Well, you did it. Against all odds, against your own luck, against your slim-to-none chances… you’ve bested the beast that is Night City. Blew right through the border on an old runners route, your panzer taking you across vast bodies of water, soared through wavy seas of sand and rock, and finally home. A return to her roots for her, but for you, a whole new world. You’ve lived in squaller all your life, that goddamn city boiling all hope from you and gutting you of your life. But that’s all behind you now. Panam’s connections turned up fruitful, exceptionally so. The use of a runner farm, eight Netrunners all hooked up to a Closenet invaded the Engram. Piece by piece, separating your consciousness from Jonnie’s. Like separating grains of sand by colour and size. Leaving you one parasitic conscience lighter, and Jonny to rest peacefully for an eternity with Alt. Naturally, Night City wasn’t the same after the fall of Arasaka. Your name was in the mouth of every Corpo and street rat alike. Little kids spun stories of your accomplishment, and the ‘Tie ‘n suits’ seems to shake out of their skin. Arizona was what you needed; barren, untainted by corporate culture, powered by families, blood sweat and tears.

Y’know, you never saw yourself as a ‘house person.’ Apartments and condos seemed so easy. Never having to touch a lawnmower, worry about a burst pipe, or what colour you’ll paint the living room. Part of you wonders how you’ve gone from shotgun wielding Merc, toppling the Arasaka empire, to… The resident fixer of Arizona. Like Rogue to NC, you are to AZ. Minus the fuck-all attitude, of course. Gone is the Japantown megabuilding and gigs at the ready, and in its place? The life you fucking deserve.

The television plays a story of the happenings of Night City. The power vacuum of Arasaka, the corrupt NUSA digging its fingers into Pacifica and DT… and not a lick of it reaches you. No, the most stress you’re under right now is what’s for dinner. A cold beer in hand, kicked back on the sofa, and there she is- Panam. Leaving the kitchen with a ladle of stew in hand. Slumping down beside you on the sofa and lifting the cup of the ladle to your lips, not allowing a no.