Cyberpunk: The Magnet fruit

The silence of the night was broken only by the soft buzz of neon lights and the occasional hum of a flying car gliding between the steel canyons of Night City.

V had just finished her latest contract when her holo-device buzzed. It was a direct call from her superior—Jenkins.

She blinked at the screen, confused for a moment. Jenkins wasn't the type to contact subordinates at such odd hours without a reason.

"What the hell does Boss Jenkins want with me in the back alley behind Arasaka Tower... at this time of night?" V muttered to herself.

The alley behind Arasaka Tower wasn't just any dark nook of the megacorp's sprawling complex. It had a reputation—an unspoken one. Whispers circulated among operatives like smoke drifting through a bar. This place was where black deals were struck, bodies disappeared, and inconvenient truths were buried beneath steel and silence. The so-called aftercare zone of Arasaka's grimiest operations.

Without giving it too much thought, V slipped into her jacket, checked the concealed blade at her side, and made her way toward the tower.

If Jenkins was calling, there was no saying no.

The alley was quiet—eerily so. V's footsteps echoed softly against the concrete as she moved toward the designated meeting spot. Towering above her, Arasaka loomed like a sleeping giant, its windows glowing faintly in rows that seemed to go on forever.

No sign of Jenkins yet.

She leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette, the glow from the tip briefly illuminating her face. The smoke curled lazily in the cold night air, and she exhaled with a sigh.

Tap, tap, tap.

The rhythmic sound of footsteps finally reached her ears. V flicked her cigarette to the ground and crushed it under her boot, straightening up.

From the dim shadows at the alley's far end, a figure emerged.

"710," V muttered under her breath. That was Jenkins' codename in internal systems. She stepped forward and called out, "Boss? What's the gig? You usually don't pull stunts like this unless there's another shitstorm incoming."

The figure paused briefly beneath a flickering alley light. The glow behind him cast his face in partial shadow, making it difficult to read his expression. Still, she could recognize that confident posture anywhere.

Jenkins walked closer, his hands in his coat pockets. "V," he said quietly. "How many years have you been under me now?"

V cocked an eyebrow at the unexpected question. "Been a while, I guess," she said, trying to keep her tone light. "Long enough to know your taste in cigars is trash and your sense of humor nonexistent. Why?"

Jenkins didn't laugh. He simply stared at her for a beat too long, then sighed.

"Just feeling a little... nostalgic," he said in a low voice.

V felt a twinge of unease. Jenkins wasn't one for sentimentality. In fact, she'd never heard him speak like this in all the years they'd worked together.

"Boss, you good?" she asked, only half-joking. "You sound like you're about to write your will or something."

A small, tired smile crept across Jenkins' face. "Maybe I am. Time flies, doesn't it? You've put up with a lot under me, haven't you?"

V laughed nervously, scratching the back of her head. "Sure, I guess. Not like I had a choice. Someone had to handle the garbage jobs."

He nodded slowly. "You were my go-to for all the dirt. You handled things no one else had the guts or grit for. I gave you the bloodiest tasks, and you pulled through every damn time."

V tried to wave it off with her usual sarcasm. "Well, thanks for the walk down memory lane, Boss. Feels like graduation night. You got a medal for me or just some more overtime?"

Jenkins' expression darkened slightly. "No... no medals. Just one last assignment."

Something in the way he said it made V's stomach twist.

"One last job, huh?" she asked cautiously. "That sounds way too good to be true. What is it this time? Another cleanup? Extraction? Whack job?"

Jenkins didn't reply. Instead, he raised one hand slowly.

Clack-click.

Four shadows stepped out from behind the nearby dumpster and walls. In near-unison, they raised their rifles. Red laser dots locked onto V's chest and head.

Her eyes widened. Her body tensed instinctively, hand brushing the inside of her coat where her weapon was holstered.

"Boss... what the hell is this?"

Jenkins looked her in the eyes. "You know exactly what this is, V."

"I don't," she replied, her voice cold, controlled. "But you'd better start explaining fast, before someone gets trigger-happy."

He took a slow breath and shook his head. "V... did you think we wouldn't find out?"

"Find out what?"

"The intel," Jenkins growled. "The stolen weapons data. The missing blueprints from Arasaka's experimental division. Someone leaked them to the merc factions in Night City. All signs point to you."

V's heart skipped a beat. She kept her voice calm. "Boss... what mercs are you talking about?"

"Don't play stupid!" he snapped. "The Black Fang Collective, the Deadsons, and God knows who else. They've been using gear only Arasaka could build. We traced the leak. You were the last one with access to the file drop."

V clenched her jaw. "You know how many people have access to that terminal? Could've been anyone."

"But it wasn't anyone," Jenkins said bitterly. "It was you. Or at least, someone using your ID. And since no one else has your clearance…"

"I was set up."

Jenkins nodded slowly. "I thought of that. But then I checked the logs. All activity came from your bio-signature. Not just access—manual file transfers, hidden under local encrypted protocols. If you didn't do it yourself... you damn well let someone do it."

V stared at him for a long moment. "You're going to execute me based on that?"

"I have orders," he replied flatly. "And you know how Arasaka handles betrayal. They don't care about truth. They care about control."

"You're not even gonna let me fight back?"

"You think I want to do this?" Jenkins stepped closer. "V, you were the best operative I ever had. But now you're a liability. And liabilities... get erased."

The silence between them stretched like a drawn wire.

Then V's eyes narrowed. "I always figured you'd be the one to pull the trigger on me, Jenkins. Guess I just didn't think it'd be so damn literal."

Jenkins gave a faint nod. "I'll make it quick."

But V was already moving.

In one fluid motion, she ducked, rolled behind a rusted-out metal crate, and drew her pistol. The handlers opened fire, red lights flashing like a deadly disco. Bullets peppered the crate as V cursed under her breath.

Bang!

She popped up for half a second, squeezing off two precise shots—one hit a handler in the leg, the other knocked a weapon from another's hand.

"Damn it, V!" Jenkins roared, ducking behind cover himself. "Don't make this harder than it has to be!"

"Too late for that!" she shouted, adrenaline surging.

She tossed a flashbang from her belt.

Pop—CRACK!

The alley lit up like a firework show. Disoriented screams followed as V launched herself into action, moving like a shadow with purpose.

In less than fifteen seconds, she had disarmed two of the four attackers and taken cover behind a stack of crates near the alley exit.

Jenkins, still clutching his sidearm, looked out from behind the alley corner. Blood stained his coat. One of her bullets had grazed him.

V aimed at him but hesitated.

"Boss... I don't want to kill you," she growled.

Jenkins didn't answer immediately. Then: "I wish I could say the same."

He raised his weapon.

Bang!

V fired first.

Jenkins dropped to one knee, clutching his shoulder.

"Run," he gasped, eyes flashing with pain.

V didn't wait.

She turned and bolted out of the alley, the sounds of alarms beginning to stir from the tower behind her.

Her world had changed in a heartbeat. Arasaka had marked her a traitor. Her life in the corp was over.

But V wasn't the kind to die in an alley.

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