"Who's the new toy?"
"Stow it, Rebecca. Let me sleep. I didn't drop Sasha off until four this morning."
"I don't care! Wake up, Dorio. Come on, give me the scoop on the kid. He's actually cute. Are those cheeks natural? I bet they're natural."
The morning light was a harsh, unwelcome intruder in the cramped space, accompanied by a voice that hit like a dental drill. Jax groaned, his eyes still glued shut, and instinctively reached out to push off the wall. Instead of cold steel, his palm met something soft, warm, and decidedly elastic.
Jax froze. The tactile input spiked his adrenaline, and his eyes snapped open.
This wasn't his cot at Lizzie's.
He was staring into a pair of vivid, synthetic eyes—solid red whites and glowing yellow-green rings for pupils. A curtain of chaotic green hair brushed against his face, triggering a sneeze.
"Hahaha!"
The girl let out a jagged laugh, flashing a row of perfect white teeth. Her round, pale face and twin-tailed green hair made her look like a weaponized virtual idol.
"Rebecca?" Jax muttered, the name slipping out before he could filter it. He tried to sit up, but as he shifted his weight to his palm, he realized his left hand was still firmly planted on Rebecca's thigh.
It was a surprisingly solid, fleshy leg for someone who looked like she'd blow away in a high-wind warning.
"You know my name? Maine tell you?" Rebecca didn't move his hand; she leaned closer instead, her eyes wide with manic energy. "So you're the meat-shield Maine recruited for Sasha's deep-dive? What's your handle, kid?"
Jax felt a migraine forming behind his eyes. Last night had been a blur—a whirlwind tour of Night City that involved a near-miss gang war in Santo Domingo, enough synth-whiskey to fuel a VTOL, and Maine's reckless driving. He'd expected the mercenary life to be high-stakes; he hadn't realized it was mostly just functional alcoholism and staying awake until the sun tasted like copper.
"It's Jax," he said, pulling his hand away and sitting up. "And I haven't joined the crew. It's a one-time collaboration. Business, nothing more."
He looked at her properly now. She was wearing an oversized black jacket that swallowed her torso, leaving a pair of pale, greenish thighs exposed. She was small, thin, and looked entirely too dangerous to be left unsupervised.
"'Business.' That's a bit cold, don't you think?" Maine's voice rumbled from a nearby sofa. He was sitting up now, sunglasses already perched on his nose despite just waking up. "Joining us has its perks. We're not just a pack of edgerunners chasing a score. We're partners. We're family."
"Here we go with the 'Family' speech," Dorio groaned, stretching her massive frame. Rebecca's high-pitched interrogation had made further sleep an impossibility.
"But you're barely chromed," Rebecca pressed, ignoring the others. She crawled closer, her inhuman eyes scanning Jax with the intensity of a target-lock. "I've got more hardware in my pinky than you've got in your whole body. Why would Maine pick a natural?"
"Ask your boss," Jax said, sliding off the makeshift bed. He took in his surroundings—a converted cargo container, repurposed into a temporary safehouse. It smelled of gun oil and stale ozone.
"Tsk. Pretty face, ugly mouth," Rebecca huffed, her lip curling in a mock pout.
"Jax is the specialist for the infiltration," Dorio interjected, her voice neutral.
"So he's a runner?" Rebecca's eyes lit up again, her previous annoyance replaced by a twitchy curiosity. She pressed her chest almost against his as she tilted her head back to look at him, her expression shifting into a comical O.0 shape. "You don't look the part. Too fair. Too soft. If I didn't know better, I'd think Maine kidnapped a dancer from the Moxes. Let me see your ports."
She reached around his neck, her small, cold fingers searching for the interface slot. Jax shivered at the touch, reflexively ducking under her arm.
"I'm not a Netrunner," he said, his voice flat. "I'm the bodyguard hired to make sure your Netrunner comes back in one piece."
"Huh? Just you?" Rebecca sat back on the sofa, her face twisting into a mask of pure, unadulterated skepticism.
"Alright, Becca, leave him alone," Dorio warned.
Maine stood up, his massive hands rubbing his face. "What's the time? Breakfast. Then we hit the Afterlife. The Biotechnica job is the main course, but we need some side-gigs to keep the lights on."
Rebecca popped a piece of bubblegum into her mouth, chewing with aggressive indignation as she looked away.
"We'll meet at the Afterlife after we eat," Maine continued. "Rebecca, where's Pilar?"
"Who the hell knows!" she shouted, slapping her thighs. "That scumbag brother of mine ditched me and drove off on his own!"
"Probably went to the Afterlife to hover over Sasha," Dorio muttered.
"Sounds like him," Maine nodded, stroking his bearded chin.
Jax ignored the bickering. He grabbed his small bag and ducked into the container's cramped bathroom. He stood before a cracked mirror, pulled out a toothbrush and a tube of paste, and began a quiet, methodical morning routine.
He heard the pitter-patter of feet. Rebecca scurried to the doorway, leaning against the frame to see what he was doing. When she saw him brushing his teeth, she clutched her stomach and let out a shriek of laughter.
"Haha! You're kidding me! You're actually doing that!"
Jax looked at her through the mirror, foam in the corner of his mouth, his expression deadpan.
"Are you really a total native? Is your face even modified?" she wheezed, wiping a tear from her eye. "How are you going to survive as a merc if you're this... simple?"
Jax didn't answer. He had his Kiroshis, his reinforced hands, and his sub-dermal mesh, but the rest of him was exactly as nature intended—dense, organic, and lethal.
"You really are a piece of work, Jax," Rebecca giggled, finally catching her breath. "Adorably simple."
"Hurry up and eat!" Maine's voice boomed from the main room.
Jax rinsed his mouth, tucked his toothbrush away, and looked at his reflection. The city wanted to turn him into a machine, and the crew thought he was a relic. He liked it that way. In Night City, the thing they don't see coming is the thing that kills them.