[Demons of NC] Chapter 98

"They mostly didn’t give a shit about us. Every now and then they’d remember we exist and start asking the same crap all over again," said the ex-nomad named Valerie. "Blah-blah-blah, where’s the chip, blah-blah, where’d you fuckin’ lose it. And they’d beat the shit outta us in the meantime. When they started leaning on me, Jackie’d pull their attention. Talked some nonsense. They’d lose their shit and beat him instead. Took me a while to figure out what he was doing. They’d already fucked him up good."

"He’ll live," I replied, lighting a smoke. "You two need to lay low. What’s your status with the Aldecaldos?"

"Know of them. Never visited. You suggesting we crash in their camp for a bit?"

"Yup. Otherwise someone else’ll be digging your graves. And what about DeShawn, by the way?"

"No clue. Either he dipped or got iced. He called us, tried to get us to meet, but we bailed after the job. Some netrunner from Konpeki told us to stay away."

"You mean a netrunner—like, Konpeki Plaza employee?" I played dumb.

"No. There was someone else. Besides T-Bug and the Voodoo Boys."

"Right. Maybe he was one of the Voodoo Boys?" I offered, trying to keep it casual.

"Fuck knows, but they were scumbags... used to be, anyway. Kinda weird to think they helped us back then."

"They weren’t helping you, they were trying to grab the biochip," I pointed out.

Didn’t want Valerie getting too chatty about the other netrunner in Konpeki.

"Seemed to me the Voodoo Boys were surprised too," she said. "Why the hell would they grill us about another runner if it was one of theirs?"

"Fair point," I conceded. "Alright. We’ll talk more about that ‘other netrunner’ later. Just keep it to yourself for now, okay?" Valerie nodded. "My guy Falco already took Jackie to a ripper."

"Vik?"

"Nope. Vik’s too close to you two. They might have eyes on him. But don’t worry, the ripper’s solid and knows how to keep his mouth shut. You’re going with Panam. I’ve still got some loose ends to clean up here—evidence, cover-up shit. Detective work. Private. Dirty. But in demand."

"A fixer?"

"That too. But I still shoot my own guns."

"Respect. Got a smoke?" she asked, squinting at the sun creeping up over Pacifica.

We sat there smoking, a new day beginning.

Half an hour later, Lucy and I were prepping to release our little pet back into the wild. I’m talking about Evelyn Parker. We’d combed through her software several times, making sure nothing would trace back to us.

"I came up with a way to cover our asses completely," Lucy said. "I wiped Judy’s program, but I’m gonna reinstall it right before we let her go."

"Smart," I nodded. "That way if Judy sees the traces, she won’t even question it. Memory?"

"All clean. Though she was in chip-mode for a long-ass time. If she has issues or acts weird, we just blame it on neural fragmentation. First faces she sees when she wakes up will be ours."

"Hm... and even if she dreams about fucking you or me, we can write it off as hot fantasies about her saviors. Perfect. I’ve decided we’re gonna ‘find’ her somewhere other than where we pulled Jackie from. Sooner or later, the Watch’ll sniff around that place. Might find DNA or some random trace. Fuck that. We’ll head to one of the Voodoo Boys’ smaller safehouses instead. We’ll call Judy there too."

"Let’s go."

INTERLUDE: Evelyn Parker.

Waking up was slow and strange. Above her was a bare concrete ceiling, rough and dimly lit by a couple dusty lamps. Her own head felt empty. Hollow. No questions. No answers. Just this lingering ache of loss.

Click!

Fingers snapped loudly in front of her face—chrome ones.

"Hey. Look at me. How many fingers am I holding up?"

Evelyn dropped her gaze from the ceiling. A man was crouched beside her, his face almost completely hidden behind a chem-mask and blast goggles.

"Fingers?" she repeated dumbly.

"Yeah. Those handy things on the ends of your arms. You’ve got some too," he said. "Very useful little devices." Then he turned. "Lucy, you sure she’s okay?"

"Yeah," said a woman’s voice. Familiar somehow, like a song from a half-forgotten dream. "Looks like she was on a doll chip for a long time. Her memory and cognition are glitchy, but it’ll pass. Hey—do you remember your name?"

A girl knelt beside the man. Her eyes glowed faintly in the dark. Something about her face sent an electric chill through Evelyn’s body. Recognition, but no clarity.

‘Doll chip,’ Evelyn thought.

The words hit like a switch flipped in her brain. And then—like floodgates cracking open—came a surge of murky, turbulent memories. The failed thief of the biochip was no longer blank.

"Evelyn Parker," she said. "That’s my name. Where am I? What is this place?"

"Basement of a rundown building in Pacifica," the man said. "One of the Voodoo Boys’ stash holes. You remember them?"

Evelyn did. Kind of. The memories hit like a wave of heat in a windowless room—thick, choking, blurry. A whole life, crammed into a mind that just seconds ago had felt like a vacuum. Panic set in. She lurched forward, but the girl with multicolored hair gently caught her, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Easy, Ev. It’s okay. Here. Breathe."

She handed Evelyn an inhaler. Practically pushed it into her hands. The chemical vapor brought a jolt of clarity, but didn’t calm the internal storm.

"Let’s get her some fresh air, V."

"Fresh air’s at least fifty klicks from Night City, if not more," her companion snorted. "But yeah. Let’s ditch this hole for one that sucks a little less."

They helped Evelyn to her feet, guiding her outside while they filled her in—Voodoo Boys, the kidnapping, Judy Alvarez, the Konpeki disaster.

"I think they were trying to turn you into some kinda murder drone," the guy said, once they stepped into the blinding sunlight. "Found files with a list of chrome they’d already installed in you and what they had lined up. Some wild stuff. Optics to hide doll-chip signals, combat hardware..."

Evelyn seemed to listen, but none of it stuck. Her head was already too full—waves of the past crashing in, a storm of broken images and emotions. Somewhere in the middle of it all, a single, clear need crystallized:

She needed a fucking cigarette.

"I'm gonna call Judy now," the man continued. "She'll come get you. Hide you. Best you keep your head down for a while. Don’t go back home, and under no fuckin’ circumstances set foot in Clouds. I’ll tell Judy the same thing. So… pull yourself together, Miss Parker. You managed to slip through the sharp claws of fate with barely a scratch."

Miss Parker didn’t share his optimism. She was looking around at the slums and half-finished hotel buildings. Night City. Sticky like spiderwebs—the city she’d tried to escape from and… lost.

Suddenly Evelyn realized she was trembling, like from the cold.

The man took off his helmet. His face looked strangely familiar. And right on cue, a memory rose up from the depths—Oswald Forrest’s stinking, booze-reeking mug.

"Move your ass to the shower, cutie. Break time’s canceled. Got another loudmouth corpo prick here for you. What the fuck do you rub on your pussy to attract guys like that?"

Is it him? No, probably not. The face was similar, but this one looked more like a merc or soldier. Still, there was a whiff of corpo in the way he talked.

"Take another hit," the girl said, gently hugging her by the shoulders. "Your friend’s on her way. It’s gonna be okay."

Her voice and touch worked better than the inhaler. But again, Evelyn was struck by a weird sense of deja vu. Like she’d known this girl a long, long time.

"What’s your name?" Evelyn asked, then remembered what the man had called her. "Is Lucy short for Lucille?"

The man answered for her:

"Lucina."

"Maybe I wanted to stay anonymous," Lucina smirked softly, glancing at her companion, whose eyes were flickering—clearly scanning something in his implant interface.

Evelyn brushed herself off. Her legs were stiff. She was still wearing the same dress she had on the day she was taken. The glitter was dulled, dusty, faded—just like her.

"Come here," Lucina suddenly said, gently brushing Evelyn’s hair aside to expose the back of her neck.

She jacked into her port, and streams of code flickered in front of Evelyn’s eyes.

"You’re a netrunner?"

"A little. A small hobby," Lucina replied slyly. "I’m uploading some software. Your friend wrote these scripts. Might help if you get into trouble again."

"Yeah. Thanks," Evelyn said, her voice dull.

Suddenly she had the overwhelming urge to rest her cheek on this stranger’s shoulder and just—

A van pulled up between the buildings. Judy Alvarez behind the wheel, clearly doing close to a hundred. The thing swerved like it was gonna tip over any second. Twenty seconds later, her arms were around Evelyn in a tight hug. Judy was crying, whispering into her ear:

"I… I thought I’d never see you again. Eve… I’m so glad! Are you okay?"

The man spoke again. He told Judy the same things he’d explained to Evelyn earlier, all while Judy mumbled thanks through her tears. Lucina stood quietly beside him, leaning slightly against his shoulder. Yeah, these two were mercs. They were on some big contract wiping out the Voodoo Boys—and snagged Evelyn along the way. Evelyn herself had tried hiring someone from Afterlife not too long ago.

Or… not? Honestly, it felt like a past life. Over a month back, probably.

"We won’t mention Evelyn anywhere," the merc promised. "We’ll scrub her name wherever we can. Worst case, Arasaka figures she was spying for the Voodoo Boys and got killed by them. So again—cut all ties with the past. Best thing for Evelyn is to get the fuck out of the city."

A couple minutes later, Evelyn was in the van’s passenger seat while Judy drove them into the concrete jungle that was Night City—if this glass-and-steel beast even had a heart.

Evelyn adjusted her hair, looking at herself in the rearview mirror. She felt this clawing urge to clean up, shower off the dust and filth of whatever basement they’d dragged her out of.

"We’ll go to my place, I’ll call Suzie, then we’ll bring you to Lizzie’s," Judy was saying, taking charge.

They were trying to save her. What a disgusting feeling.

Her memories were slowly unscrambling. Beneath the receding waves, jagged rocks of old ambition poked out—cutting and stabbing her tired heart. Everything was gone. Evelyn smoked, staring out the window at the city slowly crawling past.

"I thought it’d be different. We deserve more," Parker said, pouring all her bitterness into the words.

"It’s never different here, Eve. Let’s just leave. Start fresh."

It sounded sweet. Naive. Pointless.

Sure, Judy could leave. But Evelyn? She was living on borrowed time, and soon she’d have to pay fate back with interest. She’d start aging, fading, losing her value in the eyes of men and women alike. Judy was a good tech. She’d still be needed when her beauty faded. Evelyn wasn’t like that. She’d need serious implants just to slow the decline—and even those only delayed the inevitable. That was just the surface. Something inside Evelyn had burned out too. No ripper or drug could fix that. Without the spark of life, she’d become just another doll.

She knew it. And it scared the hell out of her.

"I need to go home. Will you take me?" Evelyn asked.

"Are you nuts? He told you not to go back there!"

"I need to grab some cash. A few other things. Won’t take long."

"Eve, it’s not worth your life. I just got you back. Please..."

"Fine," Parker sighed, feeling that bitter, sour ache again. "You’re right."

"Of course I’m right!" Judy snapped, smacking the steering wheel with both hands. "You just crawled out of a deep-ass grave. Don’t go diving into another one. You mean something to me. I don’t wanna lose you again."

‘We already lost ourselves a long time ago,’ Evelyn thought.

How much time had that chip stolen from her? Even the kidnapping felt like it happened off-screen. An endless plunge into a void. If the Voodoo Boys had succeeded, maybe she never would’ve woken up. Just… skipped a death.

She probably should’ve felt overwhelming gratitude to Judy. Thrown herself into her arms. But Evelyn kept thinking instead about the runner girl who helped her wake up. Ungrateful? Maybe. She knew that. It made her feel like shit—but she couldn’t help it.

The van stopped outside Judy’s apartment—a cramped little hive of disappointments and dead dreams. Charter Street. A dump with a view of glittering towers. A place where you felt especially small.

"You really do deserve better," Evelyn said as they climbed the stairs past walls covered in graffiti.

"Eve, stop. All I want is to be around good people. Honestly, I’m just tired. Of… everything. Good people dying, bad people thriving, gonks everywhere and… we’re here. Stay as long as you want."

Judy’s apartment actually had personality. Painted walls—not just random crap for show. Posters, gear, tech clutter. It looked lived-in. Real. Not some hollow corpo showroom.

"I’m gonna shower," Evelyn said quickly as the door closed. "I need to wash all this shit off me."

"Of course. Take a bath if you want. I’ll go after you."

"Stay with me."

Judy hesitated—clearly caught off guard. Evelyn found it kind of sweet.

"Come on," Parker insisted. "I don’t wanna be alone."

And that, at least, was true. But it wasn’t fear—like Judy probably assumed. Evelyn just didn’t want to be left alone with her own thoughts.

"Alright then. I’ll try not to peek… too much."

"How’d you find those mercs?" Evelyn asked, already peeling off her clothes.

"By pure luck," Judy admitted, standing by the wall and very deliberately turning away. "I ran through a bunch of fixers, got nowhere. Then I heard there was a new guy in town. Sometimes hung around Lizzie’s with his crew."

She briefly recapped the weird-ass story of Evelyn’s rescue while the latter rinsed off the grime.

"And the girl?" Evelyn asked, rubbing shampoo into her hair. "Lucina. Did he hire her from Afterlife?"

"Nah. Looks like he’s got his own crew. Some punk chick, kinda short, and a pair of nomads. They work together. Just bought a club recently. 7th Hell. You remember that dump with the blaring, tasteless music? Why? That girl catch your eye?"

"I don’t know. Her voice, her face… It all feels familiar. Or just… unreal. I don’t say this kind of shit about people often, but there’s something about her."

"Oh shit! Love at first sight?"

"Judy, I’m not twelve," Evelyn replied, slightly judging, as she leaned back under the warm streams of water.

Then it hit her—like she wasn’t fully back in her own body. Creepy feeling. She ran her fingers down her ribs, her chest, her stomach. Everything was still there… but it didn’t feel right.

“Probably just nerves from the chip. Calm down, Eve. You surv—”

"Look who we fucking have here!"

The familiar voice cracked through the noise like thunder. Neither of them had heard the door open through the rush of the shower. But now there were four of them, already inside.

Evelyn quickly shut off the water and spun around, snatching up a towel to cover herself.

Standing in the doorway, cutting off their exit from the bathroom, was Oswald Forrest—aka Woodman—and two fuckers from the Tiger Claws. Another one was probably still in the living room.

"What the fu—" Judy started, but Forrest easily drowned her out with that bass-heavy voice, aiming straight at Evelyn.

"You got some fucking nerve, bitch," he said with fake pity, shaking his head. "All that time and eddies we pumped into you, and now you try to ghost us."

"I was kidnapped," Evelyn said, still standing in the shower.

"Yeah, yeah, tell that sob story to Sato. Out. Let’s go. You’re talking shit. Out."

Like she was hypnotized, Evelyn stepped out. She hated this man. Despised him. Feared him. And hated herself even more for still being afraid. Her bare feet touched the cold, slick tile. Still clutching the towel, she stepped toward Oswald.

"Not like I enjoy dealin’ with you either," he muttered. "Gotta hire muscle, pay ‘em... Personally? I think you’re just another mid-tier tramp. But somehow, you got demand. Couple rich motherfuckers won’t shut the fuck up. ‘Where’s Evelyn? Nobody sucks dick like our queen!’ So now, you pack your shit and get back to work. You’re pulling extra shifts for ditchin’ on us."

"You’ve fucking lost it, Woodman!" Judy exploded, despite being surrounded by Claws. "I just pulled Eve out of one hell of a mess and she’s staying with me. That’s final! Get the fuck out of my place or I’ll tell Suzie—"

Forrest nodded. The two yakuzas grabbed Judy like it was choreographed. Dragged her away.

"I’ll explain it all to your big bad Suzie," Forrest sneered, scratching his bald head. "She’ll be thanking me for not busting your legs. Evelyn belongs to us—body and soul. She signed a contract. Suzie’s not gonna start a gang war over one used-up whore."

"I’ll tell—"

"Gag her. Lock her up somewhere," Forrest waved dismissively. "She’s fucking annoying."

"You fucking asshole! You’ll regret—"

One of the Claws punched Judy in the gut.

"Don’t!" Evelyn practically begged. "Don’t touch her. I’ll go with you. Just leave her alone."

By then, Judy had already been dragged out of the bathroom. Evelyn could only hope they wouldn’t push it with the Mox. Judy was still officially with the Lizzie’s crew. Evelyn, though? Woodman was right—she’d signed way too much shit with Clouds.

Judging by the sound, Judy was locked in the bedroom. Evelyn could only hope they wouldn’t lay a hand on her. But with Woodman… he wasn’t exactly known for his brilliance.

"I’m coming with you," Evelyn said as calmly as she could. "I’ll explain everything to Hiromi Sato. I was kidnapped. Now, please, step out and let me get dressed."

"No need," Forrest chuckled. "You’re already in uniform. Just clutch that towel over your ass and let’s roll. Car’s got tinted windows."

She was shaking again. From rage or self-pity, who fucking knew. All the bitterness in her chest boiled into a burning acid.

"Let’s go," Woodman nodded.

So he wasn’t even joking. He didn’t just want to reclaim “property”—he wanted to humiliate her on the way out. Feed his sick little fantasies.

Through the Claws’ laughter and jokes in Japanese, Evelyn could hear Judy trying to pick the lock. Please don’t let her get it open. If she does, she might not survive.

Woodman reached for Evelyn’s shoulder. She flinched away. Through the fog of fear came one pure, hot thought: gouge the fucker’s eyes out. Rip through his fat, twitchy little face.

She wouldn’t actually do it. That’d only make things worse. But then…

Her body moved on its own.

In a blur, the towel slipped down. Her right hand slapped away Woodman’s grip. Her left finger jabbed straight into his eye so fast she barely saw it happen.

Forrest screamed, clutching his face.

"What the fuck did you do, bitch?! I’m gonna fucking kill you!"

Yeah. She heard him. She knew exactly how dangerous and brutal he was. And somehow, this whole shitshow just got even worse.

One of the Claws grabbed her wrists.

"Drag this cunt to the car! Throw her in the trunk!" Forrest bellowed, blood running down his cheek.

Evelyn wasn’t trying to fight. She just wanted to run. The instinct was so strong her body acted on its own again. She dropped into a squat—quick and low. The Claw didn’t expect that. He reached down, reflexively tightening his grip—just as Evelyn twisted out, rolled back, and sprang to her feet.

"Grab her, goddamn it!" Forrest roared.

The Claw with the blue mohawk and chrome arms pulled a short tanto. Probably planning to hold it to her neck or slice her face. Evelyn just wanted to survive. To neutralize the threat.

Her body decided the best defense was offense.

What happened next, no one saw coming.

She found something under her right wrist. A hidden catch.

And with a faint spark of sensation, a monowire snapped to life in the hazy bathroom air.

The deadly thread looped the Claw’s armed limb. Evelyn yanked the wire downward in one fluid motion.

The cyberlimb hit the floor with a wet thud, severed clean with a hunk of meat still attached. The hand clutched the tanto even in death grip.

Evelyn couldn’t believe it.

Then she remembered what that man—Vincent Price—had told her:

"There was a list of implants already installed and others they planned to. Some interesting stuff. Optics to hide the doll chip. Combat chrome."

And Lucina’s soft, lilting voice:

"I’m uploading some software. Your friend wrote these scripts. Might help if you ever land in trouble again."

“Scripts for my doll chip,” Evelyn realized. “But not for sex. Combat routines.”

She took out the wounded Claw’s knee with a clean strike, dropping him.

The second one went for a gun, but Evelyn drove her knee into his gut—hard. Even chromed up, the bastard folded from the blow.

Woodman pulled a revolver from somewhere.

Time slowed. A single frozen frame in Evelyn’s mind:

The black barrel. Aimed straight at her.

“I’m gonna die. They’re gonna kill me right now,” flashed through Evelyn’s mind.

But her body had no intention of giving up. She suddenly dove to the side, like plunging into water. The world dimmed, sounds went muffled, and time slowed to a crawl.

“They gave me these implants too?!” Evelyn thought, shocked and... honestly impressed.

Sliding out of the line of fire, she slashed Woodman across the face with her monowire, then caught hold of his gun arm. His thick sausage fingers split apart like deli meat. As she exited Kerenzikov, she heard another scream from Oswald—louder and more pathetic than the ones before.

Gunshots rang out. The third Claw had pulled a smart Chao pistol. But Evelyn was already using Woodman’s massive body as cover. The smart targeting couldn’t lock on to her through the bulk of his flesh. Then she kicked Oswald square in the gut and shoved the wounded bastard forward with all her weight. She slid in behind him and, low to the floor, whipped the monowire around and sliced the last enemy’s leg just under the knee.

She spun around, remembering the one dude still armed. He hadn’t regained his bearings yet—Evelyn knocked him out clean with a brutal hook to the temple. Her hand didn’t even flinch from the impact with bone.

Thinking of the guy with the smart pistol, Evelyn turned and punted him in the head like a goddamn soccer ball. Nearly slipped in all the blood.

“Think that’s all of ’em…”

Evelyn stood in a vaguely familiar—but somehow completely right—combat stance. Naked. Flushed. Spattered in other people’s blood. But untouched.

She’d fought before. Back in the day with the Mox. But she always stayed close to the real muscle—girls like Rita. Evelyn never went in for the killing herself, and definitely never took serious risks.

This? This was different. Her heart was pounding. Adrenaline roaring through her. All her old fears and problems felt like they were dissolving in the heat of battle high.

"So this is what they get out of it…" Evelyn whispered.

She never really got people who went looking for danger—for thrill. But now? She felt... new. Clean. Real.

"You fucking dumb cunt!" Woodman screamed like an oversized, butt-hurt child. "You’re dead, you hear me?! You’re fucking dead, bitch! They’ll find you and fuck you up! They’ll give you to Jotaro! Fuck! Fuck! Call a ripper, dumb cunt!"

"Shhh. Easy," Evelyn said, completely unbothered by the bleeding pig’s insults. "I’ll fix it."

"Fix what?! I need a fucking ripper, you stupid bitch! Are you calling?!"

With effort, one of his swollen, busted eyes managed to crack open. Woodman saw the still-naked doll leaning over him. Parker had the pistol she’d taken from one of the knocked-out Claws. Whatever he saw in her eyes made him go quiet real fast.

"W-wait," he whimpered. "We can still work this out. It’s not too late."

"Yeah," the doll said softly. "That’s exactly what I’m doing now."

Evelyn Parker pulled the trigger.