Chapter 82

"Fuck… what dumbass designed these uniforms?" Panam grumbled, struggling to adjust the tight black suit with its subtle red tint. "Workwear's supposed to be comfortable."

"Not for elite hotel staff," I replied. "Be grateful we don't have to slap on gold realskin. The main crew at Konpeki? They shine like fucking trophies."

"I'm sure they could've made something both stylish and comfortable," she said, standing next to our van in the rented garage. "But no, it's gotta send a message: 'You're a fucking nobody. Shut up, smile, and choke on our corporate cock.' Honestly, I'm not even surprised they provide the underwear, just weirded out there's no spiked anal plug that injects turpentine every hour."

I ran a final check on our cargo. Beneath all the harmless tools and equipment was our real gear—bots, weapons, and special devices. When they scanned it, we'd need to swap the results fast. If they caught on, I had an Arasaka black ops ID as backup, but that would mean aborting the mission. Too much heat.

"How many people got our backs tonight?" Panam asked. "Battalion? Platoon? A whole fucking division? How many combat drones?"

"No drones. Just Lucy, Becca, and Falco."

"For real? I thought you'd have a small army up your sleeve, like usual."

"This time, an army wouldn't help," I said. "Security's too fucking tight at Konpeki. Even Smasher's here."

"That Smasher?"

"Yeah. So shooting's a bad fucking idea. Might negatively impact our life expectancy. Like I said—quiet, smooth, no noise. We have everything we need to pull it off."

"Fine. Talking's on you. I don't know shit, I'm just here to tinker with hardware."

"Got it. Just don't forget your fake name and backstory. I'll handle the rest."

"Alright, boss. Hop in, I'm driving."

"Standard corp protocol says we use autopilot. So sit back and relax."

"Ugh… I need to find my zen. Stop losing my shit over every little thing," she muttered, getting comfortable in the driver's seat. "This whole day's like a fucking safari. Gonna just sit back and think, 'Damn, I really made the right call picking another life.'"

The garage door rolled open, and our black van pulled out onto the city streets. We were headed from the outskirts to the waterfront.

"You guys moving?" Lucy's voice came through comms.

"Just left."

"Stay safe, V. You didn't promise me a vacation for nothing, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll keep my head down." I smirked.

Nice to know someone was waiting for me, worrying about me. Not that I was too concerned. Worst-case scenario, we'd leave empty-handed. That secret agent ID came at the perfect time—I even prepped a few alibis for who we could be spying on in Arasaka's name. City politicians, rival corps—plenty of options.

"Autopilot drives like a granny," Panam groaned as the van slowed way too early for a red light.

"Yeah. Safe. By the book."

"Just how you like it, huh?"

"Rules exist for a reason. Especially traffic laws."

A sports car blew past us in the opposite lane, barely dodging a couple of other vehicles.

"Yeah? And guys like that will never follow them," Panam scoffed. "Rules are for people who can't afford a lawyer, a bribe, or a ripperdoc."

"Oh, come on," I waved her off. "Nothing's more boring than bitching about social justice. Everything's already been said—multiple times and with plenty of cursing."

"True. But sometimes, it just feels good to yell about it. Especially with the cursing."

The rest of the ride was quiet. The city didn't notice us tonight. Just two more faceless workers on the night shift, making sure some lucky bastards had electricity and clean air to breathe.

Then, we arrived.

Konpeki Plaza. A citadel of glass and neon, so polished it reminded me of the Net itself.

"Hell of a shack," Panam whistled. "Tons of eddies just so a couple hundred people can lounge on leather couches and take a shit in gold-plated toilets."

420 luxury suites, 20 conference halls, 14 high-end pools. None of that concerned us. No red carpet, no grand entrance. Our van rolled into a hidden docking bay on a side street. From there, we used a service tunnel to reach sublevel five, where the first real test began—security screening.

Twelve guards at the checkpoint. Most wore suits, but three were kitted out in full combat gear. Konpeki didn't fuck around. I knew this would be the most critical part of our plan.

First scan didn't like something. A tall guy in a black-and-red blazer stepped up to the driver's side and said,

"Step out of the vehicle. The system can't complete a full diagnostic of your cargo."

"Expected," I replied as politely as possible. "We've got interference materials in there—signal dampeners, jammers. We're doing network security. Inspection protocol 10.2: direct connection required."

"Alright," the guard nodded and walked off to get the gear.

"I'm ready," Lucy's voice chimed in.

Time to work fast. We had prepped fake scan data, but I'd have to tweak it on the fly. Two guards started poking around the van, opening the cargo hold. Everything suspicious was concealed inside standard-issue network maintenance casings.

One of them connected to a device. I kept my face neutral, mentally repeating: Nothing to hide. Just another routine check.

"Remove this panel," the guard instructed.

"Buddy, do we really have to do all this?" Panam sighed.

"Remove it."

"Fine, fine."

She reached for her tools while Lucy worked her magic. My job? Keep smiling.

"Well?" Panam asked, showing him the inside of a large black box.

One of our bots was in there, but completely dismantled—its components blended perfectly with the legit hardware. To an untrained eye, it just looked like complex circuitry.

The guard stared at it for a few seconds, pretending to understand. Then, with a knowing nod, he said,

"Alright. Proceed."

We fucking made it. The hardest part? Over.

We drove on, reaching the service elevator, where we started unloading our gear. A staffer with gold realskin appeared out of nowhere.

"Have you worked here before?" he asked.

"Nope. First time."

"Do not speak to guests in the halls, do not approach within fifteen meters of them, do not enter occupied rooms…"

"We got the manual, pal. Chill," Panam cut him off.

"I am not your pal. You will address me as Akigawa-san. I expect you to follow instructions precisely. If not, I'll file a formal complaint with your employer. Here's your equipment cart. Good night."

"Good night, Akigawa-san," I said with a smile, loading a black case onto the cart.

"What a fucking prick," Panam muttered once he walked off.

"Well, someone's probably shitting on him daily, so he just wants to pass it on. Cycle of corporate fuckery."

"It's not a cycle. It all trickles down to the most powerless person, and the only thing they can do is take it out on their wife and kids."

"Yeah. And the kids take it out on the cat," I smirked, remembering an old meme from my past life.

"We're talking about the most powerless and broke people. Where the fuck are they gonna get a cat?" Panam pointed out. "Only pets available in Night City are roaches and tapeworms. And even those are apparently dying off 'cause of the new Chromanticore formula."

"Tragic. People just don't respect biodiversity."

We finished loading the equipment onto a large cart. Next up—the elevator. We needed to find a hidden maintenance room or an unoccupied suite, somewhere we wouldn't be disturbed.

We went up five floors, landing in the unseen guts of Konpeki Plaza—behind the bar and kitchen, far from the prying eyes of high-paying guests.

"You're entering ICE territory," Lucy warned. "I can still talk to you, but I can't do much else."

Yeah. But once we neutralized the local netrunner and got the virus in, the hotel's entire system would be under Lucy's control.

"Who are you here for?" A gold-skinned employee turned to us.

"Routine security and network prot—"

"Yeah, yeah. Fine. Just hurry it up and don't block the hallway."

And so, our little tour of luxury's underbelly began. We needed to reach an elevator that would take us higher.

The hallways were pristine. Almost sterile. You don't see that often in Night City. You get used to garbage everywhere—on the streets, in cafes, hell, even at home unless you've got a doll you can program to clean up. In nicer places, there's less trash, and it's "fresh," meaning someone actually bothers to clear it out once in a while. But true, complete cleanliness? That only exists in the most expensive places. Konpeki was one of them. Everything here practically sparkled, even the back rooms no guest would ever see.

"No, no, no!" A tall woman in a white blazer suddenly blocked our path. "First time here? Use the other elevator. Over there. Around the corner. Move it."

"Alright," I shrugged.

The whole place was buzzing with stress. These employees acted like they were running a nuclear power plant or a Blackwall containment site. Walking on eggshells, whispering, snapping at each other, throwing death glares like shuriken. Was this how it was every night, or was today just extra fucked?

When we hit the fortieth floor, we heard some manager—gold-skinned like the rest—chewing out a janitor.

"Every person is a product, and you are clearance rack garbage! One more mistake… Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

A sharp slap punctuated the lecture—or, more accurately, the training session.

"And who the hell are you?" The manager turned toward us.

"Routine security and network—"

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't get in my way."

"Relax, Mr. Manai," I said with a cold smile, his name flashing across my optics. "Konpeki Plaza's motto is: 'Luxury. Beauty. Security.' We're here to ensure the last one. And we do file reports to the higher-ups."

"I was just… ah," the guy hesitated. "My apologies. Tough day. Of course, I wouldn't interfere with your work. Goodbye."

And with that, the golden-skinned dickhead scurried off.

"Hey," I turned to the janitor, who looked like she was about to break down. "Know any room we can use to prep our equipment? Somewhere quiet."

"I… uh… I'll take you there. But, um, it hasn't been cleaned yet."

"No problem," I said. "We're not guests."

"It's, uh… really not clean," she warned, looking even more uncomfortable. "You get what I mean?"

"Don't worry," Panam reassured her. "We've seen worse than dirty underwear."

Honestly, after all that build-up, I expected a scene out of a week-long orgy. Instead, it was just some crumpled clothes on the floor and stained bedsheets. Nothing catastrophic.

"Give us an hour," I said, slipping a folded bill into her hand.

"Oh, you don't have to—" she started, then snatched it before I could second-guess myself.

A second later, the door shut behind her, and we were finally alone. Time to get started. First, we took control of the room's cameras and checked for bugs. Found a few, but they weren't active.

"This place sucks," Panam muttered, dismantling a server unit. "We should flood the pipes or something. Just for fun."

"They'll have bigger problems soon," I replied, pulling a monokatana from its hidden slot in a detector case.

"Bigger problems? You know something I don't?"

"Yeah, some things."

"Oh, great. More secrets. Here, mister spy guy, take your gun."

She tossed me a ten-round Nue with a solid suppressor. I also grabbed a Brazilian dart gun from my stash. Four tranq shots in the mag, one in the chamber. We couldn't carry much gear today—too many bots taking up space. But we had weapons, meds, and a few portable cameras. A small kit, but all essentials covered.

"Alright. Waiting on your signal," Panam said, assembling the first bot. "Lucy, you there?"

"Yes."

"She's in. Let's go."

The bot booted up and climbed to its feet as Panam pried open a vent. A few seconds later, it scurried inside, and she took control via tablet and joystick. Occasionally, she commented:

"Drinking, sleeping, more drinking, fucking… Oh, the mayor!"

"What's he doing? Drinking? Sleeping? Fucking?"

"Nope. Reading a political mag."

"Huh. A scholar."

"Shit… slight problem. Hang on."

"Need us to do something?" I asked.

"We got it," Lucy assured me.

Yeah. I didn't need to micromanage every step. A solid team handled their shit. All I could do was pace around and stare at the floating holographic fish above the table. Outside, the sky was thick with either fog or smog. Same weather as that night I raided Jimmy Kurosaki's den.

"And one, and two…" Panam murmured.

"The netrunner's down," Lucy confirmed. "I'm in the system."

"What about the penthouse cameras?"

"They're up. It's empty right now. Panam, second phase. Release the spider, I'll guide it. It's a long climb, so get comfy."

"Got it."

More pacing. A pair of pearl-strung panties lay on the floor, next to crumpled tissues made of damn-near real paper. The great heist of the century—spent staring at someone's dirty laundry. My meditation was interrupted when Lucy fed me a live feed from Yorinobu's penthouse.

For a second, I just stared. It was so familiar. I'd seen it in my past life, in Evelyn's braindance, and now through security cameras. This was where the world's fate would change.

But I wasn't setting foot in there.

I was stealing his treasure with mechanical hands. Hacking someone else's future.

The penthouse was empty. Lights were on. Yorinobu's pistol rested on the bedside table. Somewhere nearby, his pet iguana egg was probably stashed.

A vent hatch opened. The barely visible outline of our bot slipped inside.

"Cameras are looped. We're in. Let's begin," Lucy announced.

"More like continue," Panam corrected.

"Direct the bot to the bedside console."

"On it. So, does the safe pop up from the floor?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

Now, we just had to hack the lock, swap the chip into our container, and leave a fake in its place. Sounds simple, but a thousand things could go wrong.

"Safe's open."

It took about a second and a half.

"Lucy, you're a fucking miracle."

"Thanks, but I'm working with a stacked deck thanks to you guys."

A bit of cold vapor rose from the spot as the black horizontal lid of the floor safe slid open. Inside— a container.

The bot carefully unlatched it. From my angle, I couldn't make out the details, but soon enough, Panam confirmed:

"All set, Lucy. You can close this piece of shit up. Me and the spider are delta'ing."

"You got the chip?"

"Of course, V. Relax your damn cheeks. It's done with surgical precision."

I exhaled and let myself smile. Attached directly to the bot's frame was a small container maintaining the correct temperature. The chip would be fine for the next hour and a half. The second, permanent container was with us.

"Returning?" I asked.

"Yep. Smooth sailing. We're already in the vents. Take a smoke, breathe a little."

Funny. A job this risky, one that could've easily gotten everyone killed, and we pulled it off without even dirtying our hands. Then again, that's how it should be. The more intricate the plan, the easier the execution— if you prepared well enough. We did prepare well.

Team, equipment, step-by-step strategy, intel— everything lined up perfectly.

The bot emerged from its visual cloaking, waving a manipulator at me, probably on Panam's command. I grabbed the prepped container off the table, slipped on an insulated glove, and swiftly took the chip from the bot.

Well, hello there, Johnny. How's life? Oh, right— it's not.

A tiny piece of tech with that much power. And an absolute fuckton of potential problems.

The chip clicked into the container. Lid shut. Time to get the fuck out.

"So, I'm scrubbing all traces and… V, did you wanna mess with the cameras?" Lucy asked.

Should I try to dig up dirt on Yorinobu? Was it worth it?

"You know…"

But before I could decide, Lucy's voice sharpened with tension.

"Someone's coming up to the penthouse."

"Yorinobu?"

"No. V, it's… Just see for yourself."

I switched the feed back on— just in time to watch the elevator doors slide open.

And stepping out, flanked by some woman I didn't recognize, was none other than Jackie Wells.

Fuck…

A line from our last call flashed through my mind:

"Got a job."

"Me too."

He'd said it with so much pride. Like he'd just… scored a golden fucking ticket. And I didn't think twice about it. I was too wrapped up in my own plans.

But how?! I'd cut Evelyn out of the chain. Jackie himself told me his big gig had fallen through. So why—

"V, something's up," Lucy cut through my spiraling thoughts. "An AV's approaching the hotel. They're activating heightened security measures."

And there he was.

Saburo.

Everyone's fucking here.

It's time for this whole thing to go completely to shit.