Isabela twirled a strand of her perfectly coiled hair around her finger, the glossy black locks catching the synthetic light of her room. She studied her reflection in the mirror, smoothing down the golden floral-patterned dress she had chosen. It flared gently at the waist—elegant, yet undeniably eye-catching—a stark contrast to the gritty streets of Night City visible beyond the window.
"You're really going out with her?" Dolores asked, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. Her combat boots and tactical vest with neon-painted patches were a sharp contrast to Isabela's soft, feminine style.
Luisa, cross-legged on the bed, adjusted the cybernetic arm strapped to her bicep. "A Corpo leader, Isa? Did Abuela knock some sense into you?"
Isabela sighed, applying a final touch of gloss to her lips. "She's not just any Corpo. Her name's Elsa. And she's different."
"Different how?" Dolores scoffed. "She runs Permafrost, one of the biggest Corps in Night City. People like her crush people like us under their polished boots every day."
"She doesn't crush people," Isabela said firmly, turning to face her sisters. "She's... complicated. Strong. And she respects me."
Luisa raised an eyebrow. "Respects you? Or wants to own you?"
The room thickened with tension, but Isabela stood her ground. "She's not like that. You'll see."
Dolores snorted, shaking her head. "Fine. But when she shows up in some over-the-top Corpo tank trying to look tough, don't expect us to be impressed."
Isabela didn't answer, her heart humming with anticipation. Elsa would be here soon.
The Sapphire Viper's low hum filled the air as Elsa maneuvered the hypercar through the shadowed streets of Madrigal territory. Its sleek, cobalt-blue body seemed to absorb the neon haze of Night City, its curves and sharp edges blending seamlessly into a machine that was both beauty and menace. Integrated weapon systems—hidden railguns, EMP launchers, and anti-pursuit drones—lay embedded within the car's aerodynamic frame, unnoticed by anyone who wasn't actively scanning.
Elsa drove one-handed, the other resting casually on the armrest. Her braided blue-and-white dreads shifted as she glanced at the flickering billboards advertising chrome upgrades and synthetic adrenaline boosters.
Night City was alive with chaos: gang-controlled zones, Corpo enclaves, and the simmering tension between the two. It wasn't her first trip into Madrigal territory, but the air here always felt charged, like a knife lightly pressed against her throat.
Her reflection in the rearview mirror was unflinching, calm. The undercut on one side of her head revealed a faint gleam of implanted chrome beneath her skin. She wore a tailored jacket—matte white with sharp blue accents—armor woven discreetly into the fabric. Her polished combat boots were functional, paired with slim tactical pants that exuded understated authority.
Elsa leaned back, a smirk curling at the corner of her lips as the Madrigal estate came into view, its looming silhouette casting long shadows over the cracked streets. This was going to be interesting.
The estate gates hissed open at her approach, the Viper's AI broadcasting a low-frequency signal to announce her arrival. Elsa parked with precision, the engine purring to silence. Stepping out, she adjusted her jacket, ignoring the enforcers who watched her from the shadows.
Inside, the Madrigal family waited. Abuela Alma sat at the head of the table, her small frame radiating an intense authority. Her dark eyes studied Elsa with quiet scrutiny. Beside her sat Isabela's father, Agustín, his forced cheer barely masking his nervousness. Julieta, Isabela's mother, sat serenely by his side, her calm exterior betraying the slightest hint of unease.
On the opposite side of the table sat Bruno, the family wildcard, his eyes darting between Elsa and the exits. Behind them stood the top members of the Madrigal gang—heavily armed, their postures radiating barely restrained energy.
Elsa entered with the same confidence she carried into every boardroom. Her steps were measured, unhurried. She nodded politely to Abuela Alma but didn't bow.
"I'm here to pick up Isabela," Elsa said, her voice low and even.
"Bold," Alma said, leaning forward slightly. "Walking into our territory like you belong here."
"I don't pretend to belong," Elsa replied, her gaze unwavering. "But I respect what you've built."
The air in the room thickened, pressing against her like a stormfront. It wasn't just tension—it was the palpable weight of Madrigal power. Most people would have buckled under it, but Elsa didn't flinch.
The pressure rebounded, pushed back by an invisible force emanating from Elsa herself. The room seemed to tremble for a moment, and several Madrigal enforcers exchanged uneasy glances.
Alma's gaze sharpened. "You're not what you seem."
"I rarely am," Elsa replied, folding her arms.
Dolores and Luisa appeared at the top of the staircase, surprise and grudging admiration flickering across their faces.
"That's the Corpo?" Dolores whispered. "She looks like she walked out of a warzone and into a fashion show."
Luisa smirked. "And that car? Dios mío."
"Isabela's safety is my priority," Elsa said, her voice steady but firm. "Whatever misgivings you have about me, they shouldn't extend to her."
"You speak as though you're offering us a choice," Julieta said softly, her tone sharp beneath its sweetness.
"I'm offering you respect," Elsa corrected. "Something I'd expect in return."
Bruno chuckled nervously, sensing the tension in the room. "Abuela, maybe we should—"
"Silence," Alma cut him off, her gaze never leaving Elsa. "Respect is earned, not given freely. Tell me, Elsa of Permafrost, what would you do if I decided tonight that you're not worthy of my granddaughter?"
Elsa smiled faintly, her posture unyielding. "I'd leave," she said simply. "But not because you intimidated me. I'd leave because Isabela's opinion matters more than yours."
The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of Elsa's words lingering.
Then, footsteps echoed down the stairs. Isabela appeared, radiant in her golden dress, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Elsa. The tension in the room shifted, less of a threat and more of an uncertain undercurrent.
"Abuela," Isabela said, stepping forward. "I'll be fine."
Alma studied her granddaughter for a long moment before nodding. "Go, then. But remember where you come from."
Elsa extended her arm, and Isabela took it without hesitation. As they left the estate, the Viper's doors opened smoothly, its interior glowing with soft blue light.
Dolores and Luisa watched from the window as the car pulled away.
"Well," Dolores muttered, "she's got style. I'll give her that."
"And guts," Luisa added.
"Still don't like her," Dolores said, though her tone lacked conviction.