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"Night City, I'm f*cking back!!"
Maine raised his massive Gorilla Arms and let out a primal howl. With his dark skin and imposing, chrome-heavy frame, he looked like a localized earthquake waiting to happen. In any other city, he'd be a public menace; in Night City, he was just Tuesday. Passersby gave him a fleeting glance and widened their radius, mostly to avoid the inevitable blood splatter that followed men like him.
"Quiet down, you chrome-addict," Dorio said, giving Maine a sharp, affectionate kick. "We're supposed to be laying low, remember?"
"Heh, I'm just breathing in the nostalgia," Maine replied, inhaling a lungful of thick industrial exhaust and smog. "Smells like decadence and bad decisions."
"Stop being a poet and let's move. Viktor's clinic first," Dorio reminded him. Maine's high-end Arasaka gear was acting up; the joints in his Gorilla Arms were emitting a faint, rhythmic clicking—a warning that his precision hardware was overdue for a flush and calibration.
A Delamain cab, sent by Kael's personal network, pulled up silently.
"I heard Kiwi is back. That's a win," Maine noted, taking manual control of the cab and navigating the neon-lit labyrinth of Watson. "Means we don't have to scout for a new Netrunner."
"I wouldn't bet on it," Dorio countered, leaning her head on her hand. "Sasha's likely going to 'retire' into Kael's apartment once they get back from the Moon. We're still going to be a man down."
"That bastard Nuo," Maine grumbled, sounding like a disgruntled father-in-law. "First Lucy, now Sasha. He's collecting our backline like they're limited edition shards."
They arrived at Viktor's, where Misty was holding down the fort.
"Misty, you look younger every day! Is it the love, or did you get a new bio-monitor?" Maine joked, leaning in for a hug only to be shoved aside by Dorio.
"Ignore the gorilla, Misty. Good to see you," Dorio said, embracing her friend.
Downstairs, Viktor was already prepped. He detached Maine's military-grade arms, replacing them with standard "loaner" units while he began the painstaking maintenance on the high-spec chrome.
"So, where's Jackie?" Maine asked from the operating table.
"Jackie's found some freelance work," Viktor replied, his eyes focused on a diagnostic screen. "He's currently a 'logistics specialist' in the Badlands."
"Smuggling?" Maine's eyes gleamed. Jackie had made a name for himself as Kael's right-hand man, but he still had that Wells family pride. He wanted to prove he could pull a big score without Kael holding the leash. "What's the payload? High-end munitions? Prototype ICE?"
"Worse," Viktor sighed. "Watermelons."
"Holy crap!!" Maine shouted. Real fruit was rarer than plutonium in Night City. "The kid's actually moving organic produce? I need to get back in the game before a rookie out-earns me."
On the border of the Badlands, a modified off-road vehicle battled a blinding sandstorm. Inside, the roar of the wind was muffled by high-energy synth-wave and the rhythmic crunch of someone eating.
"I say, isn't this our cargo? Why are you eating the profit?"
A crisp female voice came from the passenger seat. Valerie (V) sat there, her silver-white hair reflecting the dashboard glow. She looked like a delicate flower, but her eyes held the wild, tenacious vitality of a desert predator.
"It's called 'shrinkage,' V," Jackie Wells replied, handing her half a watermelon. "The boss says a certain percentage of organic cargo is expected to be lost in transit. This is just... active accounting."
V took a bite, the sweetness a shock to her system. To a Nomad who had survived on cactus fruit and synthetic paste, this was divine.
Jackie had recruited V after seeing her dismantle a gang of Raffen Shiv with nothing but her bare fists and a rusted knife. He recognized the "Main Character" energy radiating from her and invited her to guide him through the wastes.
"Don't look at me like that, big guy," V warned, catching Jackie's appreciative glance. "I'm the guide, not the entertainment."
"Relax, chica. I've got Misty. You're just a talented merc who needs a ticket into the city," Jackie laughed. He could see that the desert couldn't contain V much longer. She was a wandering soul, and Night City was the only flame bright enough to attract a moth like her.
"I've heard the rumors," V said, breaking the silence as the sandstorm subsided. "They say you're part of BT's crew. That the guy's a living legend who made Arasaka blink."
"BT? That's my brother from another mother," Jackie bragged, his eyebrows dancing.
V fell silent. She'd heard a dozen street-rats claim the same thing in Badlands bars. But as Jackie drove them through the border checkpoint—bypassing the scanners entirely thanks to a high-level override signal—she realized he might not be lying.
The off-road vehicle crested a hill, and the sprawling, neon-choked horizon of Night City exploded into view.
"Welcome to the big leagues, Valerie," Jackie said, his grin widening. "Let's go find the boss."
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