

"Been there. Done that. Took their best shots and sent them packing. Ready for round two."

The line went dead, the threat hanging heavy.

---

[Incoming Message – Rogue]

V's comm buzzed again, this time a message from Rogue.

"V, you dumb gonk. Everyone with a grudge got your trail. Corps, fixers, gangs. The punk who put a contract on the girls sold you out to anyone looking to make a name. They're coming."

V's fingers traced the grip of Johnny's Malorian at his side.

"Let 'em come. We'll see who's left standing."

---

[Call – Judy]

Judy's voice came in, sharp but with warmth beneath it.

"Hey V, luck's on your side, or maybe it's just dumb luck. Either way, keep your head down out there. We're out of town, but we got your back from afar."

V nodded even though she couldn't see it.

"Appreciate it, Judy. Watch your six."

---

[Call – River]

River's tone was steady, a quiet strength.

"V, you're walking into a hornet's nest. Stay sharp. If you need eyes on you, just say the word. We'll cover you."

"Thanks, River. Means more than you know."

---

V closed the comm and looked out over the city skyline. The night was electric with danger, but he was ready. This wasn't just a fight for survival. It was a reminder. V was still here. And he wasn't going anywhere.

---

The bunker shook with the pounding of boots and the sharp rat a tat of automatic fire. Sixty enemies stormed through the breach, a relentless tide flooding in like they owned the place.

V stood steady, every movement precise, every shot a calculated dance. One bullet at a time, one enemy down, another advancing only to be cut down with surgical efficiency. His Malorian pistol spat fire with deadly rhythm, each round finding its mark. It was a deadly ballet, each shot a note, each kill a step, until sixty bodies lay silent on the cold concrete.

The last echo faded. V's chest rose and fell, the adrenaline a steady drumbeat beneath his calm.

He slapped a new mag in his pistol and keyed the comm. "Truck's ready. Time to move."

Outside, the armored vehicle waited like a beast, weapons primed and growling for carnage.

V moved fast, slipping through shadows and spent shell casings. He reached the truck, threw open the door, and slid inside.

The turret guns hummed to life, raining death on the remaining swarm. The steel beast tore through the ranks, crushing the attackers with relentless firepower.

....

The Badlands stretched out like a rust-colored sea, empty and endless beneath the late afternoon sun. Jagged rock formations and wind-carved ridges cut shadows across the sand. The battered transport hummed low and steady along the cracked road, kicking up a long plume of dust behind them. Inside the vehicle, silence reigned, heavy but not unwelcome.

V sat in the front passenger seat, Johnny's Malorian resting on the center console, glinting faintly in the light. He didn't reach for it, just kept his hand close. Old habits. Vik drove with a casual focus, one hand on the wheel and the other resting lightly near the gear shift. Misty stared ahead, eyes half-lidded but alert. She looked like someone trying to feel a future that hadn't quite arrived yet.

Bo sat behind Vik, fingers tapping a restless rhythm against her thigh. Her eyes scanned the horizon through the side window, jaw set tight.

"Almost peaceful," she said. "Like the world's holding its breath."

Kensi sat behind V, cradling her pistol. She reloaded it for what had to be the twelfth time, her movements precise but just a little too fast. Not panicked. Practiced. Trying not to screw it up if things went sideways.

"Hopefully not waiting to sneeze explosions all over us," she muttered.

V didn't laugh, but his lips twitched. Bo rolled her eyes and leaned back, trying to relax but clearly not buying the peace.

"Been too quiet since the last wave hit the safe house," Vik said, voice low. "Makes me think they're waiting for a moment like this."

Misty nodded slowly. "Stillness before storms."

V turned to look at them all. "We're not in the clear yet. Stay sharp."

The truck crested a rise and the desert opened up ahead. Nothing moved. No drones. No black SUVs. No chromehead mercs with more metal than skin. Just sunlight and heat and the promise of escape.

Then the EMP hit.

The lights cut out. The engine coughed once and died. Every screen inside the cab flickered, then went dark. The truck rolled forward on dead momentum, tires grinding over gravel before it coasted to a stop.

V grabbed the Malorian. Bo and Kensi were already moving. Misty pulled something from her bag; a slender combat stim she kept for emergencies.

"Everyone out," V said. "Weapons hot. This is it."

They bailed out of the cab as the first wave came into view. Blacked-out vehicles cresting the ridge behind them, soldiers in sleek armor deploying in coordinated waves. Some were standard Corpo muscle. Others weren't. Rogue agents. Spec-ops freelancers. Tigers. Maybe even FIA. All of them after the same thing.

Them.

Gunfire cracked. The world exploded into motion.

V moved first, a blur of practiced violence. The Malorian barked fire, every round hitting center mass or between the eyes. Two went down. Three. Four. Kensi flanked left, catching an approaching soldier in the knee before finishing him with a double-tap to the helmet. Her face was pale but her hands didn't shake.

Bo covered Vik and Misty, shifting angles like she had done this a hundred times. She wasn't perfect, but she was fast and hit hard. One target dropped trying to vault a rock, caught mid-air by her burst fire.

V didn't lead the charge alone. Not this time. The girls held the line with him. The team fought like a strange puzzle finally clicking together under pressure.

Vik barked, "Incoming drone, twelve o'clock!"

Kensi pivoted and tossed a tech grenade. It burst mid-air, scrambling the drone's optics. Bo shot it out of the sky. Misty moved among them like smoke, passing out quick stim boosts, yanking one of the girls out of the way as a grenade landed nearby.

Still they kept coming. More vehicles. Heavier weapons. Automated turrets deployed from hidden hatches. A mech walker rolled out from a hidden transport crate, bearing Arasaka insignia.

"They brought a tank to a street fight," V muttered, loading another clip. His arms were sore. The Malorian was running hot. He had bruises forming and blood somewhere on his ribs. Still, he kept going.

The team fell back toward a broken section of road as they tried to reposition. Their armored truck was fried. No signal. No backup.

Rounds zipped past. A sniper forced them into cover. V ducked beside a slab of shattered concrete, breathing hard, watching another dozen bodies swarm the ridge.

And then the wave kept growing. Another group fanned out from the east. More drones. Another mech.

V's clip ran dry. He reached for another. Empty. His fingers brushed his belt. Still nothing. He reached behind him for the mag pouches on his back rig. Gone. Bo and Kensi were both pinned down. Vik had taken a hit but kept firing from a prone position.

They were running out of time.

Then the world froze.

Just for a heartbeat. A flicker.

[System Notification: You gonna keep playing this on hard mode just for the flex, or are you finally ready to stop holding back?]

V looked up, eyes burning with something deeper than adrenaline.

The gunfire had thinned. Just for a breath. Smoke curled in the fading light as the winds shifted over the open desert.

Then came the hum. Low, steady, precise. A high-performance AV swept in from the north, descending fast and quiet like a bird of prey. Its landing kicked up sand in a perfect circle, scattering ash and shell casings across the cracked road.

The side hatch opened.

Out stepped Rosalind Meyers.

She didn't wear medals. She wore purpose. Sharp suit reinforced with discreet plating. Darkened visor reflecting the chaos around her. She moved like someone used to giving orders that cost lives.

V stood, blood still drying on his jaw, Malorian hanging at his side. His armor smoked in three places. His eyes burned hotter than the sunset behind him.

She walked forward with the calm of a god choosing who would burn.

"You just don't know when to stay buried," she said.

V let out a low breath. "You didn't send enough bodies the first time."

"That was a mistake," Meyers replied. "This time I brought a graveyard."

Behind her, troops advanced. Synchronized, well-armored, the best Night City could buy and then some. VTOLs circled high above, scanning for escape routes he didn't plan to take.

"You ruined operations that didn't even have names yet," she said. "Got your fingerprints on things I should have burned before the public ever heard of them. And now you're playing bodyguard for some stolen tech in borrowed skin."

Bo shifted slightly at that. Kensi stiffened. Misty took a slow step behind V. Vik muttered something low under his breath.

"You think this is a rescue story," Meyers said. "But you're just a broken relic trying to play hero in a city that stopped needing you."

V looked down at his pistol. Johnny's pistol. Then back up at her.

"Maybe," he said. "But this broken relic just cut through two hundred of your finest like it was warm-up day."

Meyers raised an eyebrow. "Still standing though, aren't I?"

V smiled. All teeth and fire. "Not for long."

She gestured once.

The entire line of soldiers raised their weapons.

System Notification: Heads up, boss. Incoming density is off the charts. You're about to get overwhelmed if you don't shake things up.

The air shifted.

The wand snapped into his hand like it had been waiting for its cue.

Magic surged. A tidal wave cloaked in silence. The sand at V's feet lifted, spun, and hung frozen in a halo of pressure and heat. Sparks danced along the Malorian's frame as the monowire shimmered into view, burning bright orange like a sunrise pulled taut between his fingers.

Kensi's voice broke through the static. "V… what the hell are you?"

Bo took half a step forward, staring in open disbelief. "That's not cyberware. That's not even science."

Meyers didn't blink. But her soldiers did.

V's voice dropped to a whisper. Just loud enough to carry across the battlefield.

"You came for a legend."

He raised the wand.

"Guess you forgot what they can do."

The system asked him if he was going to keep playing on easy mode....

The answer was obvious.

Magic answered.

The world burned around him. V stood in the heart of chaos, wand raised, shield blooming into a gleaming circle of mithril and goblin silver. Bullets slammed into the barrier with rapid percussion, sparks dancing along its surface like fireworks against the moon. A high-caliber sniper round struck center mass. The shield rippled, absorbed, and returned to stillness. Behind it, V remained untouched.

He flicked his wand once. The motion was clean. Focused. A blast of force erupted outward, lifting two enemies off their feet and hurling them backward like ragdolls. Their bodies crumpled against a burned-out vehicle, armor crushed. He stepped forward. The monowire slid free with a whispering hum, coiling around his arm like a living thing. It pulsed with energy as he spun through three attackers, each step a calculated dance. The wire snapped through carbon plating, severed limbs, and parted reinforced bone with the same ease as silk.

A sweep of his wand and a streak of fire leapt from the ground, a serpent of living flame that coiled around a tank and turned it into a metal inferno. He turned his wrist and the fire curved through the air, reborn as a wall of molten heat that split a squad formation in half. Screams followed. The wand danced again. Roots tore through the concrete, twisted and thorned, grabbing ankles and dragging soldiers to the ground where earth hardened into stone around them. Some screamed. Some prayed. None escaped.

He did not pause.

A drone came in low and fast. V stepped to the side, let it pass, and then turned his wand with a snap. Lightning leapt from its tip, a forking arc that slammed into the drone and lanced into two more behind it. The smell of scorched circuitry hit a breath later.

He whispered a freezing incantation and swept his hand. A glacial wind blew sideways through the next wave of enemies, their weapons coated in frost, their limbs locking up. Another spell chained behind it, twisting gravity, hurling them upward, smashing them into the sky as if the world itself had rejected them.

The monowire retracted, then extended again. He spun low, cutting through a wall of soldiers advancing through cover. The wire's edge parted weapons, ribs, and helmets. A man lunged at him. V caught the blow on his shield, let the kinetic force roll over him, and responded with a word of power that detonated like thunder. The man ceased to exist.

His breathing never changed. Every movement was precise. Every spell chosen and chained with the ease of a master pianist playing a war anthem on the bones of gods. The wand was not a weapon. It was a baton. And V was conducting an orchestra of fire, lightning, and ruin.

He stopped only when the battlefield was silent. Smoke curled through the air. Steel hissed as it cooled. Bodies lay in twisted heaps, chrome and blood indistinguishable beneath the stars.

V stood alone. Still breathing. Still dangerous.

A war mage quenched by Night City.

Forged by one of the greatest war mages to ever grace Britain's shores.

[So we're finally done pretending you're normal. Took you long enough. What was the plan... die inspirationally first Maybe leave behind a mixtape and a tear-streaked goodbye Too late. Go on then melt reality a bit. Just don't expect me to pretend this wasn't overdue by a dozen body bags and three blown opportunities.]

The wand spun once in his fingers before settling into a steady grip. Josh's eyes burned with focus. The battlefield was fire and metal, smoke choking the sky where Night City once loomed like a broken crown. Now it was just noise, fading behind the thrum of magic flowing hot and heavy through his veins.

He moved.

"Expulso."

A surge of force burst from the wand's tip, slamming into an advancing line of chrome-plated mercs. They didn't just fall. They crumpled. Armor twisted like tinfoil. Bodies hurled like dolls into the dirt. Before the last one landed, he was already turning, wand cutting arcs through the air.

"Glacius. Incendio. Sectum Tempest."

A cone of ice spread like frostbite across a dozen rifles mid-fire. Flames burst behind them, catching unshielded ammo and fuel cells. Then the slicing storm. An invisible arc of pressure carved through cover and bone with surgical precision. It tore down the center line like an executioner's blade.

Bo and Kensi flanked behind him, stunned but adapting. Bo dropped a target with precision shots from her rifle. Kensi vaulted into motion, drawing fire and returning it with short brutal bursts. But it was clear who the storm answered to.

Josh moved like a conductor directing chaos.

"Protego Maxima."

A shimmer of silver and cobalt bloomed out in a dome, deflecting a dozen precision sniper rounds like rain off glass. One round exploded against the curve just inches from his cheek. The shockwave rolled past harmlessly. He didn't flinch. He raised the wand again.

"Bombarda Maxima."

The ground shuddered. A full tank transport lifted from the earth and came down twisted, the engine block folding like paper. Arasaka foot soldiers scrambled, yelling in two languages. None of them got more than a step.

He shifted stances, stepped forward, and whipped the wand out.

"Oppugno."

Scrap metal from the shattered transport rose like birds from ash. It hovered for a heartbeat. Then it screamed toward the nearest cluster of Biotechnica enforcers, shredding synth-flesh and carbon plating alike.

A missile shrieked from the edge of the ridge.

"Aegis Vitae."

The watch on his wrist flared as the shield unfolded. It caught the warhead midair. The explosion roared but the barrier held, rippling with ancient sigils that laughed in the face of modern warfare. He dropped the shield with a flick of his wrist and stepped through the smoke.

"End of the line," he said softly.

Then he drew the monowire.

The hiss was intimate. Familiar. It crackled with suppressed fury and arcing flame, the fire variant finally awake. He lunged.

The first strike took off an arm. The second bisected a torso. Josh twisted. Carved. Ducking. Spinning. A flame-edged blur through terrified eyes. No hesitation. No wasted movement. Every enemy was a problem already solved. Every scream a punctuation to a spell or slice.

Bo gaped mid-fire. "He's... he's not even winded."

Kensi's voice was almost reverent. "He's making it look like art."

They weren't wrong. The battlefield pulsed with controlled violence and precision, a symphony of ruin conducted at wandpoint.

V moved like it was second nature. Like he had always been this. Always known that guns were just the warm-up. That chrome and reflexes were tools, not crutches.

But it was still him.

Still V.

Scarred. Tempered. Built in the dirt and blood of Night City.

This wasn't some new version stepping forward.

He just stopped pretending that was all there was.

.....

Flames licked the ruins. The last echoes of gunfire faded into silence. The battlefield steamed in the aftermath. Bodies, metal, and pride alike scorched into ruin.

V stood in the center, untouched.

Ash clung to his coat. The air still shimmered with magic. Sparks hissed off shattered chrome.

Across from him stood Rosalind Meyers.

Clothes torn. Blood streaked her temple. Armor cracked. Still breathing.

V didn't raise his wand. His voice carried more weight than any weapon.

"I once helped you escape Night City," he said, calm and clear. "Figured you might make that count."

Meyers glared. "Don't showboat. Just get it over with."

He looked her in the eye.

Then turned his back.

"You aren't worth my time."

She moved. Fast. Reckless. A pistol raised at his back.

"Expelliarmus."

The spell hit like a warhammer. Her weapon tore from her grip. She flew back, slammed against a ruined slab of concrete, groaning as the wind left her lungs.

Still alive.

V kept walking. Unbothered.

The system hummed quietly, clearly pleased with the results.

---

Omake

Harry Potter (LawLord) Private Observation, 2007

Harry leaned into the chair, elbows on his knees, watching the stream unblinking.

The truck rumbled through a wasteland of dust and wreckage. Five people filled its cramped interior. Two men, three women. No one spoke. The silence felt heavy not awkward but deliberate.

Vik, the driver, held the wheel with a steady grip. Not nervous. Intent. His calm, measured control marked him as someone used to carrying responsibility. A doctor's precision, Harry thought.

Beside him, V sat still and focused, eyes scanning the environment outside the truck. His quiet alertness spoke of experience, someone used to danger but not rattled by it.

Behind them, Bo sat tall and still. Her quiet surety spoke of battlefield experience. Even in close quarters, she moved with a measured confidence that commanded respect without a word.

Misty fiddled with a worn deck of tarot cards. Harry smiled quietly to himself. He did not believe in prophecy, especially not that kind. But the way Misty handled the cards, as if they might whisper secrets only she could hear, said a lot about needing control in a world gone sideways.

Kensi shifted nervously, fingers fumbling as she practiced quick reloads on her gun. Harry saw someone clearly out of her element doing everything she could to adapt and stay alive. Every snap of the magazine was a small act of defiance against chaos.

They moved like a team even if their backgrounds were different. Survival had bound them tighter than training.

A container passed quietly from one to another, a curl of steam briefly catching the light. Simple comforts in a harsh world.

Their gear was practical no frills no useless flash. Tough functional. Made for use not show.

Harry's fingers twitched with muscle memory from years of quiet waiting before a fight. He wasn't there but he knew the tension that filled a silent truck like this. It was the breath before a storm.

He exhaled slowly imprinting the moment in his mind. Whatever came next he'd be ready to see it through.

The truck went dark in a heartbeat, an EMP according to the stream, hit hard and fast, killing every circuit and plunging them into silence. No lights, no comms, nothing but heavy breathing and tense anticipation.

Harry's mind ran through every countermeasure he knew. In his world, this was when the real fight began, chaos and confusion favored the attacker. He imagined how he'd respond: staying low, using cover, quick shots, and sharp instincts.

The sounds exploded around the truck, gunfire cracking, glass shattering, urgent shouts. It wasn't clean or precise. It was raw survival.

He thought about how different this was from his magic battles, where spells had rules and structure. Here, it was just cold metal and fast reflexes.

He leaned forward, eyes fixed on the screen, ready for whatever came next. This was no fairy tale. It was war.

Harry's heart hammered as the gunfire tore through the silence. The men and women inside that truck weren't just fighting for survival, they were fighting for everything. No fancy spells, no elegant duels. Just grit, steel, and nerves stretched tight as a wire.

He couldn't help but wonder how long they'd hold. His mind raced through every tactic, every defense he'd drilled over the years. But this wasn't Hogwarts. This was real. Brutal. And utterly unforgiving.

Whatever happened next, it was clear the stakes couldn't be higher. And deep down, Harry knew the real test was just about to begin.

Harry slammed his fist against the armrest, voice rough and furious. "Bloody hell, what the fuck was that? Magic? Out in the open like some damn fireworks show?"

He shook his head, disbelief twisting his features. "This isn't supposed to happen. The Statute of Secrecy isn't just a suggestion, it's the damn law. If this is the future, if this is what we're headed toward... then God help us all."

His jaw clenched tight. "I've seen dark times, but this? This reckless display? It's a bloody invitation for disaster."

Harry's gaze burned into the screen like he was willing the chaos to stop. "If anyone back home saw this, there'd be uproar. Mass panic. And worse, the Ministry would be hunting whoever did it like a pack of dementors."

He sighed, rubbing his face. "Maybe this is some nightmare vision, some warning from the future. Or maybe... we're already too late."