On the wide avenue beneath the shadow of an overpass, a sleek black luxury sedan slowly rolled up and parked with surgical precision at the curb.
Delamain's ever-pleasant voice chimed in, crisp and consistent as always.
"Welcome to Delamain Cab Service. The 'Strive for Perfection' package is now active. Choose Delamain, and leave your worries behind."
Normally, Roqi would have felt a wave of relief—finally, the ride had arrived to take the rampaging Moer off his hands.
But instead, he stood silently by the roadside, lips drawn in a tight line, his face carrying a subtle trace of melancholy.
Moer, surprisingly subdued, stood beside him. A few strands of her hair stuck up from all the chaos earlier, now gently swaying in the breeze. Head bowed, she looked like a student standing in silent penitence.
"Get in," Roqi gestured.
Like a docile, tamed cat, Moer slid into the back seat without a word and curled up quietly, her posture one of guilt and introspection.
"Drive," Roqi instructed as he followed her in.
"Before beginning your journey, please select a destination."
"Just... take us for a drive. Anywhere."
The car pulled away, gliding smoothly down the road. Compared to the chaos of Konpeki Plaza, this ride was pure tranquility.
And yet, the two passengers sat in silence, burdened by thoughts too heavy for words.
Roqi sat with his hands resting on his thighs, eyes unfocused, drifting across the ever-changing cityscape.
Moer, who had clearly gone to great lengths to dress herself with care, now radiated an unfamiliar softness—an almost girlish aura foreign to the hardened, emotionless warrior she once was.
Outside, the city flew past in streaks of neon and chrome.
The sleek industrial and techno-urban designs passed by in a blur, but Roqi felt detached from it all—like the wind slicing through a crowd, brushing against bodies with no real connection. It all felt distant. Hollow.
And the memory of her lips still lingered.
His heart wavered.
Why was he so unsettled?
He didn't know.
He reviewed everything, searched for a mistake, a missed step—but nothing explained the weight in his chest. The grounded feeling he usually relied on… it was slipping.
It was unfamiliar. Disorienting.
His gaze wandered and finally landed back on Moer.
Could there really be such a thing as a happy ending in Night City?
Like those fairytale endings people always chase after. Could they exist here?
He didn't know.
He didn't even know what fate awaited V.
Would he become the ruler of Night City's underworld? Die alone in some alley, forever chasing Jack's ghost? Or maybe… walk away from it all, let go of the sacrifice, and vanish from this city of broken dreams?
Roqi had changed the gears of fate at Konpeki Plaza, but those gears hadn't stopped turning. They never did.
Live for today, drink if there's wine. No one could promise eternity in Night City.
"Moer, I…"
The words choked him. Dozens of tangled thoughts collided in his throat, but none would come out.
Eventually, he swallowed it all and asked instead, "Where are you planning to go next?"
Moer finally lifted her head. Her deep, dark eyes locked onto his.
"Nowhere."
"Nowhere? Why?" Roqi met her gaze—but within seconds, the weight of her calm, unwavering stare became too much. He looked away.
Her voice held no hysteria. No sorrow. Just quiet certainty.
"Because without you, I have no home."
She slowly hugged herself, as if to protect something fragile inside, and then—bit by bit—she let her past surface.
She was born in Nevada.
Her childhood wasn't tragic. No alcoholic father. No sickly, overworked mother. Her family had enough to get by. It wasn't a fairy tale, but it was a decent life—stable, unremarkable, human.
In the summers, their land would bloom with dandelions and daisies, swaying gently in the warm breeze.
But in 2069, everything changed.
President Rosalind Myers announced the Unification Plan—under the banner of national unity, but in truth, a veiled power grab to bring the Free States under federal control.
For the past thirty years—since the 2030s—corporations and nations had been slowly recovering from global collapse. It was called the Great Rebuild.
But the fractured "Fifty States" had grown used to independence. Most of the Free States resisted Myers' plan. Armed conflict was inevitable.
Backed by the nationalized Militech, the NUSA declared war on the separatist Free States.
Though Arasaka covertly supported the Free States with weapons and "security consultants," they still fell behind. The NUSA had deep-pocketed allies, and both sides deployed their most advanced weapons.
The media called it the Metal Wars.
The NUSA called it the Unification War—spanning 2069 to 2070.
Moer lost everything.
Her family was killed in an airstrike while fleeing. Driven by vengeance, she joined the Militech conscription program.
From a teenage girl, she was reshaped into an unfeeling war machine.
And just after she passed the elite soldier augmentation program—after her first confirmed kill—Militech and the NUSA suddenly signed a treaty.
Just like that, it was over.
No explanations. No closure. Just headlines and handshakes.
The Free States would retain autonomy… but now they were part of the federal system. Hostilities would cease. Peace was declared.
President Myers accepted it. She feared escalation—especially with Arasaka's supercarrier Kujira still parked off the coast.
A bitter peace was still better than a full-scale war.
North and South remained divided. The land lay in ruins.
The only winners? The megacorps, who now planted their roots deeper than ever in Night City.
Not the girl with a sword and nowhere left to point it.
She drifted. She obeyed orders. Eliminated "threats" for the benefit of the NUSA and the corps that paid her.
She lay on the operating table again and again, each procedure carving out more of her identity.
She became a flower entombed in a polar abyss of ice—frozen, hardened, stripped of warmth.
Until one day, her cyberware malfunctioned.
And the company sent assassins to silence her.
The dandelions and daisies had lost their wind.
And she… had lost her home, and forgotten the way back.
She had nothing left.
.
.
.
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