I felt like a tadpole yanked from its pond and thrown onto a scorching-hot frying pan. That sensation hit me for a split second before I managed to pull myself together.
Besides, Michiko kept talking, almost like she was giving me time to think.
"Your former driver and bodyguard, Lucas Costa, regularly sent reports to the Security Service. There was an interesting note about a visit to a hospital in Santo Domingo. From there, it was just a matter of cross-referencing some records, and it turned out that's where Gloria Martinez was treated after her car accident."
Shit. Fucking security goon. Even after death, still finding ways to spit in my coffee.
I had no luck with Brazilians. Then again, they weren't having much luck with me either.
I had scrubbed my interest in the Martinez family from counterintelligence databases, but I had no access to the Security Service's files. Hacking into them just for something like this? Not a chance—I had way bigger problems at the time. Abernathy's sword was hanging over my neck. I was too busy trying to delta out of Arasaka without getting smoked.
"At that time, Mr. Tanaka wasn't even interested in David yet," Michiko continued, tying up her logic. "I find it fascinating how you managed to show such foresight. Was it intuition? Some undisclosed source of information?"
Hmm… What exactly did she suspect? That I somehow knew about David's potential ahead of time? Maybe through some kind of physical data tests?
But that would only raise more questions—what kind of tests, and why would only I recognize their significance?
I'd have to lie, and the more you lie, the more holes there are in your story.
Problem was, telling the absolute truth wasn't an option either. My truth was a thousand times more unbelievable than any well-crafted lie.
Best case? They'd think I was insane.
Worst case? They'd decide to find out what I really was.
Then I'd probably end up in my own personal Kinosura, joining So Mi as a fellow test subject for forced Blackwall excursions.
No, no, no.
I needed a simple, logical motive. Something close enough to the truth that it didn't require an elaborate cover story. No fake tests—those could be debunked too easily.
"Please, don't worry," Michiko said gently. "Even if you did something that went against company protocols, that's in the distant past. Time moves quickly—especially in Night City."
A faint hum made me nearly flinch as the panel in the table slid open. A small, glass bottle of water and a square-cut crystal glass rose from below.
I had no interest in drinking. Least of all water.
What I did want was to get the hell out of here, preferably under a hail of Militech gunfire. That'd be way simpler.
"Some things are hard to talk about…" I said, lowering my gaze, stalling for time.
It was just a trick, but my overclocked brain latched onto it.
The hesitation I pretended to show pulled up real emotions, real memories.
Within seconds, I had the perfect answer lined up.
"Go on, V," Michiko encouraged.
"Alright…" I exhaled. "The truth is, my interest in Gloria Martinez wasn't about her son. I realize that might be hard to believe. There's something called hindsight bias—now that we know who David became, we're tempted to reframe all past events around that fact."
"I agree," Michiko nodded. "But if we remove David from the equation, what remains? What about Gloria drew your interest? Something related to R.E.O. Meatwagon?"
Huh. It was almost like she was handing me the easiest way out.
The dark side of Night City's healthcare system.
She probably already knew Gloria was stealing implants.
But that version of events would be too easy to verify.
Nope. If I was gonna sell this story, I'd make it a performance.
"My interest had nothing to do with Gloria's work," I said.
"Then what?"
"First, I need to explain a little about that period of my life," I started, setting the stage. "Then my motives will make more sense.
"Those last few months before my departure were brutal. The conflict between Jenkins and Abernathy was escalating. I was caught in the crossfire—a pawn, unable to change anything on the board. Trying to one-up Susan, Arthur kept sending me on after-hours missions. Some of them—like infiltrating Crystal Palace's security systems—directly clashed with corporate policy."
"Yes," Michiko nodded. "I heard about that attempt. It was successful, wasn't it?"
"Yeah. And I nearly died twice while doing it. Then the assassination attempts started."
"Those were Abernathy as well?"
"I believe so," I said, letting my voice crack just slightly.
This wasn't acting.
I deliberately dredged up every ounce of trauma from my first days navigating Night City's underbelly.
Even if she was scanning me with a lie detector, it wouldn't ping.
Because I wasn't lying—I was remembering.
"I was walking a razor's edge," I continued. "And I kept thinking about death. What would be on my mind in those final moments? Crunch time at work? Unfulfilled ambitions? Who would even remember me? Arthur? He'd be pissed about losing a useful asset, but he'd move on fast. In the end, what would be left of me besides a name in the company archives?"
"Not many people ask those questions, even when they've brushed against death," Michiko mused. "Such deep awareness is both a gift and a curse. But go on."
So I did.
"I wanted real emotions. Something genuine. I even visited a dollhouse once. Booked one of their top-tier… performers. But… nothing. Just emptiness and artificiality. I wanted something real. So I developed a certain… fantasy."
I paused, refining my next words, making sure not to get lost in those old feelings.
In the silence, I could hear the recordings of extinct birds, the artificial rustling of leaves.
Probably meant to be calming.
To me, these Arasaka jungles felt predatory.
I had to keep going before they swallowed me whole.
"I thought… if I found the right woman in a desperate situation and saved her, we'd inevitably form a deep connection."
"Why Gloria?"
"Her character. I don't remember exactly where I first saw her—probably some old Academy-related records. But she stuck with me. That selflessness. That brutal fight for her son's future. I thought of her again when I needed something real. That's when I started watching her through counterintel feeds. Waiting for the right moment. A point where she'd lose all hope."
"And if that moment never came?" Michiko asked sharply, tracking my every reaction.
"In the end… I would've made it happen," I admitted. "But I didn't have to. The car accident happened. I went to her hospital room. I saw Gloria, unconscious. That dimly lit ward, the stench of death hanging in the air. And that woman lying there on the operating table. So helpless… I felt—"
"A sense of power?" Michiko suggested. "Satisfaction? A secret thrill from controlling the situation?"
"Yes!" I leaned into it, feigning excitement. "It was intoxicating. Everything was going exactly as I planned. I deliberately isolated Gloria—even from her own son. I didn't think much of the kid. But then that footage of David surfaced. And my focus shifted to him instead. Forgive me for making you listen to all that. It's… embarrassing."
"Not at all!" Michiko assured me. "Stalking may have a bad reputation, but it stems from the most natural human instincts. It's an extremely common phenomenon in both Japan and America. And what is stalking, really? Just an expression of interest, paired with an ability to gather intel. In some ways, it's simply an occupational hazard for detectives—plain curiosity. But I still don't understand why you didn't go further with Gloria. Although…"
A satisfied smile played on Michiko's lips. She narrowed her eyes slightly, as if seeing right through me, and said, "You switched to a new object of desire, didn't you?"
"Yeah." I figured the whole Gloria situation was settled, but now I had to worry about digging myself into a whole new mess.
"Now the puzzle pieces are coming together. Her name is Lucy, right? The girl from the gang that tried to jack David's implants?"
"That's right. We didn't start off on the best terms, but I managed to thaw things out over time."
"Using Fixer Faraday as part of your little play before you offed him?"
"Doesn't exactly paint me in a good light," I admitted. "Same as a lot of my past choices."
"You know that old joke? Persistence, determination, and confidence are only virtues if you're not an idiot. Sometimes, the opposite is true. The base instincts of talented people fuel constructive work—for the corporation, of course."
Michiko's tone was even, but the subtext was clear.
"Some of your actions could be labeled as abuse of corporate resources, but considering your results? Those can be overlooked. You intercepted a data leak to Militech. Recruited an incredibly promising solo. And those are just the highlights—you handled several lower-priority cases along the way."
"Yeah…" I sighed. "But that period took a lot out of me."
"And then you disappeared, built your own crew, and made…" Michiko's tone shifted—she was guessing now, testing the waters. "Something like… a million and a half eddies?"
"Well… A lot of that went to ripperdocs, gear, the club," I said modestly. "Hard to calculate the total earnings."
Michiko smirked, her artificial eyes flashing with genuine amusement.
"You're trying so hard not to impress me," she teased. "Usually, I have to deal with people inflating their importance. But every now and then, someone like you shows up—an interesting exception."
Then her tone shifted again, lighter but probing.
"I had one more question. That girl—Lucy. What do you know about her?"
And just like that, I was back on the frying pan.
How much did Michiko already know? Was she planning to dig deeper? Could I deflect her interest entirely?
"What do I know about her?" I echoed. "Where do I even start? We've been working together for a long time. She's reliable."
"Are you sure?" Michiko narrowed her eyes slightly. "Do you know where she was born? How she ended up in Night City? Who her parents were?"
I kept my expression neutral. "Never asked."
"Interesting," Michiko mused, raising her hands in mock surprise. "So, you know me better than you know her?"
"Not everyone likes talking about their past," I replied smoothly. "But we've had plenty of talks about the future. Does she interest you?"
"Not particularly," Michiko said, and maybe she was lying. "I'm also more interested in the future. And I think I finally understand the full drama of the counterintel department. I feel for Susan and the people who died protecting her… but a lot of the blame rests on her own shoulders. Many of her decisions were questionable. Some outright mistakes. One of them… was your termination."
I had a bad feeling about where this was going.
"And how fortunate that I can correct that mistake," Michiko continued smoothly. "Especially since we're currently short on trained operatives who truly understand the city. I would offer you a position right now, but if you have unfinished business, how about tomorrow?"
Shit. This wasn't even a question of whether I wanted to return. Just a matter of right now or tomorrow.
"It's an incredible honor to receive such an offer, especially from you, Michiko-san," I said, carefully choosing my words. "But… my last days in the corporation took a heavy toll on me. Overwork, risk, assassins on my tail. I'm not the same person I was back then. I even have to import expensive meds from Europe—hormonal injections to keep my anxiety and paranoia in check."
"That bad?" Michiko asked, feigning concern.
"Unfortunately, yes," I sighed. "Back then, I ran on adrenaline and danced with death. But now… Now I'm trying to live differently. Quietly. I just want to wake up in the morning without stress and have a glass of milk in the evening."
And right then, my encrypted comm pinged with a message from Rebecca.
"Yo, choom. Let's go fuck up Militech."
Fuck. Of course this was happening now.
"I don't want to make new enemies," I kept going, playing up the quiet life angle. "No more victories, no more defeats. Just a peaceful, simple life."
Which, honestly? Wasn't even a lie, considering how exhausting this conversation was.
"Choom, Lucy said the convoy's moving early. We gotta hit them before the red-eyed fucks do."
"Minimal violence. Minimal risk," I added, keeping my voice calm.
Bec tried to call me. I blocked the incoming call.
I really fucking hoped Michiko wasn't reading my messages in real-time.
Judging by the way she was looking at me, though—her expression all smug and amused—yeah. She probably knew exactly what was happening.
"V, we gotta hit Militech. TODAY."
Yeah, yeah, I fucking got it.
"Are you in a hurry, V?" Michiko asked casually.
"Not exactly," I lied. "Just… had some minor plans. Didn't expect a job offer today. Thought it'd be the usual work inquiries."
"Health is important, of course," Michiko nodded, way too seriously. She was definitely still fucking with me. "I'll keep that in mind. For now, let's start with an independent contractor arrangement. No objections?"
Oh, I had plenty of objections.
Not that it would make a difference.
For now, it was better to play along while the conversation was still this friendly.
If I pushed back too hard, the threats and blackmail would come next.
Maybe that's why she brought up Lucy at all.
There was a chance she already knew everything but was choosing to hold off… for now.
A small part of me felt smug that I was apparently more important to her than Lucy.
The rational part of me knew this was a huge fucking problem.
Looks like I was back in business.
"No objections. Just some questions about the regulations," I said.
"We'll have time for that," Michiko waved a hand dismissively.
A hidden platform extended from her side of the table. From it, she picked up a black and gold card and handed it to me.
I took it, scanning the intricate pattern of kanji.
"Okatsu Family Tea House. Seven Generations of Tradition."
"Press your thumb on the flower symbol," Michiko instructed. "The nano-device will scan your DNA."
I did as she said. The card instantly transformed—gold fading into red. Next to the Arasaka insignia, my photo appeared. They must have snapped it while I was in the car and cleaned it up in post.
"Vincent Price. Special Assignments Agent. Clearance Level: 3h. Confidentiality Level: S."
Damn. Those were some very solid clearances. Theoretically, I could flash this card at anyone of equal or lower rank and avoid most conflicts on the spot.
"A second press will return it to its original appearance," Michiko explained.
Good. No need to stash it in a cigarette case like the Brazilian spies. Though, for security's sake, I might still get a disguised holder.
"You'll receive secured communication data, instructions, and additional materials on your way out," Michiko continued. "Since you're in a hurry, I won't hold you up any longer."
"Thank you, Michiko-san," I said, standing up—skipping through yet another barrage of messages from Bec.
"V! WHERE! THE FUCK! ARE YOU!?"
Where? I could've answered in rhyme,(1) and it would've summed up today's conversation perfectly. But honestly? I got off easy. There were even a few perks.
Of course, I still needed to go over the exact terms of this "contractor" gig. The devil, as they say, is in the details—especially when dealing with someone like Michiko. But independent secret operatives usually had a lot of freedom.
I really hoped that once Yorinobu finally put his old man in the ground, Michiko would have bigger fish to fry than me and Lucy.
Or, hell, maybe they'd just send us to dig Takemura out of some landfill.
That was a problem for later. Right now…
"One more question, V," Michiko's voice caught me just before I stepped off the platform. "Since leaving the company, have you killed anyone important besides Abernathy? If so, it's best I hear about it now."
'Fuck…' Moment number two.
"Wilky LaGuerre," I said. "Head of the Voodoo Boys in Dogtown."
"Oh? That was you?" Michiko's brow lifted in interest. "We thought it was the NCPD. Interesting… A contract from Hansen?" She waved it off. "Never mind. Go on. Otherwise, this will take all day."
"Thanks," I nodded.
"Take care of your health."
And finally, I was out of that fucking jungle.
Before leaving, they handed me several shards with instructions and a case of equipment. The gear wasn't even Arasaka-branded—no obvious ties. Rare tech, sure, but all of it was findable on the black market. Mostly comms tools, but there were also long-range cameras, scanners, and signal boosters.
Finally, through the underground tunnel, they drove me out of the Arasaka tower.
And there it was—Night City, in all its filthy, chaotic glory. Trash, homeless people, neon ads, and a shootout happening half a block away. Home fucking sweet home.
Bec was calling.
Stepping out of the car, I unblocked my calls.
"V! Finally! You—"
"I'M ALREADY ON MY WAY!" I shouted, finally letting loose all the built-up tension from that meeting. "WE'RE GONNA FUCKING WRECK THEM! GONNA TEAR THEM APART! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I NEED THIS RIGHT NOW!"
"Fuck yeah!"
---------------
(1) Russian: "Где? В пизде!" ('Gde? V pizde!')
Translation: "Where? In the pussy!"