Not Quite Back to the Future

Helen was sitting in her car as the vehicle was approaching the border checkpoint that the city-state of Night City shared with Southern California

The early morning light cast a soft glow over the border checkpoint, bathing the area in a pale, hazy illumination. The air was still cool, and a sense of quiet enveloped the surroundings. The guards, despite their stern demeanor, seemed slightly more relaxed at this hour, as if the predawn darkness had a calming effect on the otherwise tense atmosphere. Helen hoped that the early timing would work in her favor as she prepared to face the scrutiny of the border guards.

As she pulled up to the inspection point, a sense of tension filled the air. The guards, clad in heavy armor and armed to the teeth, eyed her vehicle with suspicion. Helen could feel their scrutinizing gazes on her, and it only intensified her unease. Something was wrong.

Helen took a deep breath, trying to appear as composed as possible. The mission ahead was too important for her to falter now. After all Jackie could not die yet, he was too important for the future. Helen rolled down her window, and one of the guards approached, their face obscured by a helmet and visor.

"Identification and purpose of travel," the guard demanded, their voice muffled by the protective gear.

"I am heading down to San Diego, I wish to see the USS Midway Museum," Helen says lying through her teeth.

The guard studied Helen for a moment, the visor making it impossible for her to gauge their expression. They seemed to be processing her response carefully.

"The USS Midway Museum, huh?" the guard finally replied, a hint of skepticism in their voice. "That's quite a trip to make at this hour."

Helen maintained her composed facade, her heart racing. "I've heard it's best to visit early in the morning, to avoid the crowds."

The guard seemed to consider this for a moment longer, then nodded. "Very well. ID, please."

As Helen handed over her ID card, the guard's gloved hand trembled slightly while taking it. Their visor hid their facial expression, but Helen could sense an unease in their demeanor. They glanced at the name on the ID, their gloved fingers hovering over the letters of her last name.

"Alright, Miss... Wick," the guard said, their voice betraying a hint of nervousness. "You're clear to proceed. Have a safe journey."

Helen took her ID and drove off into the southern California desert.
==================================

Helen Wick continued her journey, leaving the border checkpoint behind and driving further into the southern California region. The town of Yucca stretched out before her…

The town of Yucca gave Helen a strange sense of familiarity… The streets, the buildings, and even the subtle details of the scenery all felt oddly recognizable, yet she couldn't pinpoint why.

The sudden flash of police lights in Helen's rearview mirror sent a jolt of anxiety through her veins. She glanced at the mirror, her heart sinking as she saw the patrol car behind her, its red and blue lights casting an ominous glow. Something weird was going on, then again she was driving a Nomad Quadra Hoon.

As Sheriff Andrew Jones approached Helen's vehicle, his hand rested on the grip of his revolver, and his stance was one of authority and intimidation. His eyes, hardened by years of experience and a tinge of prejudice, scanned the interior of the car before settling on Helen.

"What brings you to Yucca?" he asked, his voice gruff and suspicious, the weight of his badge and the law behind his words.

Helen met his gaze with a calm demeanor, though she couldn't help but notice the thinly veiled hostility in his posture. "Just passing through, Sheriff," she replied, keeping her tone steady. "I heard about the USS Midway Museum down in San Diego and thought I'd check it out."

Sheriff Jones didn't seem convinced, his skepticism evident as he continued to eye her. "You're not from around here, are you?"

Helen gave a subtle nod. "No, just a traveler passing through your fine town."

Sheriff Jones's suspicion deepened, his words taking on a more aggressive tone. "Odd, that's the second time I've heard that exact line today. Now, why don't you enlighten me on your true reason for being here before I handle you as I did with that other nomad who thought it wise to snoop around my town?"

"Second Nomad?" Helen asks her voice cautious, although a fight seemed inevitable at this point.

"Yeah, this other one stopped by in an auto body shop. I told him to go on git and the fool decided to question my athurotity." Andrew's says

Helen's eyes widened as she absorbed the sheriff's chilling revelation. "You killed a man?" she asked, her grip on the steering wheel tightening with a mix of shock and anger.

Andrew Jones didn't seem the least bit remorseful. "Yes, bastard said his name was V. I showed him the power of this Silver Shogun," he declared with an unsettling pride. "So, you don't happen to be here looking for a friend of yours, do ya?"

Helen's mind raced as she considered her options. The sheriff's dangerous disposition was evident, and she couldn't afford to reveal her true intentions. To think he had killed the main character… Luckily Corpo V was still alive. Helen still had to be cautious. "No, Sheriff," she replied with a forced calm. "I'm just a traveler, remember? Just passing through."

"Tell you what," Sheriff Andrew Jones sneered, "why don't you step out of the car? Show me you're just a traveler. Do a little dance and all"

Helen blinked, a cold shiver running down her spine as she sensed the ominous undertone. He was a creep.

"Sure," she replied, her voice steady despite her mind firing on overtime, as she opened the driver's side door and emerged from the vehicle, Helen's Sandevistan activated with a subtle hum, enhancing her speed and reflexes. With a lightning-quick motion, she expertly disarmed the sheriff, sending his revolver clattering to the ground.

The sheriff's shock was palpable as Helen moved with incredible speed, catching him off guard. In one swift and powerful motion, she seized his head and, with a forceful swing, slammed it into the roof of her car. A resounding thud echoed through the still morning air as the sheriff crumpled to the ground.
"What in the fuck…" The sheriff muttered from the ground.

Sheriff Jones lay there, seething with a potent mix of frustration and disbelief. In all his years of combat experience and countless altercations, he had never encountered a situation like this. To be caught off guard and bested by an outsider was not only humiliating but also infuriating. His years of training and experience had taught him to be vigilant and never let his guard down, yet this bitch had disarmed and incapacitated him effortlessly.

The sheriff groaned, his head throbbing with pain as he fought to regain his footing. As his vision cleared, he found Helen standing over him, gripping his own gun, her face resolute and unyielding.

"Ever heard the saying 'you should've let sleeping dogs lie'?" Helen asked, cocking the revolver.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sheriff Jones retorted, his voice seething with anger.

"You should've never fucked with me," Helen declares, her finger squeezing the trigger. The deafening shot rang out as she fired the sheriff's own gun, putting an end to their confrontation.

"Fucking dumbass let power get to his head," Helen mutters throwing the revolver onto the ground by the dead man's feet.