Nova had started to build a name for himself. Working with Regina, his rep had climbed fast—jobs completed, creds flowing, and his workshop stacked with new tools and upgrades. But even that wasn’t enough.
Not for what he wanted.
If Nova truly meant to save the people with fate already carved into their bones, he needed more—more firepower, more reach, more influence.
He couldn’t afford to gamble with his life every time. He needed leverage.
That’s when the idea hit.
A risky move… but if it worked, he wouldn’t just survive—he’d thrive. Resources, protection, opportunity.
“Padre,” Nova muttered under his breath, pacing in his workshop. A dangerous play… but solid. If I pull this off right, I become an asset. A valuable one. One he wouldn’t dare betray.
But he couldn’t show up empty-handed. He needed to make himself look like an offer—not a request.
Not a pawn, but a partner.
With that in mind, Nova made his way across the city, the underbelly of Night City buzzing in glitchy neon and corrupted steel. The rain fell in thin lines like digital interference.
He stopped at Regina’s safehouse. No calls. No appointments. Just showed up.
She was working as always—three screens glowing around her, data pouring in from a dozen sources. She looked up, amused.
“Nova. You never stop surprising me.” She raised an eyebrow. “Let’s hear it.”
Nova stepped forward, voice calm but steady.
“I’m not gonna play games. I trust your work and I wouldn’t move behind your back, so I’ll say it straight: I need another income stream. For myself. I know you’ve got ties with Padre. I want in.”
Regina blinked once. For a moment, the ever-cool fixer was genuinely caught off guard. The quiet techie who sold her pristine cyberware was suddenly aiming far higher.
She crossed her arms, skeptical.
“You do realize what you’re asking, right? Padre’s not like me. He doesn’t give out second chances, Nova. You screw up, you’re not walking away from it.”
Nova nodded.
“I’m not planning to screw up. And I’m not planning to stop working with you either. You’re the one who gave me a shot in the first place. I owe you for that. But I need to expand. Build more. Meet new clients, people with reach. If I want to do more than survive out there... I need this.”
Regina stared for a moment, then turned back to her monitors.
The silence hung for a few seconds—broken only by soft digital chirps and the hum of processors.
“...You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that.” She didn’t smile, but her voice wasn’t angry. Just thoughtful. “Padre and I aren’t enemies. Not friends either. We respect each other. If I give the word, he’ll listen. Doesn’t mean he’ll like it.”
Nova met her gaze. Steady. Unflinching.
“That’s why I’ll come with something he can’t turn down. Something that makes me look like an asset—not a risk.”
Regina leaned back in her chair.
“You got a plan, Nova?”
He nodded once.
“Always.”
She sighed, smirking just slightly.
“Alright. I’ll make the call. But if this goes sideways, don’t come crying back with half your spine ripped out. Padre plays a different game, and I’m not patching you up for free.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Nova said, turning to leave. “Thanks, Regina. Really.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she muttered. “Survive first.”
Despite her hesitation, Regina pulled through. Nova had helped her more times than she could count, and while this next move gave her a bad feeling, she handed over the contact.
The timing was eerie.
Padre called almost immediately.
His voice came through the line like static-laced silk—calm, but with weight that crushed.
"Nova. Regina told me about you. My mercs found a device—something that tampers with memory. Spyware. Because of it, I’ve had to move slower than usual. It's costing me time, and I hate wasting time. I need something to stop it. You’ve got 24 hours. I’ll have one of mine waiting at Tom’s Diner, Kabuki. Little China. Don’t be late, street kid."
Click.
No room for pleasantries. No second thoughts. Just a direct order and a countdown.
“Huh. Straight to the point,” Nova muttered. Guess I better move.
He bolted back to his apartment. No distractions. No second-guessing. Every tool he had was there—his sanctuary of chrome and code.
Nova got to work immediately. Hours melted into digital haze, but the result was clean, it bearly took 3 hours of continuous work. It was elegant. Lethal.
A ghost-firewall. Simple in appearance.
Tom’s Diner buzzed with quiet conversation and synth-jazz. Greasy plates, neon lights, flickering signs. Nova arrived early since his work was done, but there was still a lot of time for the agreed time.
Nova sat alone in a corner booth. He’d ordered a drink just to blend in.
"No names. No faces. Just a drop."
An hour passed.
Then—
Someone slid into the booth behind him. Quiet. Too quiet.
“What’s a street kid doing around here?”
Nova didn’t turn. He knew better.
“Just looking around.”
Pause.
“Hand it over.”
He didn’t like this. Something about the weight in the man’s voice—controlled, sharp—put him on edge. Like he was being measured. Watched.
Nova kept his cool. Wrapped the chip in a napkin. Slid it back across the table.
No words.
He stood and walked out, pulse racing harder than he wanted to admit. He’d done a hundred deliveries before. But this one? This one felt different.
He didn’t make it past the alley before everything went dark.
Nova came to in a cold room, surrounded by Padre’s mercs. Faces hidden by tactical visors, rifles pointed low but ready. The air smelled of oil and blood.
His head pounded.
And then, the commlink buzzed.
Padre. Calm. Measured. But razor-sharp.
“I hope you’re not under the impression that I’m a fool, Nova. Twenty hours early, and you show up with nothing but a chip? Doesn’t scream professionalism to me.”
Nova coughed, sat up slowly. His voice didn’t shake.
“It’s not just a chip. It’s a ghost-firewall.”
He took a breath.
“It doesn’t block the hack. It welcomes it. Just make your men use this and everything will be safe.It feeds the intruder false memories—fabricated data that looks flawless. They’ll think they succeeded. But it’s all lies. Meanwhile, the chip tracks their intrusion, shares it live. The moment anyone tries anything, you’ll know who, where, and what they wanted. And they’ll never realize they’ve been exposed.”
A pause. The line went dead silent. Then—
A slow, satisfied exhale.
“Interesting. And how am I supposed to use this, its mearly one”
The mercs didn’t lower their guns, but they didn’t move either. Nova could feel the tension shift—subtle, but real.
“Oh I can totally make more of these, I just need the eddies.”
Padre frowned slightly before letting out a small chuckle.
"I like you. But I need this urgently—and I need a guarantee it works. So, you’re going to wear it. If we catch the one responsible, they’ll be brought to me, and I’ll verify the memory they stole is fake."
Nova gave a slight grin as he replied,
"Sorry. I’m not a merc—just a techie."
Padre stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Nova’s shoulder.
"That wasn’t a question."