The digital landscape stretched endlessly before Victor as streams of crimson data flowed across the horizon like rivers of liquid fire.
After spending some time wandering through the surrounding cyberspace, Victor gradually increased the output of his computing power.
Instantly, the world around him distorted.
The scenery folded inward.
Reality dissolved.
Then everything reassembled.
When the process ended, Victor found himself standing upon a vast dark-red cybernetic plain.
Towering before him was a colossal black wall that stretched beyond sight in both directions.
It loomed over the landscape like an eternal monument, radiating an oppressive aura that even the most experienced netrunners found unsettling.
The Blackwall.
The final barrier separating humanity from the countless rogue AIs lurking beyond the Old Net.
Victor stared at it silently.
Even after all this time, the sight never failed to leave an impression.
After a brief glance, he deliberately looked away.
Curiosity killed plenty of netrunners.
He had no intention of touching the Blackwall while connected through the equipment installed in his apartment.
Even though he possessed the No Place to Stand specialty, that didn’t mean he could act recklessly.
Confidence and stupidity were two completely different things.
Victor knew the difference.
Without enough computing power to guarantee survival, he would never attempt something as dangerous as cutting through the Blackwall to mine data from the Old Net.
Not yet.
Today, he was here for a different reason.
His objective was simple.
Observation.
For years, cracks and vulnerabilities had occasionally appeared within the Blackwall’s defenses.
Despite the legends surrounding it, the Blackwall was not truly omnipotent.
Nothing was.
Every so often, fragments of rogue AIs slipped through.
Some crossed by exploiting loopholes.
Others were deliberately released by humans who believed they could control powers far beyond their understanding.
Corporate researchers.
Power-hungry netrunners.
Fanatics.
There was never a shortage of fools willing to gamble with humanity’s future.
Victor slowly wandered across the digital plain while scanning the surrounding area.
Minutes passed.
Then his eyes narrowed.
A flashing fragment of unstable data appeared in the distance.
The fragment flickered continuously, shifting between different states as though struggling to maintain coherence.
Victor immediately approached.
Within seconds he arrived beside it.
His neural systems went to work.
Analysis.
Decryption.
Disassembly.
Information flooded into his mind.
Once the contents had been copied, Victor casually erased his traces and departed.
Far beyond the Blackwall, hidden within the endless darkness of the Old Net, another figure silently watched.
A humanoid AI.
Motionless.
Patient.
Its gaze followed Victor’s retreating silhouette.
If Victor had seen it, he would have immediately recognized the entity.
It was the same mysterious AI he had encountered during his data-mining operation inside Arasaka’s systems.
The one that had escaped his pursuit through an unusual specialization.
For several moments, the AI remained still.
Then it vanished into the darkness once more.
— Victor’s consciousness returned to reality.
His eyes slowly opened.
The familiar ceiling of his apartment greeted him.
He remained seated inside the netrunning chair for several seconds while his senses adjusted.
The transition from cyberspace to reality always required a brief recovery period.
Eventually, he disconnected himself and climbed out of the chair.
A quick review of the acquired data revealed nothing particularly groundbreaking.
Mostly technological records.
Biological research.
Fragments of Old Net archives.
Useful.
Not revolutionary.
Still, free knowledge was free knowledge.
Victor wasn’t about to complain.
After stretching his stiff muscles, he headed toward the bathroom.
One interesting fact about netrunning was that expensive equipment wasn’t nearly as common as outsiders believed.
Many street-level netrunners couldn’t afford advanced cooling systems.
When diving deep into cyberspace, their brains generated enormous amounts of heat.
As a result, countless netrunners relied on buckets of ice water to keep themselves from literally cooking their own brains.
Compared to them, Victor’s setup was downright luxurious.
After washing up, he returned to his bedroom.
For once, he didn’t have any urgent plans.
Sleep sounded like an excellent investment.
And in Night City, opportunities to sleep peacefully were rarer than honest politicians.
— The following afternoon.
A group of mercenaries had gathered outside a small shop along one of Night City’s crowded streets.
Beer bottles littered the area.
Music played from nearby speakers.
The atmosphere was relaxed.
At least by Night City standards.
Sitting on a concrete step was a massive dark-skinned man with blonde hair and cybernetic enhancements visible beneath his clothing.
Maine.
Beside him sat a powerful blonde woman whose imposing physique could intimidate most street gangs.
Dorio.
The two were quietly discussing business.
“You picked up a new gig?” Dorio asked.
Maine snorted.
“No.” “You turned it down?” “I didn’t just turn it down.
I wanted nothing to do with it.” Dorio raised an eyebrow.
That immediately caught her attention.
“What kind of job makes you react like that?” Without speaking, Maine transferred a message file directly to her optics.
As she read through the communication logs, her expression gradually became more serious.
— Faraday: “Any plans for the near future?” Maine: “Nothing important.
Why?” Faraday: “I might have a job for you.
Take it or leave it.” Faraday: “Arasaka recently appointed a new department head under their Security Division.
My client wants information on him.” Faraday: “Habits.
Schedule.
Residence.
Security personnel.
Contacts.
Anything valuable.” Faraday: “Payment depends on the quality of the information.” Maine: “Are you insane?” Maine: “You seriously think I’m taking a job investigating an Arasaka executive?” Maine: “Find another idiot.” Faraday: “Suit yourself.” — Dorio finished reading.
“Tch.” Her reaction mirrored Maine’s.
“Exactly.” Maine took a long drink from his beer.
“Faraday is still the same bastard he’s always been.” “Someone will probably accept it.” “Yeah.” “Some poor fool who doesn’t understand what he’s walking into.” Maine shook his head.
“Jobs like this always follow the same pattern.” “The better the pay.” “The fewer the restrictions.” “The more likely you are to die.” Dorio nodded.
That was practically a universal law among mercenaries.
Arasaka wasn’t some local gang.
It wasn’t even comparable to the major gangs.
It was one of the most powerful corporations on the planet.
Trying to dig up dirt on one of their executives was practically begging to be buried in a landfill.
“Refusing was the smart move.” Maine laughed.
“See?
That’s why I keep you around.” Before Dorio could respond, another voice interrupted them.
“I agree.” The newcomers approached from down the street.
The first was a young woman with a black bob haircut and distinctive whisker-like facial tattoos.
Sasha.
Walking beside her was a much shorter girl wearing an oversized black coat.
Light-blue twin tails framed her face.
A piece of bubble gum popped loudly as she chewed.
Rebecca.
“About time you showed up,” Maine said.
Rebecca looked around immediately.
“Where’s that idiot brother of mine?” Maine pointed toward the center of the gathering.
“There.” The answer was impossible to miss.
Pilar was currently standing atop a crate while carrying several beers and loudly entertaining everyone around him.
His heavily modified cybernetic arms waved wildly as he talked.
Rebecca’s eye twitched.
Then she exploded.
“HEY!” The entire street turned toward her.
Pilar froze.
“GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!” “Or what?” Rebecca’s smile became terrifying.
“I’M GOING TO PUT A BULLET THROUGH YOUR HEAD!” Pilar laughed.
“Aw, our little Rebecca missed her big brother.” A bottle flew through the air.
Pilar barely dodged.
“Whoa!” “Watch it!” “You almost hit my favorite cybernetic body part!” Rebecca responded with a universally recognized hand gesture.
Several mercenaries nearby burst into laughter.
Even Maine couldn’t suppress a grin.
The siblings never failed to provide entertainment.
— Eventually, the group settled down.
Rebecca sat on a nearby crate.
“So if you turned down Faraday’s suicide mission, why’d you call everyone together?” “Because I accepted a different job.” “Wakako?” “Yeah.” Rebecca groaned.
“That old woman again.” Maine immediately pointed a finger at her.
“Careful.” “If Wakako hears you say that, she’ll probably double your next bill.” Rebecca rolled her eyes.
“Fine.” “What kind of job?” This time Sasha asked the question.
Maine’s expression became more serious.
“The target is a member of the Tyger Claws.” That immediately got everyone’s attention.
“The guy has been working with Scavengers.” The mood darkened.
Nobody liked Scavengers.
Nobody.
Not even other criminals.
Maine continued.
“They kidnapped a girl’s daughter.” “Dismantled her cyberware.” “Forced her into illegal braindance recordings.” The atmosphere became silent.
Even Rebecca stopped joking.
Everyone knew exactly what kind of braindances Scavengers specialized in.
And everyone hated them for it.
The father had apparently spent every last eddie he possessed trying to get revenge.
When the police ignored him and corporations refused to care, he had gone to Wakako.
And Wakako had passed the contract to Maine.
For several moments, nobody spoke.
Then Rebecca spat on the ground.
“Scum.” Sasha nodded.
“Agreed.” Dorio crossed her arms.
“Sounds like they need a lesson.” Maine slowly stood.
His massive frame immediately drew attention from everyone nearby.
A grin spread across his face.
Not a pleasant grin.
The kind that usually appeared shortly before gunfire.
“Exactly.” His optics glowed faintly.
“We’re going to pay them a visit.” A cold silence settled over the group.
Everyone knew what that meant.
Someone was about to have a very bad day.
Maine looked around at his crew.
His family.
His team.
People who had fought together, bled together, and survived Night City together.
“Not tonight.” “We gather information first.” “We move tomorrow.” Then he turned toward Sasha.
“I’ll need your help.” The netrunner adjusted her jacket and nodded confidently.
“No problem.” A dangerous smile appeared on Maine’s face.
Good.
Because by this time tomorrow— The Scavengers and their Tyger Claw partners would learn exactly why nobody in Night City wanted to cross Maine’s crew.