Asa mind wandered as Maine and Mitch finalized the plan, and everyone present packed their weapons.
Neither Sascha nor Asa were carrying long guns; Panam Palmer glanced at them and tossed over two rifles from a weapon crate.
"Take these. As a Netrunner, you need to protect yourself."
Her gaze lingered on Asa for a moment.
"By the way, what do you do?"
It wasn't that Asa appearance was particularly striking, but Panam Palmer was genuinely curious. These days, even the stray dogs in Night City were eager to get a pair of cyberlegs installed; even Panam Palmer herself had interfaces for connecting to collection equipment embedded in her arms and back.
Yet the man before her was clean and fair, with no visible signs of modification on his body; he didn't look like a mercenary out on a job at all.
Here on vacation? This wasn't exactly the place for it.
Asa pulled a revolver from his coat, slid his index finger through the trigger guard, and with a flick of his wrist, spun the gun around his fingertip.
"This is my weapon. I don't need anything else."
Seeing his practiced movements, Panam Palmer nodded and walked away.
Maine walked over and patted Asa on the shoulder.
He intentionally added a bit more force, but his palm landed as if hitting a steel plate; the other man didn't budge an inch.
Maine was secretly shocked, though he didn't show it on his face.
He really was putting on an act. Aside from magic, his physical strength was also significant; he wasn't as simple as he appeared.
What he actually said, however, was something else.
"She's a good girl. These days, only Nomads can still raise someone with that kind of personality."
Maine had always trusted his own judgment, just as he had accurately picked Sascha, Rebecca, and Pilar from a sea of mercenaries. As teammates, their character at least had to guarantee they wouldn't backstab anyone.
"She's indeed not bad."
Asa nodded, his eyes following Panam Palmer as she leaned over the hood working on the engine, responding nonchalantly.
This scene felt like a lifetime ago.
Maine rubbed his forehead, muttered something inaudible to anyone else, and turned to leave.
He couldn't let the clients think everyone in the squad was like this; he had to maintain the team's good image.
The convoy drove deep into the Badlands and stopped outside an abandoned small town.
The Wraiths had no fixed base; abandoned towns and temporary camps were where they frequently appeared.
The settlement before them, cobbled together from concrete ruins, rusted containers, and tattered tents, was one such place.
"This is just a temporary outpost,"
Maine said from the vehicle.
"The main force is hidden in the mines behind it. There's only one tunnel for entry and exit, making it easy to defend and hard to attack."
Then came the raid.
The moment the vehicles rounded the hill, before the Wraith sentry on the high watchtower could even open his mouth, Dorio leaned her upper body out of the car window and popped his head with a single bullet.
"Woohoo! One shot, one kill!"
Rebecca gave a thumbs-up to the car behind them, then leaned out of the sunroof, mounting a light machine gun on the roof.
The muzzle spat fire, and bullets poured into the camp like a rainstorm.
Caught off guard, the Wraiths resting in the open were pinned down, unable to lift their heads, falling one after another.
At the same time, Sascha began to exert her power.
The surveillance cameras in the camp went dark simultaneously, and the muzzles of two automated turrets slumped powerlessly.
Several Wraiths who were too close to electronic devices suddenly convulsed and fell over stiffly.
System reboot.
This was the power of a Netrunner in this era; as long as they could hack into the local network, even Adam Smasher would be forced to stand still.
Everyone had a Cyberware or two, and for convenience, they all had to be connected to the local network.
Asa watched the scene with interest, even turning on his recording mode.
While this was a commonplace combat scene for others, for him, it was the first time observing the fighting style of mercenaries in this era up close.
These people relied heavily on firepower; if they could solve it with heavy weapons, they wouldn't hesitate, and they wouldn't choose close-quarters combat unless absolutely necessary.
This was a completely different approach from the Arasaka agents. V had once said those people were obsessed with Mantis Blades and close-range ambushes, taking the Bushido code to an even more absurd level than it was centuries ago.
He calculated when he should get a batch of Militech training chips to bring back for the Watchdog Security soldiers.
The battle ended quickly.
Asa didn't really intervene the whole time; this was just an appetizer.
On a high point not far behind the engagement zone, Panam Palmer lay on the roof of her vehicle, observing the entire battlefield through a sniper scope, providing covering fire for the mercenaries in front from time to time.
"Mitch, look at them. Now that's what I call efficient."
Panam Palmer watched as the Wraiths were suppressed by Maine's crew. Even when they occasionally returned fire, the bullets only struck sparks off the armored vehicle bodies and glass, completely unable to stop the mercenaries advancing behind their armored transport.
Truly, you get what you pay for. But she wondered what that clean-looking boy was there for?
She hoped he wouldn't get hurt; he looked like he hadn't experienced anything like this.
"Stop fiddling with that sniper rifle, it's time to move to the next point!"
Mitch urged over the comms channel.
"Coming, coming,"
Panam Palmer muttered as she packed up her sniper rifle and slid down from the roof.
The fight at the abandoned town wasn't much of a challenge; the real tough nut to crack was the mine in the distance.
After the battle, the others scavenged the battlefield. Maine flexed his Gorilla Arms and dragged a set of Arasaka-issue heavy armor from the trunk, starting to put it on.
"Where'd you get that?"
Asa recognized the logo on it at a glance.
"Rogue arranged it,"
Maine answered truthfully.
Asa understood.
Given Rogue's relationship with Arasaka, getting this kind of equipment was indeed no big deal. Having heavy armor lead the way would certainly improve safety, but entering a tunnel with only a single exit was still a gamble with their lives.
"Don't you have any bombs or something to blast the mine first and flush these rats out?"
Asa asked.
Maine wore a helpless expression:
"A mine hundreds of meters deep—we can't get the equipment that could blast through it, and the equipment we can get can't blast through."
"I have an idea, but..."
Asa left them hanging.
"Spit it out,"
Maine said in a low voice.
Asa glanced at Rebecca, who was gathering spoils not far away, and coughed lightly.
Maine's face immediately darkened:
"You just made off with our Netrunner, and now you're eyeing our Techie? No way, I'm not in a position to agree to that on her behalf."
"What are you thinking?"
Asa rolled his eyes.
"A lightbulb in my house is broken; I just want to ask her to help fix it."
Is there a difference?
Why is it that a Wizard who has lived for hundreds of years only has eyes for girls?
Maine felt deeply helpless. If he were just a bit more serious, he would be a respectable elder.
The kind who wears black-rimmed glasses.
By the way, was that age just something he made up on the spot?
Ignoring Asa, Maine looked down and continued putting on his armor.