Chapter Nine

July 13th, 2077

Night City, Northern California

Santo Domingo, Bonita Rail Freight yard

Panam and lady luck had been at odds for years now, always finding a way to elude one another. Honestly, she was getting sick and tired of being used by scumbags and especially Night City. She was a Nomad, and family was everything to her, but her persistent conflict with Saul kept her from that family.

Despite leaving the Aldecaldos and being in a persistent conflict with Saul. Panam still maintained strong relations with its people and decided to leave out of protest of the Clans direction instead of being shunned out entirely. Now here she was trying to fix a car she boosted off some random badlander, and yet her mind was occupied by a former colleague.

Nash, a raffen piece of shit who stole the cargo she was transporting for the Sixth Street gang and her Thorton. She was going to kill the Wraith; it was only a matter of time and patience.

Patience that she was running out of, her contact V was running late to their meeting. She was not exactly hoping to start a new business relationship, but that could always come about in time.

"Hey, Panam, right?" The Aldecaldo glanced to her right, subtly taking in the voice's features.

The Mercenary was a beauty, and damn did she look good in that Bolero. Underneath the Bolero was a well-conditioned netrunning suit, along with a pair of Samurai Cargo Pants and a pair of combat boots. Her red hair was swept to the right, covering her left eye just enough not to hinder her vision in combat.

Two Constitutional Arm Unity's were strapped to her waist and a wicked katana sheathed on her back. All in all, the Merc was enough to make the boys faint and the girls jealous.

So, consider Panam extremely Jealous.

"So, you're V." Panam's pushed back from underneath the hood. "Where's my car?"

"Agree to help me, and you'll find out." Panam disagreed with that statement.

"Oh, fuck no!" Panam's hands went back to work on the car. "You will NOT jerk me around right now. Where is my car?"

"Fuck me. You always on the warpath?" V leaned her weight on her left leg, expression unamused and arms crossed.

"Only when someone tries to jerk me around. Now where the hell is MY CAR!" Panam's patience was running thin.

"Say I tell you, and then what? Gonna storm off and handle it all by yourself?" V replied with a hint of hostility.

"That is none of your concern."

"Listen to me. LISTEN TO ME. You need my help." V's expression softened. "And you'll get it. I meant that but after we solve my problem."

"Fine, FINE!" Panam turned her attention to the Mercenary. "What do you want?"

"Need to hit a Kang Tao transport. Won't be easy, but I need to know I can count on you." Panam shot her a look of disbelief.

"Are you fucking insane?"

"About you or the job? The AV will take a route over Jackson plain, that should help us. If that doesn't satisfy you, I also have more backup coming with us." Panam's wrench went to work on the car. "My target is on board the AV; I need him alive."

"Yeah, I doubt Jackson plain and three losers will be able to take on a Kang Tao convoy." V ignored the Aldecaldos bitching.

"In return, you get your cargo and car back. We got a deal?" The Mercenary asked with a tone of finality.

"I don't know I-" The boosted car's horn went off, startling the Aldecaldo. "Motherfucker." Panam reached for the alarm underneath the car's engine, grasping onto it with all her might and ripping it out. The Aldecaldo looked at the horn with contempt before tossing it behind her.

Panam reached for the car hood, satisfied in her modifications to the car's longevity, and slamming it down. "Alright, deal, but if you want to hit that Kang Tao transport, I need my Thorton back. So where is it?"

"Thorton's in rocky ridge. Along with your cargo." Panam's expression was cut out of pure hate. A name popped out of her mouth with all the contempt she could muster.

"Who is Nash?" V asked. "A friend of yours? Partner?"

"Former Partner. The bastard tricked me and then nicked my car and cargo. Probably going to sell it in Rocky Ridge." Panam replied.

"So, let's go to Rocky Ridge. What are we waiting for." V inquired.

"Give me a sec, will ya Christ." Panam massaged her head before coming to a decision. "If we're going to do this, we'll need back up. The good kind and not whatever city trash you're bringing along."

"I think he would disagree heavily." V conspicuously looked around, hoping the Spartan wouldn't come down and bite her head off.

"I don't care. I gotta make a phone call gimme a sec." Panam walked off with a phone in hand. The name Boz fell from her lips when Johnny made his appearance.

"Going ahead with the deal behind Rogue's back. Admirable but incredibly stupid." Johnny's musing irritated the Mercenary.

"Do you always have to comment on every little thing Johnny?" The Rockerboy shot her an incredulous look.

"Of course I do because you're liable to do something incredibly stupid." V rolled her eyes at his irritating tangent. Their conversations always seemed to go back to what happened yesterday. Sure, V was scared out of her mind, but Johnny had been whining like a bitch for hours on end.

"Say, for instance, establishing contact with one of the scariest motherfuckers on the planet. I'm dead, and he still scares me because he knows I exist in that fucked up head of yours."

"Johnny, I know what I am doing." V gave the engram a pointed look. "How many times do I have to tell you this."

"A million apparently, because you're full of shit." V's reply was cut off when Panam got off the phone.

"Ok, I bought us some time," Panam said. "But we need to visit the Aldecaldo camp, drum up some help."

"I used to ride with Nomads myself," V said with an indescribable expression.

"Really." Panam's eyes widened slightly. "Who'd you roll with?"

"Bakker clan, which felt like years ago. It didn't work out well, so I came to Night City." The Aldecaldo's expression turned into one of complete understanding, Panam knew what it was like to walk away from the family.

"Guess we have something in common after all." Panam mused. "This backup of yours he any good?

"Better than you think." The Mercenary's words echoed through Panam's head for a moment. V said it with such vigor that she almost believed the man she spoke of was a god of war. Then common sense won out.

"Yeah, ok, well tell him to meet us at Rocky Ridge when he's able. While we go look for more professional help." An endearing smile crossed Panam's face.

"Believe me, Panam. He's the best at what he does." Panam jumped into the driver seat of her boosted car.

"Yeah, what's that, gardening?" The Aldecaldo suggested sarcastically as V jumped into the passenger seat.

"Headhunting."

July 13th, 2077

Night City, Northern California

Badlands, Twenty Kilometers North of Rocky Ridge

The Wraiths weren't the only Raffen gang populating the badlands. Other Raffen clans were spread out all along the entire frontier, leaving Cyrus a wealth of targets to choose from. Tonight's target was a captain in the Reaper gang called Jury, a psychopath with a fixation on kidnapping and extortion.

Jury and his clan were known to ambush travelers and Corpo trucks up and down Interstate 9. Their most recent haul was a Biotechnica truck bringing much-needed relief to frontier towns in desperate need of supplies. So subtly and patience was critical for this job, and all he needed to do was wait.

Chamber had deciphered a most likely crossing point for the Reaper gang when they were executing their heists. Predictably Chamber's prognosis was a complete success, and the Spartan was trailing a small convoy of Reaper trucks back to their main camp. Chamber contacted a fixer named Dakota Smith.

Usually, they wouldn't bother speaking to anyone out there. But Cyrus couldn't exactly drive the Biotechnica truck with his MJOLNIR on, so they were going to let Smith send in a driver once they cleared the camp.

The Fixer took some convincing, and she downright almost hung up on him when he denied payment. Something not trusting a man who did something out of the goodness of his heart. Cyrus guessed some people were just born paranoid.

The Reaper camp was more of a collection of vehicles surrounding an abandoned hotel. They had made the so-called Sundrive Hotel their base of Operations, and unsurprisingly were inept in fundamental security. Most of the gang were sleeping, and the perimeter guards were damn near useless in Cyrus's opinion.

Clearing the camp was of little issue for the Headhunter. The perimeter guards were dead before they knew what hit them, and the fools sleeping in their rooms met an untimely demise.

It barely took him five minutes to clear out a camp with well over fifty bandits residing in it. Cyrus was disappointed; he didn't even need to fire a single shot. His Kukri alone was enough to get the job done.

"You know, sometimes I miss the Covenant." Cyrus surmised quietly. "They put a better fight than any of these people."

"No, you don't." His partner stated. "And you're a blood-crazed idiot if you do."

"Consider me a blood-crazed idiot." Cyrus could feel his companion roll her eyes at his statement.

"Oh, boy." Chamber's avatar appeared on his HUD.

"We can go now. Dakota's driver is on her way, and they'll take the Biotechnica Truck to its designated location so everyone can go home happy." Chamber took in her environment. "We'll almost everyone."

Cyrus's MJOLNIR alerted him to a receiving signal. Glancing down to his Tacpad, the Headhunter recognized Vargas's ID tag. He still couldn't believe what Chamber told him during her scan of the woman. The data chip engrained into her neural network contained the psyche of a long-dead terrorist, and that intrigued her more than anything else. That Relic was also consuming her mind slowly like a cancer tumor.

The Headhunter wasn't entirely sure how such a thing was possible, but his very presence on this planet shouldn't be possible either. So, he imagined this was just par for the course at this point. Regardless he wanted Anders Hellman as much as she did, so their interests were aligned for now.

"Cyrus here, go ahead." The Headhunter answered.

"Christ. I've been trying to get ahold of you for an hour now. Look, we need you at Rocky Ridge as soon as possible. How long will it take you to get there?" The Mercenary replied.

"I'm fifteen klicks out. Give me t-minus twenty minutes, and I'll be there." A voice cut into V's background.

"Whose that the Gardener?" Cyrus's eyes blinked in confusion.

"Gardener?" V sighed in exasperation.

"Ignore her. She's just bitter because her choom's left her out to dry." The Headhunter's confusion grew. The fuck is a choom?

"Hey, don't be an asshole, ok V. I'm just saying we're gonna need more than your boyfriend to help us out." Chamber's bark of laughter annoyed the Spartan further.

"He's not my boyfriend." Panam disagreed.

"With the way you talk about him, I'm almost disappointed to hear that." Cyrus was not able to comprehend what was flowing through his audio receptors. Chamber, on the other hand, was having the time of her life.

"I'm hanging up now." The Headhunter ignored the cry of wait from V.

He really hated people sometimes.

July 13th, 2077

Night City, Northern California

Badlands, Rocky Ridge

V was right. Panam was angry at Mitch and Scorpion, and that wasn't fair to either of them. They were her brothers in all but blood, every member of the Aldecaldos was family, even Saul.

Still, it didn't help how she felt about her clan, and it wasn't going to help her current predicament. Panam still wasn't sure how she felt about V or her so-called backup, backup who was running late. The Merc tried for almost an hour to get ahold of her choom, but for whatever reason, he wasn't answering the phone.

Panam was halfway from talking her own shit about trustworthy Chooms when the bastard finally answered the phone. She threw her own teases at V, trying her best to exude some form of confidence, but she was jealous of the Merc. Friends are hard to come by in Night City, so even having one person you can rely on to answer your call for help. That meant everything to Panam.

She just hoped V's choom would get here in time.

The plan was relatively simple, catch the Wraiths at the Rocky Ridge intersection in a convincing light show. Ambush, the bandits, get her Thorton back and the merchandise she needed for the Sixth Street gang. A small Wraith convoy rolled through with her baby intact, along with fourteen bandits to deal with.

The plan went off without a hitch at first, Panam was a good shooter, but V was a born killer. The Mercenary excelled in the art of combat, capable of overheating a Wraiths nervous system while simultaneously blasting their chooms head off. They were halfway through the bandits within minutes, and the Aldecaldo could practically taste the satisfaction in her mouth.

A taste that turned bitter when more multiple headlights popped up over the horizon. More Wraiths were coming, six modified Quadra Type-66's in total, packing all kinds of heat. Panam surmised there had to be well over twenty wraiths probably closer to thirty Nash was probably among them.

"V!" Panam called for the Mercenary from her overwatch position. "We got more coming. Get to cover!"

V had a serrated knife lodged in a bandit's left shoulder before planting three bullets into his chest. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she wrenched her blade from the Wraith's corpse. She turned her attention down the main road spotting a Thorton with a turret mounted on top, a turret aimed right at her.

"SHIT!" The Mercenary ran as fast as her legs could carry her, bullets landing all around her, kicking up dirt and leaving scorch marks in the town's desolate environment. V was forced to dive into the BD Shack, slamming against a broken down antique arcade.

"V!" Panam fired a round from her Overwatch, killing the driver of the lead vehicle. She watched the Wraith Quadra dip to the right, going off-road and flipping in the process. The Aldecaldo attempted to rain more fire from her overwatch position, but a rocket was fired immediately.

"OH FUCK!" Panam jumped over the electrical tower's railing. A shower of shrapnel and smoke followed her rough descent. The Aldecaldo landed on her right side, bruising her ribs and knocking the oxygen from her lungs.

"Panam!" V screamed over the comms. "Talk to me girl, are you ok!"

The Aldecaldo got to her feet and stumbled towards V's old position. Gunfire reigned upon both the BD shack and the power station. Panam took cover behind the fuse box V had activated earlier, barely missing a bullet that grazed her left cheek.

"I'm ok." Panam placed her Overwatch down and retrieved her sidearm, a Malorian Overture that packed a mean punch. "Where are you at V!"

"BD Shack across the street," V replied. "These fuckers are everywhere!"

"Where the fuck is our backup!" Panam popped out of cover, firing three shots in the vicinity of the closest Wraiths. The first two shots dropped two bandits in quick succession, and her third shot missed a Wraith Lieutenant by inches. The Wraith roared in a fury, swinging their Type-8 Machine Gun in Panam's direction and unleashing a torrent of hot lead on the Aldecaldo's position.

"He'll be here." A staccato of gunfire echoed in V's background. "We just need to hold out a little longer."

The firefight intensified each passing second, and Wraiths poured out of their vehicles as they entered the town. An unorganized rabble formed at the intersection; most bandits were taking cover behind there Quadra's and Thorton's, while a few made for the gas station across the street from V.

The Wraiths were biding their time waiting for something to happen. They had V and Panam dead to rights. All they had to do was storm the arcade building and breach the power plant in force, and then it would be game over.

V shot at a Wraith who peaked their head a little too long out of cover, receiving a high caliber round straight through the temple. The Mercenary let loose four more shots before needing to seek shelter lest she loses her head.

"Real fine mess, you found yourself in V." Johnny remarked from behind her.

"Shut up, Johnny." V spotted a Wraith priming a frag grenade. The Mercenary aimed both Unity's and targeted the bandit.

Firing a burst of rounds in quick succession, they found new homes in the Wraith's abdomen and right wrist, knocking the grenade out of the bandit's hand. The explosive rolled a few meters to the right, landing underneath a Wraith and his Quadra.

The frag grenade imploded seconds later, blowing the leg off the unsuspecting Wraith and sending him flying through the air. His Quadra fared little better, the frag grenade lighting the vehicle's volatile properties, causing a violent explosion.

Shrapnel and fuel went in all directions, forcing V and Panam to brace against their cover. Five Wraiths were caught in the explosion; blood and gore followed the trail of shattered metal.

The detonation allowed a lull in the fighting to take place. Wraith's readjusted their position and moved their remaining vehicles away from the blast. The gunfire ceased just as suddenly as it had erupted, the lights in Rocky Ridge flickered in the night.

"Panam." Silence. "Goddamnit, Panam, where are you?"

A door swung open behind V, startling the Mercenary even as she pointed her pistols at the sound's origin. She sighed in relief when Panam walked through the door, worse for wear but still alive. Panam motioned for V to move upstairs, lugging her Overwatch in both hands.

The Mercenary peeked outside her window, finding more than a few Wraiths still recovering from the blast. Quietly, V shifted her body to her right, trying not to draw too much attention to herself. Once she made it to the stairs, she witnessed a weary and tired Panam slumped against a worn-out burrito machine. The Mercenary joined her while keeping an eye downstairs, weary of a Wraith counterattack.

"How'd you get over here?" V asked while reloading her Unity's.

"That explosion distracted them enough for me to high tail it over here." Panam peeked her head over the arcade's upstairs window.

"How many we got left?" Panam did a quick headcount before a searchlight passed over her window.

"Twenty or Thirty left, leaning more on thirty."

"Fuck me." The Mercenary moaned.

A Wraith stepped out of the crowd of raffen, taller than the rest by a full head. Short buzzcut hair topped a face almost always set in a sneer. Panam cursed underneath her breath, Nash was here, and he was out for blood.

"Panam!" The Raffen Leader yelled. "You fucking whore, I know you're up there!?"

V peaked outside, watching the Wraith muscle pass some of his compatriots. "Let me guess. That's Nash."

"Yup." The Aldecaldo only nodded in response. "We are so fucked."

V started to drum up a plan in her head. The raffen did a better job of combat spacing after one of their Quadra's went up in a ball of fire, spreading them out in a series of levels preventing another vehicle from taking out a decent chunk of men.

The Aldecaldo and Mercenary were in a bad spot, not enough ammo or explosives to shoot their way out of this predicament. They needed backup, and they needed it now.

While the duo sat in bated silence, a torrential downpour swept through the town, kicking up droplets of water and blood. Lightning blistered across the night sky, followed by the crack of booming thunder. V vaguely remembered the weather forecast for the night, topped off by a nasty thunderstorm. Night City very rarely had precipitation, and even fewer of those were of this magnitude.

A chill ran through her body, an emotion she had only ever felt once before. A feeling that brought her terror when she first felt it. A feeling that brought her to her knees in dread now raised her spirits in ecstasy. The Mercenary's comms feed didn't even need to tell her what she already knew.

The Headhunter was here.

"Vargas. Location?" Panam watched V's expression light up like a Christmas tree.

"BD Shack near the intersection," V informed. "They got us pinned in deep. Where are you?"

"Keep your head down. I won't take long." The communication link went out, leaving V and Panam in the dark.

"Well," Panam grunted. "Where is he."

V didn't have the chance to respond. The lights to the entire shantytown had gone out. The only illumination was the lightning flashing a fraction of light from above and the Wraith vehicles' headlights. Those raffen that possessed them engaged their torches. Beams of light intersected one another as the raffen attempted to get their bearings.

Johnny, who had spoken very much, decided now was a good time to use his mouth. A tone of awe and dread echoed his feelings and sentiments.

"And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder, One of the four beasts saying, 'Come and see.' and I saw, and behold a black horse."

That should have scared V, but it didn't. And she could not explain why.

Down at the intersection, Nash was trying to instill some discipline into his crew. The Quadra blast shook most if not all of them; the Wraiths were bandits. Too accustomed to taking on helpless travelers and cowardly corporate drivers.

They were not equipped to fight off individuals with actual combat experience, and it's why they always swarmed their targets. Better to drown them in a sea of bodies than fight them one on one. Still, Nash had all the cards in his corner, thirty Wraiths all waiting to sink their teeth into Panam and her sidekick. They just needed to get the power back on.

Nash took stock of the Wraith formation. The raffen had formed two rings of steel around the BD shack, determined to deny Panam and her partner a way out. Nash had attempted to keep them both separated, but the explosion nixed that idea quickly.

"Mickey, Roy," Nash spoke to the two closest raffen. "Go check out the power station, get that shit working."

The two Wraiths, as mentioned above, nodded before moving off the line of cars back towards the substation. The remaining raffen talked amongst themselves, keeping a watchful eye on the BD shack with nothing left to do.

"Why don't we just go in and kill them both," A Wraith brandishing a Copperhead suggested. "Guarantee thirty guys storming a building would be done in five seconds flat."

"Yeah, go ahead than Waylon," A carnage wielding raffen taunted. "You first, by all means, eat all that fucking lead, so I don't get flatlined.

"Fuck you, Adam, you owe me eddies. You can repay it by going in first since you're broke ass hasn't paid me back yet."

"Fuck that noise, man." Adam looked around the barricade, trying to pick out a Wraith that owed him a favor. "Hey Drake, you go inside since you owe me motherfucker."

Drake, a Wraith carrying an Ajax, was not amused. "By that fucking logic, we should send everybody inside. We all owe some bastard eddies around here!"

A barrage of grumbles emerged from the rest of the Raffen shivs. Drake wasn't wrong. They allowed each other eddies or favors, so they were back to square one. That was until Waylon opened his mouth.

"Hey," The raffen drew everyone's attention. "What about Tommy? That asshole owes everybody money."

Murmurs and yells of approval echoed amongst the Raffen horde. Eventually, it died down as people took notice of their surroundings. At the far left end of the first ring of cars was where the Raffen had been stationed, but there was no Tommy. Instead, in his place was a Copperhead leaned against a Wraith Thorton, torch still lit and rain pelting the assault rifle.

"Where the fuck is Tommy?" Adam pushed from his position to investigate the weapon drawn in a relaxed stance.

The Raffen shined his night at Tommy's former position finding small droplets of blood smeared by the storm's waterfall. The weather was picking up in intensity, and even the Raffen's optics were being affected. Shouldering his rifle, the Wraith shined his torch into the sprawling darkness.

"He's not here," Adam called out. "There's some blood on the ground. Not sure what happened to him."

Nash, who had been quiet during the whole situation, advanced to Adam's location with a purpose. He was halfway to his subordinate's location when a body fell from the sky, crushing the roof of a Thorton. The Impact drew the attention of Nash and the rest of the raffen shivs.

Waylon, who had been the closest, shined his torch onto the recently deposited corpse. "OH FUCK! It's fucking Tommy! His whole goddamn heads been ripped off!"

The Wraith Lieutenant raced over to the headless corpse. The Wraith officer had assumed Waylon was overreacting. The whole gang would have heard the screams of a man's head being torn off even in this weather. Except Waylon was correct, there was no clean-cut, just a jumble of jagged tendons and the remains of Tommy's spine left over.

A loud crash reverberated through the abandoned shantytown, and a few Raffen assumed it to be a crack of thunder. However, it was followed up by a shriek of terror.

"That sounded like Roy boss?!" A Wraith alerted Nash.

Nash grabbed eight gangers closest to the substation and breached the compound walls. While clearing, they found Mickey's body strung up line an ornament onto one of the generators, and a rebar lodged into his throat. The bandit was dead before they even breached the courtyard.

One of the Wraiths accompanying Nash spotted Mickey's body hanging from the transmission tower. Entrails crisscrossed one another even as blood and guts dripped onto the floor below. There could be no doubt that the Wraiths were being hunted in Nash's mind, and the predator was lurking in the dark.

"Fall back to the car!" Nash and his gangers did not hesitate to follow the order, regrouping with the rest of the raffen.

"Where's Mickey and Royce," Adam shouted above the growing storm.

"Fucking dead both of them." A Wraith berserker answered. "Something nailed Roy to a generator, and Mickey's hanging by his intestines over there."

"Boss, what the fuck are we doing?" Waylon demanded.

"Quiet! All of you!" The Wraith Lieutenant bellowed. "Let me fucking think!"

The time for thinking was over, and only action would have saved their lives by this point. The Headhunter was here, and there was not a soul on earth that could save their worthless lives. A black shadow fell upon an unsuspecting Wraith snapping his neck before dragging him into the darkness. The only evidence of his existence was the clatter of his rifle bouncing off the soaked ground.

A trio of Raffen, terrified of what would come next, loaded into one of the Wraith Quadra's content to leave their fellows behind. Nash, who was distracted by the missing Wraith, could do little but bellow at his retreating comrades.

"You fucking cowards!" He need not yell at his former subordinates. A black mass sprinted straight into the Quadra with a speed and strength he could not keep up with. The mass impacted the Quadra like a runaway train, caving in the car's right side and launching it into the nearby gas station.

A fireball launched into the sky, mixing in plumes of flames and smoke with the rising storm. Nash and what was left of his men shined their torches in the blazing gas station's direction.

The black mass emerged from the fire like the devil ascending the fiery pits of hell; fire licked across the Headhunter's armor, encasing him in a wreath of flames. Like the birth of an ancient phoenix, the Spartan had made his presence known, the Wraith's eternal damnation had arrived, but first judgment was to be cast upon them.

The Wraith's unleashed a mass of hot lead onto the Spartan, but not a single round found purchase. Instead, the Spartan grew closer, disappearing into the night before reappearing with a flash of lightning. The Raffen who possessed Torchers were unable to follow the incredibly agile Headhunter.

Cyrus fell upon the Raffen with little notice, slicing the throat of the closest bandit who foolishly fell to his knees in a desperate bid for survival. An EMP grenade was thrown by the Spartan falling in the middle of the shaken Raffen survivors. The corresponding detonation sent an electric magnetic pulse that disabled the Wraith Vehicles and caused several Wraith torches to sputter out.

Waylon and three of his compatriots who managed to avoid the EMP grenade. Fired their rifles in a vain attempt to pin the Headhunter, but Cyrus was far too quick for even their modified eyes to follow.

The Headhunter's Kukri slashed Waylon's throat, going deep enough to expose the bandit's esophagus. His compatriots did little better, suffering grisly and brutalizing deaths at the hands of the Spartan. Those Raffen, who were still alive, attempted to fire on the Headhunter but could only watch in despair as he disappeared into the howling dark.

"FUCK ME!" Adam bellowed in pure terror. "IT'S THE FUCKING HEADHUNT-URK" A rebar the length of a full-grown man was launched out of the shadows at breakneck speed, penetrating Adam's sternum and pinning him to the BD Shack's exterior wall.

The Wraith's brutal death capitalized on the Raffen's already shattered morale. There was nothing Nash could do to reestablish order; it was every bandit for himself.

A Raffen heavy gunner back to back with another compatriot was snatched into the night sky by a metal cable around his throat. His friend followed after him, showing a rare streak of selflessness before it was snuffed out by a blade piercing his left eye. He didn't feel the resulting heave from the Headhunter as his neck snapped in two.

Nash watched a group of five Wraiths abandon their positions and run into the howling dark. Hoping that by not taking the vehicles, they would be able to bypass the Headhunter's wrath. Instead, the only indication of their failed attempt at survival were the torches dropped to the ground and the howl of excruciating pain.

The Wraith Lieutenant took stock of his remaining men. Barely ten of them were still standing, and none of them would be any help, but he'd be damned if they didn't go down fighting.

Nash gathered what men would follow his command, ordering them to form a circle to cover all angles. Shooters formed an outer perimeter, and berserkers brought up the center of the formation, deploying chem lights and flares taken from their vehicles to light up the area around them. The Wraith leader noted belatedly that the remaining ten bandits was cut down to nine in the confusion. No doubt dragged into the shadows without anyone noticing otherwise.

Drake, one of the few Raffen carrying an Ajax rifle, raised his torch toward the gas station. Witnessing the recently missing raffen being dragged by his feet into the encroaching darkness. Drake fired off a staccato of high caliber bullets in a vain attempt to save his comrade, but nothing came of it. Just the terrifying sound of a man dying slowly before suddenly being cut short.

"We're dead. So fucking dead, we're deader than dead. Game over man, game over!" A Wraith carrying a carnage was losing his mind next to Drake, but before he could do anything, a body soared through the air straight at him. The Raffen fired off a staccato of rounds from his Ajax that pierced the corpse but did not stop it from slamming into his torso.

Drake was sent flying backward, knocking over a Wraith berserker in the process. The formation was broken further when the Headhunter barreled through a Raffen shooter who had his head caved in with a strike to the temple. When the rest of the formation took notice, gunfire lit up the night sky and echoed the booming sound of thunder.

Three Wraiths were killed in short order, torsos were caved in, bones were shattered, and throats slit before they knew what hit them. Nash pushed a Wraith Berserker in an attempt to put someone else in between the Spartan and himself. It worked unsurprisingly; the Headhunter's hand snatched the Berserker by the throat.

Adam raised his rifle, engaging the Headhunter, but the Spartan blocked the barrage of bullets with the Berserkers body soaking in all the damage before being tossed aside. Adam's weapon clicked empty, forcing the Wraith to raise his rifle to beat the Spartan over the head with the stock of his Ajax.

The bandit's courageous but foolish effort was thwarted with a strike to the throat shattering his larynx and crushing his esophagus. Hands wrapped around his crushed neck in a vain attempt to extend his survival, but it was snuffed out within moments, blood leaking into his lungs drowning him.

Nash ran for the only structure available to him, and the Mercenary and Panam currently occupied it. No doubt witnessing the horror show taking place outside their building. The Wraith Lieutenant left the rest of his men to fend for themselves as he burst through the structure's double doors.

Seeking salvation from those he had threatened not long ago.

V could not comprehend what was happening outside; the only thing she could hear or see were flashes of light and the screams of the dying. She had witnessed the aftermath of the Spartan's work, but she never thought it could be this brutal. Panam wasn't fairing much better, she tried to hide it with her own lighthearted jokes, but it did little to settle either of their nerves.

"V?" The Mercenary's attention was drawn away from the window. "Who the fuck did you call?"

"His name is Cyrus." An incredulous look crossed Panam's features.

"How does that even explain anything to me!"

"It doesn't," V admitted. "But does that really matter now? We're alive because of him."

"Yeah," The Aldecaldo responded in a subdued tone. "You're right."

Despite the horror show taking place outside of their building, they were still able to maintain their composure, mostly. Night City was not for the faint of heart; all who resided there knew that. The terrors that went on in the Metropolis every day hardened the souls of those who lived there.

Cruelty and brutality were not new experiences for either of the women, but Cyrus was capable of causing even those with a death wish to look over her shoulder. Rationalizing death became as easy as breathing the longer you stayed in Night City, if they stuck Cyrus long enough his brutal deeds would be just that, a deed. Panam did not need to be told who V's 'friend' really was.

He was the Northside Headhunter.

A Night City legend that had only come about in a little more than a few weeks. His presence was announced for the whole province to see when he butchered the Maelstrom to a man. Stories spread like wildfire, reaching the Aldecaldos camp mere hours after the Maelstroms destruction. Saul was tempted to evacuate the Aldecaldos from their camp and escape to hills if he even got a scent of the Headhunter coming for them.

Luckily for the nomads, it seemed his attention was focused on the most degenerative of gangs and clans. Scavengers, gangers, and Raffen were the Headhunter's primary targets. As long as they didn't partake in any inhumane crimes like human trafficking, murder, kidnapping, and harvesting, they would be in the clear.

The Aldecaldo's musing was cut off by the sound of a door swinging open and somebody tumbling to the floor. She traded a glance with V, who pulled her Unity's in response as they pushed to the ground floor. Panam quickly spotted the terrified form of her former partner Nash groveling in the center of the arcade.

"Panam, please, you gotta help me." The Wraith Lieutenant begged. "I'll give you the merch and the car you can have it. I don't wanna die tonight."

"Why the fuck would we do that?" The Aldecaldo barked.

"Because that thing out there just slaughtered all my men, and it'll kill you too. You know it, I know it." V only laughed at the Wraith's assumption.

"Who do you think called him here?" Nash's face paled in response, and before any more words could be said, the doors were slammed open by a Raffen corpse. The body smacked against an overturned arcade machine; eyes widened in shock, and throat sliced down the middle. The arcade's lights came on immediately after, while the rest of the town's illumination flickered in the dark.

The hulking and intimidating form of the Headhunter followed the dead Raffen, and for the first time, Panam and V were able to witness the newest Night City legend. He stood well over six feet, but not enough to reach the daunted seven feet by their estimation. His entire body was encased in segmented black armor that they were convinced could stand up to a tank shell and not crack. What drew their attention the most wasn't the armor, weapons, or height but instead the Headhunter's helm. An impossibly dark visor that pulled in anyone who stared into it like an eternal abyss. Both V and Panam were startled by the Spartan's voice, which oozing with lethal but controlled intent.

"Ms. Vargas," The Spartan nodded in V's direction before reciprocating the gesture to Panam. "Ms. Palmer."

V cleared her throat in an attempt to maintain some modicum of professionalism. "Cyrus, good to finally meet you."

The Mercenary finally noticed the small specks of blood mixed in with water dripping from his form. Panam ignored that detail in favor of staying on the Spartan's good side.

"Thanks for the help," Panam began. "Doubt we'd be alive without you."

Cyrus merely nodded back before turning his attention to the Wraith Leader. The Headhunter didn't say a word as he drew a Lexington from his holster.

"Wait." Panam crossed the Spartan's vision, causing him to snap his head to the Aldecaldo. She lost her voice in minor terror before regaining it with a deep breath. "Let me do it, this shiv left screwed me over, and I want to return the favor."

Cyrus regarded her for a moment, switching his attention from the Aldecaldo to the terrified Nash before consenting. The Headhunter holstered his Lexington and gestured for the Aldecaldo to continue.

"With pleasure." Panam drew her Overture in a smooth motion, pointing it at the Wraiths head. There was no ceremony, no hesitation, and not even a moment for Nash to plead for his life.

*BANG*

The Wraith's head burst like a crushed watermelon brain matter, and blood splattered behind the Raffen's body. Caking the already bloodied arcade with more crimson than it had ever played host to. Panam gave a deep sigh of relief as V approached the duo.

"So, feel better." V chimed in.

"A little." A smile crossed Panam's face. "I'll feel way better if my car and merch are still intact." The Aldecaldo turned her attention back to Cyrus.

"You didn't blow that up, did you?" The Headhunter shook his head in response.

"Oh, good. Wasn't sure what I was going to do if I lost my baby." Panam observed the growing thunderstorm outside.

"We should probably camp here for the night. Not going anywhere with that storm coming down. I'm beat as it is." The Aldecaldo gave a hearty yawn and stretched her armors, exasperating her enticing features. Drawing V and Cyrus's attention, one for the show, the other for no reason at all other than she was speaking not a second ago.

V caught the Spartan's attention. "Care to stay the night?"

The Spartan was not sure what to respond to that, and he was halfway from saying no when Chamber's Avatar popped up on his HUD.

"You're staying." The Headhunter was given no chance to respond.

"You are staying so you can get some rest, you monkey." Chamber's mother algorithm was in full force. "You have been running yourself ragged for two weeks now on two hours of sleep. If you do not say yes right now, so help me god, I will lock your armor for a whole fucking day!"

Unwilling to risk the ire of his irritated partner, the Spartan turned his attention to patiently waiting V. "I'll stay the until the storm passes."

"Good, so will we," An endearing smile crossed V's face. "In that case, you can dump the bodies outside and sleep down here with the rats. Ladies have the upstairs booths, so no peeking." The Mercenary sauntered off to the upper levels with Panam in tow.

For a moment, the two women's figures were replaced by his former teammates. Personalities were similar but far more exuberant and expressive. V reminded him vaguely of Casey direct and deadly, while Panam, oddly enough, was just as similar to Eliza forthright and clear-headed.

His Spartan teammates weren't the most emphatic of individuals no Spartan III was, but the similarities were still there enough to make a connection. In the end, Cyrus was left with one singular thought.

No matter their experiences or what planet they came from, women were creatures that would forever confuse him.

Happy new year to everybody from everywhere. Hope this year is at the very least fractionally better than the previous one. Not much to say on reviews, but again I love the support you all are giving out. We crossed 150 followers recently, and are slowly approaching 200. Hope you enjoy.

Cheers fellas, and remember. Be weary of the man that comes around taking names.