Chapter 31 – Burnt Wires and Broken Lines

22:00

The evening had settled into a comfortable lull after dinner. The hum of power coils and faint clink of dishware in the kitchen filled the silence. V leaned back into the couch, the artificial leather hissing softly beneath him, the weight of the day's revelations heavy on his shoulders. He let out a slow breath, chrome fingers tapping absently on his thigh, then finally turned his attention to Rebecca.

"You know," V began gently, eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and hesitation, "Pilar actually left the clinic on his own."

Rebecca's eyes widened briefly, her expression turning serious for a heartbeat before laughter bubbled forth uncontrollably. "Damn, honestly, if he wasn't in a coma, he would've ditched even earlier!"

Lucy stepped closer, shaking her head softly as she showed everyone a photo of David and Pilar. Her voice tightened slightly, guilt underlying her tone. "Guess now we know exactly what happened. David pulled him out."

Rebecca waved dismissively, her stance relaxed. "Ah, don't stress it. Pilar was always like that, never listened, never learned from mistakes. Always did whatever the hell he wanted."

V rose quietly, disappearing momentarily into his room before returning with a small box. "I repaired his arms a while back," he said softly, placing it down carefully. "I intended to install them myself, but—oh well. Give them to Pilar when you see him, Rebecca."

Rebecca paused, genuine appreciation shining in her eyes. For a heartbeat, the weight of everything—the fear, the loyalty, the unspoken love for her chaotic brother—settled on her. "Thanks, V," she said, her voice a little softer than usual, carrying more than just gratitude.

"Don't worry about it," V smiled warmly, the room relaxing once more. Still, the way Rebecca looked at the box—like it carried hope—made something twist inside him. He'd done his part, but was it enough?

Gradually, everyone dispersed. Lucy ordered a Delamain and left quietly after sharing the truth about Pilar leaving the clinic with David. Her fingers fidgeted in her coat pockets as she waited by the curb, the cool air brushing her face. The pit in her stomach hadn't gone away—not since she'd seen the guilt flicker in V's eyes. She climbed into the cab in silence, a thousand unspoken thoughts trailing behind her. Rebecca followed soon after, pausing at the door to lean in and plant a soft kiss on V's lips before vanishing into the night.

Kiwi lingered, eyebrows raised. "You wanted to fix my chrome in the morning, right?"

V nodded. "Absolutely. Send me the list."

Moments later, V examined the incoming message, eyebrows arching in surprise. "Well, well. Looks very similar to Sasha's setup—except mantis blades instead of monowires."

Sasha grinned mischievously at Kiwi. "Looks like we're gonna be a shinobi duo now."

Kiwi cracked a rare smile, amused. "Guess so."

"Alright," V yawned dramatically, stretching. "Time to relax. Shower and sleep, I desperately need it!"

After 30 minutes.

Inside his room, V relaxed deeply into his bed, eyelids heavy. Suddenly, Kiwi slipped quietly beside him, purring softly. "Hey handsome."

V chuckled softly. "Sasha's downstairs sleeping."

Kiwi smirked. "I can be silent."

V smirked back. "With the way Sasha's chrome is tuned, she could probably hear a mosquito fart from ten meters away. Me trying to be silent would be like trying to whisper while a freight train rolls through—my granddad's snoring had nothing on that."

"Then we'll just have to keep the whispers interesting," Kiwi purred, sliding under the blanket.

"Interesting, huh? What are you, a stealth-mode succubus now?"

Kiwi laughed softly. "Hey, I only purr when I'm comfortable. Or when I'm wrapped around a merc who rattles walls like he's part of a demolition crew."

She paused, her voice dipping just a little. "But... it's not just about the noise, you know. You make me feel safe—like I can drop the mask for a while. Even if you're loud as hell."

V raised an eyebrow. "I do not snore that loud." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. With synthetic lungs, airflow was practically silent unless he modded them wrong—and he didn't. Kiwi was clearly trying to get a rise out of him. Internally, he made a note: 'Add dramatic snoring patch just to mess with her later.'

"You sure? You made the wall buzz last time."

"That was the ventilation."

"Sure, sure. Let's just say if Sasha comes in tomorrow complaining about 'earthquake dreams,' I know who to blame."

They both laughed quietly under the covers, a soft warmth filling the room.

— POV: Lucy —

Lucy stepped into her apartment, exhausted but quietly hopeful. Maybe, just maybe, David had finally cooled off. Maybe they'd talk like normal people again—laugh, share a quiet moment. But that fragile hope shattered the second she saw him slouched on the sofa, a half-empty bottle clutched in his hand.

"You're drinking like this now?" Lucy sighed heavily, disappointment cutting through her voice. David had never hit the bottle this hard—at least not before V's sudden rise. "When did this even start?"

David glared at her, his voice slurred and bitter. But behind the bitterness, something flickered—regret, maybe, or the ghost of a conscience he was trying hard to drown. "What, now you're gonna lecture me about V again? Like I owe him something for fixing my chrome?"

Lucy's eyes flashed angrily. What would your mom say, huh? Taking what you need and walking away like it's nothing? Turning your back on him—and on us?"

David surged upright, anger radiating from him. "This is Night City, Lucy—we don't owe anyone anything. You take what you can, survive, and that's it. I've been busting my ass for almost a year!"

"And Pilar?" Lucy snapped back sharply. "V worked tirelessly to fix him, and you pulled him out before he even finished therapy?"

David scoffed, waving dismissively. "That was Pilar's choice."

"You know how easily Pilar gets influenced!" Lucy shouted, emotion cracking her voice. "You owe V your damn life. He didn't just fix your spine, David—he faked a Sandevistan to keep Arasaka off your ass! And you throw it all away for glory? Fine! Have your damn glory—death's just waiting around the corner anyway. I'm done with you!"

David stood frozen, her words ringing in his ears.

But the fire inside him wasn't out. He shouted after her, more to himself than to Lucy. "You think V helped me outta pity? Maybe he did. But that doesn't make me his responsibility. I'm not his project. I didn't ask for his handouts, and I'm not about to kiss his boots for them."

He kicked over the empty bottle, breathing hard. "In this city, people don't give—they invest. Everything's a trade, a hustle, a play. Loyalty? That's just a leash with chrome polish. Debt? Only matters if you plan on paying it. Me? I'm not here to worship anyone—I'm just trying to make it to tomorrow. And if V's got a problem with that, he can get in line behind everyone else who thinks I owe them."

He collapsed onto the couch, silent now—angry, but shaken. The door remained shut.

Outside, Lucy was already halfway down the corridor, her boots striking the floor in hurried, uneven beats. Her chest tightened with every step, not just from betrayal, but from the hollow guilt swelling inside her. Maybe she should've fought harder. Maybe she'd already failed them all. Her vision blurred, not from exhaustion, but from the sting of tears she could no longer hold back. Water dripped freely from her eyes as she ran—each step carrying the weight of betrayal, frustration, and heartbreak.

— POV: Rebecca —

Some alleyway lit by buzzing neon. The smell of trash, gun oil, and ozone hung in the air. Rebecca's voice cracked as she chased after her brother.

"Come back here, Pilar!" she shouted, her SMG barking into the pavement just behind his heels. "You wanna be a legend now? You were on life support a few days ago!"

Pilar spun around with that same cocky grin he always had, though his eyes flickered with hesitation. "V ain't my father! And just because he's bangin' you doesn't mean I owe him jack!"

Rebecca's jaw clenched. Her heart wasn't just angry—it hurt. "You think this is about V?! You think I care who's screwing who? We've all bled in this city—me, you, him. He didn't have to fix your arms, but he did. Didn't have to keep you alive, but he did. And now you act like that meant nothing?"

She took a step forward, her voice softer but heavier. "We've finally got a shot—real chrome, a real team, a future where we don't have to die in some alley like nobodies. And you're gonna throw it away? For what? Street cred? A damn headline?"

A pair of Maelstrom gangers stumbled into the alley just in time to overhear, chuckling like jackals.

"Aww, look at the chrome siblings airing dirty laundry," one jeered. "Need a family therapist or a funeral director?"

Rebecca didn't even blink. For a split second, the pain in her chest flared hotter than her rage. Then, in a flash, she turned and shredded the two punks where they stood—one clean burst for each, sending cybernetic parts flying across the alley. One of the heads rolled to Pilar's feet.

"Therapy session's over," Rebecca growled. "Anyone else want a turn?"

She tossed her SMG aside with a clatter and drew her shotgun with a hiss of compressed heat. She looked back at Pilar, her voice cracking with raw emotion. Her hands trembled, shotgun steady, but heart anything but.

"You're my brother. And I love you. But if you're gonna keep walking this path, don't expect me to follow. Now..."

She racked the shotgun.

"...Enough talk. Time to dance."

— POV: Maiko —

Maiko Maeda leaned in closer to Woodman, her voice barely above a whisper. "He's dead?"

Woodman replayed the BD footage, visibly disturbed. It showed Jackie and Panam wiping out a gang of goons in brutal precision. Then he flipped to the next—surveillance footage where V came and went like a ghost. The feed glitched, looped, and reset. Nothing showed of the actual kill. Maiko leaned closer, eyes narrowing. "That's impossible," she muttered. "Like he was never there... but the body—Sato was practically vaporized." Woodman's hands trembled slightly as he paused the loop, his eyes fixed on the blank screen. "It's like the system blinked, and reality rewrote itself. I don't like this one bit."

"Merc showed it clear as day, but now the feed's looping—nothing to see. Hiromi Sato looks like he died of a heart attack… except for the huge hole in the middle of his forehead."

Maiko frowned deeply. "We have to inform the Claws."

Woodman raised a cautious hand. "Better we say some doll did it—safer that way."

She nodded grimly. "But if Tiger Claws find out we lied..."

"They won't. We'll take it up higher, discourage further digging," Woodman replied, visibly trying to calm his nerves. "This guy V—taking down a fixer—that's an insane flex."

Maiko sighed, biting her lip. "We need to brainstorm something smarter."

"I'll talk to Azegami-san," Woodman proposed. "He's clever—smarter than he looks."

Maiko nodded slowly, cautiously hopeful. "Alright, we talk to Azegami-sama. We tread carefully. We can't afford mistakes, Woodman."

"Trust me," Woodman muttered softly, turning back to his burger. "It could be a hell of a lot worse."

Maiko stayed quiet for a moment, then asked, "What about the dolls that started leaving for Afterglow? V said if we touch them..."

"Yeah, yeah," Woodman said quickly, waving a greasy hand. "Not our problem. We aren't slave owners, so naturally they're free to leave. Of course."

Maiko narrowed her eyes slightly, watching him try to play it cool. She thought, Nice 360—from 'beat them to death' to 'let them walk.' He's just trying to save face.

She glanced at the paused footage again. Damn. V isn't just dangerous—he's a monster when he needs to be. Not the kind you survive. Not the kind that lets the world forget.