The Thorton Galena cruised through the streets of Heywood.
The closer they came to the Glen, the more the district resembled a genuine neighborhood.
Massive holographic advertisements no longer dominated every intersection, and corporate security drones were nowhere to be seen.
Residents stood outside their homes trading gossip, children played basketball beneath the floodlights, and several young street punks leaned against a nearby wall, smoking and watching passing vehicles.
On the surface, the Glen appeared peaceful—almost ordinary by Night City standards.
Lena Hale knew better.
Heywood’s relative stability wasn’t the result of luck.
The district had its own rules, and there were people who ensured those rules were respected.
The Galena stopped beside a public basketball court.
Jackie switched off the engine and gestured toward the bleachers.
“We’re here.
Padre usually spends time around this court.”
Lena followed his gaze.
An elderly man sat alone on the lowest row of seats, calmly drinking coffee.
He wore a black cassock, and nothing about his relaxed posture distinguished him from the neighborhood residents around him.
A tall bodyguard stood several steps behind him.
The man remained silent, his eyes constantly scanning the area.
Exposed mechanical joints and extensive cybernetic modifications made it clear that he wasn’t there merely for appearances.
Valerie studied the elderly fixer from inside the car.
“Padre handles business out in the open?”
Jackie chuckled.
“Don’t let the friendly old-man act fool you.
Almost every mercenary in Heywood knows his name.”
He opened the door and climbed out.
“If you want to operate here without Padre’s approval, life gets difficult very quickly.”
The three crossed the street together.
Sebastian Ibarra noticed them before they reached the court.
He lowered his coffee and smiled.
“Jackie Welles.
It has been some time.”
“Padre.” Jackie greeted him respectfully.
“Good to see you.”
Padre’s attention shifted toward the two women accompanying him.
“Are these the friends you mentioned?”
Jackie nodded, his expression becoming more serious.
“Lena Hale and Valerie.
They’re my partners now.
We’re planning to work together and build a reputation in Night City, so I wanted to introduce them properly.”
He paused before adding, “We’ll be operating in Heywood.
We came to ask for your approval.”
Padre examined Lena and Valerie without attempting to conceal it.
At the same time, the bodyguard behind him quietly assessed their weapons, posture, and chrome.
There was no hostility in his gaze.
He was simply judging how dangerous they might be.
“New mercenaries?” Padre asked.
“New to Night City,” Valerie answered.
“Not new to fighting.”
A faint smile appeared on Padre’s face.
“Interesting.
Most newcomers arrive eager to explain how dangerous they are.
They tell me stories, display their weapons, and list everyone they have supposedly killed.”
“Talking doesn’t prove anything,” Lena said evenly.
Padre’s eyes sharpened slightly.
“No, it does not.”
He placed his coffee beside him and reached into his coat.
“Night City enjoys a good story, but once the shooting ends, only the result matters.”
Padre produced a data shard and handed it to Jackie.
“If you want to register as mercenaries in Heywood, complete a simple job for me first.”
Jackie inserted the shard into his personal link and opened the information.
“No payment for the test, I assume?”
“Correct.”
Padre leaned back on the bleachers.
“A few local fools robbed a merchant.
The cargo isn’t especially valuable, but that merchant depends on it to survive.”
“You want the goods returned?” Jackie asked.
“The merchandise comes back.
The thieves do not.”
Padre’s voice remained gentle, but the meaning behind his words was unmistakable.
“A merchant is robbed today, and people decide it doesn’t matter.
Tomorrow, another shop is targeted.
A week later, the entire street is paying protection money to children carrying cheap guns.”
He glanced from Jackie to the two women.
“Rules only protect people when breaking them has consequences.
Recover the cargo and remind the neighborhood of that.”
Jackie removed the shard.
“Understood.”
Padre’s gaze settled on Lena.
“And I will see whether your new partners truly deserve a seat at the table.”
The information on the shard was straightforward.
Five targets, all currently occupying an abandoned warehouse not far from the Glen.
None of them belonged to an established gang.
They were simply armed opportunists who had mistaken an ordinary merchant for an easy victim.
The contract permitted lethal force.
Lena understood what Padre was showing them.
Mercenary work wasn’t always about stealing corporate secrets, assassinating executives, or changing the balance of power in Night City.
Most jobs were far less glamorous.
Someone had a problem, a fixer found people capable of solving it, and reputations were built one small contract at a time.
“We’ll handle it,” Lena said.
As the three walked away, Padre picked up his coffee again.
“They’re the ones who dealt with those Arasaka counterintelligence operatives yesterday.”
Padre watched Lena climb into the Galena.
“So I heard.”
“She’s supposed to be a newcomer.”
Padre took a slow sip of coffee.
“She does not carry herself like one.”
Back inside the car, Jackie reviewed the coordinates.
“The warehouse is close.
Less than ten minutes from here.”
“Then let’s go straight there.” Valerie checked the cylinder of her DR5 Nova.
Lena lifted the Tsunami Nekomata taken from the Arasaka operative and examined its charge indicator.
“Let’s make our first gig clean.”
The Galena pulled away from the curb.
Several ruined vehicles stood outside the abandoned warehouse.
Five punks had gathered near the entrance, smoking, drinking, and laughing beside the stolen cargo.
Crates of commercial equipment and packaged goods had been carelessly stacked beneath a damaged awning.
Jackie parked the Galena well beyond the warehouse lights.
“This is the place.”
Valerie watched the targets for a moment.
None of them appeared disciplined.
Their weapons were cheap, and two of them had already consumed enough alcohol to dull their reactions.
“Five amateurs,” she said.
“Padre’s test is easier than I expected.”
“That doesn’t mean we get careless.”
Lena stepped out and rested the Nekomata against the roof of the car.
The weapon’s cold frame caught the glow of a distant streetlight as its scope connected to her optics.
She studied the warehouse and the surrounding alleys.
“Jackie, circle around and block the rear exit.
Valerie, approach from the front.
The moment I fire, close the distance.”
Valerie drew her revolver.
“And if there are more people inside?”
“Call it out.
I’ll reposition and cover you.”
Jackie nodded.
“See you on the other side.”
He disappeared between two nearby buildings, moving toward the warehouse’s rear entrance.
Valerie waited until he was in position, then walked directly toward the punks with her DR5 Nova held low beside her thigh.
At the warehouse entrance, their targets continued talking, unaware that they were already surrounded.
“Those food vendors were poorer than I thought,” one of them complained.
He lifted a bottle of liquor and drank before wiping his mouth with his sleeve.
“Only thing worth selling is the refrigeration equipment.”
Another laughed.
“Once we move this junk, we’re going to Japantown.
Drinks, braindances, joytoys—the works.”
Lena placed the crosshair over his head.
The Nekomata began to charge.
A rising mechanical whine disturbed the night.
One of the punks frowned and looked toward the sound.
Too late.
The Nekomata roared.
Its electromagnetic rails launched the tech round across the street.
The projectile struck the speaker’s head before he could react, killing him instantly and spraying blood across the warehouse wall.
For one suspended moment, the remaining four simply stared.
“What the—”
Valerie was already moving.
She sprinted through the entrance, raised the DR5 Nova, and fired.
The revolver bucked violently in her hand.
The closest punk dropped before he could bring up his weapon.
Valerie shifted her aim without slowing.
A second shot thundered through the warehouse entrance.
Another target collapsed against the stolen crates, his pistol clattering harmlessly across the concrete.
“Run!” someone screamed.
One of the two remaining punks turned and fled toward the back of the warehouse.
The last man stumbled behind a damaged vehicle and aimed at Valerie.
Fear made his hands tremble, but his finger was already tightening around the trigger.
Lena saw everything through the Nekomata’s scope.
She activated the Kerenzikov.
The world slowed.
The punk’s frantic movements became painfully clear.
Lena saw the angle of his weapon, the tightening muscles in his hand, and the slight movement of his finger against the trigger.
Her mind calculated the shot before his weapon finished rising.
The Nekomata reached full charge.
Lena fired.
Time snapped back to its normal rhythm as the tech round tore across the lot.
It punched through the vehicle’s thin metal body and struck the punk in the chest.
The impact hurled him backward.
His gun discharged toward the ceiling, the bullet striking nothing.
Valerie looked at the body, then glanced toward Lena’s position and gave a short nod.
The fifth target was still running.
He charged through the rear exit and rounded the corner, believing he had escaped the ambush.
A broad figure stepped into his path.
Jackie lowered his shoulder and surged forward.
The collision sounded like a vehicle crash.
The fleeing punk was lifted off his feet and thrown into the side of a parked car.
The door caved inward beneath the impact, and the man dropped motionless to the ground.
Jackie walked over and kicked the fallen weapon away.
“Should’ve watched where you were going, choom.” Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Valerie reached the rear alley moments later, followed by Lena.
Jackie checked the target’s pulse before looking up.
“That’s five.”
Lena surveyed the surroundings.
The entire fight had lasted only seconds.
None of the punks had managed to mount any meaningful resistance.
“Search the warehouse first,” she said.
“Make sure they didn’t have friends.”
The three cleared the building room by room.
They found no additional hostiles, only the stolen cargo, several cheap weapons, and the punks’ personal belongings.
Once the area was secure, they dragged the bodies together.
“Take a picture for Padre,” Lena instructed.
“Then we remove anything that could lead back to us.”
Jackie recorded the evidence and transmitted it through the secure channel provided on the shard.
While Valerie and Jackie inspected the cargo, Lena knelt beside the bodies.
She placed her hand over each cyberware interface in turn and silently activated the system.
[Tier 1 Item Components Obtained ×24]
The interfaces went dark.
Lena rose.
She had no intention of allowing anyone to discover her ability to recycle cyberware—or extract usable resources directly from the dead.
Such a talent would attract far too much corporate and criminal attention.
“Burn the bodies,” she said.
Jackie didn’t question the order.
He retrieved fuel from one of the abandoned vehicles and poured it over the corpses.
Valerie watched from nearby.
“Thorough.”
“Necessary,” Lena replied.
“The fewer traces we leave behind, the harder it will be for anyone to reconstruct what happened.”
Jackie ignited the fuel.
Flames swept across the bodies, consuming clothing, flesh, and damaged cyberware.
Disposing of corpses wasn’t unusual in Night City.
Mercenaries regularly erased evidence to conceal their methods, identities, or employers.
Valerie had no reason to find Lena’s caution suspicious.
They remained until the fire destroyed the most obvious traces, then returned to the warehouse.
Recovering the stolen goods was far simpler than eliminating the thieves.
Jackie loaded the refrigeration units into the Galena while Lena and Valerie carried the smaller crates.
By the time they finished, every item listed on the merchant’s inventory had been accounted for.
Jackie closed the trunk and looked at the fully loaded vehicle.
“Not bad for our first official job.”
“Unofficial,” Valerie corrected.
“We haven’t passed the test yet.”
Jackie grinned.
“With this?
We’ve passed.”
Lena returned the Nekomata to its case.
“We’ll hear that from Padre.”
The Galena soon returned to the basketball court.
Padre remained on the bleachers, though the game had ended and most of the children had gone home.
When the three mercenaries stepped out of the vehicle, he checked the time.
His eyebrows rose.
“You finished already?”
“It wasn’t difficult,” Valerie said.
“Less than two hours,” Padre observed.
“I expected you to be quick, but not this quick.”
Jackie opened the trunk.
The recovered cargo had been packed carefully inside.
Nothing appeared damaged or missing.
Padre stood and inspected several of the crates before checking the inventory on his shard.
He then reviewed the photographs Jackie had sent.
Five targets confirmed.
All stolen goods recovered.
No civilian casualties.
Padre returned the shard to his coat.
“Efficient and disciplined.
A good beginning.”
Jackie folded his arms and smiled.
“Told you we were reliable.
You can send future contracts our way without worrying.”
Padre ignored his boasting and looked toward Lena and Valerie.
This time, his gaze contained open approval.
“You have passed the test.
From today onward, the three of you may officially accept gigs in Heywood.”
Valerie holstered her revolver.
“That’s all?”
“For today.”
Padre picked up his coffee.
“Do not mistake permission for protection.
If you accept one of my contracts, I expect it to be completed properly.
Your choices will build your reputation, but your mistakes will follow you just as quickly.”
Lena nodded.
“We understand.”
Padre smiled faintly.
“Good.
Then welcome to Heywood.”
For Jackie, it was a return to familiar ground.
For Valerie, it was the first step toward the future she had imagined.
For Lena Hale, it marked something more important.
Their life as Night City mercenaries had officially begun.