Over the next six months, under Jackie's lead, V and Roqi experienced the full spectrum of Night City life.
Gunfights in the streets, bullets raining down.
Neon lights, wild nights, and the intoxicating pull of excess.
Jackie introduced them to his hot-tempered mom—
Every time she found out he'd been risking his life again, she'd smack the hell out of him,
then turn to V and Roqi with a big smile and ask if they wanted something to drink.
They bought intel from seasoned dancers in braindance bars,
and swiped data-packed briefcases from blackout drunks and braindance-fried suits.
One of the fixers they worked with was an old-timer everyone called Padre.
Anything valuable they picked up? He'd buy it, no questions asked.
They went car shopping together.
They also met Jackie's girlfriend—Misty, a goth chick with a rebellious vibe.
But aside from Jackie's mom, the three of them knew: she was one of the rare good ones.
Then there was Viktor, the underground ripperdoc with a magnetic voice and a past full of legends.
He treated V like his own kid and even remembered Roqi.
As for Jackie—their hellos involved trading punches as a sign of respect.
The trio chased bounty targets all over the city,
collected their pay, hit the clubs to celebrate,
only to get their asses handed to them by pissed-off gangers.
But the next day?
No one left a score unsettled.
They kicked the door in, guns blazing, shoving barrels in the gang leader's face.
They rocked Militech's Ajax, Nokota's Copperhead,
Constitutional Arms' Unity, Tsunami Defense Systems' Nekomata—
Whatever worked, they bought it.
And they used it to tear gangs apart.
They'd end the day crashing at Jackie's place,
laughing about how terrifying his mom was when she went off.
Roqi slowly got used to the rhythm of Night City.
With V and Jackie, he'd become the kind of partner you'd trust with your life.
At first, he used to wonder—
How do you describe Night City?
What kind of place is it, really?
Now, he felt like he had the answer.
Just like that one excitable radio host always said:
"Good morning, Night City!"
"Stanley here with your daily dose of dreams and danger. Our city's a place of legends, chooms—where your momma ditched ya and now begs for smokes when you pass by."
"Every day, a hundred new faces hit the streets, but only half'll survive the year—on a good year."
"Why? 'Cause everyone wants to be Morgan Blackhand or Old NetWatch himself. Got a saying for ya: fortune favors the bold, choomba."
"But remember—glory burns bright and fast. The more fun you're having, the faster you'll flatline."
"So where do legends go to rest?"
"That's right—boot Hill."
"In Night City, it ain't where you're from… it's what you can make of yourself."
"This... is the city of dreams."
Six months after landing in Night City.
A parking lot near an apartment in Japantown.
"The girl we're looking for is probably in this building," Jackie said from the passenger seat.
"Bastards who snatched her are likely holed up too. Eyes open, ears sharp."
"Did Wakako give you any details on the job?" V asked.
"I ain't your mom. You pay, I deliver. That's how it works."
Jackie mimicked the grumpy fixer's voice perfectly.
"Not bad," Roqi said, clearing his throat.
"But here, let me show you—ahem—'I ain't your mom… you pay, I deliver… that's how it works…'"
He squeezed his throat for effect—sounded half-dead.
"Yeah! That's the damn tone," Jackie grinned.
"Let's do this," V said, pushing open the door.
The three of them rode the elevator up and hit the button for the 15th floor.
Just then, a call came through.
It was T-Bug—an elite netrunner who'd once trained V.
Bald as a chrome dome, with traces of African blood in her features.
Always dressed in the same black operator getup—you never forgot her face.
"The target is Sandra Dorsett. A few hours ago, her biomonitor flatlined.
Most likely kidnapped—could already be dead," T-Bug said through the vidcall.
"Not sure if you're too late."
V switched to speaker. Jackie and Roqi were linked in.
Jackie and V had cyberware comms—Roqi was still using a Bluetooth headset.
Jackie piped up: "We ain't late, Bug. And yeah, it's us.
You may be remote, but you're in this with us."
"In it together? Cute." T-Bug replied coolly.
"Ease up, Bug. A little positivity wouldn't hurt," V offered.
"Need comfort and pep talks? Call a hotline," T-Bug shot back, zero patience in her tone.
"Come on, you know Bug," Roqi said with a smirk, tapping his weapon.
Jackie just shrugged.
The elevator dinged.
The doors opened to a grimy, broken-down hallway.
"Got a bad feeling about this," Roqi muttered.
"Creeps me the fuck out."
"Doesn't matter if you like it," T-Bug stayed on the line.
"Room 1237. That's your mark."
"Fifteenth floor, Room 1237… classic OCD nightmare," Roqi muttered.
"Less yapping, more moving. I can't see her biomonitor anymore.
Hope we're not too late. Ugh, I hate jobs like this—dead or alive shit. Get going."
Down the hall, a door was ajar.
An old lady peeked out, eyes wide in terror, then stared at the armed trio.
"Go back inside. It's dangerous."
Roqi pointed toward her apartment.
She got the message, slammed the door, and vanished inside.
No cams. No guards. Just a tightly shut door at 1237.
"Try hacking the lock," T-Bug said.
Jackie and Roqi looked to V.
Jackie wasn't a hacker, and Roqi—well, he still didn't have cyberware.
He was still stock. Original.
Roqi hadn't warmed up to implants just yet.
Even after six months in Night City, he was slow to adapt.
He figured until he lost an eye or a limb, he'd keep it that way.
V's eyes flashed blue—click. The door slid open.
Inside was a disaster. Looked like a squat, tech junk scattered everywhere.
"Keep it low," Jackie warned, easing toward the corner.
"Shit. We're late. Is that her? Is that the girl?"
Roqi was checking the nearby terminal when V's voice answered:
"Sandra Dorsett… she's part of the Corpo mid-tier protection plan.
She's a corpo princess. This ain't her."
"See that? Black market ZetaTech knockoff.
Straight-up bootleg," V added.
Roqi leaned in. The room was a horror show—implants, monitors, and gore.
The body on the table was mangled.
Eyes gouged out—chrome optics stolen.
Torso hollowed out—organs gone, implants yanked.
A total slaughterhouse.
Brutal.
Silently, they opened the door to the next room.
Jackie reached out to stop V, motioning that someone was up ahead.
Let me handle it.
Roqi crept up, patted both of them on the shoulder, and pointed at himself.
V gave him an OK gesture.
So Roqi crouched and started sneaking forward—super stealthy.
By the time the guy noticed something behind him, it was too late—his neck had already been snapped.
Roqi dragged the corpse over to a freezer, shoved it in, and shut the lid.
Now no one would even know someone was missing.
"Nice work. Almost as slick as me," Jackie joked to ease the tension.
"Take this." V handed Roqi a pneumatic stim he'd just picked up.
"Stay sharp. Someone else is headed your way—they're close."
T-Bug's voice cut in suddenly, urgent.
Inside the main room, two gangsters were chatting, walking straight toward Roqi's position.
V flinched and pulled Jackie to the far side of the doorway.
But it was risky—no cover at all. If they turned around, they were fucked.
Roqi didn't have time to move. He bolted back and slipped behind the freezer.
"Shit, there's a bunch of 'em," Jackie whispered over the comms.
"Let's take one out first. Closest one's yours… Good luck."
Roqi couldn't see V or Jackie—just heard their whispers.
But something felt off.
"Careful! They're turning around!"
The enemies were less than two meters away.
Only a thin wall separated them from Roqi.
His voice was tense.
If they were spotted, if one gunshot fired—it was over.
CLANG!
In desperation, Roqi smacked the metal locker next to him. Loud and weird.
"Huh? What was that?"
Hooked. Just like he wanted.
They peeled back the curtain, peering into the room where Roqi was crouched.
One more step, and they'd see him.
"Ugh…?! Ga—!"
But before they could react, two hands reached out from the dark and snapped their necks clean.
"All clear. Watch yourself."
It was V.
Roqi let out a breath, gave him a thumbs-up.
Fucking hell, that was close.