Neon Sunsets

by AndrosF

Summary:

Neon Sunsets is a noir reimagining of Cyberpunk 2077’s world told through Valerie Valentine, a former Arasaka agent cut loose after the tower turns on her. What begins with blackmail and betrayal becomes the start of a new life: mercenary gigs with Jackie Welles, Afterlife’s neon-lit promises, and nights carved out in the quiet safety of Judy Alvarez’s apartment on Charter Street.

This AU doesn’t end in tragedy. Instead, Valerie and Judy’s story winds through smoke-filled bars, bloodstained alleys, and stolen moments of tenderness as they fight to build something real. .

Every choice draws Valerie closer to freedom and every breath is a reminder of what it costs to love, to survive, and to defy the corps who thought they owned her.

Notes:

This chapter sets the stage for my alternate reality take on Valerie and Judy’s story. I wanted to capture them before the game’s events when
Valerie is still caught in Arasaka’s machine but starting to feel the cracks, and Judy is still guarded after heartbreak but drawn toward something different in her. Their date at the drive-in became a turning point: Valerie’s first kiss,

Judy’s choice to let herself open up again, and the start of something that will carry them into the chaos ahead.

Thank you for reading this one’s close to my heart, and I hope it sets the right tone for the noir journey I’m building with them.

Chapter 1: Neon Sunsets

Summary:

Before the chaos of the relic, before the fallout of Frankfurt, Valerie Valentine was still Arasaka’s sharpest blade and still searching for something that felt real.

Two years of friendship with Judy Alvarez has carried them through late nights, cigarette smoke, and the city’s constant grind. Now, one quiet ask for a date leads them to an abandoned drive-in above North Oak, a flickering Bushido reel, and the first kiss that changes everything. In a city built to swallow people whole, they find a reason to resist.

The glass walls of Arasaka Tower didn’t shine, they pulsed. A heartbeat of chrome and gold, every surface polished so bright it could blind you if you stared too long. Valerie Valentine knew better than to stare. She walked the marble floors like she owned them, heels clicking a rhythm only she could hear, a pistol holstered at her hip though the corp preferred she never needed it.

From above, the city stretched out like a body under autopsy lights. Traffic veins glowing red and yellow, billboards screaming promises they’d never keep. Valerie’s emerald eyes traced the sprawl, but her reflection stared back harder at a woman carved from shadows, purple hair falling over half her face like she had something to hide. Which she did. Everyone in Arasaka did.

She adjusted the cuff of her jacket, caught the faint outline of her scar above the left eye in the glass. A reminder: loyalty only bought you stitches here.

A voice chimed in her ear, polished, polite, rehearsed. Another meeting, another assignment, another day pretending her soul wasn’t being traded piece by piece.
She killed the comm with a dry smile. The tower wanted her sharp, obedient. What it had was a woman who played the game but kept her own cards close.

On nights like this, when the rain smudged the neon and the city smelled of rusted wires, she thought about the other world the one down in the dive bars, where braindances flickered raw and uncut, and a woman with pink-green hair and sharp brown eyes kept her secrets better than anyone in this tower ever could.
Valerie leaned against the glass, the city bleeding color beneath her. “Keep climbing, Valentine,” she muttered under her breath. “But don’t forget what happens when you miss a step.”

The tower dissolved into static, replaced by the wet hum of a basement far below street level. The walls sweated condensation, old speakers buzzed with feedback, and the only real light came from the BD rig crammed in the corner wires sprawled like veins, pulsing with ghostly blue.

Judy Alvarez sat cross-legged on a scuffed leather chair, pink-green hair half-shadowed by the glow of her interface. A cigarette smoldered in the ashtray beside her, forgotten in the middle of its life. She wasn’t watching the BD. She was inside it, pupils darting, lashes trembling as she rewrote someone else’s nightmare into art.

The client paced nearby, chewing a fingernail to blood, whispering about deadlines and dealers. Judy didn’t bother answering. She wasn’t doing this for him. She was carving something real from the muck, dragging raw emotion out of fractured code, and if he didn’t get that, he wasn’t worth her time.

Her lips curled into the faintest smirk. “You wanted a ride through the gutter,” she muttered, voice low, sardonic. “Don’t bitch when it smells like one.”

The screen flickered, the BD’s ghost-light painting her tattoos in motion roses blooming and closing across her arms, the word Overcome on her neck glowing like a warning.

Here, in the underground, Judy Alvarez wasn’t some lost editor for rent. She was a visionary, a troublemaker, the kind of woman who could gut you with sarcasm or kiss you breathless depending on her mood.

And somewhere above, in the glass tower, a certain purple-haired Arasaka shark thought about her on nights when the neon bled.

The bar was a forgotten place halfway between the corporate districts and the underbelly, a liminal zone where suits came to slum it and street kids came to dream. The neon sign outside flickered half-dead, casting broken light across the rain-slick street.
Inside, the air was thick with smoke and synthbass.

Men in pressed collars slouched beside punks in ripped jackets, both staring into glasses that would never buy them peace. The laughter was too loud, the smiles too wide.

Valerie slipped through without a word, rain still clinging to her jacket. She didn’t belong here, not really but she liked the way the noise swallowed her name. In the tower, every glance was calculated. Here, nobody cared who she was.

She didn’t pause at the counter. Didn’t join the noise. She threaded past it all to the back, where a narrow stairwell waited, paint peeling, the light above it stuttering like a dying pulse.

The basement smelled of damp concrete and ozone, air cooler here, stripped of laughter and cheap perfume. Cables sprawled across the floor like veins, feeding into a BD rig that hummed with low, restless energy.
Judy Alvarez sat in a cracked leather chair, cigarette burning slow between her fingers.

Her pink-green hair caught the glow of the monitors, tattoos shifting like restless shadows under the light. One hand tapped controls with a kind of precision that looked effortless, like she was playing an instrument only she could hear.

Valerie leaned in the doorway, silhouette cut from shadow and rain. She’d been there long enough that Judy finally exhaled smoke and turned her head.

“You know, Val,” she muttered, brown eyes sharp but softened by the glow, “most people don’t lurk like they’re casing the joint. Creeps me out.”

Valerie’s lips curved faintly, the scar above her eye catching in the light. “And here I thought you liked having an audience.”

Judy let out a dry laugh, flicking ash into the tray. “Only when they’re paying me.” She took another drag, then held the cigarette out toward Valerie without breaking eye contact.

Valerie pushed off the frame, boots heavy against the concrete, and took it with two fingers. She drew slow, smoke curling from her lips before she handed it back. “You don’t scare easy, Jude. That’s what I like about you.”

Judy rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her mouth betrayed her. She plucked the cigarette back, tapping it against the ashtray. “Or maybe I just haven’t figured out how to shut the door on you.”

Valerie’s chuckle was low, warm, the kind that carried history. She moved close enough that the rig’s glow painted the freckles across her cheeks. “Two years, and you’re still trying? Guess I’m hard to shake.”

Judy leaned back, smoke curling around her face as she studied her. The edge in her gaze softened into something else, something Valerie had seen before but never named. “Yeah,” Judy murmured, voice lower now. “You are.”

The rig hummed between them, filling the silence. Not the silence of strangers, but the kind built over too many nights like this, the kind that said the city hadn’t swallowed them whole yet, because they’d had each other to lean against.

Judy stubbed the cigarette out, but didn’t move from the cracked leather chair. The BD rig’s hum filled the quiet, low and restless, like it was waiting for her to make a choice.

“You’re already down here,” she muttered, not looking at Valerie. “Might as well see something real.”

Her hands moved across the controls, slower this time, less sharp. A sequence flickered to life, blue light spilling across the damp walls. Not the jagged adrenaline of her client work, this was something else.

The feed opened on water. Not the filthy canals of Night City, but something cleaner, deeper. Sound bled in the thrum of waves, the ache of a heartbeat too loud in the ears.

For a moment it felt like being held under, not drowning but suspended, weightless and heavy all at once.

Valerie didn’t move. Smoke still clung to her jacket, rain dripping from the hem. She let it wash over her, emerald eyes steady, jaw tight with the kind of quiet that only came when something actually hit.

When the feed snapped out, the basement was small again. Just damp concrete and ozone. Judy sat stiff in her chair, cigarette half-burned in the tray, like she was already regretting showing it.

“Well?” she asked, sharper than she meant.
Valerie stepped closer, boots echoing. Her voice, when it came, was soft but cut clean through the hum. “It’s real. And you don’t let this city grind that out of you, Jude. Ever.”

Judy finally looked up, brown eyes catching the rig’s fading glow. Sarcasm tugged at the corner of her mouth, but it didn’t hold.
“You’re the only one who’s ever said that,” she admitted, quietly.

Valerie’s smirk was there, but smaller this time, more raw. “Then the rest of ‘em weren’t paying attention.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It was alive, breathing. The kind of silence that said two people had just crossed a line they couldn’t uncross, not romance yet, but something deeper, forged in trust.

The silence held, stretching between them with the rig’s hum. Outside, thunder rolled low, a reminder the storm hadn’t let up.

Judy finally broke eye contact, leaning forward to shut the system down. Screens flickered dark one by one, leaving only the faint glow of the cigarette ember.

“Storm’s not easing,” she muttered, almost to herself.

Valerie’s smirk tilted wry. “Then I’ll see you through it.”

Judy glanced up, cigarette halfway to her lips. “You planning on walking me home, Valentine? Thought bodyguard duty wasn’t your style.”

Valerie pushed off the desk, the damp hem of her jacket brushing against her legs as she moved toward the stairs. “Not bodyguard duty. Call it… peace of mind.”

Judy shook her head, but the sound that left her was closer to a laugh than a scoff. She crushed the cigarette out for good, grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair, and fell in step behind her.

The stairwell groaned under their boots as they climbed, neon bleeding through the cracks in the door at the top. Upstairs, the bar was still alive, laughter too sharp, glasses clinking like false promises.

Neither of them paused to join it. The noise slid off them as they stepped back into the rain, shoulders brushing under the dying glow of the sign.

For all the city’s chaos, for all its neon teeth, the storm didn’t feel so heavy walking side by side.

The rain hit harder as they stepped out, the kind that soaked collars in seconds and turned the street into a mirror of broken neon.
Valerie dug into her pocket, thumbed the fob, and the low growl of an engine answered.

The Shion eased awake under the half-dead glow of the bar’s sign. Matte purple skin slicked with rain, it looked like a predator crouched low to the pavement, waiting to run.

Judy gave a low whistle, tugging her jacket tighter. “Got yourself a fancy new corpo toy?”
Valerie shot her a sidelong look, smirk pulling at her lip. “Toy? Careful, Jude. She bites.”

“Bet you say that about yourself too,” Judy muttered, but her mouth twitched like she couldn’t help the smile.

Valerie rounded to the driver’s side, popped the locks. Judy slid in first, the leather creaking under her weight, the smell of cigarette smoke and rain bleeding into the cabin. Valerie followed, shutting the storm out with a solid click of the door.

For a moment it was just them, the Shion’s engine purring low, neon bleeding red and blue across the windshield.

Judy slouched back, flicking water from her sleeves. “Still don’t get why you waste your time driving me. You’ve got bigger fish in the tower.”

Valerie’s hands rested easy on the wheel, emerald eyes catching the smear of neon sliding across the glass. “The tower’s full of ghosts. You’re not one of them.”

Judy let out a dry laugh, tilting her head against the seat, smoke curling from her lips.

“That supposed to be a compliment?”
Valerie’s smirk edged faint, the scar above her eye catching the glow of a passing sign. “Call it what you want. Just means you’re real.”

The Shion growled through a puddle, city lights refracting in the spray. Neither spoke for a stretch. The silence carried weight but not discomfort, the same silence they’d built downstairs, now stretched into motion. The kind where words weren’t needed to say what mattered.

Judy broke it first, softer this time. “You know… you’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like I’m just splicing dreams for a quick high.”

Valerie’s grip tightened on the wheel for a heartbeat, then eased. Her voice was low but certain. “That’s because you’re not.”

Judy turned her head, studying her profile in the glow of the dash. For once, no sarcasm came. Just a quiet exhale, smoke-thin in the dark.

The Shion rolled onto the street, tires slicing water, engine growling against the storm. Neon signs smeared across the windshield, broken reds and greens warping in the rain.

Night City never slept. Billboards shouted promises no one believed. Chrome skeletons of unfinished towers stabbed at the clouds.
Inside the car, the storm felt muffled but not gone. Drops pattered hard against the roof, the wipers working in rhythm like a tired metronome. Valerie drove one-handed, the other resting loose on the shifter, posture steady, gaze sharp on the fractured roads ahead.

The city pressed in around them a siren wailed two streets over, steam rose from a gutter vent, a pack of kids scattered as the Shion’s headlights cut across their path. For all of it, the cabin felt like its own pocket, quiet and alive with smoke and rain.

The Shion rolled into Charter Street, tires slicing through puddles that gleamed with broken neon. Valerie swung the car into the lot beside a row of weary sedans, the Shion’s paint catching the broken light like bruised metal. Ahead, Judy’s building hunched against the storm three stories of faded blue paint peeling under years of rain, stairwell light flickering like it might give up any second.

Judy tugged her jacket tighter, hand already on the door. “This is me,” she said, voice casual, but she lingered a second too long.
Valerie watched the rain slide across the windshield, the reflection of the stairwell light dancing over Judy’s face. Her hand tightened once on the shifter before she spoke. “Jude.”
Judy glanced back, brown eyes steady on hers.

Valerie’s voice came low, softer than the storm outside. “Tomorrow night. Let me take you out. Not bars, not basements. Just… us.”

For a heartbeat, Judy didn’t answer. The storm pressed against the car, rain drumming hard on the roof. Then her mouth curved, not her sharp smirk, but something warmer. Something unguarded.

“Careful, Val. Ask me like that, and I might say yes.”

Valerie’s lips tugged into a faint grin, scar catching the dash light. “Good. That’s what I’m counting on.”

Judy shook her head, muttering half a laugh, before pushing the door open. Rain rushed back in, cold and heavy, the night swallowing her footsteps as she crossed to the stairwell.

She glanced once over her shoulder before heading up, neon bleeding across her hair like a ribbon of fire.

Valerie stayed a moment longer, the engine humming beneath her hand, watching the faded blue walls and the shape of Judy climbing the stairs until the storm took her from view.

The stairwell groaned under her boots, water dripping through cracks in the ceiling, pooling on the worn concrete steps. By the time Judy reached the third floor, her jacket was heavy with rain, hair plastered damp against her cheek.

She let herself into the apartment, kicked the door shut behind her. The kitchen was dark but familiar cluttered counters, the faint hum of the fridge, the smell of solder and cigarettes still clinging in the air. She dropped her keys with a clatter, peeled off her soaked jacket, and tossed it over a chair where it dripped steadily onto the floor.

Her boots came off next, abandoned by the door. She padded down the hall in damp socks, tugging at the hem of her shirt as she went. The bedroom was dim, lit only by neon bleeding soft through the rain-smeared window. Judy stripped out of the worst of the wet clothes and pulled on an old tee, the cotton clinging warm against her skin.

She sat on the edge of the bed, cigarette in hand, smoke curling toward the ceiling. Valerie’s words still sat with her, low and steady under the storm: Tomorrow night. Not bars, not basements. Just… us.

Judy took a drag, let the ember flare, then exhaled slowly. Valerie hadn’t looked away from her ghosts, hadn’t flinched the way Maiko had when things got too raw, too real. She’d called them what they were real.

The thought twisted something deep in Judy’s chest. She fell back onto the mattress, hair spilling across the pillow, smoke drifting above her. A crooked smile tugged at her mouth despite herself, soft and tired.

“Shit,” she muttered, voice rough in the quiet. “What the hell am I letting you pull me into, Val?”

The window shook faintly in its frame as the storm pressed against it, rain drumming steady on the glass. Neon bled through the streaks in thin ribbons, painting the room in restless color.

Judy let the thought linger longer than she meant to. She dragged the last breath from her cigarette, crushed the ember out in the tray by her bedside, and rolled onto her side.

Blanket pulled close, she listened to the storm’s rhythm fill the room, a low percussion against the glass, steady enough to quiet the noise in her head.

Her eyes closed slowly, breathing the evening air with each pulse of rain. By the time sleep took her, the neon still moved across her walls, restless and alive, the city breathing even as she slipped beyond it.

Valerie’s apartment was quiet in the way corpo suites always were insulated, scrubbed clean of sound, the walls too polished to carry life. She lay on her back in the half-light, sheets pulled to her waist, the city sprawled beyond the window in restless neon.

She should’ve been asleep. Arasaka would expect her to be sharp in the morning, ready to bleed for whatever the executives demanded. Instead, her mind ran circles around the last thing she’d said in the Shion, low and certain against the rain: Tomorrow night. Not bars, not basements. Just… us.

She hadn’t planned it. The words slipped out like a trigger squeeze. Now, staring at the ceiling, she wondered if she’d pushed too far.

Judy had smiled not her sharp smirk, but something softer, unguarded. That memory burned. Still, Valerie couldn’t shake the question grinding under her ribs: What if she changes her mind?

The hum of the city pressed faint through the glass, neon washing the room in bruised color. Valerie turned onto her side, the scar above her eye catching the glow, and dragged a hand over her face.

She’d faced boardroom assassins, gunfights in smoke-filled alleys, secrets that could tear empires apart. None of it had her this restless. One woman did.

Valerie let out a breath, slow and tired. She didn’t know if Judy would show tomorrow night. But for the first time in years, she realized she cared.

The city kept breathing beyond the glass, and Valerie lay awake, waiting for an answer only tomorrow could give.

Valerie lay awake, eyes tracing cracks in the ceiling she knew weren’t there. The city’s neon bled faint through the glass, washing the room in colors that didn’t belong to her. Sleep pulled at her in fragments, jagged and uneasy. When it finally took her, it didn’t come soft.

The border came back in dust and heat. A sun like a knife overhead, air heavy with sweat and exhaust. She could still smell it burned rubber, cheap gasoline, the dry bite of desert sand baking into her skin.

Arasaka intel had fed her the lines: Cartel hands were folding under Militech pressure, desperate enough to cut deals. Valerie had gone in dressed clean, hair sharp, tongue sharper, Jackie playing the heavy alongside a pack of mercs rented by the day.

It should’ve been simple. Should’ve.
But the convoy bristled too many rifles, too many twitchy eyes. Valerie had read the room too late, and saw the math of betrayal scrawled across their faces as fingers closed around triggers.

Gunfire cracked the silence open. Dust exploded around her boots, Jackie shouting in Spanish over the roar of engines. Valerie ducked behind the husk of a truck, pistol drawn, heart hammering, a voice in her ear feeding her orders in clipped Japanese. Contain. Secure. Erase.

She leaned out, lined her shot, and that’s when the world flashed white. A round kissed across her temple, hot and sharp, dropping her to her knees. Blood in her eye, grit in her teeth. Jackie’s arm around her shoulder, dragging her back to cover, his voice a mix of curses and laughter “Chica, you’re not checking out on me today!”

The dream folded in on itself there. The gunfire bled into the rain on her apartment window, the desert heat cooling to sterile air-conditioning. Valerie startled awake, hand brushing the scar above her eye, the skin still tender in memory.

For a long moment she just lay there, listening to the city hum through the glass. The scar had healed. The job had been spun as a win. But the truth was simpler: she’d almost died that day, and the corporation hadn’t cared. Only Jackie had.

Valerie exhaled, slow, steady, the taste of dust still ghosting her tongue. Sleep wouldn’t come again. Not tonight.

Valerie lay back against the sheets, staring at the ceiling. The scar above her eye throbbed faint, a ghost of pain carried from the border.

The past always came knocking when the city went quiet.

Her parents had signed her over to Arasaka Academy before she’d even understood what it meant. Polished uniforms, language drills, her worth measured in obedience and results.

By the time she was old enough to want something else, the chains were already welded in. She’d tried to slip them more than once, tried to run, tried to vanish but there was always something pulling her back. A contract. A handler. A reminder she was theirs.

But tonight, she hadn’t been thinking about Arasaka when she closed her eyes. She’d been thinking about Judy. Her laugh caught in smoke. The way her hands moved over the rig like she was pulling ghosts into music. And that quiet, unguarded smile in the Shion when Valerie asked her out.

The thought of her was warm in the chest, dangerous in its own way. What would it be like to spend time with her without the weight of the tower pressing down? To live outside of the chains, even for a night?

Sleep finally caught her on that thought, and the world shifted.

The boardroom swelled around her chrome walls, glass table, and Arasaka executives lined like statues in dark suits. They stared, waiting. The air hummed with control, the kind she knew too well.

Valerie straightened her jacket, opened her mouth to deliver whatever line they expected, but the faces across the table blurred. One by one, they sharpened into Judy’s.

Everywhere she looked, the woman at the head of the table, the suits at her side, the aides taking notes, all of them wore Judy’s face. Cold eyes, unreadable smirks, lipstick sharp as glass.

“Valerie,” they said in unison, her name cutting in perfect chorus.

The sound sank into her chest like a blade.
She tried to speak, but her throat locked. Her pulse hammered, the scar above her eye burning like fresh fire. She looked down, her hands were shackled to the table, chrome cuffs biting her wrists.

She jerked against them, the faces leaning closer, all Judy, all watching.

And then, just as the panic crested, one voice cut sharper than the rest. Softer. The real Judy.

“Careful, Val. Ask me like that, and I might say yes.”

The echo broke her. She gasped awake, breath ragged, sheets twisted around her legs, neon cutting restless patterns across the room. The city hummed steady through the glass, the storm’s rhythm easing at last.

Valerie pressed a hand over her scar, sweat cooling on her skin. Sleep had never been a safe place but for the first time in years, she wanted it back, if only to chase Judy’s voice through the dark.

The apartment lights lifted on their own, chasing the last scraps of sleep from the corners. Valerie lay still for a moment, eyes gritty, scar throbbing faint in the quiet. The dream clung to her ribs chrome boardrooms, Judy’s face staring back from every angle.

A soft chime cut through. [Stress levels elevated. Recommended mindfulness routine available.]

Her life coach program pulsed in the corner of her vision, cheery and synthetic. Valerie dismissed it with a flick of her wrist, jaw tightening. The last thing she needed was an algorithm telling her how to breathe.

Another alert slid in the assignment brief, stamped with Arasaka’s red insignia. Watson district. Building flagged for stolen documents. Counter-intel recovery. Standard work dressed up as urgency.

Valerie sat up, sheets falling away, and rubbed a hand down her face. The city pulsed through the glass behind her morning neon and clouded skies, Watson waiting on the other side of the river like a rusted machine.

She stripped out of the damp tank she’d slept in and padded to the bathroom. The shower hissed alive, steam rolling up to cloud the mirror. Valerie stepped under, water hot, pressing her skin raw.

Her thoughts didn’t quiet. They never did.
She’d been bred for this life Academy drills, boardroom polish, counter-intel precision.

Even her scars had been folded into the narrative, proof she’d survived where others wouldn’t. A loyal daughter of Arasaka.
But loyalty had never sat easy. Not when every op reminded her she was only a piece on their board. Not when she lay awake at night thinking about someone who saw more in her than a uniform or a paycheck.

Judy’s face came back to her in the steam cigarette glow, the curve of a smile that hadn’t been armored with sarcasm. Valerie leaned her forehead against the tile, eyes closed, letting the water wash the grit of the dream down the drain.

She wanted that life, the one outside the tower, outside the chains welded in her youth. She wanted more nights that were just them.

The water cooled. Valerie shut it off, shook her hair free, and pulled on clean clothes. Matte black slacks, jacket crisp, pistol sliding into its holster at her hip. The mask Arasaka expected, armor she knew too well.

She caught her reflection on the way out, emerald eyes staring back, scar sharp above one. For a second she saw the girl her parents had signed over, the woman the corporation had sharpened. Then she squared her shoulders, grabbed her gear, and stepped out.

Watson was waiting. But so was tonight.

The ride into Watson was quiet, the Shion cutting through traffic with the smooth hum of corporate privilege. Valerie kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the pistol at her hip, eyes scanning the fractured skyline ahead. Watson always looked unfinished, cranes rusting over half-built towers, smoke stacks belching against the morning haze, alleys thick with shadows that never cleared.

Her optics pinged the assignment marker as she rolled past a row of shuttered shops. The building stood three blocks off the main drag quat, concrete, its windows boarded, paint curling off the walls like dead skin. Arasaka’s data flagged it as a safehouse where stolen corp documents were stashed.

She killed the engine a block away, letting the Shion idle before slipping out into the drizzle.

The street stank of oil and rot, the only movement a pair of strung-out gangers slouched under an awning, too glassy-eyed to care.

Valerie crossed the lot like she belonged there, steps measured, jacket pulled close. Her comm crackled faint in her ear handler’s voice sharp, precise, Japanese clipped into English for her convenience. “Recover the material. No witnesses.”

She didn’t bother answering.

The door gave with a shove, hinges squealing. Inside, the air was stale, thick with dust and the faint metallic tang of old blood. A single light flickered overhead, swinging slowly like something had disturbed it not long ago.

Valerie moved quietly, pistol drawn. The ground floor was stripped bare overturned crates, shattered glass crunching under her boots. The real work would be upstairs.

She cleared the stairwell, pulse steady, each step landing soft. On the second floor, the smell hit her first smoke, fresh, not hours old. Then a voice. Two of them, low, tense, arguing in the guttural rhythm of street slang.

Valerie slipped against the wall, listening. Words filtered through: deal, payout, Arasaka, and then laughter, sharp and mean.

She didn’t wait for more. Training carried her forward pivot around the doorframe, pistol raised. Two men, both armed, one with his back to her, the other mid-turn.

“Hands where I can see them,” she said, voice flat.

For a second, they froze. Then everything moved fast.

The closer one spun, shotgun rising. Valerie’s shot cracked the air, clean, dropping him before he cleared his aim. The second lunged for the table a shard drive glinting in his grip. She fired again. He slammed back against the wall, blood painting the concrete.
Silence followed, broken only by the hum of the flickering light.

Valerie exhaled slowly, stepped in, and swept the shard into her jacket. Arasaka’s stolen property, just another piece of the game.

Her comm clicked live again. “Status.”

She looked down at the bodies cooling at her feet, scar throbbing faint above her eye. Her voice was calm, almost bored. “Recovered. Site compromised. No witnesses.”
The line cut dead.

Valerie holstered her pistol, but the quiet pressed heavier than the gunfire had. She stood there longer than she needed to, staring at the blood spreading across the floorboards, thinking about how easy it was to kill for ghosts in suits. Thinking about Judy, cigarette in hand, calling her real.

When she finally turned to leave, the shard felt heavier in her pocket than any bullet she’d fired.

The Shion’s engine echoed off wet pavement as Valerie pulled into the City Center garage, her badge pinging the gates open with a cold green flash. Arasaka Tower loomed above her glass and chrome, every line cut to remind her who owned the sky.

She slid the shard into a secure case on the passenger seat, shut the car off, and let the silence stretch before climbing out. The garage smelled of polish and ozone, nothing like the rot in Watson.

Up the private elevator, her reflection followed her in the mirrored walls. The scar above her eye caught the light, sharp and obvious, but she didn’t look away.

The operations floor was humming when she stepped out rows of analysts bent over holo-screens, data streaming in waves of light. No one looked up as she passed. No one ever did.

She dropped the shard at the counter, the clerk scanning it in without a word, the

Arasaka insignia pulsing red, then green. Just another piece of the machine recovered, catalogued, and filed away.

“Good work, Valentine.” The voice belonged to Ito, her handler, sharp suit, sharper eyes. He didn’t smile. He never did. “Payment logged. Briefing at nineteen-hundred. Don’t be late.”

Valerie nodded once, slipping past him without slowing. She could feel his gaze on her back until the door closed behind her.

In the quiet of her assigned suite, she shrugged out of her jacket, tossed it onto the sterile sofa, and stood a moment by the window. Night City sprawled out below, restless and alive streets glinting like arteries, neon flashing its false promises into the storm-lit air.

Her scar still throbbed faintly, her body still humming from the job. But her thoughts weren’t on the shard, or Ito, or the blood cooling in Watson.

They were on Judy. On the cigarette glow, the unguarded smile, the soft “Careful, Val” that still echoed louder than gunfire.

For the first time all day, Valerie let herself sit, elbows braced on her knees, eyes heavy. Tonight hung in her chest like both a risk and a promise.

The ops floor smelled of polish and recycled air, lights humming sterile overhead. Valerie sat near the end of the long glass table, jacket crisp, pistol holstered neat at her hip. Her hands rested loose, but her eyes never stopped moving.

Arthur Jenkins strode in first, posture sharp enough to cut. Behind him came Susan

Abernathy, the weight of her presence heavier than the storm outside. The room went still as she set her brief down, screens flickering awake across the table.

“Frankfurt,” Abernathy said, voice low and even. “Data breach. European Space Agency records compromised. Leaked straight into Militech’s waiting hands.”

The screens lit with charts, signatures, fragments of stolen contracts, ESA logos twisted into red flags. Valerie scanned the feed, jaw tight.

Jenkins leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “The leak has ties to internal assets. Someone inside is moving information off-planet. Names will be confirmed, and when they are…” He paused, lips pulling into a humorless smile.

“Arasaka’s response will be decisive.”
Abernathy’s gaze swept the table, cold and precise. “Counter-intel will run deep clean ops across Europe. North America will hold the position until instructed. That includes Night City. Our enemies are testing us; we cannot afford cracks.”

Her eyes landed on Valerie for half a second longer than the others. Not a warning. A weight.

Valerie’s fingers brushed the edge of the table, her reflection caught in the glass below.

The scar above her eye ached faint, a ghost of desert heat pressing in, but her voice was steady when she spoke. “Orders?”

Jenkins slid a shard across the table. “Monitoring, for now. Pull threads on known assets. If one of them twitches wrong, you cut it off.”

Abernathy closed the brief with a snap. “Arasaka protects its interests. Do not forget that.”

The meeting broke apart in low murmurs and the scrape of chairs. Valerie slipped the shard into her jacket, stood, and left the boardroom without looking back.

The elevator ride down through the tower was silent, each floor blurring past in panels of glass and chrome. At the lobby, the doors slid open to polished marble, security checkpoints humming with scanners. She crossed without pause, her badge pinging green, and stepped out into the pulse of Republic Avenue.

Night City swallowed her whole. Traffic seethed down the avenue, neon clawing at the early evening sky. Arasaka Tower loomed behind her, glass and steel gleaming like it owned the horizon. Valerie pulled her jacket tighter and crossed to the parking tier.

The Shion crouched low under sterile lights, purple paint gleaming against the concrete. She slid behind the wheel, keyed the ignition, and let the engine’s low growl settle in her chest. For a moment she just sat there, fingers loose on the shifter, watching the tower’s reflection fracture across the windshield.

The drive to her apartment was quick, City Center blocks passing in chrome and glass. Her complex wasn’t glamorous mid-rise concrete, blue security panels glowing faint in the dusk but it was expensive, sterile, safe.

Inside, the silence felt heavier than the tower’s. Valerie shut the door, let her jacket fall across the back of a chair, and toed off her heels by the entry. The pistol at her hip stayed put until she reached the bedroom. There, she unstrapped it, laid it on the dresser, and stood a moment with her hands braced on the wood. For once, she let it stay behind.

She peeled out of the button-up, unfastened each cuff with deliberate care, and swapped the corpo uniform for a soft black tee and worn jeans. She laced up a pair of black-and-white sneakers, lighter on her feet, the kind of comfort she didn’t get inside the tower.

At the mirror, she reapplied her makeup. Dark shadow sharpened her emerald eyes, matte lipstick pressed back into place. A single spray of perfume hung in the air, clean but subtle. Her reflection looked back, scar sharp above her eye, the only thing the corporation hadn’t smoothed out.

For a long moment, she studied herself. Not the polished operative Abernathy pinned with orders, not Jenkins’ cog in the machine. Just Valerie.

She grabbed her keys, slipped them into her pocket, and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Downstairs, the garage lights hummed over rows of sleek machines. The Shion waited, crouched and ready, its purple skin catching fractured reflections of neon. Valerie slid inside, the leather cool against her palms, and let the engine growl alive again.

Frankfurt would spiral soon; she could feel it, smell the blood already. But tonight wasn’t Frankfurt. Tonight was Judy waiting on Charter Street.

The Shion rolled out of the garage and onto Republic Avenue, engine low and steady under her hands. City Center traffic swallowed her whole convoys of armored sedans, AVs banking low between towers, pedestrians packed under billboards that screamed promises no one believed.

Valerie kept one hand on the wheel, the other loose against the shifter, emerald eyes scanning the fractured rhythm of the streets. A security drone hovered overhead, lens glinting, tracking everything that moved. Neon bled across the windshield in restless ribbons, red, green, and blue twisting through rain-streaked glass that hadn’t been cleaned since the last storm.

She caught her reflection in the side mirror, scar sharp above her eye, mouth set tight. Arasaka had trained her to drive through fire without a flinch, but tonight the weight pressing her chest wasn’t from orders. It was from asking Judy out, and not knowing if that smile in the Shion meant yes or maybe.

The Shion slid past Corpo Plaza, towers clawing at the sky, then into Japantown’s narrow arteries where lanterns burned warm against the cold steel of the night. Street vendors shouted over one another, smoke from grills curling through the air, the scent of charred meat and spice cutting through the tang of ozone. Valerie caught it all through the cracked window, the city alive in ways Arasaka’s glass cages never allowed.

Charter Street wasn’t far, tucked in Watson’s shadow, where the lights dimmed and buildings hunched against years of rain and neglect. She downshifted, the Shion’s growl deepening as the roads narrowed, paint on the asphalt fading to memory.

Judy’s block came into view three stories, faded blue paint peeling in strips, stairwell light flickering weak against the night. Valerie pulled into the lot, killed the engine, and sat for a moment with her hand still on the wheel.

The city roared beyond the glass, but inside the cabin it was only her breath, steady but taut.

The Shion’s engine ticked as it cooled, heat bleeding into the night air. Valerie sat still behind the wheel, fingers resting on the leather like she wasn’t ready to let go.

The building loomed ahead, three stories of tired blue paint and cracked windows, its stairwell light flickering in uneven pulses. Ordinary. Real. A world away from the glass cages she’d walked out of an hour ago.
She caught her reflection in the rearview mirror, emerald eyes lined sharp, scar etched across her brow, lipstick pressed neat.

She looked like someone who always knew what she was doing. But the truth throbbed under her ribs.

What if she doesn’t say yes?

Valerie’s jaw tightened, and she drew in a slow breath, the faint trace of her perfume mixing with the Shion’s leather and engine oil.

She smoothed her hands over her tee, checked the lay of her hair where it fell across her cheek, then let her palm rest flat against the steering wheel one last time.

The mask of the operative didn’t matter here. This wasn’t Frankfurt. This wasn’t Arasaka.
This was Judy.

Valerie killed the lights, opened the door, and stepped into the night. Sneakers splashed against the cracked asphalt as she crossed toward the stairwell, heart steady but heavier than any pistol she’d ever carried.

The stairwell smelled of damp concrete and old smoke, every step carrying the weight of years. Valerie’s sneakers scuffed softly on the worn stairs as she climbed to the third floor, hand brushing the rail more for grounding than balance.

At the end of the narrow hall, Judy’s door waited. Valerie paused, drew in one steadying breath, then knocked twice firm, but not hard enough to echo.

Movement inside: the shuffle of bare feet, the scrape of a lock. The door opened a crack, spilling warm light into the corridor.

Judy stood barefoot in the frame, damp hair curling against her cheeks, a loose tank and shorts hanging easy on her. Brown eyes met Valerie’s eyes sharp at first, then searching, holding her there.

The silence stretched. Valerie kept still, though her chest was taut with the same question that had haunted her since she asked: Will she say yes?

Judy’s gaze lingered a beat longer, unreadable. Then her mouth curved not the sharp smirk she wore like armor, but something smaller, unguarded. She leaned against the frame, arms folding. “So,” she said quietly, “where are you taking me?”

Valerie’s lips tugged into a faint grin, scar catching the light. “Anywhere you’ll let me.”
Judy arched a brow, but the warmth in her eyes betrayed her. “That vague, huh?”

Valerie didn’t flinch, her voice steady, almost soft. “Old drive-in above North Oak.
Abandoned, mostly. Still operational if you know the codes. They’ve got the whole Bushido catalogue. I thought we could grab some noodles on the way, pick a film, and sit under the stars. Just us.”

For a moment Judy just stared at her, weighing the offer like it was heavier than it should be. Then she let out a small huff, part laugh, part sigh. “Bushido, huh? Corpo girl with a taste for old flicks?”

Valerie’s grin widened, just a little. “Guilty. Figured it beats another night in the basement.”

Something shifted then curiosity, warmth, maybe both. Judy shook her head, but the smile tugging at her mouth gave her away. “Alright, Val. You’ve got my attention.”

She stepped back, gesturing toward the hall. “Give me a minute to change. Don’t touch anything.”

Valerie crossed the threshold as Judy padded down the short hall, bedroom door swinging half-shut behind her. The apartment smelled of solder, smoke, and something sweeter underneath.

For the first time all day, Valerie let her shoulders ease. She’d gotten her yes.

The bedroom door clicked softly behind her. Judy leaned back against it for a second, closing her eyes. Her pulse was steady, but the weight in her chest wasn’t simple. After everything, after Maiko, after all the messy endings she’d sworn off, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t open the door to anyone like this again.

And yet… Valerie.

Judy pushed off the door, moving toward the dresser. She pulled out her favorite pair of jeans, worn soft at the seams, and a plain tee that didn’t try too hard. Black sneakers from under the bed finished the set. Comfortable, simple, something she could breathe in.

She sat on the edge of the bed, lacing the sneakers slow, thoughts trailing back further than she meant them to. Two years ago, at Clouds. She’d been running herself ragged, trying to keep clients from crossing lines the dolls couldn’t fight back against. Most corpo agents looked the other way, some even encouraged it. Not Valerie.

Judy remembered her striding in that night, all sharp lines and authority. She’d pulled rank without hesitation, convinced the clients to leave, then circled back to check on the dolls.

Checked on Judy, too. It was the first time Judy had seen someone from Arasaka act outside of their own self-interest. It had unsettled her then, but later, it stuck. That was the start.

She stood, crossed to the vanity, and leaned in close to the mirror. A quick swipe of liner, lipstick reapplied, the armor she’d always worn. But this time, it felt different.

Because Valerie didn’t just see the polish. She saw Judy underneath. Saw her ghosts, and didn’t flinch.

Judy let out a slow breath, studying herself in the mirror. For once, the thought didn’t scare her. It steadied her.

She turned, tugged the tee down smooth, and headed for the door. Valerie was waiting, and Judy was ready to find out what “just us” really meant.

Judy tugged the bedroom door open, smoothing her tee as she stepped out. Valerie stood across the room, one hand braced on the edge of the little work desk tucked against the wall. The half-built robot sat there, wires splayed like veins, casing half-assembled, tools scattered in careful chaos.

Valerie leaned in slightly, emerald eyes tracing the shape of it. She didn’t touch, just studied the way its frame curved toward a shape that wasn’t quite human, wasn’t quite machine. Her lips tugged into the faintest smile. “Didn’t know you had a side project.”

Judy crossed the room, sneakers soft against the floor. “Yeah, well,” she said, slipping back into sarcasm as easy as breath, “not every girl builds BD rigs for fun.” She slid past Valerie, checking the robot with a glance only its maker could give. “Been piecing it together out of scraps. Keeps my hands busy when my head won’t shut up.”

Valerie straightened, watching her with that raw steadiness Judy had felt since the moment she knocked. “Looks like more than scraps to me.”

Judy caught the way she said it, not dismissive, not humoring. Real. She looked away before the heat in her chest gave her away, pretending to check the tools scattered across the desk. “Are you ready to get going, or are you planning to psychoanalyze all my hobbies first?”

Valerie smirked, scar catching the dim light. “Just curious. I like knowing what makes you tick.”

Judy grabbed her jacket from the chair and
pulled it on, shaking her head, but there was a smile tugging at her mouth. “Careful, Val.
Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you mean it.”

Valerie stepped back, holding the door open for her. “Good. I do.”

The words hung in the air longer than either admitted, even as they stepped out into the night together.

The Shion purred to life, headlights cutting across the tired paint of Judy’s building as Valerie eased them onto Charter Street. She drove slow through the narrow block, then swung to the curb outside a noodle stand tucked between a pawnshop and a laundromat that smelled of detergent and steam. The place was nothing to look at, but the broth hit like fire and comfort all at once. Valerie had been coming here for years, more often after jobs than she liked to admit.

The Shion eased against the curb outside the noodle stand, its neon sign buzzing faint against the night. Steam rose from the open pots, broth and chili cutting through the exhaust of passing traffic. Valerie leaned across the console, slid a few eddies onto the tray. “Two boxes. Extra chili.”

The cook nodded, working fast. Cardboard cartons hit the counter a minute later, steaming hard enough to fog the window.

Chopsticks wrapped in paper sleeves were tucked under the lid. Valerie took them, the heat soaking into her palms as she passed one across to Judy.

Judy cradled it in both hands, the smell curling up between them. “Not exactly candlelight.”
Valerie smirked, tucking the other carton into the carrier between the seats. “You’ll thank me when we’re halfway through Bushido 3 and not starving.”

She dropped a pair of drinks into the holder, a can of cola, and a small flask of tequila she’d picked up with a nod from the cook. She flicked her eyes sideways, gauging. “Figure I’d let you decide how we wash it down.”

Judy arched a brow, lips twitching. She reached for the cola, popped the tab with a sharp crack. “Play it safe, for now.”

Valerie’s grin widened just enough to catch the dash light. “Safe works.”

The cartons steamed between them, filling the cabin with chili and garlic as Valerie pulled the Shion back into traffic. North Oak waited past the sprawl, stars hidden behind the city glow but still there, just out of reach.

The Shion slid back into traffic, engine humming low as Valerie merged onto the arterial that cut north through the city. Neon washed the windshield in restless streaks billboards screaming ads in colors too bright to last, clubs spilling bass out onto cracked sidewalks, the crush of AV lights bleeding into the haze.

Steam curled up from the cartons in the console, chili and garlic seeping into the cabin until it smelled more like the stand than polished leather. Judy sat angled toward the window, carton warm in her hands, eyes catching each flash of light that whipped past.

City Center gave way fast to the broken edges of Watson skeletal towers half-built and abandoned, cranes frozen in rust, alleys alive with stray fire and exhaust. Gangs marked their walls with fresh tags, neon paint still dripping in the rain gutters. A siren wailed somewhere behind them, fading quick as Valerie pressed the Shion higher into the lanes.

Then the climb began. The freeway wound upward, steel and glass falling back into a sprawl of scattered lights. The sound of the city dulled, traded for the low thrum of the engine and the rush of wind curling through the cracked window.

Valerie drove one-handed, posture loose but eyes sharp. The scar above her eye caught stray reflections from the dash, turning it into a hard line in the dark.

Judy sipped her cola, chopsticks tucked neatly back into their sleeve, and glanced sideways. “Not bad,” she said, voice soft but threaded with something lighter than sarcasm.
Valerie’s smirk tugged faint. “Told you. Worth the detour.”

The Shion crested the rise, and suddenly the city stretched wide behind them a carpet of neon and smoke, arteries of red and white lights flowing like rivers through the dark.

Ahead, the hills of North Oak stood quiet, the drive-in’s dead screen just a pale slab against the sky.

For the first time all night, the noise of Night City felt far enough away to breathe.

The road curved upward, streetlamps thinning until they were just two headlights cutting through the dark. The city stretched behind them, neon smeared wide across the basin like spilled paint.

Judy twisted the carton in her hands, letting steam curl up through her fingers, before glancing sideways. “So tell me how the hell do you know the access codes to a drive-in nobody’s touched in years?”

Valerie smirked faintly, eyes steady on the road.
“Let’s just say Arasaka doesn’t like to throw anything away. Even dead screens keep their ghosts on file.”

Judy arched a brow, lips twitching. “And you just… happened to pull those ghosts out of the system?”

Valerie let out a low chuckle, shifting gears as the Shion climbed higher. “Not exactly standard protocol, no. But I like keeping doors open. Never know when you’ll want to slip through one.”

The answer hung between them, half-truth wrapped in something wryer. Judy studied her a moment longer, the reflection of the dash catching green in Valerie’s eyes, before shaking her head with a soft laugh. “Guess I should’ve known. Corpo girl with a key to every lock.”

Valerie’s grip on the wheel tightened, just for a heartbeat. “Not every lock.” Her tone was even, but something raw sat under it.

Judy caught the edge in her voice, but let it go. She leaned back against the seat, cradling the carton, the faintest smile still tugging at her mouth. “Alright, Val. Guess we’ll see if this lock of yours still works.”

The Shion crested the last hill, the old drive-in sprawling wide in the distance. A pale screen loomed over cracked asphalt, rows of rusted speaker poles lined like bones under the stars.

The Shion rolled up to the gate, its metal bars sagging under years of rust. Valerie slowed, window sliding down with a faint hiss. A panel waited off to the side, half-buried in dust and weeds, screen long since cracked but still glowing faint behind the grime.

She tapped in the sequence from memory, each digit punctuated by a tired beep. For a moment nothing happened. Then the panel buzzed, a green light flaring weak, and the gate groaned open on reluctant gears.
Judy whistled low under her breath. “Well I’ll be damned.”

Valerie only smirked, easing the Shion through the gap. Headlights swept across the empty lot rows of cracked asphalt, weeds splitting the lines where cars once parked, speaker poles jutting like crooked teeth. At the far end, the screen rose pale against the night sky, enormous and silent.

She cut the engine halfway down the row. Silence fell heavy, broken only by the soft tick of cooling metal.

Both climbed out. Judy leaned back against the hood, carton balanced in one hand, chopsticks already pinched in the other. Steam curled into the cool air, catching the starlight above the city glow. “Not bad, Val,” she murmured, settling her weight against the car like she belonged there.

Valerie set her own carton on the hood, straightened, and brushed her hands against her jeans. “Give me a minute.” She tilted her chin toward the squat projection booth at the back of the lot, its windows dark, door half-crooked on its hinges. “I’ll get the show running.”

Judy arched a brow around a mouthful of noodles. “You’re telling me this thing actually works?”

Valerie’s grin curved, scar catching the faint light. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Judy leaned against the hood, carton warm in her hands, steam curling into the cool night. The crunch of Valerie’s sneakers carried across the cracked asphalt, fading as she reached the shadow of the projection booth.

Judy watched her go. The set of her shoulders, the way her stride stayed steady even in a place half-eaten by weeds and rust.

Valerie looked like she belonged anywhere she decided to stand, even here. Especially here.

Judy twirled noodles around her chopsticks, but she wasn’t tasting them. Her mind circled instead back to the basement nights, to cigarette smoke and sharp banter, to the way

Valerie hadn’t flinched at her ghosts. She’d told herself she was done letting anyone get that close. But there had always been something different about her.

The booth’s door groaned shut behind Valerie, leaving Judy alone in the lot. She shifted her weight against the Shion, eyes drawn to the pale screen towering over the empty rows.

The wind caught in the weeds, carrying the faint hum of the city far below. For once, it felt like they’d stepped outside its grip.

Judy sipped her cola, the can cold against her fingers. She thought about Valerie punching codes into a forgotten panel like it was second nature, about the confidence wrapped around her uncertainty. A Corpo who’d somehow managed not to be hollowed out completely.

“Crazy woman,” Judy muttered to herself, shaking her head. But her lips curved soft around the words, like she didn’t mind it.

A light flickered inside the booth. Then another. The faint hum of machinery stirred, carrying across the lot like the ghost of a heartbeat.

Judy’s chest tightened, caught somewhere between disbelief and wonder. Valerie was really going to pull this off.

The hum grew louder, steady now, the kind of sound that carried memory in it. Judy straightened against the Shion, carton forgotten at her side.

Then the screen flickered. A pale square bloomed against the night sky, stuttering once, twice, before stabilizing into grainy light. Dust and scratches rolled across the frame, but it held. The drive-in was alive again.

Judy let out a low laugh, soft and disbelieving. “Son of a bitch.”

The title card snapped into place, bold kanji stretched across the vast screen Bushido 3: Live Fast. Die Never. The audio kicked in a beat later, thin and crackling through hidden speakers that hadn’t tasted power in years.

Valerie stepped back out of the booth just as the first reel unspooled, the glow painting her in silver light. She crossed the lot toward the car, her silhouette long across the cracked asphalt. Judy watched her come, and couldn't stop herself from smiling around it.

“Guess you weren’t bluffing,” she called, voice carrying in the night.

Valerie’s grin curved sharp as she reached the hood, scooping her carton back up. “Told you. Still worth keeping doors open.”

The two of them stood there together, steam rising from cardboard boxes, the city’s roar dimmed to a murmur beyond the hills. Above them, the screen burned grainy and alive, casting the ghosts of samurai across the broken lot.

For the first time in years, Judy felt like she was somewhere untouched like the night belonged to them alone.

They perched on the hood of the Shion, cartons warm in their hands, chopsticks clicking softly against cardboard. The projector whirred behind them, its hum steady, reel spitting scratches across the towering screen.

Bushido warriors moved in grainy light, blades clashing, voices sharp in tinny Japanese. The sound was warped, thin with age, but it didn’t matter. The screen burned bright, and that was enough.

Judy slurped a mouthful of noodles, chili hitting the back of her throat like fire. She coughed once, laughed under her breath, and reached for her cola. “Extra chili, huh? Trying to kill me?”

Valerie smirked, twirling her own noodles around chopsticks with practiced ease.

“Figured you could handle heat.” Her emerald eyes glinted in the screen’s glow. “Guess I was right.”

Judy shook her head, still smiling, cheeks warmed by more than the spice. She leaned back on her free hand, carton balanced on her knee, eyes catching the way Valerie’s scar cut across her brow like a story left half-told.

For a while they just ate, silence stretching easy. The movie painted them both in shifting light crimson slashes of battle, flashes of white steel but the world felt quiet. Just the two of them, steam, and the night.

Judy tipped her head toward the screen. “You really come up here often?”

Valerie took a slow sip of cola, gaze steady on the fight unfolding across the sky. “Not really. Just knew it was here. Figured… it’d mean more if I shared it with someone.”

The words landed heavier than she probably meant, hanging between them. Judy’s chest tightened, her chopsticks pausing mid-air.

She set the carton down on the hood, wiped her hands on her jeans, and leaned back fully, staring up at the flickering screen. “You’re a strange one, Val. Bringing me to a dead drive-in to watch samurai ghosts beat the hell out of each other.”

Valerie chuckled, low and warm, setting her food aside to mirror her posture. “Strange enough to get you here, though.”

The laugh slipped from Judy before she could stop it. She turned her head just enough to catch Valerie’s eyes, both of them lit silver by the screen. For a long breath, neither looked away.

The screen crackled, samurai voices spilling thin into the night. Judy leaned back on the hood, carton forgotten beside her, the warmth of the engine bleeding through her spine.

“I almost told you no,” she said, voice low, nearly lost under the projector’s hum.
Valerie turned her head, emerald eyes catching the silver flicker of the screen. She didn’t push, just waited.

Judy let out a slow breath. “After Maiko… after all of it… I swore I wasn’t gonna put myself through that mess again. Too much history, too many knives waiting behind smiles.” Her lips twisted faintly, somewhere between a smile and a wince. “But you… you never looked at me like a mess to fix. Or a tool to use. That’s why I said yes.”

For a long moment, Valerie stayed quiet, eyes steady on Judy, scar lit sharp by the film’s glow. Then she set her carton aside, hands folding loose in her lap.

“You should know…” she began, voice softer than the night, “this is my first date.”
Judy blinked, brow lifting. “What?”

Valerie’s smirk tugged faint, but it was rawer than usual. “Corporate life doesn’t leave room for much. They trained me, owned me, sharpened me. There wasn’t space for… this.”

She gestured at the screen, the car, Judy herself. “You’re the first person I ever thought was worth breaking the rules for.”

Judy studied her, the sarcasm that usually rose to her lips nowhere to be found. The silver light painted Valerie open every scar, every line, unguarded in a way Judy had never seen her.

Slowly, Judy leaned closer, her shoulder brushing Valerie’s. “Guess that makes two of us,” she murmured.

The samurai clashed on the screen, steel ringing thin and bright. But in the lot, it was quiet, the night holding its breath around them.

Judy shifted, closing the small gap between them until her shoulder pressed lightly against Valerie’s. It wasn’t much, just the barest lean, but it sent a jolt through Valerie’s chest sharper than any gunshot she’d taken.

She stiffened at first, unsure where to put her hands, her breath catching before she could steady it. For all her training, all the boardrooms and ops and fire she’d walked through, she had no blueprint for this. Someone choosing to lean closer just because they wanted to.

Judy noticed, of course. She always did. Her voice came quiet, almost gentle. “Relax, Val. I’m not gonna bite.”

Valerie huffed a laugh, low and awkward, rubbing her thumb against her jeans like she needed to bleed off the nervous energy.

“You’re the first person that’s ever been this close without an angle attached. Feels… different.”

Judy tilted her head, watching her out of the corner of her eye. “Different good, or different bad?”

Valerie turned to meet her gaze, emerald eyes raw in the glow of the screen. “Good. Just… new.”

They let it sit there, the silence stretched but not heavy. On the screen, a samurai fell to his knees, crimson light washing across the lot in flickers of static and film scratches.

Judy leaned in just a little more, her hair brushing Valerie’s arm. “Guess we’re both new at something tonight,” she murmured.

Valerie exhaled slowly, letting the tension slip by degrees. Her shoulder softened against Judy’s, her body adjusting like it was learning the shape of comfort for the first time.

Neither moved to kiss. Not yet. They just sat there, cartons cooling on the hood, the movie painting their faces in restless light, sharing a space close enough to feel each other breathe.

For Valerie, that was enough to make the night feel like it belonged to them.

The film crackled, sword steel ringing thin against the night. Valerie shifted, uncertain, her palm hovering in the air like she was weighing the risk. Finally, awkwardly, she set her hand on Judy’s knee.

It wasn’t smooth. Her fingers landed too stiff, too deliberate. But she didn’t pull back.

Judy glanced down, then back up at her, and for once didn’t tease. She just let it be, the warmth settling between them.

Valerie’s throat worked before she found her voice. “I’ve been trying to get out of Arasaka my whole damn life. Every time I thought I had a way clear something pulled me back. Parents signing me into the Academy, handlers tying me to ops, contracts that never ended. It felt like no matter which way I ran, they were waiting at the corner.”

Her grip eased a little, hand relaxing as she spoke. “But sitting here now… feels like the first time I’m breaking free of it. Even if it’s just for tonight.”

Judy leaned into her shoulder, eyes still on the grainy samurai bleeding across the screen. “Funny. I used to think about leaving Night City all the time. Heading out to some coastal town, someplace small. Maybe even another country if I could scrape the eddies.” A soft laugh slipped from her, bitter at the edge. “But the city always finds a way to pull you back in. One more job, one more fight, one more tie you can’t cut.”

They both fell quiet, the parallel settling heavy in the space between them.

Valerie’s thumb brushed absently against the seam of Judy’s jeans, not even conscious of it. “Guess that’s the curse, huh? Doesn’t matter what we want. The city's got its claws in deep.”

Judy turned her head just enough to meet her eyes, screenlight painting her brown in silver.

“Yeah. But maybe tonight… we let it go.”

Valerie held her gaze, chest tight but steady. For the first time, the city felt small.

The film scratched forward, light flickering across their faces in restless bursts. Valerie’s hand stayed warm on Judy’s knee, fingers tense, uncertain.

Then Judy shifted. Gently, deliberately, she laid her hand over Valerie’s.

The touch was simple, but it lit Valerie’s cheeks hot, freckles blooming deeper under the silver wash of the screen. Her breath caught.

Judy smirked, soft and sly all at once. “You know,” she murmured, “you look pretty damn cute when you blush.”

Valerie’s emerald eyes widened, her pulse hammering. She froze, torn between wanting the moment and fearing what it meant. Then, as if the weight was too much, she pulled her hand back fast.

The warmth broke.

She slid off the hood, sneakers scraping the cracked asphalt, hands shoved deep in her pockets like she needed to hide them. The screen’s light stretched her shadow long across the lot, cutting her figure in half-tones.
Judy blinked, caught between confusion and concern. “Val?”

Valerie shook her head, staring down at the asphalt. Her voice was low, rough. “I… I don’t know how to do this, Jude.”

The words tasted raw in her mouth. She could plan an op, read a room, cut a man down with two bullets and walk away steady but this? A touch, a smile, the idea that someone might want her for who she was? That was terrain she’d never mapped.

Judy slipped off the hood too, carton set aside, her footsteps soft as she closed the space between them. She didn’t reach again, not yet. Just stood near enough that Valerie could feel her presence.

Valerie’s chest rose and fell, her thoughts a tangle: Is it safe to let her in? Can I survive it if it’s not? Am I even allowed to be wanted?

The samurai on the screen clashed in a spray of crimson, their voices carrying thin and sharp. But down in the lot, the quiet stretched heavy a woman who could fight whole worlds but wasn’t sure how to let one person hold her hand.

Valerie stood a few feet from the Shion, fists buried deep in her pockets, staring at the cracks in the pavement like they might give her answers. Her chest ached with the weight of it all: the closeness, the blush, the way Judy’s hand on hers had made her feel like she might come undone.

Judy stepped closer, careful, her voice soft but steady. “Hey… look at me.”
Valerie’s jaw tightened, but she lifted her eyes.

Judy reached up, slow, hand angling toward her cheek. Valerie flinched back at first, instinct sharp as a blade. But when Judy paused, waiting, something inside Valerie cracked open. She let herself lean into it, Judy’s palm settling warm against her freckled skin.

“It’s okay,” Judy whispered, thumb brushing lightly across her cheekbone. “It’s okay to feel like this.”

Valerie’s throat tightened, her voice rough when it came. “I really like you, Jude. More than I know how to say. But I’ve never let anyone this close before. Not once.”

Judy’s eyes softened, the glow of the screen painting them in silver. “Val, you treat me better than most people even dare. If I’m the first person you’ve got these feelings for… then I want to be the one to share them with you.”

The words hit harder than any bullet. Valerie swallowed, breath unsteady, and then awkward, tentative she leaned in. Her lips landed clumsy, catching Judy’s chin instead of her mouth. Heat flooded her cheeks.
“Shit…sorry, I…”

But Judy only smiled, tilting Valerie’s chin gently with her fingers, keeping her close. “Relax,” she murmured, voice like a tether.

Her thumb brushed Valerie’s scar, and then Judy leaned in herself, kissing her slow, soft, deliberate. Valerie froze, then melted into it, every nerve sparking alive.

It wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t polished. But it was real. And in that kiss, Valerie felt something she’d never known: comfort, warmth, the fierce clarity of wanting a life beyond the corporate cage.

When they parted, Judy’s forehead rested lightly against hers. Valerie’s emerald eyes burned steady, her voice a whisper edged with resolve. “If being with you means burning down every bridge Arasaka built around me… then let it burn.”

Judy’s hand stayed on her cheek, thumb tracing slow. “Then we’ll burn it together.”

Two women had found something worth fighting for.

Their breath mingled in the cool night. Judy’s hand lingered at Valerie’s cheek before she drew back just enough to guide her toward the Shion again.
“Come on,” Judy murmured, tugging lightly at her sleeve.

Valerie let herself be led, still dazed, the world tilting in a way she couldn’t quite name. They climbed back onto the hood, cartons cooling beside them, the screen painting the lot in restless light. Judy leaned in close, her shoulder pressed against Valerie’s, the comfort easy and sure.

Valerie stared ahead at the samurai clashing on the screen, but her mind wasn’t on the film. She wet her lips, breath shaky. “That was… my first kiss.”

Judy tilted her head toward her, brow arched but eyes soft.

Valerie’s voice stayed low, words pulled raw from somewhere deep. “All this time, I thought I was just… a suit. A gun with a contract. Something Arasaka polished up and pointed where they wanted. But you…” She turned, emerald eyes catching Judy’s. “You make me feel like I’m more than that. Like I’m someone worth seeing.”

Her freckled cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away.

Judy smiled faint, the sarcasm gone from her voice. “That’s because you are, Val. Always have been. You just needed someone who wasn’t blind to it.”

Valerie exhaled slowly, shoulders easing for the first time all night. She leaned into Judy’s side, head brushing her shoulder, and let the silence stretch.

The film rattled on, voices thin, steel flashing silver across the screen. Around them the drive-in sat empty, forgotten by the city below.

But on the hood of the Shion, under the flicker of old ghosts, Valerie felt something new warmth, belonging, the first spark of a life that might finally be hers.

Chapter 2: Fallen Angels

Summary:

Valerie Valentine thought she had it all under control until Arasaka stripped her bare. In the fallout of blackmail, betrayal, and termination, she finds herself cut loose from the tower and the life she built inside it. With Jackie’s steady hand and Judy’s unwavering loyalty, Valerie faces her first night free of corporate chains. Between the smoke and neon of Lizzie’s, the promise of Afterlife, and the quiet warmth of Charter Street, a new life begins to take shape one she’ll have to fight tooth and nail to keep.

Notes:

This closes the first major act of Neon Sunsets. I wanted to explore what it would look like if the Corpo prologue slowed down and gave Valerie the space to breathe, bleed, and choose to let us see the fallout not just as a career-ending betrayal, but as the night she decides to start living for herself.

Writing Judy and Valerie’s first night sharing a space was about balancing vulnerability with tenderness: Judy already sure of herself, Valerie still learning to be seen without armor. Their home life will always be their escape from the sharp edges of Night City, and I wanted this chapter to make that contrast clear.

Next act will begin diving into Valerie’s new mercenary life alongside Jackie Afterlife, street work, and what it costs to keep that fragile pocket of peace alive against a city that eats people whole.

A few weeks later.

Valerie’s feeds were lit up before she even stepped off the elevator. Every channel screamed the same headline: FRANKFURT LEAKS ESCALATE: EUROPEAN SPACE AGENCY DATA IN MILITECH HANDS.

She strode down the glass spine of Arasaka Tower, each pane polished enough to catch her reflection in fragments a suit cut sharp, scar etched above her eye, purple hair falling clean over one side while the other showed black stubble. The pistol rode silent in a belt holster at her hip, hidden neat under her jacket.

The tower hummed with its usual precision, but the rhythm had shifted. Whispers followed her heels down the corridor, clipped voices in English and Japanese murmuring about compromised systems, insider betrayal, names that hadn’t surfaced yet.

Her shard pulsed in her pocket, glowing red against her palm each time her hand brushed it. Urgent meeting request. Jenkins.
“Valentine.”

The voice pulled her up short. Frank Nostra leaned against the curve of the corridor ahead, arms folded, suit gray and pressed crisp, tie knotted too tight. He looked like the tower had polished him too, but the edge in his eyes was all his own.

“Busy morning,” he said, tone sharp.

“Abernathy’s people are already tearing apart the Frankfurt channels. Did you hear anything?”

Valerie met his gaze, steady, unreadable. “I hear what I’m supposed to hear.”

Frank’s jaw ticked. “That Jenkins keeps you on a short leash doesn’t surprise me. But if you know something, you’d better hope it matches Abernathy’s report. Nobody walks clean if she smells blood.”

Valerie stepped close, emerald eyes cool beneath the fluorescents. “You do your job, Frank. I’ll do mine.”

Silence stretched, heavy. Then he gave a humorless chuckle, pushing off the wall.

“Same old Valentine. Always locked down. Just don’t choke on your handler’s chain.”

He moved on, swallowed by the stream of operatives flooding the hall. Valerie didn’t look back.

The shard pulsed again.

The further she walked, the heavier the air pressed in. Conversations cut short when she passed. Screens along the walls flickered red banners, feeds rolling nonstop with talking heads and contracts dissected in neon light.
She slipped into a side corridor and shouldered through the restroom door.

Chrome sinks gleamed under harsh fluorescents, sterile as everything else in the tower. She gripped one edge tight, knuckles pale, stomach twisting.

The bile rose fast, burning her throat. She bent over the basin, heaving until her ribs ached. When it passed, she braced herself there, head bowed, acid bitter on her tongue.

The tap squealed. Cold water rushed over her hands as she splashed her face, droplets sliding down, stinging the scar above her brow. She raised her eyes to the mirror. For a moment, all she saw was herself freckles stark in the light, hair damp against her cheek. Then the tower reminded her.

ID: NC770416.

The number burned in the corner of the glass, Arasaka’s stamp etched over her reflection.

Her lip curled faint. She wiped her face with the edge of her sleeve, straightened, heels sharp against the tiles.

The buzz in her ear broke the silence. Jackie’s name flashed across her feed. She accepted, his voice rolling warm, rough, alive.
“Chica. Been too long. How’s life in the viper pit?”

Valerie let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a sigh. “You know how it is, Jack. Every breath’s a fight just to keep your soul intact.”

“Sounds about right.” Engines growled behind him, street noise bleeding through. “Don’t let those corpos grind you down, hermana. You’re still you. Remember that.”

“Yeah.” Her throat tightened around the word, softer than she wanted it to be. “Thanks, Jack.”

They traded a few more words, quick, simple, more tether than conversation. Then the line clicked dead, leaving only the hum of the lights.

Valerie straightened, adjusted her jacket, belt snug against her hip. Her reflection still hung in the mirror, the number cold in the corner. She turned away from it.

Jenkins was waiting.

Valerie left the restroom, jacket collar still damp from where she’d splashed her face. Her stomach had settled, but the tension rode high in her shoulders, tight enough she could feel it in her jaw.

The halls were busier now, operatives moving in tight lines, shards clutched like lifelines. Screens glowed along the walls, each one blaring with fragments of the Frankfurt breach: ESA contracts exposed, orbital schematics mirrored in endless loops, speculation about sabotage.

She kept her pace steady, emerald eyes
straight ahead, but ears tuned sharp.

“…Abernathy’s dogs are already circling.”
“…Jenkins is making his move, trust me.”
“…somebody’s going to burn for this, and it won’t be her.”

The voices cut off when they noticed her, eyes slipping away, words swallowed. That was the way of the tower everyone knew who was tethered to whom, which leash they were expected to hold.

Valerie adjusted the line of her jacket, the weight of her pistol solid at her hip in its belt holster. Her heels clicked soft but certain against the polished floor, each step measured, unbroken. The scar above her eye prickled faint, a ghost of desert heat, as she moved past them all without slowing.

The next elevator waited at the end of the hall, chrome doors reflecting her back at herself. She stepped in alone, the doors sealing with a muted chime.

The ascent was smooth, too smooth, a silence broken only by the hum of the motor.

Valerie’s reflection followed her up the mirrored walls, purple hair hanging loose over one side, freckles scattered across her cheeks.

The corporate polish was all there: clean lines, perfect posture.

But her eyes stayed raw, emerald and alive, the only thing the tower hadn’t managed to sand down.

The numbers ticked higher. Jenkins’ floor.
Valerie drew in one slow breath, bracing herself, and stepped out when the doors slid open.

The elevator doors parted with a muted chime. Jenkins’ floor was quieter than the rest of the tower, not empty, but hushed, like the air itself knew to keep its voice down.

A receptionist in a sharp gray suit looked up as Valerie approached. “He’s expecting you. Go right in.”

Valerie gave a curt nod, heels striking soft against the polished floor as she crossed to the inner office.

The doors slid open, and she paused just inside. Jenkins stood before a bank of holo-screens, his posture rigid, his voice crisp as he spoke in Japanese to a half-dozen ESA council members flickering across the glass.

Their faces were strained, words clipped, the conversation tight with accusation and denial.

Valerie stayed quiet, hands folded behind her back, eyes steady on the feed. Her pistol weighed heavy at her hip, though no weapon could cut this kind of tension.

Minutes passed. The council leaned forward, voices sharper now, one of them slamming a hand against the desk on their side of the feed.

Then the lights across their panels stuttered. Sparks burst across the images, the holo-screens flaring white. One by one, their faces froze, twisted mid-sentence and then dissolved into static.

Valerie blinked, her jaw tight. “What the hell did you just do?”

Jenkins didn’t flinch. He turned from the ruined screens, calm as a man who’d only ended a conference call.

“You just attacked the European Space Agency. Abernathy will have your head…” Valerie’s voice cut hard, edged with disbelief, “...and mine with it.”

Jenkins crossed the room without hurry, settling onto the leather couch against the far wall. He gestured toward the chair across from him, his expression cool, almost amused.

“Relax, Valentine. Sit. We’ve got more important things to discuss.”

Jenkins leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The Frankfurt shard,” he said simply, palm outstretched.

Valerie hesitated a beat, then pulled it from her pocket. The red glow pulsed against her fingers before she placed it in his hand.
He slipped it neatly into his jacket, then reached down to the low table between them.

A slim case sat waiting, beside a stack of eddies bound tight. With a casual flick, he laid the money out, the notes whispering as they spread across the glass.

Valerie’s eyes narrowed. “What’s in the case?”

Jenkins clicked it open. Inside, a single shard pulsed faint blue, its surface humming. He tapped it with one finger. “Everything on Susan Abernathy. Her contacts, her deals, her skeletons. Enough to make her disappear. All I need is you to take the eddies, call in those friends of yours in the underworld, and handle it.”

Valerie’s jaw tightened. “You’re out of your fucking mind. You’re asking me to put a hit on Abernathy? She’s not just some rival exec, Jenkins. She’s Arasaka’s spine in this city. You move against her, the whole tower caves in.”

Jenkins didn’t blink. “Then I guess we bring the tower down before she buries us both.”

Valerie stood, pacing a step, heels sharp against the polished floor. “No. I don’t play this game. You start a war in-house, we all burn. Find another pawn.”

His voice cut sharp, colder now. “Think carefully, Valentine. This isn’t just business.”

Valerie snapped her gaze back to him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Jenkins leaned back, a smile like a knife’s edge tugging at his mouth. “I know about Alvarez.”

The blood drained from her face. Her stomach twisted hot. “How the fuck do you know that name?”

Jenkins steepled his fingers, tone smooth, almost casual. “You think the tower doesn’t watch who you spend your nights with?

You’ve been slipping out, dropping your guard. A basement braindance tech, of all people. Not exactly the type Arasaka signs off on.”

Valerie’s hands curled into fists at her sides, scar prickling hot above her eye. “You leave her out of this.”

Jenkins’ smirk deepened, unbothered. “Then do your job, Valentine. Make Abernathy vanish, and Alvarez stays nothing more than a footnote in the system. Refuse, and… well. Accidents happen all the time in Night City.”

The words hung heavy between them, colder than the corpse glow of the ruined holo-screens.

The words had barely left his mouth before Valerie’s hand came down hard. The table rattled under the slam of her fist.

“You dirty son of a bitch.” Her voice cracked sharp, echoing off the glass walls. Emerald eyes burned as she leaned in, scar catching the light. “If you ever even think about touching her, you’ll find out real fast why I’m the best agent in this division.”

Jenkins didn’t flinch. He sat back, unruffled, smoothing a crease from his jacket sleeve as if her rage were nothing more than background noise. “Calm yourself, Valentine. If you know what’s good for Alvarez, you’ll do exactly as I asked.”

Valerie’s chest rose and fell hard. Her jaw flexed, fury thick in her throat, but she swallowed it down enough to grind the words out. “Fine. I’ll head to Lizzie’s. See if I can find someone willing to bite.”

“Good.” Jenkins gestured loosely toward the window, the skyline burning red with warning banners. “Take my AV, it'll be faster. And do tell Ms. Alvarez…” his smirk curved like a knife, “…that I said hello.”

Valerie’s middle finger shot up without hesitation. She scooped the shard and the stack of eddies off the table, turned on her heel, and strode for the door.

Her heels struck hard against the polished floor, each step clipped and sharp, anger thrumming like static in her veins. She didn’t look back.

The elevator doors slid open with a muted chime. Valerie stepped inside, fists tight around the shard, and punched the garage level.

The elevator doors sealed her in with a hush, the floor humming beneath her heels. Chrome walls threw her reflection back in fragments, the crisp suit, the holstered pistol at her hip, the anger still burning behind her eyes.

Valerie let them blur. She shut her eyes, forcing her breath slowly, steady.

The tower’s threats, Jenkins’ smirk, the weight of the shard in her pocket they all pressed in. But behind it, stronger, another voice rose.

“If being with you means burning down every bridge Arasaka built around me… then let it burn.”

Her lips curved faint, softening at the memory.

Judy’s voice followed, warm, sure, the tether she needed:
“Then we’ll burn it together.”

The elevator chimed. Valerie’s eyes opened, green fire catching in the sterile lights.

The doors parted to the garage, rows of black steel and chrome machines lined in perfect order. Jenkins’ AV sat waiting near the platform edge, its sleek body gleaming under white fluorescents, engines humming low in idle.

Valerie strode across the polished floor, heels striking sharp, and climbed inside. The door sealed with a hiss, the cockpit wrapping her in glass and steel.

As the AV lifted, the city stretched out below neon arteries and restless lights and Valerie’s grip on the shard tightened.

This wasn’t about Jenkins. This wasn’t about Abernathy.

This was about Judy.

The AV rose smooth into the night, engines a low purr beneath her seat. Below, Night City sprawled like a living circuit board veins of red and white light streaming through the arteries, neon signage clawing at the sky, smoke rising from stacks that never slept.

From this height, it looked almost beautiful. Almost.

Valerie leaned back into the leather seat, pulled a bottle of champagne from the chilled rack, and popped the seal with a hollow snap. She poured into a slender glass, the fizz catching the cabin’s soft light, and took a long swallow.

The feed in her head chirped, sharp and insistent. An Arasaka logo bloomed across her vision, followed by the too-smooth tone of her life coach.

“Valerie Valentine, you’ve missed your last three wellness appointments. Your vitals are spiking critical again. Protocol requires you to stop in for an evaluation immediately.”

Valerie’s grip on the glass tightened. She stared out at the city rolling beneath her, jaw hard.

“You know what I need?” Her voice cracked sharp, anger bleeding through. “I need people to stop watching every goddamn move I make. I’m not someone’s fucking property. I’m tired of being treated like my life doesn’t matter.”

Her hand snapped forward. Crystal shattered against the AV’s wall, champagne spraying down the chrome. The AI’s voice droned on, clipped and calm, until Valerie slammed the channel shut.

Silence pressed in, broken only by the hum of the engines. Valerie dragged a hand down her face, chest rising and falling until her breath steadied.

She sank back into the chair, eyes fixed on the horizon.

Ahead, the rooftop of Lizzie’s glowed violet and blue, neon pouring across the dark like an open invitation.

Valerie dragged her fingers through her purple hair, twisting the ends just to keep her hands busy as the AV descended. The city’s glow thinned beneath her, replaced by the pulsing violet and blue crown of Lizzie’s rooftop.

The AV touched down with a hiss, doors sliding open to the night.

Three gangoons were playing basketball near the pad, the thud of the ball echoing off the concrete. One of them scooped it up and tossed a glare her way.

“This ain’t no parking spot, Corporate Princess,” he barked, swagger in his voice. “You could’ve crushed us.”

Valerie stepped out, heels clicking against the rooftop. Her scowl cut sharper than her words.

“I don’t have time for your pity bullshit. Either step aside, or I will make you step aside.”

The air went tight. The ball spun slowly across the roof. Then the tallest of them raised his hands, backing a step. “Alright, alright. Chill.”

The others followed, eyes dropping, grumbling under their breath as they cleared the space.
Valerie didn’t spare them another glance. She crossed the pad, hips squared, every stride measured.

The door to Lizzie’s sat under the violet glow, and a Mox bouncer leaned out, chrome jaw catching the light. Her grin spread wide when she saw her.

“Damn,” she said, chuckling low. “You don’t ever mess around, do you, Valentine?”

The edge in her shoulders eased just a little, her lips tugging into a faint smirk.

“Somebody’s gotta keep the city honest.”
She stepped aside, gesturing her in. “Welcome back.”

Inside, Lizzie’s swallowed her whole smoke and neon, bass rumbling through the floor, laughter spilling from the bar. Valerie’s steps carried her past the swirl of dancers and down toward the lower floor.

If her gut was right, Jackie would already be there, parked in his usual booth, waiting with that easy grin and a story or two to cut through the noise.

Jackie was already in his booth when she spotted him, sprawled into the corner seat with a half-drained beer and a plate of untouched fries between them. He looked up as she approached, his grin easy until he clocked her face.

“Chingona,” he said, sitting up straighter. “You look like you just saw a ghost. What’s got you spooked?”

Valerie slid in across from him, her jacket tugged tight around her shoulders. Her voice came low, measured. “This stays between us, Jack. No one else hears it. Not even the walls.”

Jackie studied her for a beat, then nodded once. “You got it.”

She leaned in, emerald eyes sharp in the neon haze. “Arasaka’s trying to blackmail me. Using Judy as leverage. Jenkins wants me to contract someone to take Abernathy off the board.”

Jackie’s brows shot up. He set his beer down slowly. “That someone being me?”
Valerie didn’t blink. “You’re the only person I can trust with this.”

The words hung heavy. Jackie leaned back, scratching at the scar along his jaw. “Lemme see the shard.”

Valerie slid it across the table, the faint blue glow catching the smoke between them. Jackie slotted it, eyes flicking as the data spilled across his optics. Minutes passed in

silence, the music thumping steady overhead.
Finally, he pulled it free, jaw tight. He pushed the shard back across the table. “No, V. I’m not touching this.”

Valerie’s hands curled around it. “Jack, you don’t understand. If I don’t move on this, Jenkins will go after Judy. He made that clear.”

“Yeah? And if you do move, Abernathy goes down, and the whole tower eats itself alive. That’s not a fight you want, hermana.”

Jackie’s voice was firm, but not unkind. “I don’t put bullets in corpos just ‘cause another one tells me to. That’s their game. We don’t play it.”

Valerie leaned back, tension burning down her spine. “So what, I just wait for Jenkins to bury me? To bury her?”

Jackie shook his head, resolute. “We find another way. But this? This isn’t it. You’d be handing him the match to light the tower. And I’m not gonna be the one striking it.”

The silence between them stretched, smoke curling in lazy ribbons above the table. For the first time all night, Valerie felt the walls closing in tighter than the tower ever had.

Jackie’s refusal still hung heavy in the air, Valerie’s jaw set tight, when the shadow fell across their booth.

Two men in immaculate suits stood there, shoulders squared, their eyes flat behind the sheen of optics. Arasaka agents.

“Valentine,” one said, his voice clipped and cold. “Hand over the Abernathy shard.”
Valerie froze, the shard’s weight heavy in her pocket. “How the fuck did you even…”

The second agent cut her off with the back of his hand, a sharp crack across her mouth that snapped her head sideways. “We’re not here to answer questions. The shard.”

Jackie was on his feet in an instant, shoulders broad, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t think you boys realize where you’re standing. This ain’t your glass tower. You’re in our neighborhood now.”

Valerie wiped the blood from her lip with the back of her hand, emerald eyes burning. “You think this ends here? You tell me what department sent you, because heads are gonna roll for this.”

The first agent’s lip curled, but before she could move, before she could even ball her fist, her body locked. Muscles seized, nerves burning. A quick hack crawled through her system like ice, stripping her will in an instant.
She collapsed against the booth couch, breath ragged, vision stuttering.

Jackie bent toward her, fists clenched, only to feel the press of cold steel against his ribs. The second agent had him checked, eyes never leaving Valerie.

The first leaned in, plucking the shard clean from her jacket pocket with a gloved hand. He looked down at her, voice calm, cruelly professional.

“Effective immediately, your employment is terminated. All assets belonging to Arasaka have been revoked. Your bank account has been seized. You are nothing.”

Valerie tried to speak, to push herself upright, but her limbs trembled uselessly. Fury burned in her chest, hotter than the hack ripping through her veins.

The agents turned, leaving as clean as they’d arrived. Their suits vanished into the smoke and neon, swallowed by Lizzie’s noise like they’d never been there at all.

Jackie crouched at her side, one hand steady on her shoulder, his voice sharp with anger but low enough not to draw more eyes. “V… easy, chica. Easy. Breathe.”

Valerie’s jaw clenched, breath shaking as she forced herself upright. Her hands trembled, her teeth grit. She was stripped, burned, discarded but she was still here.

The tower was going to regret it.

Valerie pressed a hand to the booth, forcing herself upright. Pain still burned through her muscles from the hack, her lip stung where the agent’s hand had split it. She exhaled hard, shaking her head.

“So that’s it, Jack?” Her voice cracked low. “I lost everything.”

Jackie leaned back against the table, arms crossed, watching her with steady eyes. “Not all, chica. You always said you couldn’t walk out. Couldn’t cut loose. Well… they just did you the favor.” He nudged the stack of eddies she still carried, the bills fat and crisp. “Plus, you got yourself a payday on top of it.”

Valerie let out a bitter laugh that edged into a chuckle, shaking her head. “You’re right, Jack.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “’Course I’m right, Hermana.”

Before she could answer, movement caught her eye. Across the smoke and neon, Judy was running toward them, shoving past dancers and patrons. One of the Mox must’ve told her what had gone down upstairs.

Her brown eyes were wide, her breath sharp as she reached the booth. “Val!” She grabbed her arm, scanning her face, the blood at her lip. “What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

Valerie met her gaze raw, still burning, but alive and for the first time since the tower stripped her bare, she felt the weight shift.

She hadn’t lost everything.
Not even close.

Judy’s hands trembled where they held Valerie’s arm, her voice low but sharp with worry. “Talk to me, Val. What the hell happened?”

Valerie sank back into the booth, pain still threading her muscles. “Jenkins tried to blackmail me. Told me to put a hit on Abernathy… used you as leverage. I told him to shove it.” Her voice wavered, edged in bitter laugh. “Guess he didn’t like that. They stripped me clean. Fired. Bank accounts frozen. Don’t even have a place to sleep tonight.”

Judy’s expression softened, her thumb brushing carefully across Valerie’s knuckles. “We’ve only been seeing each other a few weeks, I know… but if you need somewhere, you can stay with me. As long as you want.”

Valerie blinked at her, a slow smile tugging at her bruised mouth. “Already asking me to move in, Jude? Bold.”

Judy rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth curled despite herself. “Don’t make it weird, Val. Just take the offer.”

Jackie leaned forward, grin wide but his tone steady. “And if you’re worried about work, hermana, don’t be. Afterlife’s always looking for new merc talent. With your skills? You’ll fit right in.”

Valerie let out a long breath, leaning her head back against the booth’s leather. The neon caught on her emerald eyes, reflecting the fire still burning there.

“Guess this is it then,” she murmured. “The start of my new life.”

Judy’s hand stayed in hers, Jackie’s grin steady across the table. For the first time since leaving the tower, Valerie believed it.

Her other hand slipped into her jacket, thumb brushing the fob clipped inside. One quick press, no motion wasted. A quiet ping echoed in her feed: Shion inbound. If she moved fast enough, she’d have her wheels back before Arasaka’s lockouts reached the registry.

She smiled faintly, the weight in her chest easing. “Yeah,” she whispered, more to herself than either of them. “Still mine.”

Judy shifted closer in the booth, her thumb brushing across Valerie’s bruised lip. “Give me your hand.”

Valerie frowned faintly but offered it. Judy slid her palm against hers, grip firm. A faint pulse ran through Valerie’s optics, authorization flickering across her vision: Charter Street
Apartment unrestricted access granted.
Judy held her gaze steady. “Now you don’t wait outside. You’ve got a key. Come and go as you like.”

Valerie’s mouth tugged into a crooked grin despite the sting in her lip. “Feels like you just made it official, babe.”

Judy rolled her eyes, though the softness in her voice betrayed her. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Guapa.”

Jackie broke the moment with a light clap against the table. “Keep that chin up, Hermana. Call me tomorrow when you’re ready. I’ll walk you into the Afterlife myself. Time to start your next chapter the right way.”

Valerie nodded once, tucking the shard and eddies tighter into her jacket. “Tomorrow, Jack.”

Jackie leaned back, satisfied.

Judy squeezed Valerie’s hand before slipping free. “I’ve still got a couple things to finish up here. Meet you back home soon, okay?”

Valerie reached up, fingers caressing the line of Judy’s cheek. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Judy’s lips parted just enough for a breath before Valerie leaned in, kissing her. It wasn’t awkward anymore; weeks together had smoothed the edges but it still burned with the weight of everything they’d just survived.

When they pulled apart, Judy’s brown eyes stayed steady on hers. “Go. I’ll see you at home.”

Valerie smirked faintly, rising from the booth. “Yeah. Home.”

The Shion rolled up to Lizzie’s curb, matte purple skin gleaming in the neon haze. Valerie’s thumb flicked the fob, and the gullwing door lifted with a hiss.

She slid into the driver’s seat, leather still holding the faint warmth from the last night she’d been behind the wheel. The engine purred awake under her hand, steady and low, like it had been waiting.

The streets swallowed her fast. Night City streamed past in fractured colors, holo-ads buzzing promises no one believed, alleys wet with rain-slick light, AVs cutting low overhead with red strobes blinking against the fog.

Valerie drove one-handed, the other brushing her bruised lip, the sting a reminder of the agents’ strike. Her jaw tightened, but she pushed harder on the throttle. The Shion answered, weaving through traffic with the smooth grace that no corpo chain could ever lock down.

For the first time since the tower spat her out, she let herself exhale. She had a place waiting, not some sterile corporate unit, but Judy’s apartment on Charter Street.

Her fingers drummed against the wheel, steadying her. Tomorrow she’d meet Jackie at the Afterlife. Tomorrow, she’d start carving a life of her own. But tonight… Tonight she had somewhere to go that actually felt like hers.

As the arterial gave way to tighter streets, the glow softened. Charter Street rose ahead, tired blue walls under buzzing lights, and for the first time in years, Valerie felt the road pulling her home.

The Shion purred low as Valerie swung it into a cracked curb slot across from the building. Charter Street loomed in front of her, three floors of faded blue paint, stairwell light buzzing like it couldn’t decide whether to stay alive.

She killed the engine, the cabin falling into silence except for the faint tick of cooling metal. Reaching for the trunk release, she slid out into the night.

The trunk lifted, revealing the one bag she trusted enough to always keep packed: a scuffed duffel she carried on long operations, stuffed with spare clothes, a backup pair of boots, a few shards she hadn’t yet wiped. Tonight, it was all she had.

Valerie slung it over her shoulder, the weight familiar but heavier now, loaded with more than fabric and steel.

The stairwell groaned under her heels as she climbed, one hand brushing the concrete rail for balance. Paint flaked under her touch, the smell of old smoke and damp concrete hanging thick.

At the third floor landing, Judy’s door waited plain, scratched from years of use, but glowing faint with the neon bleed from the window inside.

Valerie paused, her optics pinging softly as it recognized the new authorization Judy had given her. Access granted.

For the first time since Arasaka stripped her bare, she was about to walk through a door that didn’t belong to the tower.

She drew in a breath, shifted the duffel on her shoulder, and stepped forward.

The lock chirped soft, the door sliding open under her palm press. Valerie stepped inside, the duffel heavy on her shoulder, and shut the noise of Charter Street out behind her.

The apartment smelled faintly of solder, cigarette smoke, and something warmer beneath Judy’s presence baked into the walls.

Neon bled through the window strips, painting the main room in restless violet.

She moved straight to the bedroom. It wasn’t large, but it was hers now too, in some quiet way. The bed was unmade, sheets tangled, a tangle of posters and murals climbing the walls. Valerie set the duffel down by the corner and knelt, unzipping it with steady hands. She pulled free a pair of sleep shorts and a worn tee, then peeled out of her suit piece by piece, folding it sharp by habit even though it meant nothing now. The pistol she left holstered on the nightstand.

Sliding into the shorts and tee felt like shedding more than clothes. The fabric hung loose, softer, freer.

Her eyes roamed the room, Judy's posters, the glow of old strip lights, the dreamcatcher hanging crooked in the window. For all the weeks they’d been together, they’d never shared a night. Tonight would be the first.

She drew a slow breath, then padded down the short hall to the bathroom. Harsh light flared as she flipped the switch. The mirror threw her back at herself: emerald eyes bloodshot, bruise swelling faint at her lip, scar raw above her brow. She dampened a rag, pressed it gently to her mouth until the blood smear was gone.

For a moment, she just stared. Then her fingers lifted, pressing against the lotus inked at her neck.

She remembered the day she’d had it done, a silent promise carved into skin. That one day she’d escape the walls, bloom from the muck and shadow the way her favorite flower always did. She’d told no one the meaning, not even Judy. It was hers alone.

Now, staring into the mirror, the weight of that promise pressed harder. What was it going to cost? How many lives would she take on the street, running mercenary gigs just to keep this second chance alive to keep Judy safe, to build something beyond the tower?

Her jaw clenched. She didn’t know yet.
But she knew she would pay the price.

A few minutes later she stepped out of the bathroom, the sting in her lip dulled and her skin still damp where she’d pressed the rag. The apartment was quiet, shadows stretching long across the floor.

Heading back toward the kitchen, she caught sight of a half-crumpled pack of cigarettes on the counter. Judy must’ve left them there in a rush. Valerie hesitated a beat, then shook one loose. She didn’t think Judy would mind.

The lighter snapped, flame catching, smoke curling bitter and warm into her lungs. Valerie drifted to the window, hip against the sill, and stared down at the street below. Any minute now the Seadragon would rumble in, Judy stepping out with that tired focus she always carried after a shift.

It was then Valerie noticed it. The silence. Not from the city that noise always bled in: tires hissing, voices raised, neon buzzing. This silence was inside her.

No feeds crawling text across her optics.
No handlers muttering orders in her ear.
No life coach chiming in about stress levels.
No alerts pinging with urgent assignments.

For once, she actually had a moment that belonged entirely to her.

She took another drag, exhaled slowly, and let herself feel it.

Headlights swept across the wall outside, followed by the low, familiar growl of the Seadragon pulling into its spot. Valerie straightened, cigarette balanced between two fingers, watching as the van settled under the flickering streetlamp.

The driver’s door creaked open. Judy stepped out, tossing her jacket collar up against the night air, a satchel slung over her shoulder. She moved with that practiced focus she always carried after a shift at Lizzie’s tired, but sharp.

Valerie flicked ash into the tray by the window, smoke curling against the neon bleed. For the first time in years, she didn’t feel like she was waiting for orders or listening to her handler’s voice. She was just waiting for Judy.

Down below, Judy glanced up toward the third-floor window as if she already knew where Valerie would be. Their eyes met through neon and glass. Judy lifted two fingers in a small wave.

Valerie felt her chest ease, tension uncoiling. She took one last drag, stubbed the cigarette out, and stepped back from the window. Time to meet her at the door.

The panel beside the door chirped as Judy pressed her palm to it. The lock light flicked green, and the door slid open with its familiar hiss. She stepped inside then paused, brows lifting slightly when she saw Valerie
waiting just a step from the threshold.

“Hey,” Judy said, a small smile curving her mouth, surprise flickering in her eyes. “Didn’t think you’d be greeting me.”

Valerie gave a faint shrug, the corners of her lips tugging upward. “Figured it was time I started.”

Judy’s smile softened, her gaze searching Valerie’s face as she slipped fully inside. They walked together past the counter, the neon glow spilling in through the window.

“Are you doing alright?” Judy asked quietly once they were deeper in the room. The question wasn’t casual; her tone carried the weight of everything she already knew had gone down.

Valerie exhaled, dragging a hand back through her purple hair as she leaned against the wall. “I’ve just been… thinking things through.”

Judy set her satchel down on the counter, brown eyes still steady on her. “That’s fair. You’ve been through hell today.”

Valerie’s smirk was faint, almost tired, but there was something steadier under it. “Yeah. But I’m still here.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. The city hummed against the glass, distant and restless, but inside the apartment it felt muted, a space carved out just for the two of them.

Valerie pushed herself off the wall, closing the space between them. Her hand lifted, fingers brushing through Judy’s pink-green hair, slow and a little unsure, like she was still learning the language of touch.

Judy leaned into it, eyes closing for a second, tension in her shoulders easing.

“Feels like you’re extra stressed,” Valerie murmured, voice low. “And not just about me.”

Judy huffed a short breath, eyes flicking open. “Got into it with Susie Q earlier. Told her the Mox should’ve stepped in when those suits came sniffing around. If Jackie hadn’t been there…” Her jaw tightened. “Things could’ve gone sideways fast.”

Valerie’s hand lingered at her temple, thumb brushing lightly. “That’s not on you, Jude. Corpo muscle doesn’t walk into Lizzie’s without knowing exactly what they’re doing.
They wanted to make a point, and they picked me to prove it.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just about you.” Judy stepped back half a pace, arms folding tight.

“It’s about the Mox, too. The whole idea is we don’t let corpos push us around. And then tonight… we just stood there while you got hit.”

Valerie tilted her head, emerald eyes catching Judy’s. “You didn’t stand there. You came running the second you heard. That’s more than most people ever do.”

Judy’s mouth curved, faint but conflicted. “Doesn’t make me feel better about it.”

Valerie smirked softly, brushing her knuckles along Judy’s cheek before dropping her hand. “Then we’ll make it better. One step at a time.”

Judy’s jaw tightened, the words coming sharper now. “Susie Q laid into me.
Told me Lizzie’s isn’t some charity case. Said you knew the risks, that you weren’t worth losing the bar over. Ordered the Mox to stand down and let the corpos tear each other apart like they always do.”

Valerie’s emerald eyes softened, but her voice stayed steady. “She made the right call. I would’ve done the same if it was my department. Protect the people you’re in charge of first. That’s the job.”

“That’s bullshit, Val.” Judy’s voice cracked with heat. “You’re not some asset to be tossed away. I think me and Jackie are the only two people who even know who you really are.”

Valerie stepped closer, shaking her head. “Then fuck everyone else, and their opinions.
They don’t need to know me. Because I chose Jackie. Without him, I’d have been chewed up and spat out a long time ago.”

She drew in a slow breath, hand brushing along Judy’s arm. “And I chose you. Because you’re the first person I truly cared about. The first who made me feel like I was more than a suit. Like maybe my life could matter to someone other than me.”

Judy’s brown eyes shimmered in the neon spill, her voice soft but fierce. “You matter more than you know, Val.”

Valerie’s lips tugged faint, scar catching the glow. “I appreciate you sticking up for me, Jude. It’s nice knowing I’ve got someone watching my back.”

Judy’s smile curved, small but certain. “Told you before we burn this down together.”

Judy blew out a long breath, shoulders sinking as the fight bled out of her. “I need a shower,” she muttered, rubbing a hand across her face. Then her eyes flicked back toward Valerie, a sly curve tugging at her mouth. “Wanna join me?”

Valerie blinked, caught off guard. “Right… guess we still need to figure out what us… actually means.” Her smirk was faint but self-conscious. “Haven’t shared a space with anyone since the Academy. And my roommate back then didn’t exactly care about boundaries.”

Judy chuckled, tugging her hair loose from its tie. “Then it’s a good thing I do. Most of the time.”

Valerie tilted her head, grin edging wider. “So what’s the rulebook here? Shared closet space? Splitting the bathroom mirror?”

“Rule one,” Judy said, ticking a finger up, “don’t touch my rig unless you want me biting your hand off.”

Valerie laughed, the sound low and warm.

“Fair. Rule two then: we seriously need to talk about that mattress. How the hell are we both supposed to fit on it? I’ll have to be crammed right up against you.”

Judy leaned in close enough for her voice to drop into a murmur. “You won’t hear me complaining.”

Valerie’s freckles flushed under the neon glow, and she shook her head, a little shy but smiling all the same. “You’re impossible.”

For a moment the air softened between them, heavy with the quiet shift of walls lowering. Valerie rubbed the back of her neck, awkward but honest. “But… a shower could be nice.”

Judy’s smirk widened, her voice warm with amusement. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

Judy ducked into the bedroom first. She pulled a loose black tank, black underwear and a pair of shorts from the drawer, tossing them over her arm. Valerie followed, kneeling by her duffel to grab a fresh pair of underwear. She was already wearing sleep clothes, the scuffed duffel looking almost out of place against Judy’s chaos of posters and murals.

They crossed the hall together, bathroom light spilling harsh and white against the purple-blue glow from the main room.

Judy was the first to move, kicking her boots aside and tugging her tank up over her head. Pink-and-green hair spilled free, tattoos shifting under the light roses and spiderwebs winding across her skin, the “Overcome” script at the nape of her neck catching Valerie’s eye.

Valerie froze, her breath snagging. It was the first time she’d seen Judy like this, bare and unguarded.

Judy caught her stare and smirked. “You look cute...all bashful like that.”

Color flushed across Valerie’s freckled cheeks. She tugged at the hem of her tee, slower, reserved. “Guess I’m still figuring out how this works.”

Judy stepped closer, voice gentler now. “It’s okay, Val. I’m not gonna judge.”

Valerie pulled her shirt over her head, folding it almost automatically, then grabbed her shorts and slid them down. She stood in her underwear a breath longer, then exhaled and slipped those off too. Instinctively one arm covered her breasts, and she shifted her hips blocking the view of her lower extremities.

Judy’s smirk faded into something softer. She closed the space between them, but not all at once her voice low, reassuring. “Hey.
Relax. You don’t have to hide from me.”

Valerie took a step back, shoulders tensed, still covering herself.

Judy stopped where she was, palms open, voice steady. “If you’re not okay with this, it’s okay, Val. We go slow.”

Valerie’s emerald eyes met hers, searching, and her throat worked before she found the words. “You look so beautiful, Jude.”

The tension in Judy’s face melted into warmth. “So do you, Val. Don’t feel ashamed.”

Something in Valerie loosened. She took a slow breath, arm lowering, letting Judy see her as she was. Vulnerable, yes but choosing to be.

Valerie’s eyes drifted lower, catching the ink just below Judy’s navel, a sleek black cat’s head with two paws. She let out a shaky little breath, lips tugging faint. “Gotta know the story behind that.”

Judy’s smirk curved, wicked and playful. “What, you've never seen a pussy before?”

Valerie blinked, then broke into laughter, freckled cheeks flushing deep. “Not like that,” she managed between laughs. “Just curious why you got a cat head and two paws there of all places.”

Judy shrugged, a glint of humor still in her eyes. “Nothing much to say. Just me being me. Relates to my sexuality and how I’ve always liked being around women.”

Valerie’s smirk widened, a soft chuckle escaping. “Right. Yeah. Guess that tracks.”

Judy stepped closer then, hand lifting to caress Valerie’s cheek, her touch feather-light but steady. “I’m comfortable being myself, Val. Hope you can be too.”

Valerie leaned into her palm, emerald eyes shimmering with something raw. “You’re helping me understand a lot about myself, Jude. I keep wanting this… even more.”

Judy’s voice gentled, warmth threading through her words. “Do you feel comfortable if I touch you anywhere other than your face?”

Valerie hesitated a beat, then reached up awkwardly, fingers closing around Judy’s hand still cupping her cheek. She guided it there, holding it in place. “I think so. As long as you’re comfortable with me touching you.”

“Not a problem at all.” Judy’s smile softened, eyes locking on hers. “You’re my girlfriend, Val. I’m here no matter how long it takes you to figure things out.”

Something in Valerie eased at that, her lips curving slow and certain. “Okay.” She drew in a breath, scar catching the light as she tilted her head toward the shower. “How about that shower?”

Judy chuckled low, brushing her thumb along Valerie’s cheek before stepping back. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Steam curled against the mirror as Judy twisted the knobs, water rushing loud into the basin. She stepped in first, tilting her head back under the spray, pink-and-green hair darkening as it plastered to her skin. Tattoos gleamed slick on her arms, roses and spiderwebs shifting like stories alive in the steam.

Valerie hovered a second at the threshold, one arm crossing shyly over her chest. Judy cracked one eye open, smirking as water slid down her shoulders. “What’s the matter, Guapa? Afraid it bites?”

Valerie rolled her eyes, stepping in slowly. The water hit her back, hot enough to make her hiss. “Guess I’m still getting used to… all this.”

“Mmhm,” Judy teased, nudging her with a wet shoulder. “And here I thought Arasaka trained you to keep your cool under pressure.”

Valerie chuckled, brushing purple hair back from her face as it clung to her freckles. “Not sure communal showers at the Academy prepared me for this kind of situation.”

Judy grinned and reached for the soap, lathering it between her palms. “Relax. Worst that happens, I drop the soap and you have to rescue it.”

That cracked a laugh out of Valerie, shoulders shaking. “You’re impossible.”

“Good thing you like impossible.” Judy tapped her nose with a sudsy finger, leaving a small streak. Valerie blinked, then laughed again, swiping it away with a splash of water.

Soon they were both laughing, playing fighting with handfuls of suds and the spray between them. The sharp edges of the day seemed to rinse off with every laugh, every stolen glance.

When it finally quieted, Judy brushed wet strands from Valerie’s cheek, her hand lingering there. “See? Not so bad.”

Valerie’s smile was soft, a little shy still, but genuine. “Not bad at all.”

Steam followed them out of the shower, clinging to their skin in beads. Judy snagged one of the towels from the rack and rubbed it quickly over her hair, pink-and-green strands sticking up wild. Valerie laughed softly at the sight, grabbing her own towel and running it over her arms.

“Don’t laugh,” Judy muttered with a crooked grin. “This is high art.”

“Sure it is,” Valerie teased, biting back another laugh.

When Valerie turned to work the towel down her back, Judy reached for it, brushing her fingers against her shoulder. “Here. Let me.”

Valerie froze for half a second, then let out a breath and nodded. Judy slid the towel gently across her back and shoulders, careful, deliberate. Valerie closed her eyes, relaxing into it more than she expected.
“Feels nice,” she murmured, voice low.

“Good,” Judy said, her smirk softening. She gave her one last pat between the shoulder blades, then tossed the towel over her shoulder. “Now your turn.”

Valerie hesitated, then stepped closer, lifting Judy’s arm with a grin that was still a little shy. She worked the towel over Judy’s arm, then down her side, the playful rhythm catching between them.

“See?” Judy teased, raising a brow. “Not so
hard.”

Valerie chuckled, towel flicking lightly against Judy’s hip. “Guess I’m a fast learner.”

The laughter came easier this time, light and warm as they traded towel swipes and soft touches, steam curling around them. By the time they were both mostly dry, the earlier awkwardness had slipped away, leaving something easier, more natural between them.

Judy bumped her shoulder gently against Valerie’s. “Think you’re finally starting to get the hang of this, Guapa.”

Valerie smirked, freckles flushed but eyes steady. “Guess I’ve got a good teacher.”

They slipped into their sleep clothes in the bathroom, steam still rolling off the mirror. Judy tugged on her black tank and shorts, damp hair clinging to her shoulders. Valerie pulled on fresh underwear, then her tee and shorts, brushing her purple hair back from her eyes.

Back in the bedroom, Judy climbed onto the mattress first, sitting cross-legged as she pulled the blanket aside. “Not much room for two, but we’ll make it work.”

Valerie lingered a second at the edge before easing in beside her. She lay awkwardly at first, hands folded over her stomach, eyes on the ceiling. “Feels weird,” she admitted. “Like I’m trespassing.”

Judy stretched out on her side, watching her. “It’s your space too now, Val. You don’t need permission.”

Valerie turned onto her side, their knees brushing under the blanket. She gave a small laugh, shaking her head. “Guess we’re about to find out how close two people can actually sleep on this thing.”

Judy’s lips curled into a tired smirk. “Close enough that you’ll have to put up with me hogging the blanket.”

Valerie smiled, cheeks warm, but didn’t pull away. “Could be worse.”

Judy reached out, brushing a damp strand of purple hair back from Valerie’s cheek. “Could be a lot worse.”

The city hummed faint outside, but in the quiet of the room, the moment settled into something easy, the awkwardness fading as they lay together for the first time.

Valerie shifted on the mattress, her voice low, almost hesitant. “There’s something you should know… I don’t always sleep quietly. Nightmares. Things I saw, things I did when I was with Arasaka. Sometimes I talk in my sleep. Just… didn’t want it catching you off guard.”

Judy’s gaze softened, her hand brushing lightly along Valerie’s arm. “Then I’ll help you make better memories, mi amor.” Her voice was steady, sure. “Maybe then you can start dreaming again.”

Valerie’s throat tightened, but she leaned in anyway, pressing her lips to Judy’s. It was tender, almost shy, but real. She shifted closer until Judy’s arms circled her waist, pulling her into the warmth of her body.

They settled there, the city hum faint beyond the glass, the mattress too small but enough. Silence stretched, not heavy but alive.

Valerie lost in the depth of Judy’s brown eyes, Judy in the green of hers, their breaths brushing warm across each other’s skin.

Valerie let her forehead rest against Judy’s, her breath steadying as warmth wrapped around her. The city still murmured outside, restless and loud, but here in this small room there was only quiet.

Judy’s hand brushed slow circles against her back, grounding her, holding her close.

For the first time in years, Valerie didn’t feel like she was bracing for impact.

The two of them lay there, eyes locked, breaths mingling, until words weren’t needed at all.

In the hush of that moment tangled together, hearts steady, a night of peace carved out before the city came knocking again tomorrow.

Chapter 3: Take On The World

Summary:

Valerie’s old life is gone, but the city doesn’t wait for anyone. With Jackie at her side, she takes on her first gig as a merc the rescue of Sandra Dorset, a job that throws her headfirst into the blood and noise of

Night City’s underworld. But proving herself once isn’t enough. To make a name as “V,” she answers Watson’s calls alone, chasing NCPD dispatch work and carving her legend block by block. Between the chaos and the corpses, Judy’s apartment becomes her anchor, their closeness deepening in quiet moments that remind Valerie she’s more than a weapon.

Notes:

This chapter was about beginnings Valerie stepping into merc work, not just as Jackie’s partner, but in her own right. The Sandra Dorset job shows the brutality of the city and the raw violence required to survive, while the Watson dispatch calls let her prove herself as more than just an ex-corporate agent. At the same time,

Valerie and Judy’s relationship grows more intimate and grounding; they’re learning to share space, comfort, and vulnerability together. I wanted the balance here the sharp edge of merc life set against the softer, quieter moments of love that keep Valerie steady.

The blinds did a poor job of keeping the city out. Pale strips of light cut across the room, catching on the posters and the tangled sheets. Valerie blinked awake into it, slow, her body heavy with a comfort she wasn’t used to.

The mattress was too small, but Judy was pressed close, breathing steady against her shoulder. Pink-and-green strands fanned across the pillow, catching the faint glow, freckles of light dotting her skin where the blinds broke.

Valerie lay still for a moment, just watching. She’d woken a hundred mornings in Arasaka’s towers, glass walls and sterile air, but none of them had felt like this. The steady rise and fall of Judy’s chest, the warmth bleeding across the sheets, was almost disarming.

Judy stirred, shifting onto her side, brown eyes blinking open. She gave a drowsy little smile. “Morning, Guapa.”

Valerie smirked faintly, voice still rough from sleep. “Morning. You hogged the blanket, by the way.”

Judy snorted, pulling the corner of it tighter around her. “You’re just sore because you kept inching over. This bed’s too small for your long legs.”

Valerie chuckled, the sound low, her hand brushing a strand of Judy’s hair back from her cheek. “Guess we’ll just have to get used to being crammed together.”

“Mm.” Judy shifted closer, their knees brushing under the sheets. “You won’t hear me complaining.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. Just the hum of the city beyond the walls, muffled into something far away. Valerie let herself breathe it in, her first real morning with someone beside her the start of something she couldn’t name yet, but knew she wanted more of.

Eventually, she sighed, glancing at the duffel in the corner. “I should probably get moving. Jackie’s waiting.”

Judy hummed, eyes still half-closed. “Yeah. But not just yet.”

Valerie smiled, leaning her forehead briefly against hers. “Not just yet.”

The sheets gave a reluctant sigh as Valerie slid out of bed, bare feet hitting the cool floor. She stretched once, shoulders tight, then crossed to the duffel in the corner. The zippers rasped in the quiet as she dug through the backups she’d carried since the tower pressed shirts, dark slacks, nothing that looked like it belonged outside a boardroom.

Valerie pulled a pressed shirt and slacks from the duffel, holding them up like they were relics from another life. They smelled faintly of old starch and sterile office air. With a quiet sigh, she dressed piece by piece, the fabric stiff against her skin. Not ideal for a merc job, but it was all she had.

On the dresser, her pistol holster waited. The matte black of Last Rites gleamed faint under the morning light, the leather belt still carrying her shape. Valerie looped it around her hips, buckled it tight, and settled the weight against her side. It felt better than the suit ever did, the only part of her old life that still made sense.

Behind her, Judy tugged on her boots, brown eyes flicking up. “Still rocking the corpo threads?”

Valerie smirked faintly at her reflection in the cracked mirror. “That's all I’ve got. Unless I show up to Afterlife in a tee and shorts.”

Judy shook her head, pink-and-green hair falling loose as she leaned back on the bed.

“You’ve still got those paper eddies from Jenkins, right?”

“Yeah.” Valerie adjusted the holster strap across her hip. “Why?”

“Because I could use ’em.” Judy stood, pulling her jacket over her shoulders. “I’m gonna pick you up some real clothes before my shift.
Something you can fight in. Unless you wanna keep playing the part of boardroom assassin.”
Valerie chuckled, tugging her collar straight.

“Depends. You picking them out, or do I get a say? Don’t see myself pulling off neon hotpants like some of your coworkers.”

Judy’s lips curved into a sly grin. “Don’t worry, Guapa. I’ll keep it practical. No hotpants.” She let the grin deepen. “Unless you ask nicely.”

Valerie shook her head with a laugh, freckles warming with color. “Yeah. I’ll pass.”

She straightened once more, the gun at her side grounding her more than the suit ever could. Not perfect, but it was a start.

The kitchen smelled faintly of solder and smoke, like the rest of the apartment, but Judy had already set the pan on the burner.

Synthham hissed as it hit the heat, the sharp edge of salt curling into the air.
Valerie leaned against the counter, mug in hand, watching the slow stream of coffee fill it.

She splashed in a little milk, the swirl catching in the dark. “Never thought I’d miss real coffee this much.”

Judy smirked, sliding a slice of synthcheese onto the bread before pressing the sandwich closed. “This isn’t real coffee, Guapa. It’s sludge with better branding.”

Valerie chuckled, taking a sip anyway. “Still better than the tower cafeterias. There, even the sludge tasted like a contract.”

They ate together at the narrow counter toasted synthham and cheese sandwiches, coffee steaming between them. It wasn’t much, but it felt more alive than anything
Valerie remembered from her old life.

She set her mug down after a long pull, emerald eyes flicking toward Judy. “Hey. Do you mind if I use your rig after we eat? I need to set up a new account.”

Judy wiped her fingers on a napkin, arching a brow. “Bank account?”

“Yeah.” Valerie leaned back in her chair, smirking faintly. “Arasaka seized everything when they cut me loose. If I’m working as a merc, I need a place to stash the pay.”

Judy nodded without hesitation. “It’s all yours. I’ll boot it up for you. Just don’t get lost in my project folders.”

Valerie smirked over the rim of her mug. “I wouldn't dream of it.”

The moment stretched easy steam curling from their cups, the city noise muted beyond the walls. For the first time since she walked out of the tower, Valerie felt like the ground beneath her was solid, even if it was just coffee and sandwiches on a cluttered counter.

After breakfast, Judy pushed her empty mug aside and stood. “C’mon. We’ll set you up in my room.”

Valerie followed her down the short hall into the cluttered workspace. Screens flickered to life as Judy powered them on, the hum of the rig filling the air. Wires coiled across the floor, solder burns scarred the desk; this was Judy’s element.

She dropped into the chair, fingers flying across the keyboard. “We’re not touching any corpo banks. Too easy to trace. We’ll route through an independent broker ghost account, encrypted routing. By the time Arasaka realizes you’re moving money, you’ll be three payouts deep.”

Valerie leaned on the back of the chair, arms folded, watching streams of code race across the screens. “Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

Judy smirked, eyes still on the feed. “Helped a few girls set up clean accounts when they left Lizzie’s. Corpo ties don’t exactly make for clean exits.” She tapped a final sequence, locking in a string of digits: 101253112752.

“There. Routing number set.”
Valerie raised a brow, lips tugging faint.
“Should I be worried you’re secretly counter intel? ’Cause you’re making this look way too easy.”

Judy finally glanced up, smirk tugging wider. “If I was, you think I’d still be running braindances in a basement?”

Valerie chuckled, leaning in a little closer. “Good cover story.”

The screen chimed soft: NEW ACCOUNT CONFIRMED. STATUS: ACTIVE.

Judy leaned back, satisfied. “There. Fresh start. Corpo can’t touch it.”

Valerie rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “Guess I should’ve come to you years ago.”

Judy tilted her head up, eyes warm. “Guess you finally did.”

Valerie bent down, kissed her softly, then pulled back with a steadier breath. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Judy brushed her thumb across Valerie’s hand before letting go. “Stay safe out there, Guapa.”

Valerie tugged her jacket, pistol secure at her hip, and headed for the door. The tower was gone. A new life was waiting.

The Shion waited at the curb, matte purple skin catching the thin wash of morning neon. Valerie slid in, the gullwing door shutting out the city’s noise with a heavy click. She rested her hands on the wheel for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and engine oil, then keyed the ignition. The car answered with a low growl that settled in her chest.

She pulled into the street, tires hissing against the wet asphalt. The city opened in front of her fractured towers looming overhead, holo-ads blinking promises nobody believed, steam curling from gutter vents like ghosts rising from below.

Valerie drove one-handed, the other resting near the pistol at her hip, eyes scanning the mess of traffic. AVs screamed overhead, their lights flashing crimson through the morning haze. On the sidewalks, suits hurried past street kids huddled under broken signs, worlds colliding with barely a glance.

Her feeds were silent now, no handlers in her ear, no contracts scrolling across her optics, no life coach chirping about stress levels. Just the hum of the engine, the city’s pulse, and her own heartbeat steadying with every mile.

She smirked faintly to herself, muttering into the quiet, “Guess this is what freedom feels like.”

The Shion cut through Japantown and angled south, the skyline shifting as the road dipped toward Watson. Ahead, a neon sign burned steady above the concrete bunker of a bar Afterlife.

Valerie downshifted, pulling the car into a cracked lot. She killed the engine, the growl fading into silence. For a moment she just sat there, fingers drumming the wheel, staring at the entrance.

Jackie was waiting inside.

Valerie reached for the door handle, breath steady, and stepped out into the noise of the street.

The descent into Afterlife felt like stepping out of the city and into its bones. Valerie’s boots echoed off the cracked stairwell, the air growing cooler with each step. The walls were damp, faint graffiti scratched between peeling paint. At the bottom, the narrow hallway stretched ahead, neon bleeding from the far end like a wound that wouldn’t close.

A broad man in a reinforced vest stepped in her path before she reached the glow. His gaze swept over her the pressed suit, the pistol at her hip then narrowed. “Name. And your business here.”

Valerie kept her voice steady, hands loose at her sides. “Name’s V. I’m here to meet Jackie Welles.”

The bouncer tilted his head, pressing a finger to the earpiece tucked against his temple. “New face. She wants to see Jackie Welles,” he muttered, tone skeptical. Static crackled back, a clipped response she couldn’t hear.

A moment later, he looked down at her again, lips curling faint into something between amusement and dismissal. “Jackie Welles isn’t a known quantity here.”

Valerie’s emerald eyes sharpened. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Means Mr. Welles asked to hold a meeting here, but nobody knows who he is. Not yet.”

The bouncer stepped aside, jerking his head toward the glow. “Head to the bar. Claire will guide you.”

Valerie brushed past him, the scent of disinfectant and oil lingering in the narrow hall. The door slid open at the end, and the world beyond swallowed her whole.

Light exploded across her vision neon blues and reds bouncing off steel and glass, the morgue’s bones dressed up in drink and chrome. The hum of conversation mixed with the throb of bass, laughter cutting sharp through the haze of smoke.

She paused just inside, eyes adjusting, taking it all in: legends leaned against the walls, mercs bragging over empty glasses, clients whispering promises into Fixers’ ears. The

Afterlife wasn’t a bar it was a crucible, and every name that mattered in Night City had burned through here at one point or another.

Valerie squared her shoulders and started toward the counter, the neon glare catching on the scar above her eye.

Time to see what Jackie had pulled her into.

The bar stretched long across the far wall, steel counters polished to a dull shine beneath the neon. Rows of bottles glowed like relics behind it, labels faded but still proud. The smell of alcohol cut through the haze of smoke, sharp and biting.

Claire stood behind the counter, shoulders broad, dark hair pulled back tight. She polished a glass with the kind of focus that said she’d seen it all, and most of it twice. When Valerie approached, Claire’s eyes flicked up, measuring her in a heartbeat.

“You’re new,” Claire said, voice steady but not unkind.

Valerie rested her hands against the counter, posture straight. “V. I’m here to meet Jackie Welles.”

Claire set the glass down, leaning a little closer. “You and half the city’s dreamers, maybe. Welles isn’t a name anybody knows here.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “So tell me are you his friend, or his business?”

“Both,” Valerie said without hesitation. “He asked me to meet him here. Said he had something lined up.”

Claire studied her another moment, then gave a small nod toward the back booths. “He’s here. Don’t take it personal if the room doesn’t recognize him yet. Everybody’s gotta start somewhere.”

Valerie followed her gaze. Past the swirl of mercs and clients, Jackie sat in a booth, leaning back easy but alert, a drink untouched at his side. His eyes caught hers across the room, and his grin spread wide.

Claire’s voice drew her back for a final note.
“Word of advice, V? Afterlife remembers faces. Make sure yours is worth remembering.”

Valerie smirked faintly, the scar above her eye catching the neon. “I intend to.”

She pushed off the counter and started toward Jackie, the hum of the bar alive around her, every step pulling her deeper into the life she’d chosen.

The walk to the back booths felt longer than it was. Every step carried her through the pulse of Night City’s merc heart.

A pair of solos leaned on the bar’s edge, chrome arms glittering under neon as they argued over calibers. A fixer in a velvet jacket whispered to a nervous client, promises sharp as the ice in their glasses. Laughter broke sharp from a table where a netrunner sprawled half-conscious, chrome jacks still plugged in, their crew jeering at whatever dive he’d just bombed out of.

Eyes followed her as she passed some curious, some indifferent, a few weighing her like meat. New faces were currency here, and hers wasn’t worth much yet. Not to them.

Valerie kept her stride steady, emerald eyes forward, every inch of corpo polish still riding her shoulders. She wasn’t going to let them see hesitation.

Above the booths, a holo burned steady: No Entry.

Jackie sat beneath it, big frame filling the seat like he owned the place, though the untouched drink at his elbow betrayed the truth. He caught her eyes, grin splitting wide, and lifted a hand in greeting.

Valerie’s chest eased a fraction. Whatever this place was legend, crucible, feeding ground she had an anchor waiting.

She squared her shoulders and kept walking.

Jackie slid out just enough to let her slip into the booth across from him. The seat creaked under Valerie’s weight, the vinyl still sticky from years of spilled drinks. The neon glow above painted them both in fractured blues and reds, like the city couldn’t decide which side of them it wanted to show.

“V,” Jackie said, his grin wide and easy, though his eyes scanned her face like he was reading more than she said. “Glad you made it, hermana.”

Valerie leaned back against the booth, letting the noise of the bar wash around them. “Hard place to miss.” Her hand brushed the scar above her eye out of habit. “Feels like stepping into a myth.”

Jackie chuckled, lifting his untouched glass in salute before setting it back down. “That’s Afterlife. Every merc who’s anybody comes through these doors. The whole place runs on reputation.”

Valerie’s gaze drifted across the bar, catching the way eyes still slid her way now and then.
“And mine doesn’t mean much here yet.”

Jackie shrugged, grin still steady. “That’s why I wanted to meet. Gotta start somewhere, right?”

He leaned forward, his voice dropping low enough that the hum of the bar almost drowned it out.

Jackie leaned forward, forearms resting heavy on the table. The grin softened, his eyes steady on her. “So… how are you holding up, really? After everything with Arasaka.”

Valerie let out a slow breath, leaning back against the booth. “Better than expected.” A faint smile tugged at her lips, softening the edges of her scar. “First night spent with Judy. Helped take my mind off things.”

Jackie’s brow lifted, then his grin returned, broader this time. “Ah, so that’s why you don’t look like you’re carrying the whole world on your back. I knew that girl would be good for you.”

Valerie smirked, glancing down at the table for a beat before meeting his gaze again. “More than good. She makes me feel like I’ve actually got something to fight for. Not just against.”

Jackie nodded, tapping the side of his glass like he was marking the thought in stone.
“That’s what you need, hermana. An anchor like that’ll keep you steady when the city tries to chew you up.”

The noise of the bar swelled around them laughter, the clink of bottles, the thrum of bass but in their booth, it felt steady, grounded.

Jackie gave her a small, approving nod, then leaned in closer, his tone shifting.
“Alright. Are you ready to talk business?”

Valerie arched a brow, folding her arms against the table. “Business, huh? Then riddle me this, Jack why Afterlife? Why drag me down here for a sit-down instead of just calling me up?”

Jackie’s grin widened, but there was a glint in his eyes, sharper than before. “Because this place ain’t just a bar, hermana. It’s a stage. First step to makin’ a name in this city. You walk through those doors, even once, people remember.”

Valerie glanced around again, at the mercs in chrome and synth-leather, the fixers whispering deals over smoke and glass. The weight of all those eyes she’d felt on her walking pressed in again. “Feels more like walking into a legend you don’t belong to yet.”

Jackie wagged a finger, chuckling. “Exactly. Key word yet. You’ll see what I mean once we put your name on the board.”

Her emerald eyes narrowed, though the edge of a smirk tugged at her mouth. “So this is more than a pep talk.”

Jackie leaned back, his hand brushing the rim of his glass. “Damn right. Wakako handed me a gig. Thought it’d be the perfect test run for you. Something solid to prove yourself outside the tower’s leash.”

He let the pause hang just long enough to see her reaction before adding, “Sandra Dorsett. Extraction job. Are you up for it?”

Valerie leaned forward, her elbows resting against the table, emerald eyes steady under the fractured neon. The softness from a moment ago slipped away, replaced by the steel she’d honed in boardrooms and bloodwork alike.

“Jack,” she said, her voice low but cutting clean through the noise, “I already ruled the corporate world. Time for V to put the streets on notice.”

Jackie’s grin spread wide, proud and sharp all at once. He slapped the table with his palm, making the glasses rattle. “That’s what I like to hear, hermana.”

He settled back into the booth, lowering his tone just enough to match her edge. “Then let’s get to work. Wakako wants a girl pulled outta some scavs’ chop shop. Sandra Dorsett. Pay’s good for a first run, but more important? Get your name on the board.”

Valerie’s smirk tugged faint, scar catching the light. “Then let’s not keep her waiting.”

Jackie slid out of the booth first, tossing a few eddies on the table though the glass was barely touched. Valerie followed, her stride steady now, the weight of Afterlife still humming in her chest.

The bouncer gave her a longer look on the way out, but didn’t say a word.

Outside, the street noise hit sharp engines growling, hawkers shouting, neon bleeding across the cracked pavement. The Shion crouched at the curb like it had been waiting for her, rainwater streaking purple down its hood.

Valerie keyed the fob and the gullwing doors lifted with a hiss. Jackie whistled low. “Damn, Hermana. Didn’t know you were runnin’ this kind of wheels. Corpo severance package?”
Valerie smirked faintly as she slid behind the wheel. “Something like that.”

Jackie climbed in on the passenger side, stretching big across the seat. He tapped the dash, pulling up the nav interface, and keyed in an address. “Destination locked. Wakako’s got eyes on the scavs’ block in Kabuki. Real shithole, but you’ll see soon enough.”

The Shion purred to life, easing into the lane. Neon and smog smeared the windshield as the city swallowed them up.

Jackie settled back, voice dropping into business. “Here’s the play. Sandra Dorsett corpo girl, went missing two days ago.
Wakako’s intel says a scav crew grabbed her, tryin’ to strip her for parts. Standard vulture shit. We go in, get her out alive if we can, make sure those scavs don’t pull this stunt again.”

Valerie’s fingers drummed lightly on the wheel, her eyes cutting sharp through the traffic. “Client?”

“Family, most likely. Somebody with enough eddies to make it worth Wakako’s while. It doesn't matter. What matters is Wakako's watching. Pull this off clean, she puts your name on the board.”

Valerie’s smirk edged back into place. “Clean’s what I do best.”

Jackie chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s the spirit. But these scavs, they’re sloppy and wired outta their skulls. Don’t underestimate ‘em. Even trash fires burn hot if you step too close.”

The Shion cut across a junction, Kabuki’s skeletal towers looming ahead, neon leaking through broken signs. Valerie adjusted her grip on the wheel, emerald eyes steady.
“Then let’s make sure they burn out before we do.”

The Shion hummed low as it cut through Watson, neon bleeding across the windshield in fractured streaks. Jackie had one arm slung over the seat, his other drumming against his knee in rhythm with the music spilling faint from the speakers.

“So,” he said, side-eyeing her with a grin, “how’s it feel? Bein’ a merc now, hermana?”

Valerie smirked, eyes on the road, fingers tapping the wheel. “As long as we don’t fuck it up? Feels like freedom.”

Jackie barked a laugh. “Freedom. That’s a first. Heard people say it feels like money, like danger, like bein’ your own boss. But freedom?” He shook his head, still smiling. “That’s new.”

“It’s the same work I’m used to,” Valerie said, her tone sharpening into focus. “Extraction, intel, counterforce. The only difference is… instead of sitting in a boardroom listening to suits bicker over where to send me, I get to choose which jobs I take.”

Jackie’s grin softened into approval. “That’s the right mindset, V. Pick your jobs, pick your life. Nobody else gets to write it for you.”

The Shion slid into Kabuki, towers leaning over narrow streets like broken teeth. Steam hissed from vents, glowing in the sick light of flickering signs. Valerie swung the car into a crumbling parking garage, tires squealing faint against the concrete ramp.

She killed the engine, the hum fading into the distant clatter of the market below. For a moment, the silence inside the car felt heavy, filled only by the sharp rhythm of their breath.

Jackie checked his pistol, metal glinting under the dim cabin light. “Alright, Hermana. Time to show the streets what V can do.”

Valerie reached for the door handle, her emerald eyes steady. “Then let’s make it count.”

The parking garage smelled of piss and engine grease, flickering lights stuttering overhead. Valerie and Jackie crossed to the far corner where a rusted elevator waited, its cage doors dented from years of kicks. Jackie slammed the call button with the heel of his hand, and the lift groaned down to meet them.

They stepped inside, the doors rattling shut, the panel buzzing as Jackie thumbed the floor. The lift lurched upward with a metallic screech, carrying them into the tower’s hollow guts.

A burst of static cracked into Valerie’s ear.
“Target’s on the fifteenth floor, unit 1507. Biomonitor shows she’s alive, but will be flatlined soon if you don’t move your asses.”

Valerie stiffened, eyes narrowing. “Jackie, who the hell is this?”

Jackie chuckled, tapping the side of his own earpiece. “Right, forgot to mention. Meet T-Bug. Netrunner Wakako hired to keep us fed with intel.”

Another dry laugh buzzed through the channel. “‘Fed with intel,’ huh? Try ‘keeping you from stumbling blind into a killbox.’ And it’s T-Bug to you, V.”

Valerie smirked faintly, leaning back against the cage wall as the lift clanked higher. “Got it. Just not used to ghosts whispering in my ear that aren’t Arasaka handlers.”

“Well, honey, consider me the upgrade. I don’t bark orders, I keep you breathing. Big difference.”

Jackie grinned, adjusting the pistol at his hip. “Trust me, V. Bug’s the real deal. She sees everything before it sees you. Just roll with it.”

The elevator shuddered to a halt, the doors rattling open to a dim hallway lined with peeling paint and buzzing lights.

Valerie’s hand slipped to her pistol, emerald eyes sharp. “Then let’s see if she’s worth the hype.”

The hallway stank of mildew and stale smoke, lights buzzing overhead like they were ready to die. Valerie’s boots were soundless on the cracked tiles, pistol loose in her grip as Jackie moved in step beside her.

Halfway down, a door creaked open. A woman in a threadbare robe poked her head out, wide eyes darting between them and the sound of their weapons.

Valerie raised her hand, voice low but firm.
“Back inside. Now.”
The woman froze, then nodded quickly, retreating as the door clicked shut behind her.

They pressed on. Unit 1507 waited at the end of the hall, the number plate barely hanging on one screw. Valerie crouched by the lock, pulling a slim pouch from the belt beside her holster. She flipped it open, fingers selecting a narrow pry tool. One twist popped the faceplate off the keypad, wires spilling out like veins.

“Give me a sec,” she muttered, stripping insulation and bridging contacts with the practiced ease of someone who’d broken more doors than she cared to count. Sparks jumped, the lock clunking heavy.

As she slid the tool back into its pouch,
T-Bug’s voice cut sharp through their ears. “Heads up. I’m reading ten warm bodies inside that unit. All Scavs. One of ’em’s parked right by the door.”

Jackie’s grin was wolfish, pistol steady as he rolled his shoulders. “Ten scavs, huh? Sounds like a party.”

Valerie straightened, emerald eyes cutting to him as her hand hovered over the latch. “Let’s make it quick.”

They shared a nod, the air thickening around them as the hum of the lock faded.
The apartment waited.

Valerie’s hand tightened on the latch. She gave Jackie one sharp nod.

Then she kicked the door.

The frame cracked, metal whining as the slab flew inward. The stench hit first burnt chrome, stale blood, recycled air thick with chemical haze.

A Scav by the door barely had time to turn his head before Jackie’s pistol barked, dropping him in a spray against the wall. Shouts erupted deeper in the apartment, metal scraping, boots thundering.

Valerie surged forward, pistol raised. Her first shot took a scav’s knee out from under him as he scrambled from the kitchen, the second drilled clean into his chest. Another figure swung around the corner with a rusted SMG, but Jackie was already there, charging him with a roar and slamming him back into the drywall with two heavy rounds.

“Ten, huh?” Jackie barked over the chaos, grinning like a madman. “Nine now!”

“Eight,” Valerie snapped back, her pistol cracking twice more, dropping another who’d rushed from the hall. She moved sharp, every step precise, green eyes cutting through the chaos like glass.

Inside, the place was a butcher’s den with stripped implants piled on trays, blood crusted thick on the counters, and in the center of it all, a half-stripped body splayed across a table. Valerie’s jaw clenched tight, scar above her eye burning hot.

A shotgun blast ripped the wall above her, splinters showering. Valerie dropped low, sliding behind the kitchen counter, returning fire with three quick shots. The scav with the shotgun spun, half his skull gone.

Jackie’s laugh carried through the smoke.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about, hermana!”
Valerie rose from cover, pistol snapping to another target. “Focus, Jack. We’re not done yet.”

The apartment roared with gunfire, every wall echoing the storm they brought with them.

Two scavs vaulted the couch with blades in hand, screaming as they charged. Valerie shifted her aim, dropped the first with a shot through the throat, then pivoted clean into the second before he could close the distance. Blood sprayed hot across the peeling wallpaper.

Jackie bellowed something half in Spanish, half laughter, as he kicked another scav straight into the kitchen table. The man crashed through a pile of chrome parts, shrieking until Jackie put two rounds through his chest.

Another burst of SMG fire rattled down the hall, forcing them both into cover. “Three left!” T-Bug’s voice cut sharp in their ears. “Don’t get sloppy!”

Valerie flashed Jackie a grin, feral and sharp. “Sloppy’s not my style.”

She broke cover, sliding low across the floor, pistol snapping up. Two precise shots, and the scav with the SMG folded, sparks popping from the gun as it clattered away.

Jackie surged past her, closing the distance with the last two. His pistol barked once, twice, then the room fell quiet but for their breathing.

The stink of blood and burnt metal hung heavy. Spent casings rolled lazy across the floor, the hum of neon signs outside faint against the ringing in their ears.

Jackie blew out a breath, grinning wide, chest heaving. “Dios mío. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. The streets are gonna remember this, hermana.”

Valerie lowered her pistol, emerald eyes scanning the wreckage. Her scar throbbed faintly, but her hands were steady. “They’d better. We just made sure nobody forgets the name V.”

The silence after the last shot rang louder than the gunfire. Valerie’s boots crunched over shell casings as she pushed deeper into the apartment, pistol still up. Jackie trailed behind, reloading with a satisfied snap of his mag.

Then she heard a faint, irregular beep.

Valerie followed the sound down a narrow hallway. The bathroom was colder than the rest of the flat, with blood, ammonia, and melting ice. Valerie froze in the doorway, pistol up, as her eyes locked on the tub shoved against the wall.

Sandra Dorsett lay naked inside, skin pale and slick, barely conscious. A dead man slumped across her chest, his lifeless weight pinning her down.

“Chingada madre,” Jackie muttered, shoving the corpse aside with a grunt. Sandra’s head lolled to one side, a biomonitor strapped to her arm squealing on the edge of a flatline.

T-Bug’s voice crackled into their ears. “That’s platinum coverage I’m reading. With a policy like that, Trauma Team should’ve been on her in minutes. Something’s blocking her ping.”
Jackie scowled, checking the monitor.

“Platinum? Then why the hell ain’t they here?”
“V,” Bug cut in sharp. “Plug your personal link into her port. Scan her.”

Valerie knelt, brushing damp hair from Sandra’s temple. She slotted her link into the neural port, green data spilling across her optics. “Got it… scavs slotted a shard. It’s jamming her coverage signal.”

“Pull it,” Bug ordered. “As soon as it’s out, Trauma Team gets the call.”

Valerie gritted her teeth, yanked the shard free, and tossed it to the tiles. She disconnected, breath sharp.

Bug’s voice came back, clipped but steady. “Signal’s clean. Trauma Team’s on their way. Get her to the terrace, now.”

Valerie slid her arms under Sandra, but the second she lifted, Sandra’s body seized in a violent convulsion. Valerie lowered her fast, laying her flat on the tile. “Shit! Jack, she’s crashing. I need an airhypo!”

Jackie tore one from his kit, tossed it across the room. “On it!”

Valerie jammed it into Sandra’s chest. The hiss filled the bathroom, and Sandra gasped, biomonitor stabilizing into a steady rhythm.

Valerie exhaled hard, strands of purple hair plastered to her cheek. “She’s stable. For now.”

Jackie crouched beside her, nodding firm. “Got your back, Hermana. Let’s get her outta here.”

Valerie lifted Sandra again, cradling her against her chest as she pushed toward the terrace, the distant thrum of rotor blades cutting closer.

Jackie shouldered the terrace doors open, the hinges screaming as sunlight cut across the blood-stale flat. Valerie stepped out with Sandra in her arms, the woman’s skin clammy against her chest, each shallow breath rattling in her throat.

Daylight bled harsh through the smog, turning the towers of Kabuki into jagged silhouettes. Neon fought to be seen even in the gray wash, flickering against the grime.
Then came the sound: a low thrum building, rotors chopping the air until the terrace shook.

A green, and white AV broke through the haze, engines howling as it hovered above the building, dust and grit whipping into their faces. The Trauma Team insignia burned white across its hull, pristine against the dirt and chaos below.

“Contact inbound,” Bug’s voice cracked sharp in their ears. “Keep her visible. Don’t twitch wrong or they’ll ventilate you with the scavs.”
Floodlights snapped on despite the day, blinding white beams pinning them in place.

The side hatch hissed open, and four operatives poured out in perfect formation full combat armor, rifles raised, moving like a firing squad ready to clear a field.

“Step back!” one barked through a vocoder, voice cutting over the roar. “Patient transfer only!”

Valerie’s grip tightened on Sandra, instincts flaring, but Jackie touched her arm, steady. “Let ’em work, V.”

She eased Sandra onto the stretcher shoved between them. Medics swarmed, slotting shards, securing lines, snapping a mask over her face. The biomonitor steadied, flatline tones fading into a steady rhythm.

The lead operative gave a single nod. “Package secure. Move.”
In seconds, Sandra was lifted into the AV. The hatch slammed shut, engines roared, and the craft angled back into the smog, vanishing into the sprawl as fast as it had come.

Silence fell heavy over the terrace, dust settling in the wake of its departure.

Jackie blew out a long breath, shaking grit from his hair. “Damn. Now that’s a fuckin’ entrance.”

Valerie stood there, suit stained with blood and ice, pistol heavy at her side. For the first time since the tower cut her loose, she felt the weight of the streets settle around her shoulders and knew she’d just put her name on them.

The terrace was quiet again, save for the faint hum of the city. Dust and grit still swirled in the air where the AV’s rotors had churned it loose.
Jackie braced his hands on his hips, chest rising and falling as he blew out a long breath. “Damn, Hermana. That was a mess.”

Valerie adjusted her jacket, the fabric stiff with dried blood and ice melt. Her pistol hung heavy at her side, but her hands were steady. “Mess or not, we got her out.” She glanced at him, emerald eyes sharp. “That’s what counts.”

Jackie chuckled, shaking his head with that broad grin of his. “You’re somethin’ else, V. Most people’s first gig on the street? They choke. You?” He jerked a thumb toward the sky where the AV had vanished. “You just gave Trauma Team a reason to remember your face.”

Valerie smirked faintly, her scar catching the harsh daylight. “Good. Let ’em remember.”

For a moment, the noise of the market below drifted up to them shouting vendors, the distant hiss of frying oil, life going on like nothing had just bled out in this building. Valerie looked out over the sprawl, feeling the city’s weight settle different now.

Jackie clapped a hand on her shoulder, grounding. “C’mon, Hermana. Job’s done. Let’s ride back down before the locals get curious.”

Valerie nodded once. Together they turned, boots crunching grit as they headed back through the wrecked flat toward the elevator.

The elevator doors screeched shut, metal grinding as the lift lurched into motion. Blood and gunpowder still clung to the air on their clothes, a ghost of the fight lingering with them. Jackie leaned back against the cage wall, letting out a long exhale, while Valerie stood steady, pistol holstered at her hip.

Static cracked through their comms, sharp and precise. Then Wakako’s voice flowed in, calm as ever, each syllable measured. “Sandra Dorsett has been retrieved. Trauma Team confirms stabilization. Payment transferred.”

Valerie felt her optics flicker as the confirmation popped across her HUD: Job Complete. Funds received. The new routing number lit up with fresh eddies, her first mercenary payout.

Wakako continued. “Efficient. Precise. Exactly the sort of performance I expect from someone looking to build a name. Consider this your introduction, V. I will make sure your profile is entered into the MercNet registry.”

Jackie grinned, tapping the side of his headset. “Told you, Hermana. The streets are watchin’ now.”

Valerie’s lips curved into a smirk, the scar above her eye catching the dim light as the elevator rattled down. “Good. Let ’em know I’m here.”

The line clicked dead, leaving only the groan of the cables and the hum of the city waiting below. Valerie’s first job was done. Her name — V — was official now.

The elevator hit ground level with a teeth-rattling jolt, doors screeching open to the damp stink of the parking garage. Fluorescents buzzed overhead, some half-dead, spilling jittery light across the cracked concrete.

Valerie stepped out first, pistol still holstered but her hand brushing the grip, instinctive. Jackie followed, rolling his shoulders, his grin still wide despite the grime and blood spattered across his jacket.

“Hell of a first run, hermana,” he said, voice echoing through the empty garage. “You didn’t just pull it off you made it look like you’ve been at this longer than me.”

Valerie smirked faintly, emerald eyes sharp as she scanned the shadows between the parked cars. “I spent years running ops for people who thought they owned me, Jack. The only difference now is the eddies go to me, not the tower.”

Jackie laughed, warm and booming, clapping her on the shoulder hard enough to jostle her. “That’s the spirit! That’s merc talk right there.”

The Shion’s low growl answered as Valerie thumbed the fob, headlights flaring purple across the garage wall. Its sleek body looked almost alien against the rows of battered compacts and rusted sedans.

They crossed to it together, boots echoing. Jackie whistled low, shaking his head. “Still can’t believe this ride’s yours. Corpo princess finally turned street merc, rollin’ up in a goddamn Shion.”

Valerie slid into the driver’s seat, her smirk tugging deeper. “Guess it’s time the streets got used to it.”

Jackie dropped into the passenger seat, settling in with a grin that hadn’t faded since the terrace. “And trust me they will.”

The doors sealed with a hiss, engine purring steady beneath them. Valerie wrapped her hands around the wheel, eyes forward. Her first job was behind her. The rest of the city waited.

The Shion rolled smoothly out of the garage, engine humming low through Kabuki’s broken streets. Neon signs flickered overhead, fighting against the daylight haze, their reflections smearing across the windshield.

Jackie leaned back in the passenger seat, still grinning. “Do me a favor, hermana drop me off at Misty’s. Got myself a date tonight.”
Valerie smirked, eyes on the road. “First job together and you’re already celebrating?”

“Hey, gotta live a little.” He spread his arms, settling into the leather like a king. “That’s the merc life. You risk it all, you cash out, and you enjoy it while you can.”

Valerie’s grip tightened slightly on the wheel, her voice even. “Feels different to me. Not just about spending the payout. It’s reputation, Jack. Every job you take, every face that remembers your name that’s what buys you your next contract.”

Jackie nodded, a grin softening into something more thoughtful. “Reputation’s everything. Afterlife doesn’t care about how many bullets you can eat. They care about stories. You pull enough jobs, do ‘em clean, and your name starts bouncing around. Next thing you know, you’re drinkin’ cocktails named after you at
Rogue’s bar.”

Valerie smirked, scar catching the fractured light through the windshield. “Sounds like you’ve thought about this.”

“Damn right. Been chasing that dream a long time.” He glanced at her, eyes steady. “Now? We’re in it together. Your name’s on the board, Hermana. No goin’ back.”

The Shion slid onto the main drag, towers of Watson stretching above them, wires drooping low over the streets. Valerie exhaled, emerald eyes steady on the fractured skyline.

“No going back,” she echoed, the weight of it settling like iron in her chest. But instead of dread, she felt the spark of something sharper. Freedom.

Jackie chuckled, breaking the silence. “Don’t get too serious on me, V. Drop me at Misty’s, then go home and enjoy the victory. First job’s done. The streets know your name now.”

Valerie’s smirk tugged back into place. “Then let’s make sure they don’t forget it.”

The Shion purred low as it turned off the main drag, slipping into a quieter side street where the clutter of Kabuki gave way to a pocket of color. Misty’s Esoterica sat wedged between two crumbling concrete blocks, its neon sign glowing soft purple against the gray daylight. Wind chimes clinked faintly in the smog-thick breeze, a strange calm cutting through the city’s usual grind.

Valerie eased the car up to the curb, engine idling. Jackie was already leaning forward, grinning wide. “Ah, here we are. My lucky night.”

Valerie cut him a sidelong glance, smirk tugging at her lips. “Careful, Jack. Don’t let her know you’re celebrating by dragging me through a butcher’s den first.”

He laughed loud, already reaching for the door. “Hermana, Misty’s the kind of woman who knows exactly what kind of mess I drag myself through. She still says yes.” He thumped the dash once, affectionately. “That’s all I need.”

The gullwing door hissed open. Jackie swung out, stretching his shoulders before leaning down to meet Valerie’s eyes. His grin softened, the weight of sincerity cutting through the bravado.

“You did good today, V. Real good. The streets are gonna remember. And me? I’m proud to be standing next to you.”

Valerie’s smirk eased into something smaller, more genuine. “Don’t get soft on me, Jack.”

He chuckled, closing the door with a heavy click. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll line up the next gig. Afterlife’s waitin’.”

She tapped the wheel twice in a half-wave as the Shion growled back into gear. Jackie was already heading for the shop door, Misty’s neon light painting him in violet glow.

For the first time since stepping out of Arasaka Tower, Valerie didn’t feel like she was falling. She was driving forward.

The street swallowed her the moment the door shut. Valerie eased the Shion back into traffic, the engine’s low growl steady beneath her. Neon bled across the smog-heavy daylight, every sign screaming for attention, every tower leaning close like it wanted to swallow her whole.

For once, there was no handler in her ear, no clipped orders scrolling across her optics, no tower waiting to pull her back in. Just the hum of the car and the city’s chaos pressing against the glass.

Her emerald eyes tracked the sprawl as she drove: a street vendor stirring noodles over an open burner, a pair of gangoons leaning on a rusted sedan, chrome glinting off their arms. A child darted across the street chasing a plastic ball, laughter sharp against the drone of traffic.

It all looked the same as it had yesterday. But for Valerie, everything had shifted.

A new account, a new name on the registry, her first payout sitting in digits behind her eyes. It wasn’t much compared to what Arasaka once stacked into her accounts but it was hers.

She let out a slow breath, leaning back into the seat, the scar above her eye stinging faint with the memory of the firefight. Jackie’s words lingered: The streets are gonna remember.

Valerie smirked faintly, fingers drumming against the wheel. “Then let ’em,” she murmured to herself.

The Shion cut across a junction, Charter Street’s tired silhouette finally rising ahead faded blue paint, flickering stairwell lights, the place Judy called home. For the first time all day, the tension eased from Valerie’s shoulders.

She was exactly where she needed to be.

The Shion’s engine wound down as Valerie eased it against the curb. The car crouched low, matte purple skin dulled under the washed-out daylight. She thumbed the fob, killing the ignition, and the garage-like quiet of Charter Street bled in distant sirens, the hum of a vending unit, laughter echoing from somewhere down the block.

Valerie stepped out, boots crunching against grit as the gullwing door sealed shut behind her. Last Rites rested heavy at her hip, snug in its holster, a quiet reminder of the morning’s work.

The building loomed tired above her, three stories of faded blue paint and rust-streaked windows. The stairwell light buzzed weakly through cracked glass, fighting daylight just like everything else here.

She climbed the steps steadily, her hand brushing the rail out of habit more than needed.

At the third floor, the hallway stretched out in peeling paint and humming fixtures.

The biometric pad beside Judy’s door blinked faintly, waiting. Valerie pressed her hand to it, the green light sweeping across her palm before the lock clicked open.

The door slid aside, spilling the familiar warmth of Judy’s apartment into the hall solder and smoke, neon glow against the clutter, the faint hum of her rig in the back room.

Valerie stepped inside, the city’s noise cutting off behind her. For the first time since the firefight, her chest eased.

“Jude?” she called softly.

The apartment was quiet except for the hum of the rig in the back room. Valerie slipped off her holster, laying Last Rites on the counter, and moved down the short hall toward the bedroom.

The bed was made, though the sheets were still creased where Judy had pulled herself out earlier. At the foot of it sat three shopping bags, one marked with a scrawled note: no peeking.

Valerie arched a brow, the corner of her mouth tugging upward. Curiosity won. She crouched and tugged open the nearest bag. Inside lay neatly folded sets of underwear, bras, socks and tucked beneath them, a few pieces of lingerie, black lace catching faint in the light. Valerie let out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head. Guess Jude had a reason for those.

She closed it carefully, then pulled open the next. Casual clothes this time tees, jeans, a couple of button-ups, even a pair of slacks.

More her speed. She picked out a soft tee and slacks, stripping out of her bloodstained, damp corpo clothes with a sigh of relief. The fabric felt cleaner, freer, like it belonged to her more than anything she’d worn in years.

The third bag stayed untouched. Valerie wasn’t about to cross Judy’s line.

She left the bedroom behind and checked the apartment. An empty mug by the sink, a half-burned incense stick near the rig. Little signs Judy had been here and gone, already working her grind at Lizzie’s.

Valerie lit a cigarette, standing by the window. Smoke curled against the glass as she looked out over Watson cracked towers, tangled power lines, neon bleeding even through daylight smog. For the first time, she didn’t see it as a wasteland. She saw it as ground to claim.

Every gig from here could be her last. But for the first time, every risk felt worth it. Because this life wasn’t about Arasaka anymore. It was about carving out a place of her own and knowing Judy was there to stand with her.

The basement of Lizzie’s buzzed faint with neon bleed and the hum of machines, every surface cluttered with wires, shards, and half-gutted rigs. Judy sat in her chair, cigarette burning low in the ashtray beside her, fingers dancing across the sliders of her deck.

Evelyn Parker’s voice filled the space smoothly, rehearsed, always with that little edge of performance. The recording flickered across the screen, Evelyn moving through one of her latest sessions. On the overlay, Judy tracked heat signatures, audio bleed, sensory spikes and every flaw Evelyn refused to notice.

“Your timing’s off,” Judy muttered, dragging a slider down to smooth the jagged line. She flicked ash into the tray, exhaling smoke. “If you want clients to feel it, you can’t just act like you’re feeling it. Has to sync clean.”

The door swung open and Evelyn herself leaned in, all high heels and confidence wrapped in a smirk. “Critiquing me again, Judy?”

Judy didn’t look up, adjusting another layer until the feed smoothed. “Somebody’s gotta. Your ‘flawless performances’ are riddled with spikes.” She tapped the screen, showing a pulse of red. “That? That’s not seduction. That’s desperation, and anyone playing this back’ll feel it.”

Evelyn glided closer, folding her arms, her smirk never faltering. “Desperation sells, you know. Not everyone wants clean, clinical perfection.”

Judy finally glanced up, brown eyes sharp. “And not everyone wants to feel like they’re watching someone fake it, either.”

For a moment, the air between them tightened, Evelyn’s smirk softening just enough to show she’d heard the barb. Then she tilted her head, letting out a small laugh. “You’ll never approve, will you?”

Judy leaned back in her chair, smoke curling from her lips. “I don’t have to approve. You’re my friend. I just… hate watching you burn yourself down for people who’ll never see you for what you are.”

Evelyn’s expression flickered something real breaking through for a heartbeat then the mask slid back in place. She reached down, tapping one manicured finger against the console. “Just make sure it sells, Judy. That’s all that matters.”

She turned to leave, heels clicking on concrete. Judy stared after her, jaw tight, before turning back to the feed. Her hands moved automatically over the rig, smoothing Evelyn’s spikes into something passable.

“Yeah,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “I’ll make sure it sells.”

The basement went quiet again once Evelyn’s heels faded up the stairs, leaving only the hum of rigs and the soft rattle of the old ventilation. Judy pulled the cigarette from the ashtray, took a long drag, and let the smoke curl upward into the half-lit room.

This was how she preferred it just her, the machine, and the raw feeds waiting to be sculpted.

She slid another shard into the slot, the rig’s hum deepening as the data spilled across her screens. The neural signatures lit up in chaotic color fragments from a client’s session upstairs. Judy narrowed her eyes, fingers moving in smooth precision. She muted the background chatter, smoothed the sensory bleed, and cut out the rough patches where the client’s fear had spiked too high.

“Messy,” she muttered, tapping out the spike until the waveform eased. “Always messy when they push too hard.”

Her brow furrowed. Judy hated how much of her work was cleaning up pain, packaging it into something clients could swallow without ever thinking about the person behind it. But this was the grind. The bills didn’t pay themselves, and the girls needed someone to keep their tech from frying client's synapses.

She leaned back, stretching her shoulders until they cracked, then checked the corner of her display. 14 missed messages. Most from Mox management. A few from Evelyn. One from a Mox Judy had patched up the week before, just thanking her.

That last one made her pause. She sat there, smoke drifting between her fingers, staring at the words until the edges of her frown softened.

With a flick of her wrist, she deleted the rest.

Judy slid the next shard into place, the rig’s hum deepening as colors and sounds spilled across her screens. This one was cleaner than most deliberate, sensual a lesbian virtu stitched together with care, though it still had jagged edges that needed her touch.

She leaned in, cigarette dangling between her fingers, smoothing the sensory peaks, stitching the rhythm until it flowed natural. A smile tugged at her lips despite herself.
Valerie.

She could picture her in that shy way, emerald eyes darting when she felt seen, freckles standing out when the blush spread across her cheeks. Judy chuckled under her breath, muttering, “You’d go redder than this waveform, mi amor.”

Her fingers moved with practiced precision, but her mind drifted. She wondered if Valerie had ever slotted a virtu like this before doubting it. The Corpo polish, the way she’d built walls around herself, it didn’t leave room for experiences like this. Yet little by little, Judy was watching those walls crack.

It still amazed her, how guarded Valerie had been under all that corporate armor. Cold steel on the outside, but inside? Raw, tender, breakable. And Judy… Judy was the only one Valerie let close enough to see it. That truth tightened something in her chest every time she thought about it.

She pulled a slider down, softening the feed’s edge, her lips curving faint. She loved her. More each day.

And she looked forward to the moment Valerie was ready. To the day they could share something like this not filtered through a shard, not built for a client, but real. Together.

For now, Judy tuned the virtu, her smile lingering as the waveform smoothed into perfection.

The waveform leveled out smooth, the feed pulsing steady like a heartbeat. Judy saved the file, leaned back in her chair, and let smoke curl upward into the buzzing dark. She was still smiling faintly, thoughts lingering on Valerie, when a sharp knock rattled the basement door.

“Alvarez!” Susie Q’s voice cut through, brisk and impatient. “That next batch ready or what? Clients are waiting upstairs.”

Judy rolled her eyes, stubbing out the cigarette in the tray. “Yeah, keep your implants on. Almost done.”

The door creaked open, Susie Q sticking her head in, the blue wash from upstairs spilling down with her. Arms folded, lips pursed she looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here. “I’m serious, Judy. Don’t make me stand here babysitting. You know how fast they get twitchy when the product isn’t on time.”

Judy swiveled in her chair, one brow arched. “You think I’m down here knitting? Files are clean. I’ll upload it in a minute.”

Susie Q clicked her tongue, gaze flicking across the clutter of shards, wires, and Judy’s rig. “Fine. Just don’t make it a habit. We’ve got a line tonight.”

Judy gave a mock salute, sarcasm dripping. “Yes, ma’am.”

Susie shook her head, muttering something under her breath before shutting the door closed again. The heavy clang echoed through the basement, leaving Judy alone with the hum of the rig once more.

She exhaled, softer now, muttering to herself,
“Clients can wait a minute longer.” Her eyes drifted back to the last waveform still glowing on the screen, and for just a heartbeat, her smirk returned.

Judy turned back to the rig, dragging the files into the transfer queue. One by one, the completed virtus uploaded clean, their status lights shifting from red to green. She slotted each shard into a small case, the hum of the machine dying down as the last one clicked into place.

“Batch complete,” she muttered, snapping the case shut.

She stood, stretching the tension from her shoulders, and killed the rig’s mainline. The basement settled into its usual half-dark, neon shadows crawling over clutter. Grabbing the case, she climbed the narrow stairs two at a time, smoke and music growing louder as she neared the ground floor.

Upstairs, Lizzie’s was alive with the throb of bass, neon lights bleeding over chrome tables, clients laughing too loud with drinks in hand. Judy threaded through the haze, keeping her eyes forward until she reached the office tucked behind the main floor.
The door was cracked, warm lamplight spilling out. Susie Q sat at her desk, nails tapping against her holoscreen as she scrolled through schedules. She glanced up when Judy entered, her expression equal parts sharp and tired.“Batch ready?”

Judy set the case down on the desk with a click. “All tuned. No one fries their synapses on my watch.”

Susie Q cracked the case, scanning the shards inside before shutting it again with a satisfied nod. “Good. Try not to run the clock so tight next time.”

Judy smirked faintly, one brow lifting. “Yeah, I’ll pencil that in between keeping your clients alive.”

Susie sighed but let it slide, waving her off. “Go. You’ve done enough tonight.”

Judy didn’t need telling twice. She turned, weaving back through the haze and noise until the night air hit her outside. The neon from Lizzie’s sign flickered pink across her face as she pulled a cigarette from her pack, lighting it with a steady hand.

She blew out smoke, eyes drifting toward the city skyline. Home wasn’t far. Charter Street, and Valerie was waiting there. The thought softened her edges in a way the bar never could.

She flicked ash into the gutter, started down the sidewalk, and didn’t look back.

The Seadragon rumbled to life with a cough of exhaust, neon glow spilling across its dash. Judy slid into the driver’s seat, the familiar clutter of trinkets and cables rattling as she slammed the door shut. The engine’s low growl felt steadier than anything upstairs had.

She pulled out from Lizzie’s lot, the van’s bulk gliding into Night City’s flow. The streets were a blur of broken neon and smog-stained daylight bleeding into dusk. Judy tapped ash from her cigarette into the tray, one hand resting loose on the wheel.

The job weighed on her. Evelyn’s smile, Susie’s bark, the endless feeds she tuned.

But when she thought about Charter Street, about Valerie waiting in their apartment, the weight eased. A small grin tugged at her mouth as she replayed the look on Valerie’s face when she got bashful. Cute didn’t even cover it.

A familiar red-and-yellow sign cut through the haze ahead: Buck-a-Slice. Judy flicked her blinker, guiding the Seadragon into the curb. The van’s brakes squealed as she parked, engine idling low.

A few minutes later, she came back out balancing a grease-stained box, the smell of hot cheese and pepperoni filling the van. She tossed it onto the passenger seat, slid behind the wheel, and laughed to herself. “Romantic, Alvarez. Real classy.”

The Seadragon rolled back into traffic, headlights cutting through the smog. Judy lit another cigarette, the smoke mixing with the smell of pizza, and steered toward Charter Street. The city’s noise bled into the van, but in her chest, all she felt was the pull of home.

The Seadragon’s engine rattled into silence as Judy parked against the curb outside Charter Street. She scooped the warm pizza box from the passenger seat, the smell of grease and melted cheese filling the van, then stepped out into the dim glow of the street.

After heading up the stairs the biometric pad blinked green under her hand, unlocking the door with a soft click. Judy slipped inside, shutting out the city’s noise behind her.

The apartment was calm, lit by the soft flicker of the holoscreen. Valerie sat on the couch, fresh clothes hanging easy on her frame, her posture steady as she watched the scrolling feed of news reports. Headlines rolled past in quick bursts Frankfurt Leak Fallout Continues, Corporate Retaliation in Europe, Gang Activity in Watson Spikes.

Judy slid the pizza box onto the coffee table and dropped onto the couch beside Valerie. She nudged her shoulder lightly, eyes flicking over the fresh tee and slacks Valerie wore.

“So you went digging through the bags, huh? Do the clothes fit?”

Valerie smirked, tearing off a slice. “Yeah.

You’ve got good taste.” She paused, eyes glinting with mischief. “Though I did peek at that lacy black lingerie.”

Judy chuckled, leaning back with her own slice. “Figured you might. Thought you’d look sexy as hell in it.”

Valerie tilted her head, emerald eyes narrowing playfully. “You really think so?”

“I do,” Judy said simply, lips curling into a soft smile. “Pictured you in it the second I saw it.”

Valerie laughed under her breath, shaking her head as she took a bite of pizza. The holoscreen flickered in the background, but neither of them paid it much attention now.

They ate in easy silence for a few minutes before Judy glanced over, smirk tugging at her lips. “So… tell me. Did I just buy clothes for a freeloader, or did you actually pass your little test today?”

Valerie wiped her fingers on a napkin, grinning. “I’m officially a couch potato.”

Judy’s eyes widened, feigned disbelief. “Are you serious?”

Valerie chuckled, leaning back against the cushions. “Relax. Passed it easily.”

Judy shook her head, laughing as she nudged Valerie’s knee with hers. “Smartass.”

Valerie’s smirk softened, her emerald eyes lingering on Judy’s face in the glow of the screen. “But your smartass.”

Valerie leaned back against the couch, finishing her slice before brushing crumbs from her fingers. She glanced sideways at Judy, voice low but curious. “So… how was your day at Lizzie’s?”

Judy snorted, taking a sip of soda straight from the can. “The usual. Stacks of virtus to tune, Susie riding my ass about deadlines. Clients want everything yesterday, like I can snap my fingers and make garbage look like art.”

Valerie chuckled, lips quirking into a wry smile. “Hmm. Sounds familiar. When I was stuck in a tower, people demanded the same thing. Just in suits instead of neon.”
Judy tilted her head, brown eyes softening. “I guess our lives were kinda the same… just walked differently.”

“Yeah,” Valerie said quietly. “Guess so.”

Judy set her slice down, fingers idly tracing the rim of the box before she looked back at Valerie. A sly smile tugged at her mouth. “I did turn a virtu today that made me think of you. Ever watch any braindances between two women?”

Valerie laughed softly, eyes crinkling as she shook her head. “That’s the only kind I watched at Lizzie’s. Your edits were always the best.”

Judy raised a brow, smirk sharp. “Then why are you so shy and bashful around me if you’ve felt the touch of a woman before?”

Valerie’s laughter faded into something softer. She set her pizza aside, fingers brushing absently across her thigh as she looked at
Judy, voice steady but vulnerable. “Because what I saw on a screen, and what I feel with you? They’re completely different. You’re my first girlfriend, Jude. The first time anyone’s touched me with real love. The first time I’ve felt like I mattered to someone. I just needed to figure out if it was safe… to let you see me fully.”

Judy’s smirk melted, replaced by quiet tenderness. She reached over, her fingers grazing Valerie’s cheek. “Do you feel safe with me?”

Valerie leaned into the touch, emerald eyes warm in the glow of the holoscreen. “I do. It feels nice just being with the woman I love. And it’s okay… it’s okay to let you in.”

Judy’s thumb brushed her skin, her smile small but certain. “Then let me in, Guapa. Every piece of you.”

Valerie’s hand came up to cover hers, holding it against her cheek. For the first time all night, her heart eased completely.

Judy’s hand still cupped Valerie’s cheek, the warmth of her palm grounding. Valerie leaned in, emerald eyes flicking to Judy’s lips before closing the space. Their kiss was soft at first, hesitant only in the way first steps always are. Judy tilted her head, deepening it just enough, her thumb brushing slow across Valerie’s skin.

When they broke apart, their foreheads lingered together, breaths mingling. Judy’s smile was quiet, sure. “Not so shy now.”

Valerie chuckled, her freckles deepening with the faintest blush. “Guess I just needed the right reason.”

They let the silence settle easily between them, the hum of the holoscreen filling the space.

Valerie leaned against Judy’s side, Judy’s arm sliding naturally around her shoulders.

Together they sank into the couch, sharing the still-warm pizza box between them.

The newsfeed shifted, the anchor’s voice sharp and rehearsed: “Arasaka announces Secure Your Soul — the latest innovation in data preservation. Ensure your legacy continues, even beyond death itself.”

The screen filled with Arasaka’s pristine imagery: towers gleaming, chrome figures smiling as the logo burned bright.

Valerie’s jaw tightened, the scar above her eye catching in the glow. “Even in death, they’re still selling chains,” she muttered, bitterness threading through her voice.

Judy squeezed her shoulder gently. “You’re out of their grip now, Val. That’s what matters.”

Valerie leaned into her, letting the warmth override the flickering shadows of the screen. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “What matters is right here.”

They stayed like that. Valerie nestled into Judy’s side, Judy’s hand resting over hers letting the city’s noise fade to nothing beyond the glass. For tonight, it was just them, the taste of pizza, the echo of their kiss, and the fragile comfort of knowing they’d found each other in a world built to tear them apart.

The holoscreen kept rolling, voices droning about futures that could be bought, but neither of them were listening anymore. Valerie leaned into Judy’s side, eyes half-lidded,

Judy’s arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. The half-empty pizza box sat forgotten on the table.

For once, the city outside felt far away.

Valerie let her head rest against Judy’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath the noise of the feed. Judy pressed a soft kiss into her hair, her hand lingering over Valerie’s.

The light from the screen washed them both in pale neon, but in that moment, it felt like the world belonged to them alone.

The night stretched, quiet and unbroken.

Morning light pushed thin through the blinds, muted by the haze that always clung to Watson. The apartment was quiet, the only sound was the faint hum of the city beyond the walls.

Judy stirred first, stretching slowly under the covers. Her brown eyes blinked open, adjusting to the soft light as she turned her head.

Valerie lay beside her, still asleep, the steady rise and fall of her chest brushing warm against Judy’s arm. A few strands of purple hair had fallen loose across her freckles, and her lips parted faintly with each breath.

Judy’s mouth softened into a smile. She shifted closer, letting her fingertip trace lazy circles across Valerie’s stomach, careful not to wake her too soon. The warmth of her skin, the ease in her posture it was still hard for
Judy to believe this was the same woman who walked through Lizzie’s basement door weeks ago with the weight of the tower on her shoulders.

For a moment, Judy just watched her, savoring the quiet, the closeness.

Judy’s fingertip drifted in slow circles across Valerie’s stomach, just beneath the hem of her tee. The skin was warm, rising and falling steady with each breath. Judy smiled faintly, careful not to press too hard, just enough to feel the rhythm.

Her thoughts slipped as naturally as her touch. How much had changed in such a short time. Valerie, who once moved like every step had to be calculated, every glance a mask now lying here unguarded, her scar soft in the morning light, her freckles uncovered by paint or polish.

Judy let her eyes linger, the corners of her mouth curling. Cute didn’t even begin to cover it. Valerie was still bashful about intimacy, still fumbling at times like someone who’d never been given the chance to be vulnerable. And yet here she was, letting Judy see her really see her.

Tracing another circle, Judy whispered softly, almost to herself, “You have no idea how much I love this side of you, Guapa.”

She stilled her hand a moment, breathing in the quiet, before letting her fingertip resume its path, slow and soothing, like she was sketching her devotion straight onto Valerie’s skin.

Valerie shifted faintly, a soft sound catching in her throat as her lashes fluttered. Her emerald eyes blinked open, hazy at first, then sharper as they landed on Judy so close beside her.
She drew a slow breath, a faint smile tugging across her lips. “Mm… you watching me sleep again?” Her voice was low, softened by sleep, warm against the quiet.

Judy’s finger stilled just above her stomach, her smirk tugging wider. “Caught me. Hard not to, when you look this peaceful.”

Valerie chuckled faintly, the sound half a sigh as she stretched beneath the covers. She let her hand drift over Judy’s, settling it flat against her stomach, holding it there.
“Peaceful’s not something I’ve had much of. Not ‘til now.”

Judy’s eyes softened, her thumb brushing lazy across Valerie’s skin. “Good. Then I’m doing something right.”

Valerie tilted her head, purple hair slipping across her freckles, still heavy with sleep but awake enough to mean every word. “You’re doing everything right, Jude.”

Valerie shifted onto her side, pulling Judy closer until their foreheads brushed. Her breath was still slow, drowsy, carrying the warmth of sleep as she whispered, “Feels good waking up like this.”

Judy smiled, tucking a strand of purple hair back behind Valerie’s ear. “Better than waking up alone, huh?”

Valerie chuckled softly, the sound low in her chest. “A hell of a lot better.” Her fingers traced absent patterns against Judy’s arm, light and unhurried. “Never thought I’d get used to it this fast.”

Judy tilted her head, her smirk softened into something tender. “Careful, Guapa. Sounds like you’re starting to like having me around.”

Valerie let out a quiet laugh, freckles shifting with the curve of her cheeks. “Starting to? Pretty sure I’m already hooked.”

They stayed like that a while, sharing the quiet, the warmth of the sheets, and the rhythm of each other’s breathing. The city outside hummed its restless tune, but in here it felt far away, like they’d carved out a pocket of time just for themselves.

Judy brushed her thumb once more across Valerie’s stomach, eyes narrowing with a playful glint. “Guess now’s as good a time as any…”

Valerie shifted closer, pressing a soft kiss to Judy’s temple before sinking back into the pillow. For a few minutes they just stayed like that, tangled in the sheets, the hum of the city outside muffled and distant.

Eventually, Judy sighed, stretching her arms overhead until her shoulders popped. “As much as I could lay here all day…” she glanced toward the blinds, “…we’ve got the sun creeping in. Means the grind’s waiting.”

Valerie groaned faintly into the pillow. “Grind can wait another five minutes.”

Judy smirked, brushing her fingertip down Valerie’s cheek. “Don’t tell me your curiosity hasn’t gotten to you yet.”

That pulled Valerie’s emerald eyes open, still heavy with sleep but catching the glint in Judy’s. “Curiosity about what?”

Judy slid out of the sheets, stretching as she padded toward the dresser. “Your no-peeking surprise. Figured today’s the right day to finally show you.”

Valerie pushed herself up on one elbow, watching her with a half-smile. “Guess I’ve been good if you’re letting me off the hook this soon.”

Judy shot her a grin over her shoulder.
“Or maybe I just like watching you squirm.”

That was enough to push Valerie upright, sheets pooling at her waist as she sat on the edge of the bed. “Alright,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “You’ve got my attention.”

Judy slipped by Valerie before crouching by the closet, pulling one of the shopping bags forward, the one marked no peeking. She set it on the bed, the paper crinkling as she nudged it toward Valerie.

Valerie raised a brow, still tugging her hair loose with her fingers. “So this is the big secret?”

“Open it,” Judy said, her smirk soft but her eyes steady.

Valerie reached inside, her hand brushing smooth leather. She pulled the jacket out first deep purple, gold collar inlaid with roses, the cut designed to fall half off her left shoulder. Her breath caught faint, thumb running across the stitching. “Jude…”

Judy leaned against the dresser, arms crossed, watching her with that little smile that only surfaced when she was proud. “Keep going.”

Valerie set the jacket aside carefully and tugged out the rest: black leather pants with purple inlays circling the thighs, blue kanji etched clean across the knee meaning soul. A pair of silver combat boots sat nestled at the bottom.

She laid everything out across the bed, emerald eyes tracing the pieces like they were weapons in their own right. “This is…” Her voice trailed, caught somewhere between awe and disbelief.

Judy pushed off the dresser, stepping closer. “Figured you needed something that felt like you. Corpo sharp, street tough. Purple’s your color. Roses are mine. And the kanji…” she tapped the symbol lightly with her finger, “..
a reminder your soul still belongs to you, not Arasaka.”

Valerie’s throat tightened. She looked up, freckles stark against her cheeks. “You thought of everything.”

Judy’s smile softened, her voice dropping low. “I thought of you.”

Valerie let out a breath, running her fingers along the jacket again before meeting Judy’s gaze. “Guess I really don’t need to peek anymore.”

Judy laughed, brushing her hand over Valerie’s shoulder. “Try it on, Guapa. Let’s see how it looks.”

Valerie stood, tugging her sleep shirt over her head in one smooth motion. She didn’t even think about it this time, the shyness replaced with a quiet comfort. Judy’s eyes followed, warm and unhurried, making Valerie feel more seen than exposed.

“Hang on,” Valerie murmured, crossing to the dresser. She pulled the drawer open, fishing out a clean black bra, slipping it on quickly before turning back toward the bed where the jacket waited.

She lifted it carefully, fingers brushing the gold collar and the roses stitched into the leather.

The weight of it settled over her shoulders as she slid her arms through, letting it fall half-off her left side the way it was cut to.

Judy’s smirk broke into a slow grin. She circled once, taking it in. “Damn, Guapa. Looks even better on you than I pictured.”

Valerie tugged the hem straight, glancing down at herself, then back up at Judy with a faint blush across her freckles. “Feels… right. Like it was always supposed to be mine.”

“Because it is,” Judy said simply, stepping close to brush her hand along the jacket’s sleeve. “Not the tower’s. Not the streets’. Yours.”

Valerie let out a low breath, the weight of those words landing deeper than the leather ever could.

Valerie’s fingers lingered on the jacket’s lapel a moment longer before she reached for the rest of the clothes laid out on the bed. The leather pants were snug, the purple inlays catching the light as she pulled them up over her hips. She fastened them with a sharp tug, then bent to pull up the silver combat boots, their polished shine glinting against the dull morning light sneaking through the blinds.

When she straightened again, the full ensemble was on her purple jacket hanging half-off her shoulder, black leather hugging close, kanji etched bold across her knee, boots grounded and steady.

She caught her reflection in the mirror propped against the wall. For the first time, what looked back at her wasn’t the polished ghost of a Corpo agent. It wasn’t someone bound to the tower. It was V sharp, alive, and hers.

Judy leaned back against the dresser, arms folded, brown eyes roaming her with unguarded pride. “Now that,” she said, voice low, “is a merc I’d hire in a heartbeat.”

Valerie turned toward her, smirking faintly, freckles softening the edge. “Good. Then I guess I passed the test.”

Judy pushed off the dresser, stepping close enough to tug lightly at the jacket’s collar, fixing it just right. Her smile curved warmly. “You didn’t just pass, Guapa. You owned it.”

Valerie let her hand slide over Judy’s as it lingered on the jacket, her voice softer now. “Feels like a second skin. Feels like… me.”

Judy circled her slowly, fingertips brushing the leather as if to double-check her own work. “Knew this cut would sit just right, but damn…” She leaned in, tugging the jacket’s collar down slightly. “See how it falls? Shows your lotus tattoo way better than I even pictured.”

Valerie glanced at the mirror, her emerald eyes tracing the ink that now framed against the gold inlay. The sight tugged something deep in her chest.

Judy straightened, her tone slipping into something both proud and practical. “It’s not just for looks, though. Leather’s reinforced flexible enough for you to move, tough enough to take a hit. You’ve got protection and style. And…” she grinned, letting her gaze drag slow down and back up, “...you look damn fine in it.”

Valerie chuckled, shaking her head, freckles shifting with her smile. “It’s perfect, babe. You really do know me.”

Judy’s expression softened, her smirk easing into warmth. “Since you opened up? Yeah. I see you clearly now, mi amor.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them, full of unspoken things. Valerie ran her hand down the jacket’s sleeve, then let her smirk sharpen again. “Jackie’s gonna flip when he sees me wearing this to our gig today.”

Judy laughed, giving the jacket one last tug into place. “Let him flip. Streets’ll know you’re not Corpo property anymore.”

Valerie’s grin widened, scar catching the morning light. “No. I’m mine.”

Judy’s hand trailed up from the jacket’s sleeve, slipping beneath the edge where the cut left Valerie’s shoulder bare. Her fingertips skimmed across warm skin, tracing along her collarbone and the upper curve of Valerie’s chest.

Valerie’s breath hitched, but she didn’t pull back. She let herself stand still, emerald eyes softening as the touch settled. For once, she wasn’t hiding the way it made her feel.

Judy leaned in, pressing her lips gently against Valerie’s. The kiss lingered, slow and steady, neither of them in a rush to let go.

When Judy finally pulled back, her forehead rested lightly against Valerie’s.

“Breakfast,” Judy murmured with a small smile, her thumb brushing just under the edge of the jacket. “Before you have to call Jackie.”

Valerie exhaled, smirk tugging faint across her lips. “Yeah. Before the grind starts again.”

Still, she let the moment stretch just a little longer, her hand covering Judy’s where it rested on her chest, savoring the warmth before the day pulled them forward.

The kitchen smelled of fresh grounds and warm bread, the kind of small comfort that always managed to cut through the city’s chaos. Valerie stood by the counter, pouring steaming coffee into two chipped mugs, the splash of milk swirling pale across the dark surface.

Behind her, Judy dropped slices of synth-ham and cheese onto bread, sliding them into the toaster grill. The faint hiss and crackle filled the air, mixing with the low hum of the coffee maker.

Valerie set a mug in front of Judy with a faint smirk. “One splash, just the way you like it.”
Judy leaned against the counter, taking the first sip. “Mm. Guapa, I think you’re trying to spoil me.”

Valerie chuckled, sipping from her own mug. “Fair’s fair. You just gave me the best damn jacket I’ve ever worn.”

The toaster clicked, sandwiches ready. Judy slid them onto two plates, the smell sharp and savory. They carried their breakfast to the table by the window, neon bleed from the street below flickering faint against the walls even in daylight.

For a few minutes, they ate in comfortable quiet coffee warm sandwiches crisp, the city’s buzz muffled behind the glass.

Finally, Valerie broke the silence, wiping her thumb across the edge of her lip. “Feels almost normal.”

Judy smiled at her over the rim of her mug.
“Maybe that’s what we’re fighting for. Just a little normal, in a city that chews it up the second it shows its face.”

Valerie’s emerald eyes softened, a hint of a grin tugging back. “Then I guess we’re doing a decent job so far.”

Valerie leaned back in her chair, balancing her mug between both hands. Steam curled up, catching the light as she took a slow sip. “I gotta admit,” she said, voice low and teasing, “you make a mean toasted sandwich.”

Judy arched a brow, mock offense tugging at her lips. “Excuse me? I didn’t hear a single complaint while you were wolfing it down.”
Valerie smirked, tilting her head. “Might’ve just been hungry.”

Judy kicked her lightly under the table, making Valerie chuckle. “Smartass.”

The sound hung between them, warm and easy. Valerie reached across the table, brushing her fingers against Judy’s knuckles where they rested on the mug. “It’s nice, y’know. Sitting here with you. Coffee, food, nothing blowing up.”

Judy’s smirk softened into a smile, her thumb grazing Valerie’s hand in return. “Don’t get used to it, Guapa. Peace and quiet’s rare around here.”

Valerie leaned back, grin widening just a little.
“Then I’ll just make sure to enjoy every second of it.”

Judy gave her a look, one part fond, one part amused before finishing the last bite of her sandwich.

Judy set her empty mug down with a soft clink and leaned back in her chair, arms folding across her chest. Her smirk curved sharp, though her eyes stayed warm. “You’re not gonna make a name for yourself flirting with me all morning, Guapa.”

Valerie laughed, the sound low and genuine, shaking her head. “Don’t tempt me. I’d take this over half the crap Jackie’s got lined up.”

Still grinning, she glanced around the table, then patted her jacket pockets before pushing back from her chair. “Now where the hell did I leave my holophone?”

Judy chuckled, watching her rummage. “Check the couch. You were half-asleep when you dropped it last night.”

Valerie shot her a look over her shoulder, freckles shifting with her smirk. “What would I do without you, Jude?”

Judy tilted her head, lips quirking sly.
“Probably miss every call that matters.”

Valerie chuckled again, moving toward the living room to track it down.

Valerie found the holophone wedged between the couch cushions, screen lighting up against her palm. She thumbed the call through, Jackie’s face flickering to life in a haze of neon behind him.

“Morning, Jack,” she said, voice steady.
“Wanted to see where you’re at if you picked up any more gigs.”

Jackie’s grin widened. “Straight to biz? No how are you, Jack?’”

Valerie laughed, leaning against the wall near the window. “Fine. Did you enjoy your date with Misty?”

Jackie chuckled, shaking his head. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

“She’s good for you, Jack.” Valerie’s smirk softened.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved her off, though his grin stayed. “Anyway, Wakako’s got another gig lined up. Simple recovery. We need to grab a credchip belonging to someone who went by Vortex. The owner got flatlined, and Wakako wants it back in her hands.”

Valerie straightened, tone sharpening. “Recovery. Sounds easy enough. Where’s it at?”

“Tyger Claws casino, Westbrook,” Jackie said, leaning in toward his cam. “Charter Hill, off Longshore South.”

Valerie rolled her eyes, scar tugging faint as she muttered, “Charter Hill? Didn’t think I’d be running gigs that close to my old home.”

Jackie’s grin widened. “Eh, even rich neighborhoods have their problems. So what d’you say? You in?”

Valerie’s smirk tugged back into place. “Am I picking you up, or meeting you there?”

“I’ll send you the cords,” Jackie replied. “We’ll meet at the site. See you soon, V.”
Valerie dipped her head. “Later, Jack.”

The call cut, the screen dimming back into her reflection emerald eyes, purple hair, and the gold-rose collar of the jacket Judy had picked out for her.

The holophone dimmed back to black, and Valerie tucked it into her jacket. Beside her, Judy leaned back in her chair, smirk tugging faintly at her lips. “Charter Hill, huh?”

Valerie let out a quiet breath, brushing her hand along the gold-rose collar of her jacket. “Haven’t been home since I graduated from the Academy.”

Judy’s smirk softened, curiosity edging in. “You never talk about your parents. Something happened between you?”

Valerie tilted her head, eyes finding the window where the daylight smeared against glass. “I chose to stay away. I wasn't exactly thrilled to be sent off to Arasaka when I was six.”

Judy’s brows lifted, a flicker of sympathy cutting through her voice. “Damn, Val. Don’t think I realized it was that bad.”

Valerie’s emerald eyes shifted back to hers, steady but softer than usual. “It’s alright, Jude. You and Jackie… you’ve been the only family I need.”

The words landed heavy, and Judy reached across the table, brushing her thumb against Valerie’s knuckles. “Parents still work for Arasaka?”

Valerie nodded faintly. “They probably got interrogated after what happened to me. My dad, Ricardo, he's level two Counter Intel, runs the division above the one I was in charge of. My mother, Carmen, is a top medical researcher. I’m sure their status protected them, and they probably kept selling me out just to keep their positions.”

Judy’s lips pressed thin, her voice low but fierce. “I always hated corps, you know this. Hearing and seeing how they treated you… makes me hate them even more.”

Valerie’s jaw tightened, but her smirk flickered back through the weight. “Trust me, I hate Arasaka with every fiber of my body. And I’m glad to be away from that tower.”

Judy squeezed her hand once more, holding the silence with her.

The silence stretched a moment longer, Judy’s thumb brushing over Valerie’s hand until the weight between them eased just a little. Then Judy tilted her head, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Well,” she said softly, “Arasaka’s loss is my gain. Never thought I’d be dating the hottest ex-agent in Night City.”

Valerie let out a chuckle, the tension in her shoulders breaking. “Hottest, huh?”

“Don’t act surprised, Guapa.” Judy leaned back in her chair, grin widening. “That jacket alone could start riots.”

Valerie rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed. “Guess I should be careful walking into Charter Hill then. Don’t want to cause too much trouble.”

Judy raised her mug, the dregs of coffee swirling. “Too late. You already cause trouble by just breathing.”

Valerie laughed, standing to rinse her plate in the sink. “Good thing you’re into trouble.”

“Damn right I am.” Judy shot her a wink, her voice playful again. “Now go knock your gig out of the park so I can brag about you later.”

Valerie dried her hands on a towel, before stepping into the bedroom. Moving towards the dresser where her holster belt waited. She clipped Last Rites onto her hip holster, checked the chamber out of habit, and slid a spare mag into the pouch at her side. The weight settled against her like muscle memory.

Her silver boots thudded against the floor as she shifted her weight to step back into the hallway.

At the door, Valerie paused to glance back. Judy leaned against the hallway wall, arms crossed, brown eyes warm as they swept over her.

“Look at you,” Judy said, voice low but proud. “Every inch the merc.”

Valerie smirked faintly, scar tugging under the light. “Guess it’s time I start proving it.”

Judy’s smile softened, the teasing giving way to something tender. “Be careful out there, Val.”

Valerie let her gaze hold Judy’s for a moment longer, her voice steady but warm. “I’ll come back to you. That’s a promise.”

The door clicked shut behind her, boots striking a steady rhythm as she headed into the stairwell, the Shion waiting quietly at the curb.

Valerie stepped out into the cool morning air, the faint buzz of the city already alive around her. She slipped a hand into her jacket, fingers brushing the smooth curve of the Shion’s fob.

With a quiet press, the car’s systems woke, lights sweeping across its sleek, matte-purple frame as the engine purred to life. It crouched at the curb like a predator ready to move, rain beads from the night glinting on its body.

Valerie paused for a moment, letting herself take in the scene of the streets of Watson stretching out before her, neon signs still burning faint from the night, the smell of fried synth-oil and damp concrete clinging to the air.

She rolled her shoulders, the roses on her jacket collar catching the light, and exhaled slowly. This wasn’t the tower anymore. This was her world now.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, she rested her hands on the wheel, emerald eyes narrowing with focus as the dash lit up.

“Time to see what kind of name I can make for myself,” she murmured.

With a low growl, the Shion pulled away from the curb, weaving into the waking veins of Night City, carrying her toward Jackie and their next gig.

The Shion’s engine cut off with a low rumble as Valerie swung the door open, stepping into the neon glow bleeding across the cracked lot. She reached up to the slim rack fixed along the roofline, fingers closing around the bulk of Requiem’s Lament. The matte-black shotgun slid free smooth, roses and lotus etched along its barrel catching a flash of casino light. She clipped the holster onto her thigh in one practiced motion, the weight settling home.

Across the lot, Jackie pushed off a pillar where he’d been waiting, grin wide as headlights. “Damn, V. Look at you. Fancy new jacket, fresh boots, shotgun strapped like you’re about to kick down Arasaka’s front door.”

Valerie smirked, brushing her hand down the gold-rose collar Judy had picked out. “What can I say? Figured it was time to look the part.”

Jackie chuckled, shaking his head as she closed the Shion’s door. “Careful, Hermana.

You show up like that, streets are gonna start whispering your name before we even get inside.”

Valerie adjusted the strap on the shotgun, emerald eyes narrowing toward the casino’s garish glow. “Then let ‘em whisper.”

Jackie’s grin lingered, but his tone dipped into something steadier as he jerked his chin toward the glowing façade of the casino.

“Alright, here’s the layout. Wakako says the credchip’s still floating somewhere inside, stashed after Vortex got flatlined. Tyger Claws have been using the joint as their playpen gambling up front, dirty biz in the back.”

Valerie adjusted the strap of Requiem’s Lament on her thigh, eyes sharp on the building’s neon trim. “So where do we look? Table pits, offices, or the back rooms?”

“Back rooms,” Jackie said without hesitation. “Word is Vortex had their own private stash.
Tyger Claws moved fast, but not fast enough to scrub everything. We get in, pull the chip, get out before they figure it’s missing.”

Valerie smirked faint, emerald eyes catching his. “Clean and simple. For once.”

Jackie chuckled. “Simple’s a word we’ll see about once we’re in there. You take point, I’ll keep things smooth with the guards. But if this goes loud?” He tapped the butt of his pistol at his side. “We handle it.”

Valerie’s hand brushed the roses etched into
her collar before resting on the grip of Last Rites. “Good. I’ve been itching to see how much trouble this new look can handle.”

Jackie barked a laugh, then jerked his chin toward the casino doors. “C’mon, Hermana. Time to earn our eddies.”

The casino doors parted with a pneumatic hiss, spilling neon and noise into the night. Valerie and Jackie slipped through the threshold, swallowed by the heat of bodies and the electric hum of machines.

Inside, the place throbbed with sound slot reels clattering, dealers barking, laughter sharp and hollow against the drone of cheap synthjazz pumping from overhead speakers.

Jackie walked easy at her side, his wide grin blending him into the crowd like he’d been born in it. Valerie adjusted the hang of her jacket, letting it slip casually off her shoulder.

The roses at her collar caught the light, but her eyes stayed sharp, scanning past the rows of blinking machines and the cluster of Tyger Claws posted near the bar.

“See?” Jackie muttered low, lips barely moving. “Crowds like this don’t look twice. Just keep your shoulders loose, act like you belong.”

Valerie smirked faintly, brushing her hand along the rim of a slot machine as they passed. “Are you saying I don’t?”

“Please.” Jackie chuckled, his voice swallowed by the noise. “You look like you own the place. That’s the problem.”

They drifted past the roulette tables, weaving into the rhythm of the crowd. A dealer called out a win, chips clattering across felt. The air smelled of sweat, synth-liquor, and burned circuits.

Jackie nudged his chin toward a hallway just
off the main floor, guarded by a pair of Tyger Claws in mirrored shades. “Back rooms’ll be down there. We play it cool, maybe we can slip through without drawing heat.”

Valerie’s emerald eyes narrowed, catching the guards’ stances, the subtle bulges under their jackets. “Or maybe we find another way in.”

Jackie grinned. “That’s the V I know.”

Valerie’s smirk tugged faint as her eyes lingered on the guards by the hall. “Tyger Claws, huh? Figures they’d be babysitting. Arasaka’s lapdogs through and through.”
Jackie arched a brow at her. “And you’re thinkin’ what, exactly?”

Valerie adjusted the fall of her jacket, letting the roses and gold collar flash under the neon. Her voice dropped low, a razor-edge smoothness sliding back into her tone the kind Jackie hadn’t heard since she was in the tower. “I’m thinking I know their leash-holders. Which means I know exactly what language they respect.”

Jackie gave her a look, half wary, half impressed. “Chica, if you’re about to work some Corpo magic, I’m all eyes.”

They approached the hall slowly, steadily. The two Tyger Claws shifted, crossing their arms. One barked in Japanese, the other adding in broken English: “Private. No entry.”

Valerie tilted her head, emerald eyes sharp, posture shifting just enough to scream Corpo authority without saying it outright. “That’s funny,” she said evenly. “Because last I checked, your oyabun doesn’t turn away Arasaka’s assets.”

The guards stiffened, eyes flicking over her jacket, the scar, the way she carried herself. One muttered to the other in Japanese, uncertain.

Valerie leaned in slightly, voice calm but cold.
“We’re here to clean up a mess. You can explain to your boss why you got in the way of Arasaka business, or you can step aside and let us through.”

For a moment, silence clung between them, the din of the casino swelling around the standoff.

Jackie’s grin spread slowly as the guards finally exchanged a look then shifted aside, one muttering something sharp under his breath.

Valerie walked past without breaking stride, her smirk faint. Jackie followed, chuckling under his breath. “Remind me never to get on the wrong side of that tongue of yours.”

The two Tyger Claws shifted just enough to clear the hallway, their mirrored shades hiding their eyes but not the way they lingered. Valerie kept her stride measured, chin high, letting the weight of her presence do the work.

They stepped aside, but not without a glance that cut toward Jackie. One of them muttered in Japanese, a short sharp laugh following. Even without catching every word, Jackie didn’t need a translation to know he’d just been sized up and dismissed.

Valerie didn’t flinch, didn’t let her expression waver. But as she passed between them, she brushed her hand against the holster at her hip, not enough to draw attention, just a silent reminder to Jackie. Stay sharp.

Jackie’s grin didn’t falter, but the slight shift of his stance said he understood. He flexed his fingers once by his side, ready if things turned.

The Claws watched them all the way down the hall, the weight of their suspicion pressing like a blade against Valerie’s back. She kept her pace steady, eyes forward, only letting her smirk tug faint once they were out of sight.

“Bought it,” Jackie murmured low, “but they sure as hell clocked me.”

Valerie’s emerald eyes flicked to him, sharp under the neon wash of the corridor. “Then we move fast. If they’re calling it in, we don’t have long.”

The corridor bent left, the noise of the casino floor fading into a tighter hum of ventilation and muffled voices. Valerie slowed, motioning Jackie to hug the wall as they approached a steel door lit by a sputtering red strip.

On the other side, two voices carried low in Japanese, harsh and clipped. Valerie caught enough to piece it together.
“…should’ve been more careful with the interrogation. Vortex wasn’t supposed to get flatlined.”

The second voice spat back, sharper. “…doesn’t matter now. Door’s already flagged two possible mercs sniffing around. Won’t be long before they hit this hallway.”

Jackie leaned close, whispering against her shoulder. “Well… so much for being quiet.” His pistol slid loose from its holster, heavy and ready. “Any idea how many are inside?”

Valerie’s emerald eyes narrowed, the scar above her brow prickling faint under the neon wash. She chambered Last Rites with a clean click. “Doesn’t matter, Jack. Ain’t no one prepared for the two of us.”

Jackie grinned wide, teeth flashing under the dull light. “Now that’s what I like to hear.”

Valerie adjusted the strap of Requiem’s Lament against her thigh, planting her boots square against the floor. She tilted her head once toward the door, silent signal to move on her mark.

The hum of the casino pulsed behind them, but in this stretch of hallway it was nothing but the beat of their hearts and the promise of violence.

Valerie’s boot slammed the panel, steel shrieking as the door burst inward. The guards barely had time to turn their heads.
Last Rites barked twice in her hand, clean and sharp the first round snapping one Tyger Claw back into the wall, the second dropping his partner mid-reach for a weapon.

Jackie was already through the gap at her side, pistol roaring in his fist. Two more went down before they even cleared their chairs, cards and credchips scattered across the table like confetti in the gunfire.

A third lunged with a blade, screaming Jackie caught him center mass, sending him folding to the floor.

Valerie pivoted on instinct, shotgun ripped free from its strap. Requiem’s Lament thundered once, the blast tearing through the last Claw by the far console. His body spun, hit the screen, and slid down in a shower of sparks.

Silence crashed back into the room, heavy and absolute. The acrid stink of gunpowder bit the air, mingling with smoke curling from the barrel of Valerie’s shotgun.

Jackie exhaled hard, flashing her a grin through the haze. “Fast enough for you, hermana?”

Valerie swept the room with one last glance, pistol lowering but her emerald eyes sharp. “Told you. Ain’t no one ready for us.”

Valerie slid Last Rites back into the holster at her hip, then pulled Requiem’s Lament into both hands, bracing the shotgun tight against her shoulder as she turned toward the hallway. Emerald eyes cut sharp down the dim stretch, every muscle coiled.

“Jack, find the credchip. I’ll cover the door. Won’t be long before backup arrives.”

Jackie wiped a streak of blood from his forearm with the back of his hand, nodding once. “On it.” He kicked a dead Tyger Claw’s body aside and crouched by the console, shards scattered across the floor in the mess.

Valerie adjusted her stance, weight forward, finger resting loose on the trigger guard.

Every sound from the casino bled into the quiet like a warning. Somewhere in the distance, she swore she heard boots.

Behind her, Jackie cursed under his breath, rifling through drawers, flipping over stacks of dirty chips and IOUs. “C’mon, cabrón… where the hell’d you stash it?”

Valerie didn’t look back, her voice low but firm. “Make it fast, Jack. We’ve got shadows moving.”

Jackie swore under his breath, tossing another drawer open, shards and credchips spilling useless across the console. “Chingada madre… this guy had more junk than a flea market.”

Valerie’s grip on Requiem’s Lament tightened. The faint sound she’d caught earlier grew sharper boots, fast, too many for a casual patrol. Her eyes narrowed. “Jackie!”

The door slammed wide, metal screeching as three Tyger Claws burst in, weapons already raised.

Valerie didn’t hesitate. The shotgun roared once, the blast throwing the first into the doorframe, blood spraying wide across the threshold. She pivoted, pumping a fresh shell, the recoil rocking her shoulder as she fired again. The second went spinning into the hallway wall.

The third dove behind the console, muzzle flashing wildly. Rounds chewed sparks from the far wall, one whistling close past Jackie’s head.

“¡Hijo de puta!” Jackie ducked low, hand slapping down on a shard before firing back over the console. “Little busy here, V!”

“Find the credchip!” Valerie barked, chambering another round. “I’ll hold the door!”

She swung back toward the hall just as two more shadows flickered into view reinforcements pressing in, their weapons catching neon glints as they raised them.

The hallway lit up with muzzle flashes, rounds tearing into the doorframe and shredding plaster. Valerie dropped to a knee, shotgun braced tight as she leaned out just enough to fire. Requiem’s Lament thundered again, one Tyger Claw folding mid-stride, his weapon clattering across the tiles.

Another volley slammed into the wall over her head, shards of paint and steel raining down.

Valerie ducked back, teeth grit, then popped up to pump another shell and send it screaming downrange. The recoil rocked her shoulder, but the second Claw went down in a spray of neon-lit blood.

Behind her, Jackie cursed and fired over the console, dropping another guard who’d tried to flank from the far corner. “V, they just keep coming!” His hand swept over the mess of shards again, frustration sharp in his voice. “Where the hell’s this damn credchip?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Valerie snapped, eyes locked on the door. “We hold this line or we’re dead.”

A grenade clinked hard against the doorframe, rolling across the floor with a sharp, electronic beep.

“Shit!” Jackie dove behind the console.

Valerie lunged forward, boot catching the grenade and sending it skittering back into the hall. The blast ripped through the corridor, fire and shrapnel lighting the air. Screams cut short outside, smoke boiling through the doorway.

Valerie dropped back to a knee, chest heaving, Requiem’s Lament steady in her grip.

Jackie’s head popped up from cover, eyes wide. “¡Madre de dios, V! You tryna give me a heart attack?”

Valerie smirked faintly through the smoke, scar lit by firelight. “Still breathing, ain’t I? Keep looking, Jack we’re not done yet.”

Smoke still curled low across the floor, the smell of burnt metal biting the air. Jackie swore under his breath, sweeping his hand across the mess of shards scattered over the console. Then his eyes caught the glint of one half-buried beneath a stack of IOUs.

“Got you, cabrón,” he muttered, yanking it free. A slim credchip, edges scorched, but the seal glowed faint at the corner.

He held it up with a grin, teeth flashing through the haze. “V! We’re paid!”

Valerie risked a glance over her shoulder, shotgun still leveled on the hall. Relief flickered across her emerald eyes, but she didn’t ease her stance. “Good. Now let’s get the hell out before more of ‘em show.”

Jackie slipped the chip into his pocket and racked his pistol, moving to her side. “After you, Hermana.”

Valerie pumped a fresh shell into Requiem’s Lament, the sound sharp and final. “Stay tight. We cut through fast.”

Together, they turned toward the smoke-thick hall, ready to fight their way out.

Valerie’s eyes swept the smoke-filled room until they landed on a narrow maintenance window in the corner, glass coated with dust, frame rusted shut. She pointed with a jerk of her chin. “There. That’s our way out.”

Keeping low, she moved across the room, boots crunching on shards of glass. Jackie stayed close, pistol raised toward the hall, watching the haze where shouts still echoed.

Valerie planted herself under the frame, dug her fingers beneath the edge, and pulled hard. Metal shrieked loud, rust biting into her palms, but she leaned her weight into it until the lock snapped. The pane rattled upward, stale night air rushing in.

She looked back once, emerald eyes catching Jackie’s. “Go.”

Valerie swung through first, jacket snagging on the sill before she yanked it free and dropped onto the concrete landing outside.

Jackie followed, heavier, landing with a grunt, pistol steady as he scanned the shadows.
“Damn, hermana,” he muttered, falling into a crouch beside her. “Hands like a ripperjack.”

Valerie smirked faintly, pressing her back to the wall. “Compliment noted. Now let’s keep moving before they figure out where we went.”

They stayed low, pressing against the cold concrete as they worked their way along the back of the casino. Neon leaked faintly from above, fractured colors painting across the slick pavement, but the shadows along the
wall held deep enough to hide them.

Valerie kept Requiem’s Lament raised, eyes sweeping every corner. Each step was measured, boots placing soft against the wet ground. Jackie trailed close behind, pistol angled down but ready, his breath steady even as his grin hadn’t fully faded.

From inside, muffled shouts carried through the walls, Tyger Claws barking orders, boots pounding across the floors. Valerie slowed at the sound, holding up a hand. Both of them crouched tighter against the wall, listening as a door banged open somewhere above.

Voices spilled out into the night air, but none leaned their way. Valerie motioned forward, emerald eyes sharp, and they pushed on.

They rounded the far corner, and there it was the Shion crouched low under a crooked streetlamp, paint catching in purple glints.

Beside it, Jackie’s Arch leaned on its kickstand, chrome gleaming faint even in the dark.

Valerie exhaled through her nose, voice low. “Almost there.”

Jackie smirked, pistol still up. “Told you, chica. Smooth as hell.”

Valerie shook her head faintly, adjusting her shotgun as they crept closer. “Don’t start celebrating. Not till we’re on the road.”

They broke from the shadows, boots splashing through shallow puddles. Valerie pressed the fob, and the Shion’s gullwing door lifted smoothly with a hiss. She tossed Requiem’s Lament onto the passenger seat before sliding behind the wheel, the engine purring awake as the dash came alive in green.

Jackie swung onto his Arch in one fluid motion, pistol holstered as he kicked the ignition. The bike snarled to life, chrome catching the neon bleed from the streets above.

Valerie scanned the casino frontage one last time. No movement yet just shouts echoing faint from inside. She dropped the gullwing shut, shifted into gear, and the Shion growled low as she rolled out beside Jackie.

Together, they cut down from Charter Hill’s gleaming high streets into Japantown’s sprawl. Corporate glass and clean avenues gave way to lanterns strung low over cramped alleys, bass and neon washing the night thick.

By the time they eased into Jig-Jig Street, the chaos swallowed them kanji signs burning red against rain-slick pavement, stalls hawking food beside clubs thumping deep.

Tyger Claws leaned against posts, chrome winking under the glow.

Jackie slowed his Arch near a busted red lantern flickering above a scuffed drop box.

He swung off, pulled the credchip from his pocket, and slipped it into the slot. The machine swallowed it with a hiss, locking with a low chime.

“Done and dusted,” Jackie muttered, flashing a grin as he mounted the Arch again. “Easy payday.”

Valerie leaned against the Shion’s door, scar catching the neon. “Easy’s not the word I’d use.”

The box chimed low, locking shut as Jackie swung back onto his Arch. He barely had time to kick the stand up before both their comms lit, Wakako’s voice slipping in smooth and sharp as a knife.

“Efficient, as always,” she purred. “The chip is in my hands, and the client is already satisfied. Your payment has been transferred. Spend it wisely… or foolishly. Makes no difference to me.”

Jackie chuckled, shaking his head as he gunned the Arch’s throttle once. “Always a pleasure, Señora Okada.”

“Mm,” Wakako replied, a faint smile behind the words. “Keep delivering, Mr. Welles, and perhaps the Afterlife will learn your name before long. And you, Miss V…” Her tone dipped into something cooler, deliberate. “…you’re playing a dangerous game. But I like the way you play it.”

The line cut before Valerie could answer.

She smirked faintly, glancing across the glow of Jig-Jig Street toward Jackie. “Guess that’s one way to get noticed.”

Jackie grinned wide, twisting the Arch toward the open road. “Hermana, that’s the only way.”

Valerie’s smirk lingered as she leaned back in the Shion’s seat, one hand resting easy on the wheel. “Enjoy the spotlight, Jack. I’ll catch up with you later.”

He tilted his head. “Where are you headed?”

“Lizzie’s,” she said, eyes flicking toward the neon skyline north. “Figure I’ll surprise Judy with some lunch. Keep her from burning herself out in that basement.”
Jackie barked a laugh, revving the Arch.

“You’re a better partner than I’ll ever be, chica. Tell her I said hey.”

Valerie dipped her chin in reply, scar catching the street’s glow. “Stay sharp out there, Jack.”

“Always.” He gave her a two-fingered salute, then the Arch roared off, weaving into the chaos of Japantown until his taillights were just another streak in the neon tide.

Valerie exhaled slowly, tapped the wheel once, and shifted the Shion back into gear. The gullwing sealed her in, the city’s din muffled as she steered toward Lizzie’s.

Down in the basement of Lizzie’s, the city’s chaos dulled into the steady hum of Judy’s rig.

Screens washed her in neon light, her fingers moving with sharp precision as she trimmed a client’s scroll. Waveforms rippled across the display, laughter spiking too high, sensory bleed fraying at the edges. She leaned in, cigarette clamped between two fingers, and smoothed the feed with practiced strokes until the noise balanced into something polished.

The client on the shard was just another corpo thrill-seeker looking for a cheap escape, nothing she hadn’t seen a hundred times. Judy muttered under her breath, “The gonks never learn.”

She tapped the ashtray, smoke curling upward into the low light. The room was quiet but alive, the hum of the machine filling the space like a pulse.

Her comm pinged once. A message from Mox management, already asking if the next batch would be ready by evening. Judy rolled her eyes, deleting it with a flick before pulling another shard into the slot. Data spilled across her screens, jagged and bright.

But her mind kept drifting. The curve of a jacket collar with roses pressed into leather. The way emerald eyes had looked softer that morning across the table. Judy caught herself smiling, small and unguarded, as she tuned another feed.

“Don’t get distracted now,” she muttered to herself, smirk tugging faintly at her lips.

Upstairs, the bass thumped through the floor, Lizzie’s steady heart above her solitude. And somewhere beyond that neon, she knew Valerie was on her way.

Judy was halfway through smoothing another shard when her comm pinged. Not management this time a direct line. Evelyn.

Judy sighed smoke through her nose but answered, her face lighting in the corner display. Evelyn lounged somewhere upscale, glass of something bright in her hand, her smile lazy but sharp.

“Well, well,” Judy said, leaning back in her chair. “Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. That last virtue keeping you fed?”

Evelyn’s smile widened. “More than fed. It sold. And not just sold, Judy, it opened a door I’ve been knocking on for years.”

Judy arched a brow, pulling the cigarette from her lips. “Yeah? And whose door’s that?”

Evelyn let the pause hang, enjoying it. “Yorinobu Arasaka.”

Judy sat up straight, disbelief cracking across her face. “You’re out of your fucking mind. Evelyn, that’s not a door that’s a fucking meat grinder. You go in, you don’t come out.”

Evelyn’s laugh was soft, confident. “Relax. I know how to walk the line. Yorinobu isn’t his father, and he appreciates vision. I gave him something no one else could, and he knows it.”

Judy shook her head, running a hand through her hair. “Evey, corpos don’t appreciate shit.
They use, they chew, they spit. I should know I’m sleeping with a woman who almost lost herself in that world.”

Evelyn’s smile dimmed just slightly, eyes sharpening. “And yet you still help me cut the perfect scrolls, don’t you? You still know I’m good at this.”

Judy’s jaw tightened, smoke curling from her cigarette. “Being good doesn’t keep you alive in their world.”

Evelyn leaned closer to her feed, voice dropping to a velvet edge. “Then maybe it’s time I stop just surviving and start winning.”

Judy dragged long on her cigarette, exhaling slowly. “Winning with Arasaka, Evey? That’s a short game. You know how it ends.”

Evelyn swirled the glass in her hand, her smile sharper now, though not cruel. “Maybe.

Or maybe I’m better at this than you give me credit for. Someone’s got to play the table, Judy. Might as well be me.”

Judy’s lips pressed into a thin line, but her eyes softened a little. “Just don’t forget what side of the table you’re sitting on.”

For a moment, the silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken things. Then Evelyn chuckled, brushing it away like smoke.

“You worry too much. That’s why I keep you around. Someone’s got to keep me tethered.”

Judy smirked despite herself, shaking her head. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep your ass from flying off into a corpo meat grinder.”

“See?” Evelyn leaned back, her grin returning. “That’s why we’re good together.”

Judy huffed, but there was warmth under it. “Good, sure. Just don’t make me dig your remains out of a dump, yeah?”

Evelyn raised her glass in a mock toast. “Promise.”

The call clicked off, her face vanishing from the display. Judy leaned back in her chair, staring at the smoke curling toward the ceiling. Her smirk lingered, but so did the weight in her chest.

The basement door creaked open, bass from upstairs bleeding through. Judy didn’t glance back, irritation sharp in her voice. “This isn’t a good time, Suze. I’m working.”

Valerie froze in the doorway, a paper sack of street tacos in one hand, two cans of cola hooked in the other. Her brows lifted, uncertain. “Uh… is this a bad time?”

Judy spun around, the sharpness on her face dropping away in an instant. “…Val.” She killed the rig’s feed and leaned back in her chair, sighing out the last of her edge. “Shit. I thought you were Suze.”

Valerie stepped in, smirk tugging faintly at her lips as she set the bag on the bench. “Street tacos. I wanted to surprise you with lunch after my gig.”

Some of the tension left Judy’s shoulders, her mouth tugging into the beginnings of a smile.
Valerie pulled the spare chair closer, dropping into it with the easy weight of someone who’d been running since morning. She popped the lid on a cola and slid it across the desk to
Judy. “Sounds like we both had an eventful morning.”

Judy let out a breath that was half laugh, half sigh, taking the can from her hand. “Yeah. You could say that.”

Valerie nudged the bag open between them, the warm smell of tortillas and spiced meat spilling into the dim basement. For the first time since the call ended, the air felt lighter.

Judy cracked the tab on the cola, the hiss filling the quiet under the bass from upstairs.

She took a sip, then set it down by the ashtray, her fingers lingering against the can.
Her brown eyes flicked to Valerie jacket half slipped from her shoulder, lotus tattoo catching the desk light, freckles visible even under the harsh glow of the rig. Judy felt some of that lingering edge creep back in, the debate gnawing at her. Evelyn’s name hovered on her tongue.

But she let it hang there, unspoken, and instead reached for one of the tacos, unwrapping it slowly. “You’re spoiling me, you know that?”

Valerie smirked faintly, leaning back in her chair, emerald eyes warm but tired from the morning’s work. “Good. You deserve it.”

Judy’s lips curved, though the smile didn’t
chase all the weight from her face. She took a bite, chewing in thoughtful silence before setting it down. “Guess I’ll let you keep getting away with it.”

Valerie chuckled under her breath, reaching for her own. “Guess you will.”

They ate in silence for a while, the hum of Judy’s rig filling the gaps alongside the bass thumping faint from upstairs. Judy worked through half her taco, then leaned back in her chair, cigarette balanced between her fingers again. Her brown eyes lingered on Valerie the new jacket, the relaxed way she sat, the scar catching in the glow of the monitors.

Something twisted in Judy’s chest. The words about Evelyn pressed hard at the back of her throat, but she swallowed them, letting the silence stretch. Valerie didn’t need more weight on her shoulders, not after the morning she’d had.

Valerie finished her bite, wiped her hand on a napkin, and looked over at her with a faint grin. “Not bad, huh? I think I nailed lunch.”

Judy smirked, shaking her head. “Guapa, you definitely nailed it.”

For the first time since the call, the edge in Judy’s face softened completely. She reached out, brushed her black-polished thumb over the back of Valerie’s freckled hand, and let herself breathe easier.

Judy licked a bit of salsa from her thumb, leaning back in her chair with a grin. “Gotta admit, Val this is not what I pictured when I thought about lunch dates.”

Valerie smirked around her taco, chewing before she answered. “Could’ve been worse. At least this one didn’t involve Tyger Claws.”
Judy’s brow arched. “Oh? That bad already?”

Valerie leaned back, her jacket slipping just enough to show the lotus inked into her neck. “Funny enough, your gift actually helped. The jacket had me looking sharp enough that the muscle at the door bought that I was still an Arasaka agent.” She chuckled, taking another sip of cola. “Problem was, Jackie doesn’t exactly scream corporate.”

Judy laughed, shaking her head. “No shit. What gave him away, the smile or the bike?”

“Both,” Valerie said dryly, though the smirk in her emerald eyes betrayed her amusement.

“It didn't matter. Things got loud quickly. Jackie’s screaming in Spanish, tearing the place apart looking for a credchip, and I’m in the hall keeping their friends from redecorating me with bullets.”

She lifted her free hand, flexing her fingers like she could still feel the thrum of recoil.
“Jacket even cut the kick on Requiem’s Lament. Could feel the difference. Tygers kept pouring in, but they weren’t ready for me.”

Judy’s smirk dimmed into something proud, her eyes scanning the rose-stamped collar she’d chosen. “Told you it was more than just style.”

“Yeah.” Valerie’s voice softened, her gaze flicking back to Judy. “Eventually we made it out a window. Not my smoothest exit, but… got the job done.”

Judy chuckled, shaking her head again. “You really know how to sell a romantic morning, mi amor.”

Valerie grinned, leaning in slightly. “What can I say? You’re dating a merc now.”

Judy set her taco down, wiping her hands on a napkin before leaning back in her chair. Her eyes lingered on Valerie’s jacket, then lifted to meet emerald green. “Just… be careful playing the corpo card, Val. Don’t want you slipping back into that life.”

The words came out softer than she meant, but the edge was there something caught under her skin that the food hadn’t shaken loose.

Valerie caught it instantly. She leaned forward, forearms resting on the desk beside the taco bag, her gaze steady and warm. “Hey,” she said gently, reading the flicker in Judy’s eyes. “Something’s bothering you. You don’t have to hold it in for my sake.”

Judy exhaled slowly, cigarette smoldering between her black-polished fingers. Her gaze slid to the side, down to the ashtray, then back again. The frustration from earlier hadn’t vanished; it was just sitting there, tucked behind her ribs.

Valerie reached across, brushing her thumb lightly against Judy’s hand, grounding her. “It’s okay, Jude. Whatever it is… I can take it.”

Judy stubbed out her cigarette, lips pressing thin before she finally spoke. “It’s Evelyn,” she admitted, voice quieter now. “She keeps chasing higher-profile clients, pulling me in to tune her scrolls. And lately…” She hesitated, shaking her head. “The stuff she’s been asking me to polish? It’s different. Forceful. All lust and control, no breathing room. Like the people she’s working with don’t even see her just what they can take.”

Valerie’s brows drew together, her hand still resting lightly over Judy’s. “Sounds like she’s walking on a razor's edge.”

Judy huffed, the sound sharp with frustration. “That’s just it. She won’t listen. I’ve tried to warn her, to get her to slow down, but Evelyn…” Judy trailed off, staring at the blank monitors like she could see her friend there.

“She’s always been like this. Once she sets her sights on something, nothing pulls her back. I’m scared she’s heading somewhere she won’t be able to walk away from.”

Valerie’s thumb brushed gently along Judy’s knuckles, her emerald eyes steady. “Then she’s lucky to have you watching her back, even if she doesn’t know it. And if things ever do go south…” Her voice hardened, sharp under the warmth. “She won’t face it alone.”

Judy’s gaze softened at that, the weight in her chest easing just a little. “You really mean that?”

Valerie smirked faintly, scar catching in the desk light. “You know I do. Anyone who matters to you, matters to me.”

Judy looked at her for a long moment, cigarette forgotten in the ashtray, cola can beading with condensation by her hand. Valerie’s words settled between them like a weight lifted off, steady and unshakable.

“Yeah,” Judy said finally, her voice softer, almost to herself. “Guess I do know.”
She reached for her taco again, unwrapping the foil with deliberate care, giving herself something to focus on while the heaviness in her chest shifted.

Valerie leaned back in her chair, letting the quiet stretch. She took another bite of her own lunch, emerald eyes drifting over the clutter of Judy’s desk, the tangle of wires, the faint glow of the rig, all the pieces of Judy’s world she was grateful to be part of now.

No more words were needed. The sound of them eating side by side, the faint hum of the rig, and the muffled bass from upstairs filled the basement, grounding them both.

For the first time since Judy’s comm had rung earlier, the air felt calm again.

When lunch was done and the last of the tacos were gone, Valerie rose from the spare chair, Last Rites holstered at her hip, and brushed her fingers once across Judy’s shoulder in passing.

“Got a few things I should run down in Watson,” she said, smirk faint but sure.
“NCPD’s always begging for extra hands. Might as well see if I can make some noise.”
Judy swiveled in her chair to face her, brows lifting. “Noise? Or trouble?”

Valerie chuckled, tugging her jacket straight as the lotus tattoo on her neck caught the rig’s glow. “Same thing, babe. Trouble gets you noticed.”

“Just… keep it the right kind of notice, Guapa.” Judy’s tone was soft, but her eyes carried the weight behind it.

Valerie dipped her head, emerald eyes steady. “I’ll be fine. And if I’m lucky, Regina’ll hear about it. Fixers don’t hand out real gigs unless you show you can handle the small ones first.”

Judy gave a reluctant smile. “Go raise hell then. I’ll be here, cleaning up other people’s messes as usual.”

Valerie leaned in, brushing her cheek briefly against Judy’s temple before stepping back toward the door. “Guess we both got our roles to play.”

The basement door closed behind her, the thump of Lizzie’s bass swallowing her steps as she climbed back into the sprawl.

Watson’s air hung thick with rot and exhaust, sunlight fractured through the haze and spilling down Sutter Street in broken veins of color. Valerie leaned against the hood of the Shion, gullwing cracked just enough for the glow of the dash to bleed out. Her holophone pinged again, another NCPD dispatch alert scrolling across her optics.

Code 7-11. Armed assault in progress. Two blocks east. Suspects believed Tyger Claws affiliated. Civilians at risk.

Heat pressed tight in Valerie’s chest as she slid into the Shion, gullwing easing shut overhead. She keyed the ignition, the engine’s low growl drowning out the noise outside.

Two blocks out, she cut the headlights, the engine’s growl low as she nosed the car to the curb. A half-dead bar squatted ahead, its sign flickering, and the front door was kicked in. Screams and shouting bled into the afternoon.

Stepping out, she slid Requiem’s Lament from its rack, strapped it snug against her thigh, and tugged Last Rites at her hip. Emerald eyes narrowed, scar throbbing faint with the rush. She keyed her link. “Dispatch, this is V. On-site, moving in.”

The reply crackled flat and tired: “Copy, V. Civilians reported inside. Clear the scene.”

Valerie dropped into a crouch as she crossed the street, emerald eyes sharp, scar burning faint above her eye.

Inside, shadows moved two Tygers. One
pistol-whipped a man against the wall, the other tearing apart a cred machine.

Valerie’s voice cut through the chaos, calm and sharp as glass. “Drop it, asshole.”

The first Tyger spun, gun snapping up too slow. Requiem’s Lament thundered, the blast knocking him against the cred machine in a spray of red and neon. The second froze, hand still twisted in the civilian’s hair.

Valerie’s emerald eyes locked on him, finger steady on the trigger. “Last chance.”

The Tyger’s lip curled, eyes darting between Valerie’s shotgun and the terrified civilian squirming in his grip. For a moment, it looked like he might drop it.

Then he snarled, yanking the civilian tighter against him, pistol flashing out of his waistband.

Valerie didn’t hesitate. Requiem’s Lament roared again, the blast ripping him off his feet.

The civilian hit the floor hard, scrambling back as the Tyger slammed into the wall and slid down in a wet smear.

Smoke curled from the barrel as Valerie steadied her breathing, scar throbbing faint above her eye. She keyed her link. “Dispatch, this is V. Scene clear. Two hostiles down, one civilian alive.”

The reply crackled back, clipped and tired: “Copy, V. Trauma Team notified for civilian recovery. Payment will be processed to your account.”

Valerie exhaled slowly, lowering the shotgun. Her emerald eyes swept the bar one last time before she holstered her iron. Another job done. Another step toward making her name.

The smell of gunpowder still clung faint to her jacket as she stepped back into the afternoon glare. Dispatch barely had time to confirm payout before the next alert pinged her optics.
Code 9-14. Suspected cyberpsycho. Watson Industrial.

Valerie smirked, sliding into the Shion. “Guess I’m not done yet.”

Hours bled into each other one call after another. Assaults, robberies, low-level gang hits. By the time the sun dipped toward the skyline, she’d put down half a dozen scavs, dragged two civilians out of burning apartments, and left more Tyger Claws bleeding than she cared to count.

Watson wasn’t quiet, but it was listening. Word spread fast there was a new merc on the streets. One who showed up fast, did the work clean, and didn’t flinch at wet jobs.

When the Shion finally rolled back onto Charter Street, gullwing hissing open, Valerie felt the exhaustion in her bones but under it, a pulse steady and sure. Watson knew her name now. Knew “V” wasn’t afraid of the grind.

And upstairs, she knew Judy would be waiting.

The gullwing shut behind her with a low hiss, Shion’s engine ticking as it cooled. Valerie climbed the steps two at a time, the ache of hours of work pulling at her muscles. The apartment door slid open, and she caught sight of Judy right away.

She was curled on the couch, one leg tucked under her, scrolling absently through a shard. Neon from the street below washed her tattoos in shifting light. Judy looked up as soon as Valerie stepped in.

“Hey.” Her voice was soft, but her eyes flicked sharp, scanning the faint smear of blood across Valerie’s collar. “How’d it go?”

Valerie exhaled, leaning back against the door for a moment before pushing it shut. “Messy. But handled.” She brushed at her jacket, then shook her head. “Gonna grab a shower before I get this all over the place.”

Judy’s mouth curved, the concern in her eyes softened by warmth. “Give me a minute,” she said, standing and setting the shard aside. “I’ll join you.”

Valerie’s emerald eyes caught hers, tired but warmed by the offer. She nodded, pushing off the door and making her way across the hall. In the bathroom light, she slipped out of her jacket, boots, and holster belt, then the rest. Comfort now came easy, no hesitation, no need to cover herself in her own space.

Towels, bare skin, moving from bathroom to bedroom Judy had seen it all, and Valerie no longer felt the need to hide.

Steam curled up as she twisted the shower on, bracing her hands against the sink a moment longer before stepping in.

Water beat steady against Valerie’s skin, steam wrapping the small bathroom in haze. She braced a hand against the tile, letting the grime and blood of Watson wash away in red-tinged swirls at her feet.

The door creaked open behind her, then shut soft. A moment later, the curtain shifted, and Judy stepped in, the heat already clinging to her skin. She slid her arms around Valerie’s waist from behind, pressing herself against her back.

Valerie’s breath caught, shoulders easing as Judy’s hands traced slow across her stomach, fingers brushing damp freckles.

“You’re always so tense after a job,” Judy murmured, her lips brushing close to Valerie’s ear before trailing lower. She pressed a kiss to the lotus inked on her neck, water dripping down between them.

Valerie exhaled, the sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “Hard not to be. The city doesn’t exactly hand out clean work.”

Judy held her tighter, her cheek resting briefly against Valerie’s wet shoulder. “Then let me take some of the weight, mi amor. Even if it’s just here.”

Valerie reached back, fingers sliding along Judy’s hip, grounding herself in her warmth. For the first time since the morning’s grind began, she felt her pulse steady.

The water poured over them in steady streams, masking the city noise outside, softening everything to just the warmth of skin and steam. Judy’s arms stayed firm around Valerie’s stomach, her palms flat against damp freckled skin, rising and falling with every breath.

Valerie tilted her head slightly, letting Judy’s lips linger on the lotus tattoo, the warmth of the kiss sinking deeper than the heat of the water. Her hand rested over Judy’s at her stomach, holding her there.

Neither spoke for a while. The silence wasn’t empty, it was alive with the rhythm of the shower, the brush of fingers, the steady presence of a body pressed close.

Finally, Valerie’s voice broke the quiet, low and unguarded. “It feels like the first time I can actually breathe today.”

Judy’s reply was soft, almost swallowed by the water. “That’s why I’m here, Val. So you don’t have to carry it all alone.”

Valerie closed her eyes, leaning back into her touch, letting herself be held. “You’re the only place I’ve ever felt like that.”

Judy tightened her hold, pressing one more kiss against wet skin. “Good. Then we’ll keep it that way.”

The water poured steady, steam rising around them like a veil. Judy held Valerie close, lips brushing her neck, arms wrapped firm around her waist. Valerie’s hand covered hers, anchoring the moment.

No words left, no need for them. Just the sound of water, the warmth of skin, the quiet knowing that they had each other.

The world outside could wait.