The Giant Corporations that Started in Night City

Chapter 62: V

"Lucy, what are your plans for the vacation? Are you going with Rebecca to the tattoo shop or maybe a nail salon?" Li Ang glanced at Lucy and asked.

Lucy shook her head. Unlike Rebecca, who loved decorating her prosthetic limbs and weapons with flashy designs, Lucy cherished every mark on her body for its unique meaning.

Some tattoos were a testament to her rebirth; others memorialized fallen family members and comrades.

To Lucy, tattoos weren't mere decorations but permanent reminders of things she could never forget.

"I heard there's a new braindance club in Heywood. They've got some new moonwalk simulations. Want to join me?" Lucy flashed Li Ang a charming smile. Watching moonwalk simulations with Li Ang had become part of her vacation plan.

"I'd like that," Li Ang replied with a grin, though his mind remained alert. Gazing at the towering skyscrapers outside the window, he knew the fight was far from over.

---

Three Months Later

Watson District. Little China. Skyscraper.

Stanley's Broadcast:

"Good morning, Night City!

Yesterday's body count lotto clocked in at a solid thirty! Thanks to all the gang wars, ten of those were just from Heywood.

Even one of our beloved NCPD officers bit the dust, so expect the department to be out for blood.

And Santo Domingo's power outage? Yep, another cyberattack. Hackers strike again."

The radio blared Stanley's exuberant yet grating voice, further irritating V, who was already nursing a headache and feeling unwell.

He groggily dragged himself out of bed, shut off the radio, and stumbled to the mirror.

Staring back at him was the same handsome face he always saw. V, the drifter with big dreams of making it in Night City, was still there.

His real name was Vincent, a nomad from the Bakker clan. Leaving the safety of his family, he'd ventured to Night City to make a name for himself.

Life had been decent recently. He'd earned some cash selling a rare iguana from the Lesser Antilles and made good friends like Jackie Welles, Misty, Mama Welles, and his ripperdoc, Viktor.

But last night, everything changed. A job with Jackie—rescuing a corpo woman from scavengers—left him infected with an unknown virus.

"Shit, what the hell did I catch?" V muttered, clutching his now-diminishing headache as he called Jackie via holo.

"Hola, mi hermano! How was your sleep last night?" Jackie's deep voice, tinged with excitement, came through. He was in a nightclub, dancing as usual.

"Jackie, I think I'm sick."

After V explained his symptoms, Jackie immediately offered to accompany him to Viktor's clinic to get checked.

"I'll be waiting downstairs. Oh, and I've got a surprise for you, bro!" Jackie added mischievously.

"Be right down," V said.

As he ended the call, V's mind replayed last night. While rescuing Sandra Dorsett, he'd linked to her biomonitor—and ever since, something felt off.

"How the hell does someone that attractive have a damn neural virus?" V grumbled.

With no Trauma Team insurance, V's only option was Viktor. The ripperdoc was kind and generous, but V hated constantly relying on him.

After a quick shower, V threw on his brown work jacket and headed downstairs.

"V! Over here!" Jackie waved from a noodle stand, slurping down a bowl of synthetic wheat noodles.

As the proud "Son of Heywood," Jackie's look screamed street samurai: shaved sides, a topknot, and oversized swagger.

"Jackie, why do you keep eating here? You sure that industrial sludge tastes good?" V bluntly asked, ignoring the stall owner's glare.

"Like you've eaten better," Jackie retorted, savoring another bite.

"We nomads eat wild game and fresh fish when we're lucky," V shot back, recalling a bowl of noodles from years ago.

Rich beef sauce, tender pork belly, and handmade noodles served with a creamy fish broth—that was real food.

"Yeah, right," Jackie scoffed, unconvinced. Finishing his meal, he pointed toward the towering medical center nearby.

The LA Company-owned Night City First Medical Center was now the Trauma Team's headquarters. Every corporate elite came here for treatment, making Watson a hub of activity.

"See that? Watson's basically LA Company territory now. You either join them or become a legend to get noticed here," Jackie declared.

His dream was to become a legend in Night City, maybe even have his name immortalized on a bar menu someday.

"And to make a name here, we've got to pull off something big, V. Real big."

V nodded. Jackie wasn't wrong.

With LA Company securing Watson under strict surveillance, most work for mercs had dried up. The locals had shifted to factory jobs with steady pay and weekends off.

Honestly, V sometimes envied their cushy setup. LA Company employees even had Trauma Team insurance—a luxury beyond most mercs.

But V wasn't here to settle. He had his sights set on something greater.