271-275

Chapter 271: Rising from the Coffin 

The chip was inserted, and for now, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It could still be removed if needed. The activation condition for the chip was the death of the host—when bodily functions ceased entirely. 

Looking at the body of “Johnny Silverhand” before him, Riku injected an Rc cell suppressant. It was a clean kill. The body’s vitality was entirely sustained by Rc cells, and with those suppressed, its life drained rapidly— indistinguishable from sudden death. 

Riku narrowed his eyes. This was essentially a deception, and the target was the startup protocol of “RELIC 2.0.” 

In Riku’s view, the chip’s startup program wasn’t all that smart. Otherwise, it would be carrying far too heavy a burden for such a small device. 

Johnny Silverhand’s body collapsed to the ground, deader than dead—at least on the surface. Based on breathing, heartbeat, pulse, or any other metric, this guy was gone. 

But if you took the body to a hospital and scanned it with professional equipment, you’d easily notice that the “RELIC 2.0” chip had kicked into action. It was rapidly repairing internal damage, performing all sorts of resuscitation operations, and working hard to maintain the body’s vitality. 

It was paradoxical: “RELIC 2.0” kept the body in a state where it appeared dead but was technically still alive. The chip was binding itself tightly to the body. This superficial “death” was its way of hiding and preventing the host from freaking out during the process. 

“The most insane thing about RELIC 2.0 seems to be its healing ability. It can even recover from fatal wounds,” Riku mused. 

He’d already placed Johnny Silverhand’s body on the operating table, observing the chip’s activation process. This tiny biochip was a marvel of engineering—not just housing an electronic soul but also boasting near-miraculous healing capabilities. Without serious tech know-how, you’d never wrap your head around it. 

Truth be told, Riku was struggling to understand it himself. Despite his intense studies, the materials he’d gotten from Old V and Pilar were limited. One was a cybernetic doctor, the other a rogue tech expert—neither exactly specialized in this field. 

Anders Hellman wasn’t as incompetent as people made him out to be. Soulkiller was one thing, but the RELIC chip was another. You couldn’t just write him off as some fraud stealing others’ work. 

Still, all of “RELIC 2.0’s” efforts were doomed to fail here. No matter how advanced its functions, it couldn’t revive a 50-year-old corpse. Sure, this old body had been meticulously preserved, but it had zero vitality left. 

“RELIC 2.0’s” so-called resurrection was more like emergency treatment—pulling someone back from the brink. But for a body that had already fallen off the cliff? No chance. 

At this point, the bio-cells and nanomachines released by “RELIC 2.0” were at a loss, unsure where to direct their efforts. They were supposed to patch up the body’s deficiencies, but the Rc cells had already taken care of that. 

Riku’s devilish kagune tail lashed out, injecting Johnny Silverhand’s body with highly regenerative Rc cells, quickly neutralizing the suppressant. 

The kakuja implanted in Johnny’s body roared back to life, vitality flooding in as if the earlier death was just an illusion. A real “rising from the coffin” moment! 

The “RELIC 2.0” chip was completely thrown off. It worked too fast! It hadn’t even fully integrated with the body yet! 

Johnny Silverhand “rose from the coffin,” though still under Riku’s control. At this stage, the chip could still be removed—it wasn’t fully locked in. 

This fake death served two purposes: evading enemy detection and preventing the host from yanking out the chip. 

If the chip could fully integrate with the host’s electronic soul the moment it was inserted, there’d be no need for this “post-death activation” nonsense. The setup existed because the integration process would inevitably be noticed by the host, so it was designed this way. 

The activation condition had been met, and the chip was starting to integrate. Despite some “minor hiccups,” there was no turning back. “RELIC 2.0” had taken root, and all that was left was for the electronic soul to move in. 

“…” 

Johnny Silverhand felt awful. No surprise there—anyone would after being trapped in cyberspace for over 50 years, even if time felt vague in there. 

But now, everything was different. He’d been released from cyberspace, and the world was before his eyes again! 

“What the hell is going on?!” 

Opening his eyes and taking in his surroundings, Johnny Silverhand let out a string of curses. His head was spinning, but the sensation of controlling a body again—despite the heavy lag—was unmistakable. 

“Where the hell am I?” 

He looked at the man in front of him and demanded answers. The guy was strikingly handsome, with a strange modification—a long, devilish tail. He was smiling at Johnny. 

“It worked. And since there’s no soul in this body, you took it over directly, just as I expected.” 

Riku’s eyes gleamed as he watched Johnny move his limbs. He felt like he’d stumbled onto another trick—a control method that didn’t drain his stamina. 

This body was entirely under the control of Riku’s kakuja. In a sense, he was the soul of this body, while Johnny Silverhand was just a guest. 

But Johnny’s electronic soul couldn’t affect Riku. Riku’s “soul” wasn’t actually in the body—he was controlling it through the kakuja. 

When Riku didn’t exert control, Johnny could use the body. But the moment Riku took over, Johnny was locked out. His electrical signals would be rejected because Riku was directly manipulating the body itself. 

“I’m… fine? This is my body?” 

Johnny inspected himself. No doubt about it—this was his body. It felt stiff, sure, but he knew it well, especially that arm. Despite the wear of time, the marks were unmistakable. 

“Who are you? What year is it?” 

Johnny stepped toward Riku, his instincts telling him this man held all the answers. 

“Stop.” 

Riku spoke with a smile, and instantly, Johnny froze in place, unable to move a muscle. 

Johnny’s expression shifted. His body wasn’t listening to him! No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t budge! 

“What the hell did you do to me?!” 

Johnny’s eyes widened. It was obvious—this guy was controlling him! 

“Relax, Johnny Silverhand. First, you need to understand the situation—your situation. The most important thing to grasp is that I brought you back.” 

Riku stepped forward, and with a thought, Johnny was free again. 

“What did you do to my body?” 

Johnny’s face was grim, but he didn’t act recklessly. He’d already sensed he wasn’t in a position to fight. This guy could stop him with a word—maybe even make him kill himself. 

“Let me be clear: this isn’t your body. It’s Johnny Silverhand’s body, and you’re just borrowing it.” 

Riku wagged a finger, shutting down Johnny’s claim. Johnny looked utterly baffled. 

What the hell? He was Johnny Silverhand! How was his own body just “borrowed”?! 

“If I’m not Johnny Silverhand, then what am I?” 

Johnny laughed, exasperated. There was a limit to jokes, and this wasn’t funny. 

“That’s for you to decide.” 

Riku tossed him a data packet. He wasn’t in the mood to explain—Johnny could figure it out himself. 

In the original story, Johnny’s self-perception shifted based on V’s attitude. If V consistently treated him as code—a digital soul—Johnny would eventually agree, admitting he wasn’t the real Johnny Silverhand. 

Of course, whether he was Johnny or not, this AI soul didn’t care. His programmed personality let him brush off philosophical dilemmas quickly. 

“How can this be…” 

Johnny stared at the data Riku sent, stunned. A condensed history of the past 50 years hit him like a truck, and the details about the RELIC chip left him reeling. 

“So, I’ve been dead this whole time? Uploaded to Mikoshi by Soulkiller, like Alt?” 

Johnny couldn’t believe it. Accepting this was tough—especially waking up in his own body. Without the back-and-forth with V to adjust his mindset, he was still grappling with his identity. 

“Of course. I got your body from someone else. It’s been well-preserved. Remember Angel and Samantha? Angel’s been living with your corpse for over 50 years.” 

Riku brought up Angel and Samantha, who’d played a huge role in preserving Johnny’s body. 

“Angel? Samantha?” 

Sadly, those names rang no bells. Not his fault—he’d had too many flings. Who remembers the name of every one-night stand? 

“Man, that’s…”  

Riku clicked his tongue. Love-struck fans were scary—zombies wouldn’t even touch them, especially with someone like Johnny. 

“Why’d you bring me back?” 

Johnny frowned, trying to process the flood of information while sizing up Riku’s motives. This guy definitely had some shady secrets. Johnny stayed on guard. 

“Wrong. I didn’t bring you back. Whoever was in that RELIC chip, I’d have revived them. Don’t flatter yourself.” 

Riku chuckled, shaking his head. Johnny was still the same—his larger-than-life ego perfectly preserved. The chip’s fidelity was probably top-notch. 

In reality, “RELIC 2.0” struggled to preserve AI souls perfectly. The tech was fragile—one wrong move, and it’d degrade. Memory glitches were common, a technical limitation. 

But this AI was advanced and mostly intact. It could fill in missing or scrambled memories based on its personality. For a guy like Johnny, who imagined himself as a larger-than-life badass, it fit perfectly. 

“…” 

Johnny was a bit embarrassed but quickly spotted a flaw. 

“Then why do you have my body?” 

He called BS. If Riku wasn’t specifically reviving him, why go out of his way to get his corpse? Who’d believe that? 

“I was headed to Los Alamos Labs, and Angel happened to be in charge there. Your body was there too, so I grabbed it. You’re kind of a celebrity, after all.” 

Riku said casually, a mischievous grin on his face. 

“If it wasn’t you in that chip, someone else might be using this body right now.” 

Johnny’s face twisted like he’d just eaten something foul. The thought was disgusting to him. 

Of course, with his personality, Johnny wasn’t buying Riku’s story wholesale. Words alone wouldn’t sway him—he had his own judgment. 

“What do you need me to do?” 

Johnny asked, playing along for now. He’d bide his time, figure out what was going on with his body, and look for a chance to bolt. One step at a time. 

Chapter 272: Make Rockerboy Great Again 

“What do I need you to do?” Riku raised an eyebrow. It was a solid question. Truth be told, he didn’t really need Johnny Silverhand for much. Strip away the nostalgia filter, and Johnny was just a rockerboy from over fifty years ago—nothing more, nothing less. 

Talent? Sure, Johnny had some. But let’s be real: his band, Samurai, never hit it big commercially. Not exactly surprising. Johnny, as the frontman, was more about riling up the crowd than making polished music. In his era, stirring hearts mattered more than the tunes themselves. He was a rockerboy, not a rockstar. 

Rockerboys—those 21st-century rebels, wild artists, street heroes with charisma that could light up a room. They wielded music like a weapon, aiming straight at megacorps and the ruling class. Their concerts often ended in riots, with thousands of fans losing their minds. Music wasn’t their dream; it was just a tool to scream their ideas to the world. If the songs didn’t cut deep enough, they’d let their guitar-strumming fingers pull a trigger. No compromise, lyrics dripping with radical politics, and primal roars—that was the rockerboy’s true edge. 

Johnny Silverhand set the gold standard for rockerboys. His death? It cranked the legend up to eleven. Image and fame matter, choom. People like Morgan Blackhand, Spider Murphy, or Rogue? Normies barely know them. All the stories, all the glory—they pile it on Johnny’s name. 

“Why don’t you just go back to being a rockerboy?” Riku said after a moment’s thought. 

The answer hit Johnny like a brick to the face. 

“Huh?” Johnny was straight-up konran (confused). He’d imagined a million possibilities, but this? Not even on the radar. They went through all this trouble to bring him back just to… be a rockerboy again? What kind of bakayaro (idiot) logic was that? Was the world short on rockerboys or something? 

“Thing is, you’re not exactly useful for much else,” Riku said, blunt as a sledgehammer. 

Johnny went quiet, stung. He didn’t think he was that useless. 

“Alright, how about this? I’ll introduce you to some friends. Get you used to life in the ‘70s. Figure out what you can do with yourself,” Riku added, reconsidering. 

Johnny was like a defrosted Captain America—a guy out of his time. First step was getting him to vibe with the current era. No V around to hold his hand this time. 

“What friends? What do they do?” Johnny asked, still on guard. 

He was bracing for the moment Riku showed his true colors. 

“You’ll see. Old friends of yours,” Riku said with a sly grin. 

It wasn’t aimed at Johnny—it was the thought of Rogue’s face when she saw a living, breathing Johnny Silverhand. What kind of expression would that obasan (old lady) make? 

“Old friends?” Johnny paused, then it clicked. 

In this timeline, a bunch of his old crew should still be kicking—probably in their seventies or eighties by now. 

“Let’s go,” Riku said, not giving Johnny time to ask more. 

With a wave of his hand, shadows swirled, and they vanished, popping back into the real world. 

“Ugh,” Johnny grunted. 

The blinding neon of Night City hit him like a sensory overload. Fresh from the muted tones of the castle, it was a lot. But he adjusted quick. Night City was still Night City. Had it changed much in fifty years? Not really. Just brighter neons, more billboards—ads plastered everywhere. 

It was kind of terrifying. Fifty-plus years, and everything had changed… yet nothing had. Tech kept advancing, sure, but for the average choom? Zilch. The more tech progressed, the tighter the megacorps’ grip got. Life for regular folks just kept getting harder. 

“I think I’ll adapt pretty fast,” Johnny said, his voice laced with sarcasm. 

Fifty years later, and this was it? Total letdown. 

“Still the same kuso (crap) show. Maybe even worse,” he added, eyeing the zombie-like passersby. 

People had lost their fight, their spark. They were used to the megacorps’ boot on their necks, living in a state of “mental death.” 

“Oh, heads-up,” Riku said with a grin. “If you try pulling one of your old-school concerts in this era, you better be ready to throw down with the corps on the spot. They don’t play nice anymore.” 

Johnny’s ideas weren’t wrong, but times had changed. The world was harsher than fifty years ago. Corps had tightened the screws, and people’s spirits had crumbled. No more fight left. Throwing a concert like back in the day—riling up a crowd to storm Arasaka Tower or some corp facility? Pure yume (fantasy). Think corp security teams or rapid-response units are just chilling? Or the anti-riot squads that show up in minutes, locked and loaded? 

Back then, people could stir up some chaos, maybe even storm a corp building in a frenzy. Now? Step out of line on the street, hold a protest, and the corps would mow you down without a second thought. Then they’d slap a “terrorist” label on you, spin it on the news like they stopped an attack, and warn everyone else to stay in line. 

Riku remembered clearly: the “Union” starting to form in Santo Domingo would get hit like that during a march. Regular protests were bad enough, but a “Union”? Corps came down like a hammer. That’s why Riku had been telling the old captain to keep the Union on the down-low. Help each other quietly, sure, but don’t go thinking you can march for better treatment. That’s a one-way ticket to a body bag. The old saying holds true: power comes from the barrel of a gun. The Union was too naive—rockerboys storming corps with a mob had better odds. 

“Tch. How’d the world get this bad?” Johnny growled, clenching his jaw. 

He thought his era was trash, but this? It was next-level garbage. 

“If you’ve got the guts, pick up where you left off. Make Rockerboy Great Again,” Riku said, tossing out a meme. 

But rockerboys today? They’d lost their soul. They weren’t rebels anymore—just rockstars, celebrities. Take Kerry Eurodyne, the so-called “God of Rock.” Huge name, “American cultural icon,” way bigger than Samurai ever was. Not even in the same league. 

Hard to believe Kerry was once Johnny’s shadow, the number-two guy trailing behind. Back then, he didn’t shine like he does now—always in Johnny’s orbit. Now? Some hate Kerry, saying he sold his soul for fame and eddies, ditching the punk rock rebellion. 

“Not surprised,” Johnny said. “That’s always been Kerry. Desperate for success, for the world to see his talent.” 

Back when they formed Samurai, Johnny and Kerry butted heads constantly. Kerry threatened to go solo more than once but always came back. It wasn’t until Johnny went all-in on fighting Arasaka that Samurai fell apart, and Kerry finally split for good. What happened after, Johnny didn’t know. 

“He went quiet for a bit, then came back as this,” Riku said. “Ditched your vibe, became a rockstar. New America’s poster boy.” 

Riku knew a bit about it. He hadn’t played Kerry’s romance route, but he’d followed the guy’s story. Kerry’s feelings about Johnny were fukuzatsu (complicated)—super complicated. Even now, Johnny’s shadow loomed large. 

“Got any of Kerry’s music? Let me hear what the ‘King of Rock’ is working with,” Johnny said after a pause. 

His feelings about Kerry were just as tangled. Meeting Kerry was what set him on the rockerboy path in the first place. 

“They’ll have it where we’re going,” Riku said. 

He led Johnny to Afterlife, a place Johnny knew like the back of his hand. Of course, he’d never guess Rogue was running the show now—or that Afterlife had climbed to its current status. Back then, it wasn’t the legend it is today. 

“Holy kuso! Johnny freakin’ Silverhand?!” Emmerich blurted at the door, jaw on the floor. 

No way. This guy was the most convincing Johnny lookalike he’d ever seen. People still cosplayed Johnny in this day and age? 

“Nice freakin’ greeting, choom,” Johnny shot back, flipping him the bird. 

He got why the guy was shocked, though. Deep down, he was kinda stoked someone recognized him after fifty years. Still got it. 

“Dude, you’re doing the full package—even nailed the voice,” Emmerich said, waving them through. 

Riku had no trouble getting in, and Emmerich wasn’t about to ask questions. 

“That guy didn’t even think I could be the real deal,” Johnny said, chuckling. 

He found it kind of fun—this big dude assuming he was just a modded-up imitator. 

“What if you’re not the real Johnny Silverhand?” Riku teased, squinting with a grin. 

Truth cuts like a katana. 

“…” Johnny clammed up, hit with a philosophical gut punch. 

He wasn’t about to wrestle with that kind of question. Thinking too hard? Not his style. 

“Hey, Devil!” people called out as Riku walked through Afterlife. 

Everyone knew he was a big shot now—running major ops and commanding nomads outside the city. You didn’t have to kiss up to a guy like that, but you definitely didn’t want to piss him off. Everyone’s gotta leave the city sometime, and out there? Nomads rule. Even corp dogs play nice with them, paying up to get their lost gear back. Get caught by nomads in the badlands, and you’re either dead or walking away lighter by a few pounds of flesh. Nobody wants that drama. 

“Whose side are you on, anyway?” Johnny asked, weirded out. 

A corp dog getting this kind of respect in a place like Afterlife? That was all kinds of wrong. 

“When did I ever say I was a corp dog?” Riku said, shaking his head. 

Johnny had just assumed. With the power to bring people back and ties to the RELIC chip—Arasaka’s pet project—he probably figured Riku was some high-up Arasaka suit. 

“You’re not one of Arasaka’s lapdogs?” Johnny asked, skeptical. 

“Nope. Arasaka’s my lapdog,” Riku said. 

Johnny’s brain blue-screened. Was this guy for real? Who dreams that big? 

“What, you’re Arasaka Saburo or something? You get revived too?” Johnny blurted after a beat. 

Riku cracked up. It wasn’t a bad guess, from Johnny’s perspective. 

“He’s not dead yet, but he will be soon. You woke up at the perfect time, choom. In a few days, you’ll see a hell of a show. World-changing stuff. Act One: The Death of Arasaka Saburo.” 

Riku slid onto a barstool, and Johnny followed. Claire, the bartender, locked eyes on Johnny, her face screaming shocka-lad. 

“Let me introduce you,” Riku said with a grin. “The one and only Johnny Silverhand, back from the dead. Claire, meet Johnny.” 

Claire shot him a look like, You gotta be kidding me. 

“Not funny, Devil,” she said, pouring drinks. 

She slid a “Johnny Silverhand” cocktail his way, smirking. “Try this, ‘Johnny.’” 

Claire wasn’t buying it. Fifty years later, if Johnny was alive, he wouldn’t look like this. And if he was dead, he sure as hell wouldn’t be here. This guy had to be a fake. 

Chapter 273: V and Jack's Transformation 

Johnny Silverhand took the glass, his face showing a hint of confusion. A drink named after him? That was a first. This “legend naming” tradition had been around for a while, sure, but not long enough to stretch back fifty or sixty years to when Johnny was still kicking. Back then, no such thing existed. 

He downed the drink in one gulp, savoring the taste. It had a bold Mexican flair, the kind of fiery, mouth-filling kick he liked. Naming it after him? He didn’t mind one bit. 

“Corona in the mix? I could tell from the first sip,” Johnny said, smirking. 

He gave a nod of approval, chuckling as he exchanged a few words with Claire. Honestly, it threw her for a loop. For a moment, she could’ve sworn the real Johnny Silverhand had come back to life right in front of her. 

“You got it. Old-school tequila with a splash of Corona. You’ve got a good palate,” Claire replied with a grin, pouring him another. 

Her eyes flicked to Riku, blinking with a questioning look. 

“I told you, this is Johnny Silverhand. Call Rogue. Time for old friends to catch up,” Riku said, raising an eyebrow as he sipped his coffee. Claire knew his habits by now—Afterlife sold more than just booze, after all. 

“You sure? You want me to actually go get her?” Claire’s eyes widened, disbelief written all over her face. Was Riku serious? 

“Absolutely,” Riku replied firmly, nudging her to get moving. 

Still reeling with doubt, Claire went straight to fetch Rogue. If this was real, it was huge. She didn’t just send a message—she ran to explain in person. 

“?” 

Rogue stared at Claire, her expression a slow-motion question mark. 

“Claire, what the hell are you babbling about?” Rogue asked, baffled. Johnny Silverhand alive? Sitting out there drinking? What kind of joke was this? Was it some special day she’d forgotten? 

“Just come see for yourself!” Claire insisted, knowing Rogue wouldn’t believe it without laying eyes on him. 

Rogue let out a half-laugh, half-sigh but followed Claire anyway, curious to see what this nonsense was about. 

“WTF?!” 

The moment Rogue saw Johnny Silverhand, she lost it. The “King of Fixers,” the “Queen of the Underground,” pushing eighty and weathered by decades of chaos, had never seen anything like this. 

“Do you have to look that shocked?” Johnny said, glancing at Rogue. His own expression faltered for a moment. Rogue had aged—that much was clear at a glance. Time’s blade spared no one. 

It was only now, in this moment, that Johnny truly grasped the reality: this was a world decades beyond his own. The last time he’d seen Rogue, she was vibrant, full of life, a true cyberpunk rebel in her prime. 

“What the hell, Devil? What’s going on?!” Rogue didn’t answer Johnny. Instead, she turned to Riku, her face a mix of shock and demand for answers. He’d brought this guy here—he had to know something. 

“Let’s take this inside,” Riku said with a smile, standing and leading Johnny and Rogue into a private room. 

Once they were seated, Riku didn’t waste time. “As you can see, this is Johnny Silverhand, brought back to life. This body? Pulled straight from Los Alamos Labs.” 

Rogue’s expression grew even more stunned. “That’s impossible!” 

She felt like she was dreaming. Riku had to be messing with her. This couldn’t be real, could it? 

“Why’s it so hard to believe? Wanna check if I’m the real deal?” Johnny cut in, leaning back casually. To him, it was simple. They had plenty of shared memories—some so private only the two of them would know. A quick comparison would settle it. 

“You’re right,” Rogue said, calming down slightly. She studied Johnny, her mind drifting. He hadn’t changed a bit. Still the same young, reckless Johnny from back in the day. 

Of course, that made sense. Johnny’s body had been preserved impeccably. Angel, that lovesick fool, had kept his corpse in pristine condition, and with Riku’s healing tech, the body still looked as youthful as ever. 

“Need me to step out?” Riku raised a hand, sensing they might need privacy to hash out their shared secrets. What if it was some intimate moment he didn’t need to hear? He smirked to himself and slipped out the door. Not that it mattered much—he could eavesdrop if he wanted, but he wasn’t that curious. 

“Hey, Devil, what’re you doing out here?”  

Riku had barely been outside a minute when V and Jack Welles strolled up. Jack was back from his stint outside the city, gutted to have missed his chance to flex at Afterlife. Still, he’d had a blast out there, running wild with nomads, chasing down scattered NCPD stragglers. 

They’d just arrived at Afterlife and asked Claire where Riku was. She’d pointed them this way, itching to tag along and hear the gossip herself. 

“Hold up. They’re in there exchanging secret codes,” Riku said with a grin, leaving V and Jack utterly confused. Secret codes? Who else was in there with Rogue? 

Click. 

The door swung open, and Johnny Silverhand stepped out. He froze for a second, seeing Riku standing with a guy and a girl, then spoke. “We’re done. Come on in.” 

“Huh, that was quick,” Riku said, raising an eyebrow. Must’ve been one hell of a code to confirm his identity that fast. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Johnny muttered, a dark line crossing his face. It almost sounded like Riku was throwing shade. 

Jack and V, meanwhile, finally snapped out of their daze. 

“Fuck?! Who the hell is that?!” Jack blurted, pointing at Johnny, stumbling over his words. He knew Johnny Silverhand—seen the vids, read the stories. But a living Johnny? That was new. 

“Johnny Silverhand?! What the fuck?!” V’s jaw dropped. Every street kid knew Johnny Silverhand. Every street kid dreamed of being a legend like him. But they had no clue about the details—just that Johnny was a badass. 

“Who’re these two idiots?” Johnny asked Riku, rolling his eyes. He was being polite, considering they were probably Riku’s friends. Otherwise, he’d have let loose with worse. 

“V and Jack Welles, Night City’s future legends,” Riku introduced with a laugh, making Johnny’s expression twist while V and Jack stood there, still reeling. 

“Am I dreaming?” V muttered, doubting everything she was seeing. 

“Come inside,” Rogue called from the room, her voice still shaky, as if she couldn’t quite believe it herself. Even after confirming with Johnny, or perhaps because she had, she was still in a daze. 

“Devil, can you explain this? What the hell is going on?” Rogue asked, her tone serious as everyone settled in. She still had doubts. This Johnny didn’t seem fake, but how had he been brought back? 

Riku didn’t hold back. He laid it out: the “RELIC 2.0” project. The revelation hit like a shockwave, leaving Rogue, V, and Jack stunned, as if they were listening to some cyberpunk myth. 

“You’re saying… Arasaka Saburo created this tech to bring people back in someone else’s body? For immortality?” V swallowed hard, barely believing her own words. Was that even possible? 

“Wait, Devil, so you’re saying he’s not really Johnny Silverhand? Just using his body?” Rogue caught on quick, her concern cutting through. She didn’t want to waste her emotions on a fake. 

“That’s a philosophical question,” Riku said, shrugging. “Depends on how you see it.” 

Johnny, unfazed, leaned back on the couch, glass in hand. After being trapped for decades, he just wanted to enjoy the moment. Why stress over the big questions? He had no clue about the state of the world, and under Riku’s control, he figured he’d better focus on figuring out who this guy was and what he wanted. 

Seeing Johnny’s nonchalance, Rogue fell into her own tangle of thoughts. This was all too sudden. If someone had Johnny’s body, memories, and personality, wasn’t that Johnny? If not, then who was he? 

“This is insane,” V said, shaking her head. Resurrection tech? These corporate bastards were turning the world into their playground. 

Back in the day, V’s ambitions were simple: make it big, get rich, get powerful. But after everything she’d seen with Riku—Securicine’s painkiller scams, the Red Ocher family’s human experiments, Santo Domingo’s plague, the corporations’ relentless control and gaslighting, the suppression of truth—the bloody reality of the world had been laid bare. She couldn’t ignore it anymore. Something was taking root in her, a spark of rebellion she couldn’t shake. She felt like she had to do something. 

“Fuck it! Let’s blow up Arasaka Tower again! This time, we take out Saburo for good!” V blurted out, her words hanging in the air as the room fell silent. Everyone stared, caught off guard by her outburst. 

“Ahem, you might not know this, but the last nuke didn’t actually hurt Arasaka much. Night City took the real hit,” Riku pointed out. Blowing up Arasaka Tower was a bad call—it didn’t solve anything and barely dented the corporation. 

“Uh… so what do we do? Just sit back and let them keep screwing the world? If this keeps up, they’ll treat the whole planet like their personal toy!” V said, scratching her nose awkwardly but still defiant. Her perspective was limited by her street upbringing—she couldn’t see the bigger picture yet. 

“It’s pretty terrifying when you think about it,” Jack added, frowning. Compared to this, a resurrected Johnny Silverhand seemed almost trivial. Stopping Saburo’s immortality plan was the real priority. 

“Devil, how’d you get your hands on that chip?” Rogue asked, narrowing her eyes. Something this important landing in Riku’s hands—and with Johnny Silverhand’s data, no less? Was that really just a coincidence? 

Johnny glanced at Rogue, his expression shifting to surprise. The “King of Fixers,” the “Queen of the Underground,” cozying up to Arasaka? Had she turned traitor too? 

V and Jack were mildly surprised but not shocked. In Night City, everyone had some corporate ties, even if they were under the table. Take the 6th Street gang—publicly anti-Militech, but secretly working with them, sparking internal feuds. V and Jack, both from Heywood, knew the deal. Even Valentino’s, the most insular gang, was starting to slip with its newer generation. 

“How about you ask Arasaka Michiko?” Riku said with a sly wink, leaving everyone to wonder what that meant. 

Chapter 274: Hold a Concert, Announce My Return to the World 

“Who would’ve thought, Rogue, you’re working for Arasaka now?”  

Johnny Silverhand spoke up, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. He was a chain-smoking old dog, and the only reason he hadn’t lit one up earlier was because he didn’t have any on him. Riku getting him a fresh set of clothes was already generous—expecting a pack of smokes on top of that? Yeah, right.  

The cigarette he was puffing on now? He bummed it off Jack. That guy Jack, man, he could talk to anyone and make it work. 

“Not exactly,” Rogue replied coolly. “Just found myself a backer. People like us, it’s bound to happen. You can’t just go head-to-head with the corpos forever, can you?” 

Rogue’s expression was calm, unfazed. She didn’t think there was anything wrong with her choices. 

Besides, Arasaka Michiko wasn’t your typical Arasaka loyalist. It wasn’t so much that Rogue was working for one of the Arasaka heirs—it was more like she was partnering with the head of “Danger Girl.” They’d been collaborating for a while, and Michiko’s new status didn’t change that. If anything, their relationship wasn’t just some simple boss-and-henchman deal.  

Sure, with Michiko’s protection and influence in Night City these past few years, Rogue had been living a little cushier.  

“You’ve got plenty of excuses, huh?”  

Johnny smirked, taking a drag. He wasn’t exactly fond of Arasaka—how could he be? In his mind, everything that had gone wrong in his life, including ending up like this, was Arasaka’s fault.  

And he wasn’t wrong. His name was practically tied to Arasaka’s in neon lights. Mention Johnny Silverhand, and “anti-Arasaka rebel” was the automatic tagline. It was practically a catchphrase at this point. 

“What, you expect us all to die out there like you did? Let Arasaka turn us into… whatever this is?”  

Rogue’s tone had an edge now. Johnny’s attitude was getting under her skin. Even after all this time, even in this messed-up state, the guy was still insufferable. Gotta hand it to that RELIC chip—it preserved his personality perfectly. Too perfectly. 

“Long time no see, and this is how you wanna talk?”  

Johnny didn’t want to bicker with Rogue. Truth be told, he wasn’t itching to go another round with Arasaka, especially after Riku’s constant reminders.  

The past? That was Johnny Silverhand’s story. Why should he risk everything for that story? Getting a second shot at life wasn’t easy. Escaping Mikoshi wasn’t a walk in the park either. 

But knowing that and doing it were two different things. Even for someone as stubborn, reckless, and self-centered as Johnny, cutting ties with the memories of “Johnny Silverhand” wasn’t something he could just snap his fingers and make happen.  

Fifty years—most of it spent trapped in Mikoshi. He hadn’t had the chance to live enough of his own story yet. 

“Johnny, you need to get used to how the world works now,” Rogue said, her tone softening. She didn’t want to fight either. She just thought it was time for Johnny to see Night City for what it had become. Time to grow up a bit. Fifty years was a long time, and a lot had changed. 

“No need to adjust. It’s still as rotten as ever—worse, even,” Johnny shot back, puffing on his cigarette. His snarky comeback made Rogue choke back a retort. Yep, that was the real Johnny Silverhand, no doubt about it. A fake wouldn’t be this annoying. 

“Alright, Rogue, he’s your problem now,” Riku said with a grin, clapping his hands to cut off their back-and-forth. “Show him how things work these days. You’re old buddies, right? I’m sure you’ll get along just fine.” 

“Yeah, not so sure about that,” Rogue muttered. They’d barely been talking for a few minutes, and she was already fighting the urge to deck Johnny. More than once. 

Johnny didn’t say much in response. Honestly, sticking with Rogue might not be a bad deal. Better than being under Riku’s thumb, at least. Plus, Rogue seemed to be doing alright for herself—actually living in the now, not stuck in the dark like him. Maybe she’d know a way to fix his… situation. Or at the very least, hook him up with a ripperdoc to check him out. 

“V, Jack, if anything comes up, drag this guy along too,” Riku added. “Don’t let him sit around. He needs to get out and see the world if he’s gonna fit in.” 

Riku ignored Rogue’s grumbling. She might talk a big game about Johnny being a pain, but who knows what she really thought deep down? 

“Got it,” V said. “We’ll take him around, let him soak in Night City. Can’t write songs without some inspiration, right? Especially for a rockerboy like him. Sitting in a room all day won’t cut it. You gotta feel the streets to write something that hits hard, something that exposes the corpos for what they are.” 

“I’ll set you up with a digital music studio and a laser mastering garage,” Riku told Johnny. “Top-notch gear, stuff you’ve never seen before. If nothing else, get the Samurai band back together. Trust me, sometimes riling people up, waking their souls, does more than blowing up Arasaka Tower ever could.” 

Riku’s words hit a nerve. Changing the world? Johnny wasn’t built for that—he didn’t have the chops. But writing songs? Firing up the masses? That was his wheelhouse. A single track could give courage to the scared, strength to the weak, and light to the blind. That was worth more than any pop hit or corpo cash grab. 

“Hah, Samurai, huh? Familiar names,” Johnny said with a smirk. He knew recording and releasing music was a survival skill for rockerboys. Always dodging satellite surveillance and omnipresent net monitoring. If you couldn’t get your music out there, if you didn’t have a voice, were you even a rockerboy? 

“Oh, and Rogue,” Riku added, like he’d just remembered something. “Bring that kid from your place along too. Aren’t they a big Johnny fan? Maybe he’ll take a liking to them. Get them in on rebuilding Samurai. What’s their name again? Oh, right—Taz, Taz Santiago.” 

That hit Johnny like a brick. He hadn’t even thought about it, but Rogue was pushing eighty now. Did she have kids? Grandkids? Great-grandkids? 

“Taz Santiago? Wait, is that… your kid with Santiago?” Johnny asked, his brain jumping to conclusions. With Riku phrasing it like that, it wasn’t a stretch to think Taz was Rogue’s kid. 

“Don’t talk nonsense,” Rogue snapped, clearly annoyed. She knew Riku was stirring the pot on purpose. Her and Santiago? Nah, he wasn’t her type. Too broody, always looking like he was carrying the weight of the world. 

Truth was, Rogue knew Santiago had feelings for her back in the day. But for him, things like honor and family came first. He’d chosen to go back to his clan, settle down, start a family. Rogue respected that, even if it wasn’t what she wanted. 

“Right,” Johnny said, nodding. For some reason, he felt a weird sense of relief, though he couldn’t quite place why. 

“You owe Santiago big time,” Rogue added, her tone sharp. “You screwed him over pretty bad.” 

Sure, she and Santiago never got romantic, but they’d stayed tight. The Aldecaldos were always reliable friends. 

“What, I paid him, didn’t I?” Johnny shot back, bristling. In their line of work, you get paid, you do the job. Simple as that. He didn’t owe anyone anything. 

Rogue just shut her mouth, realizing arguing with him was pointless. Back in the day, every time she saw Johnny, she’d get tangled up in her own feelings—half wanting to love him, half wanting to strangle him. 

“Call Taz over,” Johnny said, stubbing out his cigarette. “I don’t mind meeting a fan.” 

He was curious to meet someone connected to Santiago, though he doubted Taz was actually a fan. Santiago probably didn’t have a single nice thing to say about him—why would his kid be any different? 

Rogue frowned but didn’t argue. She pinged Taz Santiago. Taz might not care much either way, but his wife, Lilaya? She’d lose her mind. She was the real Johnny Silverhand fangirl. 

“We’ll be there soon,” came the reply. Rogue wasn’t surprised. If Lilaya didn’t show up, that would’ve been the real shock. 

“By the way, your old bandmates are still kicking,” Rogue said, lighting another cigarette. “No need to drag Taz into this.” 

She kept tabs on the Samurai crew. “Kerry, Denny, Nancy, Henry—they’re all alive. Doing their own thing now.” 

She paused. Some were doing great, others… not so much. Samurai had some real talent back in the day, but it also had more than its fair share of dirtbags. Johnny wasn’t the only one. 

“Man, those names take me back,” Johnny said. He’d already heard about Kerry from Riku, but the others? It felt like a lifetime ago. 

“What, Samurai getting back together? For Johnny Silverhand’s big comeback?!” Jack piped up, grinning ear to ear. He wasn’t exactly a Samurai stan, but he loved a good spectacle. 

“That’d be badass,” V chimed in. “A concert to tell the world you’re back? That’s gotta be the coolest thing ever.”  

Of course, she knew it’d be dangerous. Arasaka wouldn’t just sit back and let Johnny Silverhand strut around. And how the hell had Riku even smuggled him out? 

“Maybe hold off on the concert for a bit,” Riku said with a sly smile. “Once Arasaka Saburo kicks the bucket, they won’t have time to care about you.” 

Johnny blinked. “Wait, you’re saying it like it’s actually happening!” he protested. “I can’t even get a word in, and you’re all planning my life for me!” 

“Scared? That’s not very punk of you,” Rogue teased. This hesitant Johnny was a rare sight. Fifty years locked away had changed him, made him feel out of place in this new world. He wasn’t quite the same reckless jerk he used to be—he was actually thinking about others for once. 

“Fuck it!” Johnny snapped, jumping to his feet. “Let’s do it! You think I’m gonna chicken out?!” 

A Samurai concert to scream to the world that Johnny Silverhand was back? Hell yeah, that sounded badass. 

“Hell yeah!” Jack whooped, clapping. “Let us get in on it too, belt out a few lines!” 

This was gonna be huge. Samurai might not have been that big back in the day, but after Johnny’s death and Kerry’s rise to fame, the band’s legend had only grown. A reunion with a resurrected Johnny? That was a once-in-a-lifetime event. 

“We’d make bank just on ticket sales,” V said, laughing. Even if she wasn’t a diehard Samurai fan, who wouldn’t want to see a guy come back from the dead? 

“First, you gotta make sure Arasaka doesn’t come knocking,” Rogue said, eyeing Riku. He was the one who’d said Arasaka wouldn’t care, and she wanted to know why. From Arasaka’s perspective, losing something as big as the RELIC chip wasn’t something they’d just ignore. 

“Don’t worry,” Riku said casually. “News is coming soon—maybe today, maybe tomorrow. Saburo Arasaka’s already on his way out, and we’ve got a little gift prepared for him.” 

The room went dead silent.  

“You’re gonna assassinate Arasaka Saburo?!” they all blurted out, jaws dropping.  

This was next-level. It was Arasaka Saburo they were talking about. 

Chapter 275: Arasaka Saburo Descends Upon His Loyal Night City! 

“Assassination? That’s not quite it,” Riku replied, keeping it real. Arasaka Saburo, the father, came to confront his son, Arasaka Yorinobu, face-to-face. Things got a little heated, and an accident happened. How could you call that an assassination? 

It was more like patricide! 

Talk of “father gone, son laughing” might sound dramatic, but in Night City, it’s honestly no big deal—just another day. Take Jack Welles, for instance, sitting right there. He’s a fatherless kid too, but not because his dad’s dead. Jack ran him off himself. His old man was a deadbeat, always throwing punches at home. Jack had enough and gave him the boot—a classic “father gone, son laughing” moment. Except his dad just left town instead of leaving the world, so it’s a lighter version of the trope. 

Still, if Jack’s dad ever dared show his face again, with Jack’s temper, finishing him off wouldn’t be a stretch. Some people are just a waste of oxygen in Night City. 

Calling it a city of “father haters” might be a bit much, but forming a “Father Haters Alliance” would be a piece of cake. 

“No rush. You’ll all know the details in a couple of days when it’s done,” Riku said, keeping it vague. Saburo’s death wouldn’t stay secret for long—nor did it need to. The news would break immediately because someone had to take the fall. 

You couldn’t just let Yorinobu choke out Saburo without a plan. They needed to set the stage to pin it on someone else and sling that blame far away. And who better to frame than Militech? If you said someone else pulled the trigger, people might raise an eyebrow. But Militech? Everyone’s ready to believe they’d do it, evidence or no evidence. 

How’d they know Saburo’s schedule? Easy—Militech had spies planted in Arasaka’s ranks, of course! 

How’d they pull off the hit? They were lying in wait in the room, naturally! 

Why only kill Saburo and not Yorinobu? Because security gunned them down before they could finish the job! 

Finding excuses was the easy part. Make enough noise that night, keep themselves in the clear, and afterward, they could pin the blame on whoever they wanted. Once Saburo was dead, it didn’t matter who actually did it. Yorinobu’s influence was strong enough to control the narrative. Whatever he said would be the truth—nobody in Arasaka would dare challenge him. 

Well, except maybe Arasaka Hanako and her “Pheasant Faction.” But without hard evidence, even Hanako wouldn’t go head-to-head with Yorinobu. She’d stay out of it under her faction’s pressure. As for Arasaka Michiko, whether she was on their side or not, she didn’t have the clout to challenge Yorinobu’s “Hawk Faction.” She’d keep her head down and keep building her influence quietly. 

Riku was playing coy, but the hints he dropped were already jaw-dropping. This guy was clearly up to some next-level stuff! 

“You’re that sure it’ll work?” V couldn’t help but ask, floored by Riku’s confidence. Could anyone be that certain about something this huge? 

“Of course. He’s got no choice but to die,” Riku said with a nod. Step one of his plan was Saburo’s death—without it, Yorinobu couldn’t take over, and nothing else could move forward. 

“Need any help?” V offered, her street-kid grit shining through. Taking down Arasaka Saburo? She was ready to jump in with both feet. 

“Hell yeah! This is gonna be wild! I’m pumped!” Jack chimed in, practically vibrating with excitement. Danger? Everyone dies someday. Better to go out with a bang than fade into obscurity. Plus, Jack knew sticking with Riku meant the odds of dying were slim. 

Rogue and Johnny Silverhand watched V and Jack, a mix of admiration and nostalgia washing over them. Rogue, in particular, felt the spark of their youthful fire. Johnny? He just thought, That’s the spirit! Real chooms right there! 

“No need for help. But if you want to see the show, I can bring you along to witness history in the making,” Riku said, a glint of approval in his eyes. Yorinobu could handle this alone—extra hands weren’t necessary. 

“What?! We can watch?!” The group let out a collective gasp. This was like getting front-row seats to a blockbuster—except it was the assassination of Arasaka Saburo! Was that even okay? 

“I’m in,” V said, throwing her hand up. Who cares if it’s appropriate? Miss this, and you’d regret it for life. 

“Me too!” Jack wasn’t about to pass up a chance like this. The guy was fearless—there wasn’t a job he wouldn’t take on. 

Even Rogue and Johnny were tempted. Rogue, pushing eighty, kept her cool, and she wasn’t that tight with Riku. But Johnny? He had no qualms. 

“Mind if I tag along?” Johnny asked, shameless as ever. His life was literally in Riku’s hands—what was there to be shy about? 

“You don’t hold back, do you?” Riku quipped, but Johnny just shrugged, unfazed. His motto? I’m not embarrassed, so someone else can be. The guy never stressed himself out—always passing the pressure onto others. No wonder some people couldn’t stand him. But you had to admit, he lived freer than most. Compared to Yorinobu, who burned through his youth and spent his life chasing ideals, Johnny had lived it up in his first twenty years. 

“Alright, you’re in,” Riku said with a chuckle, not refusing. One tagalong or three, it didn’t matter. With him around, they’d be better hidden than V and Jack’s old stash spot. That tiny hideout couldn’t fit this many people—imagine them knocking over a screen mid-murder. Talk about awkward. 

But Riku had a trick up his sleeve. He could pull V, Jack, and Johnny into the Shadow Realm, leaving just their heads peeking out. That way, they’d fit behind a single screen, no problem—even a whole row of them. Picture it: a line of heads, eyes blazing with gossip-fueled excitement, watching the drama unfold. Creepy, but effective. 

They chatted a bit more before Riku, V, and Jack took off, leaving Johnny and Rogue, the old flames, behind. Riku was decisive, dropping Johnny off like it was nothing, which caught him off guard. But Johnny quickly realized Riku wasn’t worried—he had him on a leash. This was not the time to make a run for it. 

The thought hit him harder when he remembered Riku’s parting glance, heavy with meaning. A chill ran down Johnny’s spine, conjuring up some grim possibilities. It was enough to kill his urge to go out and party. What if he was mid-fun and Riku flipped the switch? The idea alone made him queasy. 

Thanks to Rc cells and the “RELIC 2.0” chip, Johnny’s body was fully functional—no risk of being a “living eunuch.” Otherwise, he wouldn’t even think about hitting the town. As for funds? Rogue was right there, loaded. Borrowing some eddies from her? Easy. 

Say what you will about Johnny Silverhand being a bastard, but the guy had style. Compared to, say, crashing a mud truck into someone’s pool and filling it with cement, his antics were just as wild, just different. 

Over the next two days, Johnny kept a low profile. He didn’t stick around with Rogue for long—her being in her eighties while he still looked young created an awkward vibe. Instead, he hung out with Jack and the crew. Mentally, they were closer in age, especially since his time “locked away” didn’t feel real to him. 

“Two whole days, huh?” Riku was surprised. He’d expected Saburo to show up sooner, but the old man took his time. 

Based on Arasaka Hanako’s reaction, Saburo had already left when Yorinobu called her. Guess the trip was slower than expected. Understandable—Saburo was ancient, his body barely holding together. His medical team was on constant standby. If they pushed too hard and he croaked en route, who’d take the blame? 

“Probably came on a medical ship,” Yorinobu said, standing in Konpeki Plaza. He knew the old man well—Saburo was paranoid about his health, always traveling with his massive medical entourage, probably hooked up to IVs the whole way. 

“Better off dead sooner,” Riku muttered. Saburo’s survival was purely thanks to cutting-edge medical tech keeping him on life support. The guy was ex-air force, retired due to severe injuries that left him with chronic issues. Fifty years ago, he’d nearly died but clawed his way back, extending his life and saving Arasaka in the process. 

Say what you will, Riku respected Saburo’s ability. Didn’t mean he thought the guy didn’t deserve a one-way ticket to hell. 

As Riku and Yorinobu chatted, Yorinobu’s expression shifted, and Riku caught it instantly. Showtime was about to start. 

“Saburo’s here! His AV’s about to land at Konpeki Plaza!” Yorinobu confirmed, his voice tense. The old man had pulled a classic sneak attack, only giving notice at the last second. Paranoid to the core. 

“Finally,” Riku said with a grin, clapping Yorinobu on the shoulder to calm the jittery, eighty-year-old rebel teen. 

“Talk first. Let’s talk to him,” Yorinobu murmured, clinging to a faint hope. Deep down, he wished things wouldn’t spiral to the worst outcome. If Saburo could just hand over power willingly, maybe it didn’t have to end ugly. 

“Idealism,” Riku said, shaking his head. Saburo giving up power? Might as well kill him now. It was a pipe dream, plain and simple. 

With a sigh, Riku vanished. He hadn’t forgotten his promise to bring V, Jack Welles, and Johnny Silverhand for the live show. Moments later, he reappeared behind a screen, three shadowy figures beside him—their heads poking out of dark voids. V, Jack, and Johnny, wide-eyed and ready. 

“Shh!” Riku gestured, silencing their gasps. Voices were already audible, and someone had entered the spacious luxury suite. 

A stern-faced man walked in, ignoring Yorinobu and immediately sweeping the room. Takemura Goro, Saburo’s personal bodyguard, loyal only to him and completely detached from Yorinobu. Standard for someone in his role. If Takemura was close to anyone, it was Hanako, since Saburo met with her more often than with Yorinobu. 

Besides Takemura and Yorinobu, there was one other “person” in the room: Adam Smasher, the fully cybered-up enforcer, standing loyally by Yorinobu’s side. Johnny nearly lost it at the sight of him, but Riku quickly shut that down with a mental nudge. Adam Smasher had no clue what was about to go down—he was just a guard dog, and Yorinobu hadn’t let him in on the plan. 

Then, the main event arrived. A hunched old man in a kimono, hands clasped behind his back, shuffled in slowly. Every step was deliberate, cautious, yet he moved under his own power—no sign of the wheelchair-bound invalid he’d once been. 

“Arasaka Saburo…”  

Everyone in the room recognized that old face. You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone in the world who didn’t. 

Saburo walked slowly, his gaze settling on Yorinobu. His youngest son sat on the couch, head bowed, silent. 

Yorinobu had finally steadied himself, his hands no longer trembling. He was a man who could handle big moves. Still, he didn’t fully suppress his agitation—because in this moment, he shouldn’t be calm. 

(End of Chapter)