Cyberpunk: The Relentless

V.

Hearing that name—one he was more familiar with than any other—Karl had to admit, a lot went through his mind in that instant.

He remembered the time before he arrived in this world. It was 2018. He had been sitting in front of his computer, watching the gameplay demo for the fourth time. The headphones buzzed with game commentary, introducing him to this cybernetic, futuristic world. And the character in that demo—the one he had controlled—was named V.

A single, simple letter. Yet it was the last thing Karl remembered from his past life.

He opened his eyes.

V stood in a megabuilding, staring at the neon-lit ads.

He opened his eyes.

Karl stood in a megabuilding, staring at the neon-lit ads.

Both of them, looking down at Night City.

"That's a good name."

The emotions running through Karl's mind were too complex to put into words. But he knew one thing—the young man standing before him, in a future that should have been, was him.

"Yours too, KK."

V gave a small smile. He didn't know why, but there was something about this guy that just felt… right. Even though they had only just met, even though they had only exchanged fake names, V felt an unexpected sense of ease.

It was as if something deep inside him whispered—this guy can be trusted.

It was a rare feeling. Something he hadn't felt in a long time, not since his family shattered.

After the brief name exchange, Karl got straight to business.

"I'm tracking a group of Wraiths. Dakota should've already given you the details."

"The ones who hit a Militech convoy recently, right? Yeah, we've already tracked them down. You just need to follow us."

V gestured toward the house behind him. "Our ride's parked out back."

"Efficient."

Beep.

A faint light flickered across V's cyber-eye as he noticed a transaction notification—15,000 eddies, sent by Karl.

"Half up front, the rest on delivery. That work for you?"

"You guys actually pay deposits for jobs?"

V sounded genuinely surprised. Karl had underestimated just how much of a rookie this guy still was.

Taking jobs without an upfront payment? Was he not worried about getting stiffed afterward?

"It's standard. Is this your first gig or something?"

Karl studied V for a moment. His words made V's expression stiffen slightly, but he didn't bother hiding the truth.

"Yeah. First time."

And this guy had the nerve to ask them if they were reliable.

At least he was honest.

"You'll get used to it after a few more runs. Anyway, the deposit's paid. Lead the way."

"Won't take long. It's close. Just stay tight."

V nodded at Karl, then turned back to his two companions and waved them over. Seeing that, Oliver and Jack finally dropped their guarded stances.

Karl walked back to his crew.

"So? The nomads good to work with?"

T-Bug's voice came through the comms.

"They're solid. More than that, they're efficient. I thought we'd be spending days tracking the Wraiths, but they've already found them. Now it's just a matter of getting there."

"Sounds like an easy job. Your signal's crap right now—I'll check in when you're somewhere with better reception."

"I'll check in later, T-Bug."

After wrapping up the team comms, Karl looked at Jack and Oliver. "They've already found the target. We just need to follow them."

"That's some damn efficiency."

Oliver muttered, glancing at V's back before shifting his gaze to Karl. He frowned.

"Now that I think about it… maybe it's just me, but don't you and that guy look kinda similar?"

"Similar?"

Karl thought about V's appearance for a second before shaking his head. "Other than our hair color, we don't look alike at all. His hair's shorter than mine, his skin's darker, and he's got a Western face while mine's more Eastern. How the hell do we look similar?"

"Yeah… maybe you're right."

Oliver scratched his head, feeling a little weird about his own impression. "It's strange, though. It's not about your looks, but when I saw you two standing there, for some reason, it felt like… I don't know, like you were brothers. Or like the same person standing in one place. Maybe it's the way you both carry yourselves?"

"I got the same weird feeling, man."

Jack chimed in while watching V's back. "He gives me the same vibe I got when I first met you, Karl. Like, I just knew we'd get along. And that sense of security—like he's someone you can count on. You don't usually get that in Night City."

"The Badlands aren't technically part of Night City. So yeah, guess you wouldn't see that in Night City."

Karl said that, but he still turned to look at V again.

"This job… really turned out to be worth it."

A few minutes later.

"I hate every two-seater car in existence."

Squeezed between Oliver and Jack, Karl swore to himself that after this job, he'd never cram three people into a two-seater again.

"Just hang in there, Karl. Didn't they say the place was close?"

Jack tried to reassure him, then noticed the car in front slowing down. "See? Looks like we're here."

V wasn't lying. The ride really was short—barely five minutes had passed before they arrived at a high point on a hillside. From here, they had a clear view of the camp below, where a large group of people had set up. The Wraith insignia was visible on every single one of them.

"They don't have lookouts? If I were a Wraith, I'd post a sentry up here in a heartbeat."

After stepping out of the car, Oliver surveyed the camp below in disbelief. They had gotten this close—able to see everything from above—and the Wraiths hadn't noticed a thing.

V, who had walked over after parking, gave Oliver an explanation.

"Wraiths are mostly outcasts from nomad families. They either got kicked out for something unforgivable or left on their own. These guys don't give a shit about anyone but themselves. They only join the Wraiths for protection. Doing something for others? Forget about it. A job like standing guard? No way in hell."

V gestured toward the camp. "Besides, this is a temporary base. They're about to move out. Look at them—they're already packing up. In a situation like this, even the ones forced to stand watch won't stick around. From their perspective, who the hell knows if some other bastard will try to swipe their stuff while they're not looking? They don't even trust each other."

"That makes sense."

Gotta hand it to the real nomads of the Badlands—they get how this works.

Now that they understood the situation, it was time to start the job.

"Alright, where's our target?"

Oliver activated his Kiroshi optics and started scanning the camp.

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