The Lizzie's Bar sign was unmistakable — a neon outline of a woman's silhouette, curves glowing electric pink, hips swaying in perpetual motion.
Two women guarded the entrance, both built like walking holograms of temptation — slim waists, long legs, and chrome glimmers along their skin. Their stares were sharp enough to slice circuitry.
Jackie Welles grinned, strolling forward like he owned the place. "Buenas noches, ladies."
Jack was no stranger here. Lizzie's Bar was practically his second home, and the staff knew him by name, face, and drinking habit.
When the women saw the green-haired newcomer beside him, however, their attention instantly shifted — and their smiles turned razor-bright.
"Jack, bringing a new friend tonight? He's cute."
"Yeah, didn't know you had such handsome company, Jack. You sure he's not here to replace you?"
Jack took both verbal blows straight to the ego. He pressed a hand over his chest, pretending to be wounded. "Come on, chicas, last time I was here, you said I was the ideal type — strong, bold, a real man's man! Now what, I'm yesterday's firmware?"
The women ignored his theatrics completely, eyes devouring Neo instead.
"And you, handsome. What's your name?"
"V."
Neo never gave out his real name to strangers. Only those who mattered — or might one day — got both.
Jack clapped him on the shoulder. "Yeah, that's my choom, V. Remember the name, ladies. You'll be seeing him around."
They laughed, gesturing toward the entrance. "Go on in, boys. Have a wild night."
"Oh, we will," Jack said, winking.
…
The moment they stepped inside, the world exploded into sound and light.
Neon strobes pulsed across the walls, lasers cut through the haze, and the heavy bass hit like a shockwave straight to the chest.
Lizzie's hadn't changed much from the bars of the old world — a main stage, a dance floor, booths, and a long counter stacked with bottles.
The difference was in the details.
The DJ at the booth wasn't just spinning — holographic dancers shimmered around him, full-color projections moving in sync with the beat, their laughter and whispers merging seamlessly with the music.
Jack leaned toward Neo, shouting over the noise. "The drinks here, hermano, that's the real deal. The girls are just a bonus."
He plopped down at the bar and snapped his fingers. "Yo, bartender! Vodka, ice, lime, ginger beer — and a dash of love!"
Then he turned. "V, what'll you have?"
Neo slid into the seat beside him, calm as ever. "Rum. With ice."
Jack grinned. "Ah, pirate's choice. Rum, the drink of the free and damned! I like it."
Moments later, two glasses landed on the counter, glistening under the violet light.
Jack raised his glass. "To you, V — welcome to Night City!"
Neo lifted his in reply. "To friendship."
The glasses met with a crisp clink.
Jack took a sip. Neo downed the whole thing.
[Roleplay Level: 20%]
The rum burned sweet and heavy — caramel notes chilled by ice, heat rising in its wake. As it slid down his throat, Neo felt that familiar surge again — the edge of Zoro's spirit sharpening his own.
The system's voice in his head chimed softly, drowned out by the club's thunder.
Jack blinked. "Damn, bro, you drink like a beast!"
He took another gulp himself, grinning ear to ear. "Alright then, another round!"
But before he could call the bartender, Neo lifted a hand.
"Actually," he said, "bring us a case of your best bottles. And two more glasses."
The bartender hesitated — maybe to confirm he'd heard correctly — but a look from Neo's eyes was enough. A minute later, a box hit the counter.
Neo tore it open, pulled out two bottles, and popped one open for Jack.
Jack raised an eyebrow. "You even know the proof on this stuff?"
"Scared?" Neo asked with a faint smirk.
Jack barked a laugh. "Hell no! Let's see who drops first!"
…
Bottle after bottle, glass after glass, the night blurred into color and laughter.
Jack's booming voice drowned under the pounding bass, while Neo's quiet smirk stayed steady — untouched by the alcohol that could've knocked out a cyberpsycho.
[Roleplay Level: 21%]
Jack, meanwhile, was deep in his third ramble. "Hah! It's been forever since I had a night like this, V! You know, I've met a lotta people, but you — you're different, bro. You feel like family!"
Neo chuckled, swirling the rum in his glass. "Careful, I don't swing that way."
Jack wheezed with laughter, tears threatening to fall. "Hah! Relax, I'm not into dudes, man! I meant like a brother, you know?"
"Then drink like one," Neo said, raising his glass again.
Jack groaned. "If I drink more, I'll end up sleeping under this damn counter."
…
By the end of the night, Jack was slumped against the bar, eyes half-shut, grin still plastered across his face.
Neo steadied him, slinging an arm around his shoulder and half-dragging him out the door.
Outside, the city was still alive — traffic humming, holograms pulsing, laughter echoing down the block.
Jack muttered something incoherent, but Neo just smiled faintly and eased him into the passenger seat of his car.
Sliding into the driver's seat, he started the engine. The sound of rain tapping against the windshield mixed with faint gunshots echoing from somewhere in the distance.
Gunfire.
Neo's eyes sharpened instantly.
He knew that rhythm — the chaos, the tempo of a firefight.
Somewhere in the city, a street battle was raging.
Gangs. NCPD. Or worse.
His mind flashed — a small apartment, a struggling medic, a son who hadn't yet lost everything.
David's mother.
Neo's jaw tightened.
He hit the brakes, spun the wheel, and the car screeched into a hard turn.
The engine roared as he floored the accelerator.
The rain-slick streets of Night City blurred into streaks of color — red, blue, violet — as he sped toward the gunfire.
If fate was playing its script again…
Then this time, Neo was going to rewrite it.