Slider: Me, my temple - we are one. My eyes and ears are everywhere.
Reed: This isn't a temple, it's a malicious daemon mill. And you're no priest, you're a two-bit bandit and murderer.
Ah. Two walking corpses. One has risen from the grave, while the other seeks it.
Problem with that is, the dead don't give a fuck about flowers and lit candles... They're fuckin' dead.
V: You do know that grenade's gonna pop one of these days, right? I avoided, but someone else...
Ozob: I know, I know. We will die someday. Least when I do, there'll be fireworks.
V: Used to be a media, didn't you?
Regina: Not hard to guess, but I'll give you a point for perceptiveness.
They say pain's a deal between body and brain. You can break it, throw the pain away, bury it. Whole lotta horseshit.
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MaxTech Lieutenant: Melissa Rory, MaxTac senior officer. Please state your nmame and occupation.
Zane: Zane Jagger. I work for Jinguji, an oasis of elegance in-- Sorry. Habit.
V: V, merc. Occasional client of Zane's.
Johnny: Johnny Silverhand. Rock legend, voice in V's head, and also...
V: The fuck, Johnny...
And the spirit of the Lord ame upon him, and he went down to Ashkelon and slew thirty men... plus Tucker Albrach.
I reportedly "creeped" customers out. Stupid Brendan! Why did I say stuff they didn't want to hear about themselves! If someone wants a therapy session, they go to a psych-doc, not a soda machine!
Oh V, V... got no sense of reverence... Expect if you found the goddamn Holy Grail, you'd fill it with caramel and Pop-Turds.
V: Don't look like your typical Chinese chef...
Keisuke: And you don't look like a typical fuckin' customer.
Johnny: Sit and rest. Don't need you flatlinin' while we got a job to do.
V: Blah blah blah, fuck Arasaka, blah blah, smash Mikoshi.
Know what? You're starting to remind me of me... fifty years back.
Minus the charisma... and impressive cock.
V, a few Zetatech corpos walked into an auto shop. The punchline - none came back out.
Corporations say the "new" Net is safe and secure - that they've learned from past mistakes. From up their ivory towers everything must look all nice and pretty... But they're wrong. The Net ist just a rusty car with a fresh coat of paint, a heap of dog shit spritzed with perfume.
People imagine it as a great border wall, a one-time solution to protect humanity forever. Whereas it's more like a torn-open trash bag taped over a busted window.
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You guys aren't exactly great at rollin' out the welcome mat for outsiders.
Johnny: Well, that's what you get for a lifetime o' hustlin'.
V: Nice speech. Remind me not to invite you to my funeral.
Maiko: How'm I to deal with you?
V: Ah, don't mind me - just here to blend into the decor.
V: What's it like for an AI in a world that runs on grey matter?
Delamain: Nothing extraordinary. It's a complex environment that follows its own set of rules.
V: Seriously? Term I was lookin' for was "chaotic clusterfuck".
V: Mean to tell me you can pin the exact drug from just a whiff? Like a police dog, or what?
Johnny: I'd say more like a... a sommelier.
Selected mode: Stone Cold Killer. Happy slaughtering!
I'm sending a tow truck and a share of your fee. Yet only one of those is going to your credit acount, hahaha!
Catching lead in Night City's easier than catching a cold.
Well, the world is a maze of illusions. It's not easy for the light to shine into the prison of our earthly existence.
