HEAVY HEARTS
The club's ornate neon sign looked almost understated in the daylight. Nighttime was when this place really came alive.
Heavy Hearts was famous for its Egyptian pyramid architecture and the green beam of light that shot into the sky after dark. The security here was just as notorious—rough and uncompromising.
Nobody could quite explain why this building dared to stand alongside The Emerald as one of Dogtown's few true landmarks.
Maybe it was because Mr. Hands ran his operation from the upper floors of this luxury establishment?
After all, someone had to handle business in this lawless territory.
The two guards at the entrance gave Ethan's rifle a thorough once-over. "Sorry, pal. House rules. Gonna have to hold onto this for you."
Ethan shrugged. "Fine by me."
One guard pressed the comm unit behind his ear. "He's here."
That had to be Hands on the other end. A moment later, the guard waved Ethan's pistol back toward him—apparently Mr. Hands didn't consider a handgun much of a threat to anyone in Dogtown.
The guard swiped a keycard to unlock the door. Ethan straightened up, cleared his throat, and prepared himself for his first face-to-face with the big man.
It didn't matter who you were—you could disrespect some no-name middleman all you wanted. But a fixer like Mr. Hands, who'd already made it? One careless word could tank your reputation. Strip away the Barghest connection, and if Ethan wanted to survive out here, Mr. Hands was the first test.
Of course, if Ethan just wanted to be another burnout huffing Glitter outside the black market until he passed out, none of this would matter.
But Hansen was still breathing down his neck. He needed to bring his A-game.
Ding.
Heavy Hearts wasn't tall—just three floors. The third was all plush carpet and classical luxury, every inch of it Mr. Hands' domain.
Ethan stopped at the door and knocked lightly on the wood-paneled surface. It smelled faintly of cedar.
"Come in, my friend. No need for formalities."
Hands' voice in person carried more weight than it had over holo. Ethan hit the door release.
The room looked like something out of a European boutique hotel—sunken conversation pit in the center, expensive furnishings everywhere. Mr. Hands sat on a leather sofa, reading a book.
"Mr. Hands."
Ethan offered a quiet greeting and stood respectfully by the couch, waiting.
[SUBJECT: Mr. Hands]
[AFFILIATION: Dogtown / Pacifica]
[AFFINITY: -10 — "You're a liability until proven otherwise."]
[DEVELOPMENT VALUE: Extremely High]
[MILESTONE REWARD: Affinity reaches 0 → Body +2, Epic Tech Sniper Rifle 'Nekomata' (Manufacturer: Tsunami)]
Great. The system's gone completely silent on guidance now. Newbie bonus is officially over.
Complaints aside, Ethan studied the fixer carefully. What he couldn't figure out was why Hands' opinion of him was already in the negatives.
Had he dug into the original owner's less-than-stellar history?
Still, that milestone reward was tempting. Epic-tier weapons were only one step below Iconic-Legendary. A Tsunami tech sniper rifle was serious hardware.
Mr. Hands closed his book, his gaze drifting to Ethan's arms. "Hard to believe someone with such... crude augmentations would be Hansen's 'confidant.'"
Great. My chrome's getting roasted again.
But the "confidant" comment threw him. Weren't Hansen's actual confidants the Barghest brass living it up in The Emerald, swimming in eddies?
He'd been kicked out of Barghest just yesterday. This didn't add up.
Mr. Hands rose slowly, his tone measured. "Have you ever heard this story? On the African savanna, water buffalo are incredibly powerful. Even lions—kings of the wild—won't attack a herd head-on. Both sides size each other up, waiting."
He paused.
"You, my friend, are the lion Hansen has sent out to circle me."
Ethan's mind worked fast. He didn't want to make this worse. "I think the Colonel just can't swallow what happened to that convoy. You know how it is, Mr. Hands. Barghest can't exactly go poking around Night City without attracting attention."
"As for me—I'm just the errand boy. Not a 'lion.' I'm here to follow your lead."
Mr. Hands seemed surprised that his little test had been deflected so smoothly. A warm smile returned to his face.
"Very good. You really are a personable young man."
"Hansen's side of things is still up in the air, but you'll need to put aside that military way of doing things."
"Here, you learn to work with fixers and edgerunners. Stay with me, handle some jobs, and we'll see how you perform."
Ethan nodded. First exchange, successfully navigated.
Mr. Hands steepled his fingers and leaned forward, eyes fixed on Ethan. "I'm not like you young people. I have a family. A daughter. Some things need to be handled cleanly—no loose ends. Any unnecessary trouble stops at Dogtown's gates."
"Especially given who you and Colonel Hansen are."
"I understand, Mr. Hands."
"You listen. You adapt. Now let's see if you can deliver." The fixer's eyes flickered—data transfer. Ethan felt the familiar tingle behind his optics as files loaded in.
"Some old associates of ours—edgerunners from the city—aren't planning to let this go."
"But we're all just trying to make a living. No need to make things difficult for each other. Review the file. Your job is to make this problem go away."
Ethan opened the dossier in his cybereye.
[NAME: Sasha Yakovleva]
His mind went blank for a second.
So by 2075, that tight-knit crew of edgerunners had already started making a name for themselves in this city.
"Recognize her? Old friend, perhaps?"
Mr. Hands' perception was razor-sharp. He'd caught Ethan's micro-expression instantly.
Ethan lied. Shook his head slowly. "Just surprised. A girl this young already has over a dozen entries in the NCPD database."
"Netrunners don't care about age. Young minds run fast. Anyone wearing a netrunning suit is trouble."
In the file, Sasha was smiling brightly—even throwing up a peace sign in footage the NCPD had captured.
"Whether you know her or not is your secret. I don't need to know."
Mr. Hands didn't push further.
"Go find a hacker friend of mine here in Dogtown. He knows his way around ICE—attack and defense. As long as nothing traces back to you or Hansen, we're good."
"If they come up empty, this crew will give up on their own."
Another contact pinged into Ethan's system. The full mission details were on the briefing shard Hands had passed him.
"Oh, and one more thing, my 'lion.'" Hands allowed himself a small joke. "The BD on the table. Watch it. Get a feel for what the Colonel actually wants you looking out for."
Ethan picked up the braindance wreath without hesitation. As the visor slid over his eyes and light flooded his vision, his senses plunged into another perspective entirely—
PLZ THROW POWERSTONES.
WORD COUNT DOWN HERE
HEAVY HEARTS
The club's ornate neon sign looked almost understated in the daylight. Nighttime was when this place really came alive.
Heavy Hearts was famous for its Egyptian pyramid architecture and the green beam of light that shot into the sky after dark. The security here was just as notorious—rough and uncompromising.
Nobody could quite explain why this building dared to stand alongside The Emerald as one of Dogtown's few true landmarks.
Maybe it was because Mr. Hands ran his operation from the upper floors of this luxury establishment?
After all, someone had to handle business in this lawless territory.
The two guards at the entrance gave Ethan's rifle a thorough once-over. "Sorry, pal. House rules. Gonna have to hold onto this for you."
Ethan shrugged. "Fine by me."
One guard pressed the comm unit behind his ear. "He's here."
That had to be Hands on the other end. A moment later, the guard waved Ethan's pistol back toward him—apparently Mr. Hands didn't consider a handgun much of a threat to anyone in Dogtown.
The guard swiped a keycard to unlock the door. Ethan straightened up, cleared his throat, and prepared himself for his first face-to-face with the big man.
It didn't matter who you were—you could disrespect some no-name middleman all you wanted. But a fixer like Mr. Hands, who'd already made it? One careless word could tank your reputation. Strip away the Barghest connection, and if Ethan wanted to survive out here, Mr. Hands was the first test.
Of course, if Ethan just wanted to be another burnout huffing Glitter outside the black market until he passed out, none of this would matter.
But Hansen was still breathing down his neck. He needed to bring his A-game.
Ding.
Heavy Hearts wasn't tall—just three floors. The third was all plush carpet and classical luxury, every inch of it Mr. Hands' domain.
Ethan stopped at the door and knocked lightly on the wood-paneled surface. It smelled faintly of cedar.
"Come in, my friend. No need for formalities."
Hands' voice in person carried more weight than it had over holo. Ethan hit the door release.
The room looked like something out of a European boutique hotel—sunken conversation pit in the center, expensive furnishings everywhere. Mr. Hands sat on a leather sofa, reading a book.
"Mr. Hands."
Ethan offered a quiet greeting and stood respectfully by the couch, waiting.
[SUBJECT: Mr. Hands][AFFILIATION: Dogtown / Pacifica][AFFINITY: -10 — "You're a liability until proven otherwise."][DEVELOPMENT VALUE: Extremely High][MILESTONE REWARD: Affinity reaches 0 → Body +2, Epic Tech Sniper Rifle 'Nekomata' (Manufacturer: Tsunami)]
Great. The system's gone completely silent on guidance now. Newbie bonus is officially over.
Complaints aside, Ethan studied the fixer carefully. What he couldn't figure out was why Hands' opinion of him was already in the negatives.
Had he dug into the original owner's less-than-stellar history?
Still, that milestone reward was tempting. Epic-tier weapons were only one step below Iconic-Legendary. A Tsunami tech sniper rifle was serious hardware.
Mr. Hands closed his book, his gaze drifting to Ethan's arms. "Hard to believe someone with such... crude augmentations would be Hansen's 'confidant.'"
Great. My chrome's getting roasted again.
But the "confidant" comment threw him. Weren't Hansen's actual confidants the Barghest brass living it up in The Emerald, swimming in eddies?
He'd been kicked out of Barghest just yesterday. This didn't add up.
Mr. Hands rose slowly, his tone measured. "Have you ever heard this story? On the African savanna, water buffalo are incredibly powerful. Even lions—kings of the wild—won't attack a herd head-on. Both sides size each other up, waiting."
He paused.
"You, my friend, are the lion Hansen has sent out to circle me."
Ethan's mind worked fast. He didn't want to make this worse. "I think the Colonel just can't swallow what happened to that convoy. You know how it is, Mr. Hands. Barghest can't exactly go poking around Night City without attracting attention."
"As for me—I'm just the errand boy. Not a 'lion.' I'm here to follow your lead."
Mr. Hands seemed surprised that his little test had been deflected so smoothly. A warm smile returned to his face.
"Very good. You really are a personable young man."
"Hansen's side of things is still up in the air, but you'll need to put aside that military way of doing things."
"Here, you learn to work with fixers and edgerunners. Stay with me, handle some jobs, and we'll see how you perform."
Ethan nodded. First exchange, successfully navigated.
Mr. Hands steepled his fingers and leaned forward, eyes fixed on Ethan. "I'm not like you young people. I have a family. A daughter. Some things need to be handled cleanly—no loose ends. Any unnecessary trouble stops at Dogtown's gates."
"Especially given who you and Colonel Hansen are."
"I understand, Mr. Hands."
"You listen. You adapt. Now let's see if you can deliver." The fixer's eyes flickered—data transfer. Ethan felt the familiar tingle behind his optics as files loaded in.
"Some old associates of ours—edgerunners from the city—aren't planning to let this go."
"But we're all just trying to make a living. No need to make things difficult for each other. Review the file. Your job is to make this problem go away."
Ethan opened the dossier in his cybereye.
[NAME: Sasha Yakovleva]
His mind went blank for a second.
So by 2075, that tight-knit crew of edgerunners had already started making a name for themselves in this city.
"Recognize her? Old friend, perhaps?"
Mr. Hands' perception was razor-sharp. He'd caught Ethan's micro-expression instantly.
Ethan lied. Shook his head slowly. "Just surprised. A girl this young already has over a dozen entries in the NCPD database."
"Netrunners don't care about age. Young minds run fast. Anyone wearing a netrunning suit is trouble."
In the file, Sasha was smiling brightly—even throwing up a peace sign in footage the NCPD had captured.
"Whether you know her or not is your secret. I don't need to know."
Mr. Hands didn't push further.
"Go find a hacker friend of mine here in Dogtown. He knows his way around ICE—attack and defense. As long as nothing traces back to you or Hansen, we're good."
"If they come up empty, this crew will give up on their own."
Another contact pinged into Ethan's system. The full mission details were on the briefing shard Hands had passed him.
"Oh, and one more thing, my 'lion.'" Hands allowed himself a small joke. "The BD on the table. Watch it. Get a feel for what the Colonel actually wants you looking out for."
Ethan picked up the braindance wreath without hesitation. As the visor slid over his eyes and light flooded his vision, his senses plunged into another perspective entirely—
HEAVY HEARTS
The club's ornate neon sign looked almost understated in the daylight. Nighttime was when this place really came alive.
Heavy Hearts was famous for its Egyptian pyramid architecture and the green beam of light that shot into the sky after dark. The security here was just as notorious—rough and uncompromising.
Nobody could quite explain why this building dared to stand alongside The Emerald as one of Dogtown's few true landmarks.
Maybe it was because Mr. Hands ran his operation from the upper floors of this luxury establishment?
After all, someone had to handle business in this lawless territory.
The two guards at the entrance gave Ethan's rifle a thorough once-over. "Sorry, pal. House rules. Gonna have to hold onto this for you."
Ethan shrugged. "Fine by me."
One guard pressed the comm unit behind his ear. "He's here."
That had to be Hands on the other end. A moment later, the guard waved Ethan's pistol back toward him—apparently Mr. Hands didn't consider a handgun much of a threat to anyone in Dogtown.
The guard swiped a keycard to unlock the door. Ethan straightened up, cleared his throat, and prepared himself for his first face-to-face with the big man.
It didn't matter who you were—you could disrespect some no-name middleman all you wanted. But a fixer like Mr. Hands, who'd already made it? One careless word could tank your reputation. Strip away the Barghest connection, and if Ethan wanted to survive out here, Mr. Hands was the first test.
Of course, if Ethan just wanted to be another burnout huffing Glitter outside the black market until he passed out, none of this would matter.
But Hansen was still breathing down his neck. He needed to bring his A-game.
Ding.
Heavy Hearts wasn't tall—just three floors. The third was all plush carpet and classical luxury, every inch of it Mr. Hands' domain.
Ethan stopped at the door and knocked lightly on the wood-paneled surface. It smelled faintly of cedar.
"Come in, my friend. No need for formalities."
Hands' voice in person carried more weight than it had over holo. Ethan hit the door release.
The room looked like something out of a European boutique hotel—sunken conversation pit in the center, expensive furnishings everywhere. Mr. Hands sat on a leather sofa, reading a book.
"Mr. Hands."
Ethan offered a quiet greeting and stood respectfully by the couch, waiting.
[SUBJECT: Mr. Hands][AFFILIATION: Dogtown / Pacifica][AFFINITY: -10 — "You're a liability until proven otherwise."][DEVELOPMENT VALUE: Extremely High][MILESTONE REWARD: Affinity reaches 0 → Body +2, Epic Tech Sniper Rifle 'Nekomata' (Manufacturer: Tsunami)]
Great. The system's gone completely silent on guidance now. Newbie bonus is officially over.
Complaints aside, Ethan studied the fixer carefully. What he couldn't figure out was why Hands' opinion of him was already in the negatives.
Had he dug into the original owner's less-than-stellar history?
Still, that milestone reward was tempting. Epic-tier weapons were only one step below Iconic-Legendary. A Tsunami tech sniper rifle was serious hardware.
Mr. Hands closed his book, his gaze drifting to Ethan's arms. "Hard to believe someone with such... crude augmentations would be Hansen's 'confidant.'"
Great. My chrome's getting roasted again.
But the "confidant" comment threw him. Weren't Hansen's actual confidants the Barghest brass living it up in The Emerald, swimming in eddies?
He'd been kicked out of Barghest just yesterday. This didn't add up.
Mr. Hands rose slowly, his tone measured. "Have you ever heard this story? On the African savanna, water buffalo are incredibly powerful. Even lions—kings of the wild—won't attack a herd head-on. Both sides size each other up, waiting."
He paused.
"You, my friend, are the lion Hansen has sent out to circle me."
Ethan's mind worked fast. He didn't want to make this worse. "I think the Colonel just can't swallow what happened to that convoy. You know how it is, Mr. Hands. Barghest can't exactly go poking around Night City without attracting attention."
"As for me—I'm just the errand boy. Not a 'lion.' I'm here to follow your lead."
Mr. Hands seemed surprised that his little test had been deflected so smoothly. A warm smile returned to his face.
"Very good. You really are a personable young man."
"Hansen's side of things is still up in the air, but you'll need to put aside that military way of doing things."
"Here, you learn to work with fixers and edgerunners. Stay with me, handle some jobs, and we'll see how you perform."
Ethan nodded. First exchange, successfully navigated.
Mr. Hands steepled his fingers and leaned forward, eyes fixed on Ethan. "I'm not like you young people. I have a family. A daughter. Some things need to be handled cleanly—no loose ends. Any unnecessary trouble stops at Dogtown's gates."
"Especially given who you and Colonel Hansen are."
"I understand, Mr. Hands."
"You listen. You adapt. Now let's see if you can deliver." The fixer's eyes flickered—data transfer. Ethan felt the familiar tingle behind his optics as files loaded in.
"Some old associates of ours—edgerunners from the city—aren't planning to let this go."
"But we're all just trying to make a living. No need to make things difficult for each other. Review the file. Your job is to make this problem go away."
Ethan opened the dossier in his cybereye.
[NAME: Sasha Yakovleva]
His mind went blank for a second.
So by 2075, that tight-knit crew of edgerunners had already started making a name for themselves in this city.
"Recognize her? Old friend, perhaps?"
Mr. Hands' perception was razor-sharp. He'd caught Ethan's micro-expression instantly.
Ethan lied. Shook his head slowly. "Just surprised. A girl this young already has over a dozen entries in the NCPD database."
"Netrunners don't care about age. Young minds run fast. Anyone wearing a netrunning suit is trouble."
In the file, Sasha was smiling brightly—even throwing up a peace sign in footage the NCPD had captured.
"Whether you know her or not is your secret. I don't need to know."
Mr. Hands didn't push further.
"Go find a hacker friend of mine here in Dogtown. He knows his way around ICE—attack and defense. As long as nothing traces back to you or Hansen, we're good."
"If they come up empty, this crew will give up on their own."
Another contact pinged into Ethan's system. The full mission details were on the briefing shard Hands had passed him.
"Oh, and one more thing, my 'lion.'" Hands allowed himself a small joke. "The BD on the table. Watch it. Get a feel for what the Colonel actually wants you looking out for."
Ethan picked up the braindance wreath without hesitation. As the visor slid over his eyes and light flooded his vision, his senses plunged into another perspective entirely—
HEAVY HEARTS
The club's ornate neon sign looked almost understated in the daylight. Nighttime was when this place really came alive.
Heavy Hearts was famous for its Egyptian pyramid architecture and the green beam of light that shot into the sky after dark. The security here was just as notorious—rough and uncompromising.
Nobody could quite explain why this building dared to stand alongside The Emerald as one of Dogtown's few true landmarks.
Maybe it was because Mr. Hands ran his operation from the upper floors of this luxury establishment?
After all, someone had to handle business in this lawless territory.
The two guards at the entrance gave Ethan's rifle a thorough once-over. "Sorry, pal. House rules. Gonna have to hold onto this for you."
Ethan shrugged. "Fine by me."
One guard pressed the comm unit behind his ear. "He's here."
That had to be Hands on the other end. A moment later, the guard waved Ethan's pistol back toward him—apparently Mr. Hands didn't consider a handgun much of a threat to anyone in Dogtown.
The guard swiped a keycard to unlock the door. Ethan straightened up, cleared his throat, and prepared himself for his first face-to-face with the big man.
It didn't matter who you were—you could disrespect some no-name middleman all you wanted. But a fixer like Mr. Hands, who'd already made it? One careless word could tank your reputation. Strip away the Barghest connection, and if Ethan wanted to survive out here, Mr. Hands was the first test.
Of course, if Ethan just wanted to be another burnout huffing Glitter outside the black market until he passed out, none of this would matter.
But Hansen was still breathing down his neck. He needed to bring his A-game.
Ding.
Heavy Hearts wasn't tall—just three floors. The third was all plush carpet and classical luxury, every inch of it Mr. Hands' domain.
Ethan stopped at the door and knocked lightly on the wood-paneled surface. It smelled faintly of cedar.
"Come in, my friend. No need for formalities."
Hands' voice in person carried more weight than it had over holo. Ethan hit the door release.
The room looked like something out of a European boutique hotel—sunken conversation pit in the center, expensive furnishings everywhere. Mr. Hands sat on a leather sofa, reading a book.
"Mr. Hands."
Ethan offered a quiet greeting and stood respectfully by the couch, waiting.
[SUBJECT: Mr. Hands][AFFILIATION: Dogtown / Pacifica][AFFINITY: -10 — "You're a liability until proven otherwise."][DEVELOPMENT VALUE: Extremely High][MILESTONE REWARD: Affinity reaches 0 → Body +2, Epic Tech Sniper Rifle 'Nekomata' (Manufacturer: Tsunami)]
Great. The system's gone completely silent on guidance now. Newbie bonus is officially over.
Complaints aside, Ethan studied the fixer carefully. What he couldn't figure out was why Hands' opinion of him was already in the negatives.
Had he dug into the original owner's less-than-stellar history?
Still, that milestone reward was tempting. Epic-tier weapons were only one step below Iconic-Legendary. A Tsunami tech sniper rifle was serious hardware.
Mr. Hands closed his book, his gaze drifting to Ethan's arms. "Hard to believe someone with such... crude augmentations would be Hansen's 'confidant.'"
Great. My chrome's getting roasted again.
But the "confidant" comment threw him. Weren't Hansen's actual confidants the Barghest brass living it up in The Emerald, swimming in eddies?
He'd been kicked out of Barghest just yesterday. This didn't add up.
Mr. Hands rose slowly, his tone measured. "Have you ever heard this story? On the African savanna, water buffalo are incredibly powerful. Even lions—kings of the wild—won't attack a herd head-on. Both sides size each other up, waiting."
He paused.
"You, my friend, are the lion Hansen has sent out to circle me."
Ethan's mind worked fast. He didn't want to make this worse. "I think the Colonel just can't swallow what happened to that convoy. You know how it is, Mr. Hands. Barghest can't exactly go poking around Night City without attracting attention."
"As for me—I'm just the errand boy. Not a 'lion.' I'm here to follow your lead."
Mr. Hands seemed surprised that his little test had been deflected so smoothly. A warm smile returned to his face.
"Very good. You really are a personable young man."
"Hansen's side of things is still up in the air, but you'll need to put aside that military way of doing things."
"Here, you learn to work with fixers and edgerunners. Stay with me, handle some jobs, and we'll see how you perform."
Ethan nodded. First exchange, successfully navigated.
Mr. Hands steepled his fingers and leaned forward, eyes fixed on Ethan. "I'm not like you young people. I have a family. A daughter. Some things need to be handled cleanly—no loose ends. Any unnecessary trouble stops at Dogtown's gates."
"Especially given who you and Colonel Hansen are."
"I understand, Mr. Hands."
"You listen. You adapt. Now let's see if you can deliver." The fixer's eyes flickered—data transfer. Ethan felt the familiar tingle behind his optics as files loaded in.
"Some old associates of ours—edgerunners from the city—aren't planning to let this go."
"But we're all just trying to make a living. No need to make things difficult for each other. Review the file. Your job is to make this problem go away."
Ethan opened the dossier in his cybereye.
[NAME: Sasha Yakovleva]
His mind went blank for a second.
So by 2075, that tight-knit crew of edgerunners had already started making a name for themselves in this city.
"Recognize her? Old friend, perhaps?"
Mr. Hands' perception was razor-sharp. He'd caught Ethan's micro-expression instantly.
Ethan lied. Shook his head slowly. "Just surprised. A girl this young already has over a dozen entries in the NCPD database."
"Netrunners don't care about age. Young minds run fast. Anyone wearing a netrunning suit is trouble."
In the file, Sasha was smiling brightly—even throwing up a peace sign in footage the NCPD had captured.
"Whether you know her or not is your secret. I don't need to know."
Mr. Hands didn't push further.
"Go find a hacker friend of mine here in Dogtown. He knows his way around ICE—attack and defense. As long as nothing traces back to you or Hansen, we're good."
"If they come up empty, this crew will give up on their own."
Another contact pinged into Ethan's system. The full mission details were on the briefing shard Hands had passed him.
"Oh, and one more thing, my 'lion.'" Hands allowed himself a small joke. "The BD on the table. Watch it. Get a feel for what the Colonel actually wants you looking out for."
Ethan picked up the braindance wreath without hesitation. As the visor slid over his eyes and light flooded his vision, his senses plunged into another perspective entirely—
HEAVY HEARTS
The club's ornate neon sign looked almost understated in the daylight. Nighttime was when this place really came alive.
Heavy Hearts was famous for its Egyptian pyramid architecture and the green beam of light that shot into the sky after dark. The security here was just as notorious—rough and uncompromising.
Nobody could quite explain why this building dared to stand alongside The Emerald as one of Dogtown's few true landmarks.
Maybe it was because Mr. Hands ran his operation from the upper floors of this luxury establishment?
After all, someone had to handle business in this lawless territory.
The two guards at the entrance gave Ethan's rifle a thorough once-over. "Sorry, pal. House rules. Gonna have to hold onto this for you."
Ethan shrugged. "Fine by me."
One guard pressed the comm unit behind his ear. "He's here."
That had to be Hands on the other end. A moment later, the guard waved Ethan's pistol back toward him—apparently Mr. Hands didn't consider a handgun much of a threat to anyone in Dogtown.
The guard swiped a keycard to unlock the door. Ethan straightened up, cleared his throat, and prepared himself for his first face-to-face with the big man.
It didn't matter who you were—you could disrespect some no-name middleman all you wanted. But a fixer like Mr. Hands, who'd already made it? One careless word could tank your reputation. Strip away the Barghest connection, and if Ethan wanted to survive out here, Mr. Hands was the first test.
Of course, if Ethan just wanted to be another burnout huffing Glitter outside the black market until he passed out, none of this would matter.
But Hansen was still breathing down his neck. He needed to bring his A-game.
Ding.
Heavy Hearts wasn't tall—just three floors. The third was all plush carpet and classical luxury, every inch of it Mr. Hands' domain.
Ethan stopped at the door and knocked lightly on the wood-paneled surface. It smelled faintly of cedar.
"Come in, my friend. No need for formalities."
Hands' voice in person carried more weight than it had over holo. Ethan hit the door release.
The room looked like something out of a European boutique hotel—sunken conversation pit in the center, expensive furnishings everywhere. Mr. Hands sat on a leather sofa, reading a book.
"Mr. Hands."
Ethan offered a quiet greeting and stood respectfully by the couch, waiting.
[SUBJECT: Mr. Hands][AFFILIATION: Dogtown / Pacifica][AFFINITY: -10 — "You're a liability until proven otherwise."][DEVELOPMENT VALUE: Extremely High][MILESTONE REWARD: Affinity reaches 0 → Body +2, Epic Tech Sniper Rifle 'Nekomata' (Manufacturer: Tsunami)]
Great. The system's gone completely silent on guidance now. Newbie bonus is officially over.
Complaints aside, Ethan studied the fixer carefully. What he couldn't figure out was why Hands' opinion of him was already in the negatives.
Had he dug into the original owner's less-than-stellar history?
Still, that milestone reward was tempting. Epic-tier weapons were only one step below Iconic-Legendary. A Tsunami tech sniper rifle was serious hardware.
Mr. Hands closed his book, his gaze drifting to Ethan's arms. "Hard to believe someone with such... crude augmentations would be Hansen's 'confidant.'"
Great. My chrome's getting roasted again.
But the "confidant" comment threw him. Weren't Hansen's actual confidants the Barghest brass living it up in The Emerald, swimming in eddies?
He'd been kicked out of Barghest just yesterday. This didn't add up.
Mr. Hands rose slowly, his tone measured. "Have you ever heard this story? On the African savanna, water buffalo are incredibly powerful. Even lions—kings of the wild—won't attack a herd head-on. Both sides size each other up, waiting."
He paused.
"You, my friend, are the lion Hansen has sent out to circle me."
Ethan's mind worked fast. He didn't want to make this worse. "I think the Colonel just can't swallow what happened to that convoy. You know how it is, Mr. Hands. Barghest can't exactly go poking around Night City without attracting attention."
"As for me—I'm just the errand boy. Not a 'lion.' I'm here to follow your lead."
Mr. Hands seemed surprised that his little test had been deflected so smoothly. A warm smile returned to his face.
"Very good. You really are a personable young man."
"Hansen's side of things is still up in the air, but you'll need to put aside that military way of doing things."
"Here, you learn to work with fixers and edgerunners. Stay with me, handle some jobs, and we'll see how you perform."
Ethan nodded. First exchange, successfully navigated.
Mr. Hands steepled his fingers and leaned forward, eyes fixed on Ethan. "I'm not like you young people. I have a family. A daughter. Some things need to be handled cleanly—no loose ends. Any unnecessary trouble stops at Dogtown's gates."
"Especially given who you and Colonel Hansen are."
"I understand, Mr. Hands."
"You listen. You adapt. Now let's see if you can deliver." The fixer's eyes flickered—data transfer. Ethan felt the familiar tingle behind his optics as files loaded in.
"Some old associates of ours—edgerunners from the city—aren't planning to let this go."
"But we're all just trying to make a living. No need to make things difficult for each other. Review the file. Your job is to make this problem go away."
Ethan opened the dossier in his cybereye.
[NAME: Sasha Yakovleva]
His mind went blank for a second.
So by 2075, that tight-knit crew of edgerunners had already started making a name for themselves in this city.
"Recognize her? Old friend, perhaps?"
Mr. Hands' perception was razor-sharp. He'd caught Ethan's micro-expression instantly.
Ethan lied. Shook his head slowly. "Just surprised. A girl this young already has over a dozen entries in the NCPD database."
"Netrunners don't care about age. Young minds run fast. Anyone wearing a netrunning suit is trouble."
In the file, Sasha was smiling brightly—even throwing up a peace sign in footage the NCPD had captured.
"Whether you know her or not is your secret. I don't need to know."
Mr. Hands didn't push further.
"Go find a hacker friend of mine here in Dogtown. He knows his way around ICE—attack and defense. As long as nothing traces back to you or Hansen, we're good."
"If they come up empty, this crew will give up on their own."
Another contact pinged into Ethan's system. The full mission details were on the briefing shard Hands had passed him.
"Oh, and one more thing, my 'lion.'" Hands allowed himself a small joke. "The BD on the table. Watch it. Get a feel for what the Colonel actually wants you looking out for."
Ethan picked up the braindance wreath without hesitation. As the visor slid over his eyes and light flooded his vision, his senses plunged into another perspective entirely—
HEAVY HEARTS
The club's ornate neon sign looked almost understated in the daylight. Nighttime was when this place really came alive.
Heavy Hearts was famous for its Egyptian pyramid architecture and the green beam of light that shot into the sky after dark. The security here was just as notorious—rough and uncompromising.
Nobody could quite explain why this building dared to stand alongside The Emerald as one of Dogtown's few true landmarks.
Maybe it was because Mr. Hands ran his operation from the upper floors of this luxury establishment?
After all, someone had to handle business in this lawless territory.
The two guards at the entrance gave Ethan's rifle a thorough once-over. "Sorry, pal. House rules. Gonna have to hold onto this for you."
Ethan shrugged. "Fine by me."
One guard pressed the comm unit behind his ear. "He's here."
That had to be Hands on the other end. A moment later, the guard waved Ethan's pistol back toward him—apparently Mr. Hands didn't consider a handgun much of a threat to anyone in Dogtown.
The guard swiped a keycard to unlock the door. Ethan straightened up, cleared his throat, and prepared himself for his first face-to-face with the big man.
It didn't matter who you were—you could disrespect some no-name middleman all you wanted. But a fixer like Mr. Hands, who'd already made it? One careless word could tank your reputation. Strip away the Barghest connection, and if Ethan wanted to survive out here, Mr. Hands was the first test.
Of course, if Ethan just wanted to be another burnout huffing Glitter outside the black market until he passed out, none of this would matter.
But Hansen was still breathing down his neck. He needed to bring his A-game.
Ding.
Heavy Hearts wasn't tall—just three floors. The third was all plush carpet and classical luxury, every inch of it Mr. Hands' domain.
Ethan stopped at the door and knocked lightly on the wood-paneled surface. It smelled faintly of cedar.
"Come in, my friend. No need for formalities."
Hands' voice in person carried more weight than it had over holo. Ethan hit the door release.
The room looked like something out of a European boutique hotel—sunken conversation pit in the center, expensive furnishings everywhere. Mr. Hands sat on a leather sofa, reading a book.
"Mr. Hands."
Ethan offered a quiet greeting and stood respectfully by the couch, waiting.
[SUBJECT: Mr. Hands][AFFILIATION: Dogtown / Pacifica][AFFINITY: -10 — "You're a liability until proven otherwise."][DEVELOPMENT VALUE: Extremely High][MILESTONE REWARD: Affinity reaches 0 → Body +2, Epic Tech Sniper Rifle 'Nekomata' (Manufacturer: Tsunami)]
Great. The system's gone completely silent on guidance now. Newbie bonus is officially over.
Complaints aside, Ethan studied the fixer carefully. What he couldn't figure out was why Hands' opinion of him was already in the negatives.
Had he dug into the original owner's less-than-stellar history?
Still, that milestone reward was tempting. Epic-tier weapons were only one step below Iconic-Legendary. A Tsunami tech sniper rifle was serious hardware.
Mr. Hands closed his book, his gaze drifting to Ethan's arms. "Hard to believe someone with such... crude augmentations would be Hansen's 'confidant.'"
Great. My chrome's getting roasted again.
But the "confidant" comment threw him. Weren't Hansen's actual confidants the Barghest brass living it up in The Emerald, swimming in eddies?
He'd been kicked out of Barghest just yesterday. This didn't add up.
Mr. Hands rose slowly, his tone measured. "Have you ever heard this story? On the African savanna, water buffalo are incredibly powerful. Even lions—kings of the wild—won't attack a herd head-on. Both sides size each other up, waiting."
He paused.
"You, my friend, are the lion Hansen has sent out to circle me."
Ethan's mind worked fast. He didn't want to make this worse. "I think the Colonel just can't swallow what happened to that convoy. You know how it is, Mr. Hands. Barghest can't exactly go poking around Night City without attracting attention."
"As for me—I'm just the errand boy. Not a 'lion.' I'm here to follow your lead."
Mr. Hands seemed surprised that his little test had been deflected so smoothly. A warm smile returned to his face.
"Very good. You really are a personable young man."
"Hansen's side of things is still up in the air, but you'll need to put aside that military way of doing things."
"Here, you learn to work with fixers and edgerunners. Stay with me, handle some jobs, and we'll see how you perform."
Ethan nodded. First exchange, successfully navigated.
Mr. Hands steepled his fingers and leaned forward, eyes fixed on Ethan. "I'm not like you young people. I have a family. A daughter. Some things need to be handled cleanly—no loose ends. Any unnecessary trouble stops at Dogtown's gates."
"Especially given who you and Colonel Hansen are."
"I understand, Mr. Hands."
"You listen. You adapt. Now let's see if you can deliver." The fixer's eyes flickered—data transfer. Ethan felt the familiar tingle behind his optics as files loaded in.
"Some old associates of ours—edgerunners from the city—aren't planning to let this go."
"But we're all just trying to make a living. No need to make things difficult for each other. Review the file. Your job is to make this problem go away."
Ethan opened the dossier in his cybereye.
[NAME: Sasha Yakovleva]
His mind went blank for a second.
So by 2075, that tight-knit crew of edgerunners had already started making a name for themselves in this city.
"Recognize her? Old friend, perhaps?"
Mr. Hands' perception was razor-sharp. He'd caught Ethan's micro-expression instantly.
Ethan lied. Shook his head slowly. "Just surprised. A girl this young already has over a dozen entries in the NCPD database."
"Netrunners don't care about age. Young minds run fast. Anyone wearing a netrunning suit is trouble."
In the file, Sasha was smiling brightly—even throwing up a peace sign in footage the NCPD had captured.
"Whether you know her or not is your secret. I don't need to know."
Mr. Hands didn't push further.
"Go find a hacker friend of mine here in Dogtown. He knows his way around ICE—attack and defense. As long as nothing traces back to you or Hansen, we're good."
"If they come up empty, this crew will give up on their own."
Another contact pinged into Ethan's system. The full mission details were on the briefing shard Hands had passed him.
"Oh, and one more thing, my 'lion.'" Hands allowed himself a small joke. "The BD on the table. Watch it. Get a feel for what the Colonel actually wants you looking out for."
Ethan picked up the braindance wreath without hesitation. As the visor slid over his eyes and light flooded his vision, his senses plunged into another perspective entirely—
HEAVY HEARTS
The club's ornate neon sign looked almost understated in the daylight. Nighttime was when this place really came alive.
Heavy Hearts was famous for its Egyptian pyramid architecture and the green beam of light that shot into the sky after dark. The security here was just as notorious—rough and uncompromising.
Nobody could quite explain why this building dared to stand alongside The Emerald as one of Dogtown's few true landmarks.
Maybe it was because Mr. Hands ran his operation from the upper floors of this luxury establishment?
After all, someone had to handle business in this lawless territory.
The two guards at the entrance gave Ethan's rifle a thorough once-over. "Sorry, pal. House rules. Gonna have to hold onto this for you."
Ethan shrugged. "Fine by me."
One guard pressed the comm unit behind his ear. "He's here."
That had to be Hands on the other end. A moment later, the guard waved Ethan's pistol back toward him—apparently Mr. Hands didn't consider a handgun much of a threat to anyone in Dogtown.
The guard swiped a keycard to unlock the door. Ethan straightened up, cleared his throat, and prepared himself for his first face-to-face with the big man.
It didn't matter who you were—you could disrespect some no-name middleman all you wanted. But a fixer like Mr. Hands, who'd already made it? One careless word could tank your reputation. Strip away the Barghest connection, and if Ethan wanted to survive out here, Mr. Hands was the first test.
Of course, if Ethan just wanted to be another burnout huffing Glitter outside the black market until he passed out, none of this would matter.
But Hansen was still breathing down his neck. He needed to bring his A-game.
Ding.
Heavy Hearts wasn't tall—just three floors. The third was all plush carpet and classical luxury, every inch of it Mr. Hands' domain.
Ethan stopped at the door and knocked lightly on the wood-paneled surface. It smelled faintly of cedar.
"Come in, my friend. No need for formalities."
Hands' voice in person carried more weight than it had over holo. Ethan hit the door release.
The room looked like something out of a European boutique hotel—sunken conversation pit in the center, expensive furnishings everywhere. Mr. Hands sat on a leather sofa, reading a book.
"Mr. Hands."
Ethan offered a quiet greeting and stood respectfully by the couch, waiting.
[SUBJECT: Mr. Hands][AFFILIATION: Dogtown / Pacifica][AFFINITY: -10 — "You're a liability until proven otherwise."][DEVELOPMENT VALUE: Extremely High][MILESTONE REWARD: Affinity reaches 0 → Body +2, Epic Tech Sniper Rifle 'Nekomata' (Manufacturer: Tsunami)]
Great. The system's gone completely silent on guidance now. Newbie bonus is officially over.
Complaints aside, Ethan studied the fixer carefully. What he couldn't figure out was why Hands' opinion of him was already in the negatives.
Had he dug into the original owner's less-than-stellar history?
Still, that milestone reward was tempting. Epic-tier weapons were only one step below Iconic-Legendary. A Tsunami tech sniper rifle was serious hardware.
Mr. Hands closed his book, his gaze drifting to Ethan's arms. "Hard to believe someone with such... crude augmentations would be Hansen's 'confidant.'"
Great. My chrome's getting roasted again.
But the "confidant" comment threw him. Weren't Hansen's actual confidants the Barghest brass living it up in The Emerald, swimming in eddies?
He'd been kicked out of Barghest just yesterday. This didn't add up.
Mr. Hands rose slowly, his tone measured. "Have you ever heard this story? On the African savanna, water buffalo are incredibly powerful. Even lions—kings of the wild—won't attack a herd head-on. Both sides size each other up, waiting."
He paused.
"You, my friend, are the lion Hansen has sent out to circle me."
Ethan's mind worked fast. He didn't want to make this worse. "I think the Colonel just can't swallow what happened to that convoy. You know how it is, Mr. Hands. Barghest can't exactly go poking around Night City without attracting attention."
"As for me—I'm just the errand boy. Not a 'lion.' I'm here to follow your lead."
Mr. Hands seemed surprised that his little test had been deflected so smoothly. A warm smile returned to his face.
"Very good. You really are a personable young man."
"Hansen's side of things is still up in the air, but you'll need to put aside that military way of doing things."
"Here, you learn to work with fixers and edgerunners. Stay with me, handle some jobs, and we'll see how you perform."
Ethan nodded. First exchange, successfully navigated.
Mr. Hands steepled his fingers and leaned forward, eyes fixed on Ethan. "I'm not like you young people. I have a family. A daughter. Some things need to be handled cleanly—no loose ends. Any unnecessary trouble stops at Dogtown's gates."
"Especially given who you and Colonel Hansen are."
"I understand, Mr. Hands."
"You listen. You adapt. Now let's see if you can deliver." The fixer's eyes flickered—data transfer. Ethan felt the familiar tingle behind his optics as files loaded in.
"Some old associates of ours—edgerunners from the city—aren't planning to let this go."
"But we're all just trying to make a living. No need to make things difficult for each other. Review the file. Your job is to make this problem go away."
Ethan opened the dossier in his cybereye.
[NAME: Sasha Yakovleva]
His mind went blank for a second.
So by 2075, that tight-knit crew of edgerunners had already started making a name for themselves in this city.
"Recognize her? Old friend, perhaps?"
Mr. Hands' perception was razor-sharp. He'd caught Ethan's micro-expression instantly.
Ethan lied. Shook his head slowly. "Just surprised. A girl this young already has over a dozen entries in the NCPD database."
"Netrunners don't care about age. Young minds run fast. Anyone wearing a netrunning suit is trouble."
In the file, Sasha was smiling brightly—even throwing up a peace sign in footage the NCPD had captured.
"Whether you know her or not is your secret. I don't need to know."
Mr. Hands didn't push further.
"Go find a hacker friend of mine here in Dogtown. He knows his way around ICE—attack and defense. As long as nothing traces back to you or Hansen, we're good."
"If they come up empty, this crew will give up on their own."
Another contact pinged into Ethan's system. The full mission details were on the briefing shard Hands had passed him.
"Oh, and one more thing, my 'lion.'" Hands allowed himself a small joke. "The BD on the table. Watch it. Get a feel for what the Colonel actually wants you looking out for."
Ethan picked up the braindance wreath without hesitation. As the visor slid over his eyes and light flooded his vision, his senses plunged into another perspective entirely—
HEAVY HEARTS
The club's ornate neon sign looked almost understated in the daylight. Nighttime was when this place really came alive.
Heavy Hearts was famous for its Egyptian pyramid architecture and the green beam of light that shot into the sky after dark. The security here was just as notorious—rough and uncompromising.
Nobody could quite explain why this building dared to stand alongside The Emerald as one of Dogtown's few true landmarks.
Maybe it was because Mr. Hands ran his operation from the upper floors of this luxury establishment?
After all, someone had to handle business in this lawless territory.
The two guards at the entrance gave Ethan's rifle a thorough once-over. "Sorry, pal. House rules. Gonna have to hold onto this for you."
Ethan shrugged. "Fine by me."
One guard pressed the comm unit behind his ear. "He's here."
That had to be Hands on the other end. A moment later, the guard waved Ethan's pistol back toward him—apparently Mr. Hands didn't consider a handgun much of a threat to anyone in Dogtown.
The guard swiped a keycard to unlock the door. Ethan straightened up, cleared his throat, and prepared himself for his first face-to-face with the big man.
It didn't matter who you were—you could disrespect some no-name middleman all you wanted. But a fixer like Mr. Hands, who'd already made it? One careless word could tank your reputation. Strip away the Barghest connection, and if Ethan wanted to survive out here, Mr. Hands was the first test.
Of course, if Ethan just wanted to be another burnout huffing Glitter outside the black market until he passed out, none of this would matter.
But Hansen was still breathing down his neck. He needed to bring his A-game.
Ding.
Heavy Hearts wasn't tall—just three floors. The third was all plush carpet and classical luxury, every inch of it Mr. Hands' domain.
Ethan stopped at the door and knocked lightly on the wood-paneled surface. It smelled faintly of cedar.
"Come in, my friend. No need for formalities."
Hands' voice in person carried more weight than it had over holo. Ethan hit the door release.
The room looked like something out of a European boutique hotel—sunken conversation pit in the center, expensive furnishings everywhere. Mr. Hands sat on a leather sofa, reading a book.
"Mr. Hands."
Ethan offered a quiet greeting and stood respectfully by the couch, waiting.
[SUBJECT: Mr. Hands][AFFILIATION: Dogtown / Pacifica][AFFINITY: -10 — "You're a liability until proven otherwise."][DEVELOPMENT VALUE: Extremely High][MILESTONE REWARD: Affinity reaches 0 → Body +2, Epic Tech Sniper Rifle 'Nekomata' (Manufacturer: Tsunami)]
Great. The system's gone completely silent on guidance now. Newbie bonus is officially over.
Complaints aside, Ethan studied the fixer carefully. What he couldn't figure out was why Hands' opinion of him was already in the negatives.
Had he dug into the original owner's less-than-stellar history?
Still, that milestone reward was tempting. Epic-tier weapons were only one step below Iconic-Legendary. A Tsunami tech sniper rifle was serious hardware.
Mr. Hands closed his book, his gaze drifting to Ethan's arms. "Hard to believe someone with such... crude augmentations would be Hansen's 'confidant.'"
Great. My chrome's getting roasted again.
But the "confidant" comment threw him. Weren't Hansen's actual confidants the Barghest brass living it up in The Emerald, swimming in eddies?
He'd been kicked out of Barghest just yesterday. This didn't add up.
Mr. Hands rose slowly, his tone measured. "Have you ever heard this story? On the African savanna, water buffalo are incredibly powerful. Even lions—kings of the wild—won't attack a herd head-on. Both sides size each other up, waiting."
He paused.
"You, my friend, are the lion Hansen has sent out to circle me."
Ethan's mind worked fast. He didn't want to make this worse. "I think the Colonel just can't swallow what happened to that convoy. You know how it is, Mr. Hands. Barghest can't exactly go poking around Night City without attracting attention."
"As for me—I'm just the errand boy. Not a 'lion.' I'm here to follow your lead."
Mr. Hands seemed surprised that his little test had been deflected so smoothly. A warm smile returned to his face.
"Very good. You really are a personable young man."
"Hansen's side of things is still up in the air, but you'll need to put aside that military way of doing things."
"Here, you learn to work with fixers and edgerunners. Stay with me, handle some jobs, and we'll see how you perform."
Ethan nodded. First exchange, successfully navigated.
Mr. Hands steepled his fingers and leaned forward, eyes fixed on Ethan. "I'm not like you young people. I have a family. A daughter. Some things need to be handled cleanly—no loose ends. Any unnecessary trouble stops at Dogtown's gates."
"Especially given who you and Colonel Hansen are."
"I understand, Mr. Hands."
"You listen. You adapt. Now let's see if you can deliver." The fixer's eyes flickered—data transfer. Ethan felt the familiar tingle behind his optics as files loaded in.
"Some old associates of ours—edgerunners from the city—aren't planning to let this go."
"But we're all just trying to make a living. No need to make things difficult for each other. Review the file. Your job is to make this problem go away."
Ethan opened the dossier in his cybereye.
[NAME: Sasha Yakovleva]
His mind went blank for a second.
So by 2075, that tight-knit crew of edgerunners had already started making a name for themselves in this city.
"Recognize her? Old friend, perhaps?"
Mr. Hands' perception was razor-sharp. He'd caught Ethan's micro-expression instantly.
Ethan lied. Shook his head slowly. "Just surprised. A girl this young already has over a dozen entries in the NCPD database."
"Netrunners don't care about age. Young minds run fast. Anyone wearing a netrunning suit is trouble."
In the file, Sasha was smiling brightly—even throwing up a peace sign in footage the NCPD had captured.
"Whether you know her or not is your secret. I don't need to know."
Mr. Hands didn't push further.
"Go find a hacker friend of mine here in Dogtown. He knows his way around ICE—attack and defense. As long as nothing traces back to you or Hansen, we're good."
"If they come up empty, this crew will give up on their own."
Another contact pinged into Ethan's system. The full mission details were on the briefing shard Hands had passed him.
"Oh, and one more thing, my 'lion.'" Hands allowed himself a small joke. "The BD on the table. Watch it. Get a feel for what the Colonel actually wants you looking out for."
Ethan picked up the braindance wreath without hesitation. As the visor slid over his eyes and light flooded his vision, his senses plunged into another perspective entirely—
HEAVY HEARTS
The club's ornate neon sign looked almost understated in the daylight. Nighttime was when this place really came alive.
Heavy Hearts was famous for its Egyptian pyramid architecture and the green beam of light that shot into the sky after dark. The security here was just as notorious—rough and uncompromising.
Nobody could quite explain why this building dared to stand alongside The Emerald as one of Dogtown's few true landmarks.
Maybe it was because Mr. Hands ran his operation from the upper floors of this luxury establishment?
After all, someone had to handle business in this lawless territory.
The two guards at the entrance gave Ethan's rifle a thorough once-over. "Sorry, pal. House rules. Gonna have to hold onto this for you."
Ethan shrugged. "Fine by me."
One guard pressed the comm unit behind his ear. "He's here."
That had to be Hands on the other end. A moment later, the guard waved Ethan's pistol back toward him—apparently Mr. Hands didn't consider a handgun much of a threat to anyone in Dogtown.
The guard swiped a keycard to unlock the door. Ethan straightened up, cleared his throat, and prepared himself for his first face-to-face with the big man.
It didn't matter who you were—you could disrespect some no-name middleman all you wanted. But a fixer like Mr. Hands, who'd already made it? One careless word could tank your reputation. Strip away the Barghest connection, and if Ethan wanted to survive out here, Mr. Hands was the first test.
Of course, if Ethan just wanted to be another burnout huffing Glitter outside the black market until he passed out, none of this would matter.
But Hansen was still breathing down his neck. He needed to bring his A-game.
Ding.
Heavy Hearts wasn't tall—just three floors. The third was all plush carpet and classical luxury, every inch of it Mr. Hands' domain.
Ethan stopped at the door and knocked lightly on the wood-paneled surface. It smelled faintly of cedar.
"Come in, my friend. No need for formalities."
Hands' voice in person carried more weight than it had over holo. Ethan hit the door release.
The room looked like something out of a European boutique hotel—sunken conversation pit in the center, expensive furnishings everywhere. Mr. Hands sat on a leather sofa, reading a book.
"Mr. Hands."
Ethan offered a quiet greeting and stood respectfully by the couch, waiting.
[SUBJECT: Mr. Hands][AFFILIATION: Dogtown / Pacifica][AFFINITY: -10 — "You're a liability until proven otherwise."][DEVELOPMENT VALUE: Extremely High][MILESTONE REWARD: Affinity reaches 0 → Body +2, Epic Tech Sniper Rifle 'Nekomata' (Manufacturer: Tsunami)]
Great. The system's gone completely silent on guidance now. Newbie bonus is officially over.
Complaints aside, Ethan studied the fixer carefully. What he couldn't figure out was why Hands' opinion of him was already in the negatives.
Had he dug into the original owner's less-than-stellar history?
Still, that milestone reward was tempting. Epic-tier weapons were only one step below Iconic-Legendary. A Tsunami tech sniper rifle was serious hardware.
Mr. Hands closed his book, his gaze drifting to Ethan's arms. "Hard to believe someone with such... crude augmentations would be Hansen's 'confidant.'"
Great. My chrome's getting roasted again.
But the "confidant" comment threw him. Weren't Hansen's actual confidants the Barghest brass living it up in The Emerald, swimming in eddies?
He'd been kicked out of Barghest just yesterday. This didn't add up.
Mr. Hands rose slowly, his tone measured. "Have you ever heard this story? On the African savanna, water buffalo are incredibly powerful. Even lions—kings of the wild—won't attack a herd head-on. Both sides size each other up, waiting."
He paused.
"You, my friend, are the lion Hansen has sent out to circle me."
Ethan's mind worked fast. He didn't want to make this worse. "I think the Colonel just can't swallow what happened to that convoy. You know how it is, Mr. Hands. Barghest can't exactly go poking around Night City without attracting attention."
"As for me—I'm just the errand boy. Not a 'lion.' I'm here to follow your lead."
Mr. Hands seemed surprised that his little test had been deflected so smoothly. A warm smile returned to his face.
"Very good. You really are a personable young man."
"Hansen's side of things is still up in the air, but you'll need to put aside that military way of doing things."
"Here, you learn to work with fixers and edgerunners. Stay with me, handle some jobs, and we'll see how you perform."
Ethan nodded. First exchange, successfully navigated.
Mr. Hands steepled his fingers and leaned forward, eyes fixed on Ethan. "I'm not like you young people. I have a family. A daughter. Some things need to be handled cleanly—no loose ends. Any unnecessary trouble stops at Dogtown's gates."
"Especially given who you and Colonel Hansen are."
"I understand, Mr. Hands."
"You listen. You adapt. Now let's see if you can deliver." The fixer's eyes flickered—data transfer. Ethan felt the familiar tingle behind his optics as files loaded in.
"Some old associates of ours—edgerunners from the city—aren't planning to let this go."
"But we're all just trying to make a living. No need to make things difficult for each other. Review the file. Your job is to make this problem go away."
Ethan opened the dossier in his cybereye.
[NAME: Sasha Yakovleva]
His mind went blank for a second.
So by 2075, that tight-knit crew of edgerunners had already started making a name for themselves in this city.
"Recognize her? Old friend, perhaps?"
Mr. Hands' perception was razor-sharp. He'd caught Ethan's micro-expression instantly.
Ethan lied. Shook his head slowly. "Just surprised. A girl this young already has over a dozen entries in the NCPD database."
"Netrunners don't care about age. Young minds run fast. Anyone wearing a netrunning suit is trouble."
In the file, Sasha was smiling brightly—even throwing up a peace sign in footage the NCPD had captured.
"Whether you know her or not is your secret. I don't need to know."
Mr. Hands didn't push further.
"Go find a hacker friend of mine here in Dogtown. He knows his way around ICE—attack and defense. As long as nothing traces back to you or Hansen, we're good."
"If they come up empty, this crew will give up on their own."
Another contact pinged into Ethan's system. The full mission details were on the briefing shard Hands had passed him.
"Oh, and one more thing, my 'lion.'" Hands allowed himself a small joke. "The BD on the table. Watch it. Get a feel for what the Colonel actually wants you looking out for."
Ethan picked up the braindance wreath without hesitation. As the visor slid over his eyes and light flooded his vision, his senses plunged into another perspective entirely—