"Keep your cool, V. Room's bugged—hidden surveillance cams everywhere. I need time to spoof the feed. Talk to the doll. Don't jump the gun."
T-BUG's voice crackled through V's comms the second he stepped into the VIP suite. Her message was clear: stall. Don't blow the op.
V gave a small nod, tucking the warning away. As his gaze shifted to the woman seated on the bed, another voice lit up the channel—Oliver:
"Figures. Hidden cams. So much for Clouds' whole 'private space to unleash your desires' pitch. Total chrome-plated bullshit."
"There's no real privacy in Night City," Karl replied, his tone like cold steel.
V locked eyes with the doll.
Before he could say a word, the woman—Evelyn—rose from the bed, each step fluid, intentional.
Her hair was a soft blue bob, curled just so. Eyes sharp and lined, studying V with quiet calculation. A drink swayed in her fingers—half full, amber liquid catching the light. When their eyes met, a slow, knowing smile tugged at her lips.
Without a word, she downed the rest of the glass. Then stepped back—just a touch—to give V space, smiling faintly. The dim lighting gave her pale skin a porcelain glow. Her lips, slick and parted, breathed out a delicate scent: jasmine mixed with citrus. V's cyber-augmented senses logged it instantly.
"New face, huh?" she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
V's spine stiffened. Something about her tone—calm, coaxing—made his defenses shake.
"T-BUG. How much longer?" he growled into comms.
"What's the problem?"
"She's... getting to me."
"Tch. Get it together." T-BUG sounded bored. "Act like a man and hold the line. I need more time. Keep her talking. Stall."
"You got this, mano." "Stay sharp, V."
Jack and Karl both chimed in with quiet support.
V forced a neutral expression, brushed past Evelyn like she wasn't even there, and dropped into a nearby armchair.
Didn't even blink, Evelyn thought. Hardly any clients can ignore me like that.
Surprise flickered in her eyes—then faded into softness. She pivoted like smoke drifting on low air and glided over to him. Wordless. Effortless. Kneeling beside the armrest, she rested her forearms across it, looking up at V.
Her gaze didn't beg. It lingered. Longing, not lust.
No chip. No programming. Just skill.
She read him instantly: didn't respond to dominance? Fine. Time to switch the pitch. Go tender. Vulnerable. Make him feel needed.
Most of her clients were corp types—deviants in dress shoes who either begged to be broken or begged to break her. So she always led strong. But sometimes… the soft approach worked better.
Delicate. Blooming. Like a flower waiting for the storm to hit.
Now… what will you do?
Cup my chin with those strong hands? Run your fingers down my jaw? Or pull me close like something precious?
V hesitated.
He didn't know how to react. Evelyn's switch from femme fatale to fragile lover had been so sudden, his brain hadn't caught up.
He'd had his share of lovers back in the nomad clans—but they were sun-scorched and sand-worn, bold and fiery. This? This was another game entirely.
Shit. This is what five thousand eddies gets you? No wonder Oliver missed out. City girls are lethal. I'm not built for this.
His hands lifted—almost unconsciously—drawn toward her face, her neck.
Then—
"Feed's spoofed. Go for it, V."
T-BUG's voice hit like an EMP blast.
Everything snapped into focus.
He stared at Evelyn—eyes closed, lips parted, like some sleek, purring cat waiting for affection.
But his hands didn't stop.
They kept moving.
And locked around her neck.
Fingers pressed firmly on her carotids. No hesitation. No time.
Evelyn's eyes fluttered. But she never gasped. Consciousness slipped through her fingers before she could even react.
Her body sagged. Limp.
And as darkness closed in, the last thing she heard was a calm, flat voice in her ear:
"Target down."
.
.
.
🔥 Cyberpunk: The Relentless
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