[You have a new friend request.]
[From: Evelyn Parker]
The notification blinked across Neo's holo-vision, Evelyn Parker's digital avatar flickering to life before him — perfect face, platinum hair, a smirk that could start a war.
Neo raised an eyebrow. Evelyn Parker?
That… didn't line up.
He'd never even met her.
He knew the name — everyone in Night City did. Evelyn was a familiar face at Lizzie's Bar, a doll with ambitions bigger than her price tag. But the last time he'd been there drinking with Jackie Welles, there hadn't been a trace of her.
So how the hell did she get his contact ID?
Neo accepted the request. The moment he did, his holo-interface buzzed with an incoming call.
Her voice was smooth like silk.
"Good evening, Mr. V."
"I'm Evelyn Parker. I'm at Lizzie's right now. Thought I'd invite you over for a drink — unless, of course, you're the kind of man who only drinks alone?"
Neo leaned back in his chair, a small smirk touching his lips. "Words can lie, Ms. Parker. Drinks shouldn't. I don't share a glass with strangers. So tell me — how'd you get my number?"
Evelyn's tone didn't waver for a second. "From Wakako."
Ah. Of course.
"I knew you'd ask," she added lightly. "Wakako's quite the fixer, isn't she? In Night City, there's nothing she won't sell — for the right price."
Neo chuckled, low and cold. "Didn't think my contact ID was worth selling. Guess I'm trending now."
Evelyn's laughter chimed like glass. "You are, Mr. V. A talent like yours doesn't go unnoticed. One gig in this city — and already you're all anyone's talking about."
"All Scavs wiped out. A Trauma Team platinum-tier client rescued. That kind of story travels fast."
Neo's voice remained steady. "Then you should also know — it wasn't just me. It was teamwork. We did it together."
"Jackie Welles, Maine's crew…" Evelyn's tone softened, the faintest tease curling through her words. "I know them. Jackie's been around the block. Maine's team is reliable, but not exceptional. With their loadout, they couldn't have pulled off that rescue cleanly. That's why I'm calling you, Mr. V."
Her words were a test. A hook, perfectly baited.
Neo sighed softly. So that's how it is.
"You're not wasting time, Ms. Parker," he said. "Fine. Order me a rum. On the rocks. I'll be there in ten."
…
Lizzie's Bar.
By the time Neo arrived, the place was in full swing — music thrumming through the walls, strobes flashing like lightning across sweat-slick skin. Neon dripped from every surface, turning shadows into living color.
"V! Hey there, good to see you!"
Two bouncers by the door — both familiar faces from before — greeted him with bright smiles.
"Evening," Neo replied evenly.
"Just you tonight?" one of them asked, leaning forward with a grin. "No Jackie? That guy's always good for a show."
"He's busy. I'll catch up later." Neo gave a small nod and stepped inside, the women's eyes following him until the darkness swallowed his figure.
The bass hit like a pulse straight to the chest. The dance floor was alive — bodies moving, lights bleeding together in pink, violet, and electric blue.
Neo didn't bother looking around. He already knew she'd find him first.
He reached the bar, leaned against the counter, and waited.
The bartender, Mateo, strolled over with a grin. "What'll it be, choom? Something smooth? Or something that burns?"
Neo shook his head. "The one who called me here already ordered."
"Oh?" Mateo raised an eyebrow. "That's a first. Thought you might be new. With that clean face and no chrome, you don't exactly scream 'Night City regular.'"
Neo smirked but didn't respond.
He was used to that reaction — no chrome, no edge, they said. Yet, somehow, everyone remembered him.
Before Mateo could pry further, a honeyed voice drifted from behind.
"Mateo, you can go. He's mine."
Evelyn Parker stepped into view, moving like she owned the air around her. Every curve, every glance, choreographed — dangerous by design.
Her perfume hit first, subtle and intoxicating, followed by the faint gleam of sapphire beneath her collarbone, a subdermal implant pulsing in rhythm with the music.
"Mr. V," she purred, sliding gracefully onto the seat beside him. "Finally, we meet."
Neo looked her over like a merc evaluating a client.
She extended a hand. "Evelyn Parker."
He took it, brief and firm. "V."
"Straight to business, huh?" she said, that sly smile never fading.
Neo lifted the glass she'd ordered. Rum with ice, just as promised, and took a sip. "Always. Let's talk."
Evelyn tilted her head, intrigued. "Here? Not in a booth? I expected you'd want privacy."
Neo downed the rest of the glass and set it aside. "Privacy's an illusion, Parker. Especially here. I don't care who you work for, or who's watching. What matters is the job, and the pay."
For a moment, she just looked at him, that trademark confidence faltering ever so slightly.
Then she laughed softly. "No wonder you've already made a name for yourself. Jackie and Maine get the credit on paper, but the chatter on the streets? It's all about you."
"You're different, V. Not just skilled — deliberate and detached. That's rare."
Neo smiled faintly. "Flattery's good for business, but I prefer numbers."
He leaned closer, voice low, unshaken. "Whatever the job is, I'll take it. But here's how I work. No tabs. No discounts. No 'we'll settle later.' One price, one deal. I name it — you accept it or you walk. That's it."
Evelyn blinked, then let out a slow, amused breath. "You don't leave much room for negotiation."
"Negotiation wastes time. You came through Wakako for a reason. That means you've already decided I'm the one you need. Which means the leverage," Neo said, setting the empty glass down, "is mine."
Her lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "I like you, V."
Neo's eyes glinted under the neon light. "You're supposed to."