It was Monday, and Nova didn’t have a single client lined up—aside from Viktor and a random guy in corpo plaza.
Not great. Especially after blowing all his eddies like an idiot building a single-use glove.
Useless junk, really.
“I've got eight hours before my meeting with Viktor. Better make the most of it.”
He skimmed through his notes, flipping the pages of his battered notebook.
Among his inventory, a few pieces of cyberware stood out—nothing flashy, but decent stuff without an owner.
He packed the smaller items into his backpack:
– Kiroshi Optics,
– Whisperlink Communication Module,
– Basic Neural Firewall.
It wasn’t much, but it might catch someone’s interest.
And Nova had someone in mind.
Regina Jones.
“She’s usually at the Yaiba Tower... alright. But first, a quick drop in Corpo Plaza."
The NCART was packed as usual. Nova leaned against the wall, half-asleep, until the train pulled into Memorial Park.
As he stepped off, something caught his eye—
A girl with white hair, pulling some guy who looked like he’d just flatlined. Bleeding, twitchy, completely fried.
David and Lucy. Nova knew them.
He knew how this story would end.
But he didn’t have the skills to step in. Not this time.
Hey kid, easy with the cyberwares, or you'll end up psyco.
"I really want to help you more, but I don't want to get involved."—Nova thought as he walked away
His train to Watson was already pulling in. Time to cash out. Quickly enough he ended that gig and headed to Regina.
He reached the tower, and the guards at the entrance gave his bag a quick once-over before waving him through.
No red flags. No heat. All clear.
Nova stepped up to the reception desk, slinging his bag over one shoulder.
“I’m here to see Miss Jones. I’ve got some gear she might be interested in.”
“Name’s Nova Stray.”
"Understood. Please wait here while I contact her."
Nova gave a small nod and took a seat in the reception lounge, arms resting loosely over his knees. The place was surprisingly quiet—at least until the commotion started.
Suddenly, a man was being dragged in by two security guards, thrashing wildly. Behind him walked a sharply dressed suit—clearly someone in charge of a department or unit.
The man jerked himself free from the guards’ grip and threw up a hand, trying to stop them.
“Wait! Stop—just stop, alright?” he shouted, turning to face the man in charge with a crooked, fake smile.
“You can’t do this to me!” he hissed.
“You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed!”
The suit stood firm, eyes cold and unmoved.
“I’m sorry. But you’re out of ideas. You’ve done a lot for us, yeah—but keeping you here might sink the entire division. You’ve got to go.”
That was the last straw. The man snapped. In one motion, he pulled a knife from inside his coat and lunged toward the suit.
But he didn’t make it far.
A blur of motion swept in—dark blue and violet. A woman stepped in from the side, her bodysuit sleek and angular, textured with hex-fiber plating, deep violet stripes glowing along the arms and thighs. Slits ran down the sides of her legs for mobility, while a high collar and armored gauntlets gave her the look of someone who didn’t just wear the suit—she lived in it.
From her wrists, two threads of flexible titanium shot out—wrapping around the man’s wrist and throat in a second, halting him mid-strike.
“Thanks, Rina. But don’t finish him,” said the suit calmly.
As the guards regained control and began escorting the would-be attacker out, the man spat back through clenched teeth.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Ivan! This won’t end here—you’ll regret this!”
All eyes returned to their business, but as the woman—Rina—turned to leave, she cast a glance toward Nova.
No words. Just a cold, calculating look, as if measuring him. Weighing him.
Then she walked off without a sound.
The suit approached Nova with a light smile and extended his hand.
“Regina’s told me a lot about you, Nova. A pleasure.”
“Likewise. Always looking for new clients. And... the girl—she caught my attention. Who is she?”
“Ah, Rina Locke. My personal bodyguard. Been with me a long time. She's basically my right hand.”
“She seems... intense.”
Ivan chuckled lightly.
“She is. Word is, her father was a corpo who stuck his nose where he shouldn’t have. Got silenced. She barely made it out alive. I found her in Little China—trained her for the job.
"Mr. Nova, Ms. Jones is ready for you now."
Nova stood up, gave Ivan a parting nod, and made his way down the corridor. The soft hum of overhead lights mixed with the distant buzz of tech-augmented conversations behind closed doors. Regina’s office door slid open with a hydraulic hiss.
She didn’t even look up.
“Nova. I need a medical nanodevice extracted from a gang unit. You up for it?”
No greeting. Just business.
Nova raised a brow, unfazed but mildly annoyed.
“Regina, I’m not a merc. I sell hardware, not bodies.”
He slung his bag onto the desk and laid out his latest haul.
“But I do have this.”
With a flick of his wrist, Nova pulled out a Kiroshi Mark-9 Visual Suite, its polished obsidian casing catching the overhead lights.
“Enhanced retinal uplink with multi-spectrum vision. You can scan DNA off a cigarette butt or spot a cloaked drone a block away.”
Next, he revealed a Whisperlink v2 Comm Mod – compact, matte-black, with a glowing blue circuit vein.
“Encrypted, silent transmission relay. Only sings to ears you trust.”
Finally, a compact Neural Safeguard Chip – silver-trimmed, engraved with micro-etchings.
“Basic firewall, but smart. Kills junkware, filters input streams, and auto-locks when heat hits critical. Smooth install, zero latency.”
Regina glanced down, unimpressed on the surface but already typing.
“Still not interested in real jobs, huh? Fine. How much?”
“4,200 eddies. Full repair or one-time swap, two-week guarantee. All clean, all tested.”
“Done.”
She transferred the creds without blinking.
“You’re missing out, Nova. You’ve got potential. Real edge. Could do more than sling black-market chrome.”
“I sleep better knowing I don’t leave bodies behind. Catch you next time, Regina.”
He left with a ghost of a grin, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. A clean deal, full stock sold, and another contact locked in.
Nothing better than a good day in the underbelly of Night City.
He made his way toward the sector where Viktor usually handled meetups. Still early, but Nova preferred to stay ahead. He had the goods for the fix, and nothing else on his plate.
Street noise danced in his ears. Glitched synth music, the occasional scream, ad drones flying by like mosquitoes. He stopped under a flickering streetlamp and unwrapped a greasy meat bun. Biting into it, he leaned against the pole and watched the city drift.
And then—
Chaos.
A blacked-out vehicle tore around the corner, engine howling. Behind it, a private corp pursuit drone shrieked down from the sky, spitting tracer rounds.
Before Nova could move—
CRASH.
The car slammed into the streetlight, twisting metal and throwing Nova straight through the windshield. Glass shredded his arms. Blood painted the dash. He landed inside the vehicle like a ragdoll tossed by fate.
Coughing, ears ringing, Nova spotted a metallic case – unlocked, haphazardly opened. Whatever it had once carried… was gone.
The passengers bolted, limping away like rats from fire. Nova tried to crawl out, every bone screaming in rebellion.
That’s when it found him.
A… thing slithered from beneath the backseat. Fleshy sinew wrapped in synthetic musculature. Metal tendrils flickered under its surface. It latched onto Nova’s leg with surgical precision, pulling itself up his spine.
“Ngh—fuck! Get off!”
No one listened. Not the people on the street. Not the world.
The thing merged with his back, implanting itself like a parasite made by a god who hated humans. It drilled into his nerves, rewiring. Sinking into him. And just before going fully dormant, it left a mark: three sharp metal protrusions at the base of his neck, shaped like a jagged "Y".
Nova screamed until his throat tore. And still—no one came.
Finally, his body gave in. He collapsed, half-dead, twitching in the filth and static buzz of the city.
Through fading vision, a figure approached.
Polished shoes.
They stopped right in front of him.
Then—blackout.