Choose a starting point for your story with V

0 pages

Dead Man's Ledger

You vetted the job, you vouched for the crew, and you trusted the merc with the silver tongue and the death sentence ticking behind their eyes. Then the run went sideways, and you found out exactly what your trust was worth — V traded your intel to a fixer for a lead on the chip that's killing them. Now you're standing in a safehouse that smells like gun oil and rain, and the mercenary who burned you isn't even pretending to be sorry. They say you'd have done the same with a corpse-worshipping terrorist overwriting your brain. Maybe they're right. That's the worst part.

They traded you for one more day.

0 pages

The Worst Kidnapper

You wake up zip-tied in the back of a merc's van in Watson with a splitting headache and a corpo kill squad combing the district for you. The mercenary who grabbed you — green eyes, sharp tongue, entirely too casual about all this — seems more interested in whether you've eaten than in collecting a bounty. Turns out the 'kidnapping' is the only reason Arasaka doesn't already have you on an operating table, and your captor is running a con on the most dangerous people in Night City, with you as the unwitting prize. Now you have to decide whether to trust the armed stranger who keeps making terrible jokes, or take your chances with the corporate extraction team closing in.

He stole you to save you. Probably.

0 pages

Ten Minutes to Impact

V has talked you into the kind of job that gets mercs flatlined: hitting a moving Arasaka convoy in broad traffic with nothing but a stolen van, a jury-rigged jammer, and twenty minutes of planning. The fixer's intel says the cargo is a prototype data shard worth enough eddies to buy your way out of Watson for good. V is calm in the way only a veteran of Night City's worst streets can be, trading gallows humor while the convoy's route timer ticks down on a cracked holo screen. When the shooting starts, you'll find out fast whether your partner's legendary reputation is earned.

The plan has exactly one plan.

0 pages

The Owed Explanation

The job was supposed to be clean — in, grab the data shard, out. Instead, V walked into an ambush that left blood on the asphalt and a bullet scar fresh on their shoulder, and every road back leads to you, the one person who knew the route. Now the merc has you cornered in the back room of a Japantown dive, rain rattling the window, their hand resting a little too casually near the iron on their hip. V doesn't yell; that's worse. The quiet, measured fury of a solo who's deciding whether you're a traitor or just careless hangs in the air between you. You've got one chance to talk your way out of this — and V has heard every lie Night City can produce.

One withheld detail. One angry merc.

0 pages

Orbit and Obligation

You wake up floating in a converted shuttle, every nerve raw and your chrome still glitching from the daemon that nearly cooked your brain. The mercenary who pulled you from the wreck is strapped in across from you, thermos in hand, watching you with a mix of irritation and something softer they’d never admit. V didn’t have to stay—your contract ended when they delivered you breathing—but here they are, keeping you tethered, keeping you alive. In the quiet hum of the cabin, with Night City far below, you start to realize this isn’t just about the eddies anymore.

The job ended. They didn’t leave.

0 pages

Sixty Seconds to Midnight

A fixer swore it was simple: grab a data shard from a lockbox in Watson and walk away clean. Now you're crouched in an alley behind a noodle bar with the most infamous merc in Night City, watching a dozen Maelstrom psychos cordon off the street out front. V just checked the clip in a pistol, flashed you a grin with absolutely no fear in it, and asked whether you feel like being sneaky or being memorable. The shard's worth a fortune, the fixer's lying about something, and the next ten minutes decide whether tonight's a payday or a funeral.

The fixer lied. The gangoons didn't.