Chapter 20: The Voodoo Gang
"This is what I recovered from the Braindance Evelyn left behind," Judy said, rubbing her temples, dark circles under her eyes betraying several sleepless nights. She slid a data shard across the table to V, her movements sluggish, like each gesture cost her something.
"You didn't sleep again, did you?" V asked, concern clear in her tone as she cracked open a chilled bottle of synthetic coffee and handed it over.
Judy accepted it with a tired smirk. "Sleep's a luxury when you're disarming data traps that fry your cortex. Evelyn encrypted this BD like her life depended on it. Might've been right. The damn thing had an auto-destruct trigger—I was seconds from losing it all. What we've got now is fragments. Incomplete, but... enough to start unraveling the truth."
V inserted the shard and adjusted her Braindance headset, jaw tightening. "Alright. Let's see what Evelyn wanted us to find."
---
The scene flickered to life. A dimly lit chapel appeared—old tech, graffiti-covered altars, and flickering neon crosses fused with cyberpunk dread. Evelyn sat rigidly on a worn pew, facing a shadowed woman whose face was obscured by digital static—deliberate, sophisticated obfuscation.
"All you have to do is record a Braindance for us. Then you're free to live your life," the woman said, voice electronically distorted, modulated to the point of being almost inhuman.
"That's it? Just record the BD?" Evelyn's voice was skeptical, guarded.
"Yes."
"Can I ask why?"
"No. That wasn't part of the deal."
A pause. Evelyn studied the woman—perhaps weighing her options, calculating escape plans.
"Hmm... alright then."
Static. Cut. The Braindance ended.
V blinked as she returned to reality, pulling off the headset. "That setting—it's Pacifica. More specifically... looks like one of the old Haitian churches near the coast. From the décor, symbols... that's Voodoo Boys turf."
Judy's voice crackled through the comms from her rig. "Voodoo Boys? Damn. Evelyn really went that deep? Those guys aren't just your garden-variety gang—they're elite. Real black ice netrunners. Hardcore. You don't mess with them lightly."
"Seems like they wanted her to record something for them," V muttered, adjusting her seat. "But you can tell she was nervous. She knew more than she let on."
Judy sighed. "Check the second file. That one's even darker."
---
The next Braindance loaded.
This time, Evelyn crouched on a dusty staircase, tucked behind a half-closed door. Muffled voices filtered through—sharp, fast, and completely foreign.
"What the hell are they saying?" V murmured.
"They're speaking Haitian Creole," Judy explained. "Hold up. Installing a language mod."
Subtitles flickered into place on V's display.
"Has the doll left?"
"Yes, but she's smart. She suspects something."
"That a problem?"
"No. We had to use her. She's the only one who could get close to Yorinobu Arasaka."
"And you're sure this chip can reach Alt and Johnny Silverhand?"
"With their connection, yes. Now stop talking—we've got work to do."
The feed snapped to black.
Back in the real world, V let out a slow breath. "So that was it. Evelyn wasn't just a BD artist—they used her to deliver the relic. A Trojan horse to get to Johnny's engram... and through him, to Alt Cunningham."
Judy's voice turned bitter. "She got in over her head. And when she realized it, she ran. Took the chip and tried to cut her own deal. That's when she reached out to Dexter DeShawn."
V grimaced. "And Dexter, greedy bastard that he is, thought he could sell it up the ladder."
"Exactly. Evelyn played all sides—Dexter, the Voodoo Boys, even NetWatch. Hell, she tried cutting a deal with them too. I found her chat log."
She forwarded the file. V skimmed through it, frown deepening.
"She asked for protection in exchange for the chip… wanted a seven-figure payout and a clean slate."
"She didn't trust anyone," Judy said, voice cracking. "Not even me. She begged me not to get involved—said she was trying to protect me, but... I don't know. Maybe she knew what was coming."
"She made enemies out of three power players: NetWatch, the Voodoo Boys, and Arasaka. No wonder she vanished. And if rumors are true..." V leaned back. "She ended up in Ash's hands."
Judy was silent for a long moment. Then: "We have to go to Pacifica. Confront the Voodoo Boys. They might know where she is—if she's still alive."
"Pacifica's a fortress. You don't just stroll in and ask questions. We'll need someone on the inside."
"I don't care. I'm not letting them get away with what they did."
V held up a hand. "You stay here. Work your magic—dig into Alt's data, Johnny's memories, anything that can help us decode this relic. I'll talk to my contacts. See if someone can get me a meet with Brigitte."
"...Fine. But promise me, the moment you find something—"
"You'll be the first to know."
---
Elsewhere…
Inside a VIP suite at a luxurious, high-end Japanese restaurant in Sakura Square, the atmosphere was stiff with tension. Glass walls overlooked a night skyline drenched in red and gold neon. Classical shamisen music played softly in the background, a strange contrast to the power struggle unfolding at the table.
"Miss Michiko, this is Ash and Sandayu Oda—head and vice-captain of our Arasaka security detail," said Kenta, his tone formal, respectful.
Ash gave a single curt nod. Sandayu Oda mirrored the gesture, eyes scanning the room for threats even in a controlled environment.
Michiko Arasaka, poised and regal in a deep crimson kimono woven with smart fabric, met their gaze without flinching.
"Thank you for coming," she said. "I know you don't answer just anyone's summons."
Ash leaned back, arms crossed. "Why are we here?"
A flicker of hesitation passed through Michiko's eyes before she composed herself. "I want your help to investigate the death of Saburo Arasaka—my grandfather."
Ash narrowed his gaze. "The world thinks he died of old age and complications from illness."
"I don't buy that. He was too cautious, too well protected. My instincts say otherwise."
"And you suspect…?"
Michiko hesitated. "I can't name anyone—not yet. But I have reason to believe he was murdered. Covered up. Perhaps even sanctioned from within the family."
Ash gave a slow nod. "You think Yorinobu's behind it. That he orchestrated a silent coup."
"It wouldn't be the first time he's betrayed his blood," she snapped. "But without evidence, the inheritance clause secures his position. He controls everything now—the board, the labs, even the media. I have nothing but questions."
"And what exactly do you want from me?" Ash asked.
Michiko reached beneath her seat and placed a small matte-black cube on the table. It pulsed faintly, like it was breathing.
"A prototype. Straight from the inner sanctum of Arasaka R&D. Iconic-tier neuralware. They called it the Black Box. Highly adaptive, unrestricted firmware, off-grid net access... worth a fortune in the wrong hands. It's yours, if you help me expose the truth."
Ash reached for the cube but didn't touch it. He studied it like a bomb.
"You're asking me to go up against the most powerful corporation on Earth."
Michiko's voice was steady. "I'm asking you to find the truth."
Ash's lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile.
"Now we're talking."
TO BE CONTINUED...