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Chapter Fifteen
July 20th, 2077
Night City, Northern California
Wraith Encampment, Badlands
The Wraith's main operations center was an abandoned Corp-Bud cement factory, twenty kilometers south of the Aldecaldo encampment. The factory used to be a profitable business venture for Corp-Bud. Eventually, those profit margins fell below acceptable levels, and the Area Director pulled the plug on the whole operation.
The factory's closure in 2072 was among the many reasons Rocky Ridge eventually turned into a dust-ridden town. The Wraiths set up an operations center in the cement plant not long after its abandonment and subsequently conducted and coordinated operations from its grounds.
Cyrus was surveying the multitude of Wraiths patrolling the cement factories perimeter and interior from the cliffside west of the factory. Panam was performing her reconnaissance east of his position, and Vargas was spotting targets alongside him.
The Mercs count of forty-five Wraiths seemed to be generally accurate. However, the trio couldn't account for any raffen underneath the plant, where they most likely held Saul. Vargas was utilizing the Nekomata tech rifle he let her borrow, and while she wasn't the best when it came to long-range engagements. The Spartan trusted her too, at the very least, not to take his head off.
"Ready, Palmer?" Cyrus inquired over his comm bead.
" Ready."
V realigned her Nekomata's stock to brace firmly against her shoulder blade; eyes refocused down the tech rifle's scope. She let loose a deep exhalation from her lungs, leveling out her breathing and heartbeat.
"Vargas?"
"I'm good," V replied firmly.
The Spartan chose not to waste any more valuable time on words. A sandstorm of gargantuan size was approaching their area of operation rapidly. Hazardous environments would not be an issue for Cyrus if he were still in his MJOLNIR, but that would require returning to his hideout, and by then, Saul would most likely be dead. Therefore, the trio needed to act quickly before the storm shattered what little chance they had of retrieving the Aldecaldo leader alive.
The plan was to sow confusion amongst the raffen ranks, hit them with a mixture of calculated precision and scorching speed. Cyrus would plant two C5 explosive charges, provided by the Aldecaldos, on the factory's main power generator.
While planting the explosive, Panam would eliminate the Wraith's surveillance cameras with her silenced GRAD and reacquire any rooftop snipers in her periphery. Simultaneously, Vargas would target the factory's makeshift comms relay at the top of the factory roof and knockout their long-range telecommunications before the auxiliary generators kicked in and the Wraith's called in the rest of their horde.
Cyrus sprinted for the compound's northeast corner, narrowly avoiding the sweeping gaze of a Wraith Sniper. He jumped over the ten-foot-high security wall and landed feet first on an unsuspecting Raffen's lower back. The Spartans kinetic energy shattered the Wraith's lower vertebrae bending the man in half and immediately sending him into shock. The man was incapable of shrieking in agony due to a Kukri's immediate introduction through his left facial nerve.
"Fuck me, Cyrus." The Headhunter ripped the blade clean from the man's eye socket. "You have some issues."
"Stay focused." Cyrus planted the packs of explosives graciously provided by the Aldecaldos. "Charges are set. Vargas, you have a clean connection?"
" Affirm, det charge link is loud and clear. Party begins on your go."
"Understood, standby."
Cyrus gently pried free a mangled security door that opened up into an alleyway between the power generator corridor and a two-story structure serving as a makeshift repair shop. A pair of voices forced him to conceal himself behind a large stack of iron beams to his immediate right.
"You hear back from the boss?" The Raven's compatriot barked in amusement.
"Nah, he's still out poking at the Aldecaldos. Guess he's still steamed about Nash getting flatlined by one of those nomads. He was Dogkiller's top earner, and you know how he likes keeping a steady flow of eddies."
The duo of Wraiths was slowly making their way to Cyrus' position. The Spartan readjusted the grip on his Kukri, fingers flaring out momentarily before firmly grasping the handle.
"I thought his top earner was Lucia?" The Headhunter's ears perked up in interest. "That woman's Joytoys are a treat to behold, I tell ya. All-natural, almost no cyberware to speak of the best entertainment in the Badlands."
"Come on, Adrian. Nash was a fucking machine rolling out Eddies like a premium factory line." The pair of bandits unknowingly strode past an inconspicuous shadow. "Too bad he arghh."
Cyrus swiped his Kukri across the closest target's neck, blood surged from his open wound, caking the specks of garbage below. The final Wraiths reaction time was too sluggish to prolong his lifetime; a hand wrapped itself around his mouth, muffling his terrified voice.
A Kukri was gradually stabbed through his left sternum; the Spartan's sheer strength penetrated his breastbone and punctured his heart. The Wraith struggled against Cyrus' superior strength, limbs trembling hysterically before inevitably coming to a complete stop.
Cyrus quickly dumped the corpses in a garbage bin braced against the repair shop's wall. He checked his surroundings carefully before slipping into the structure through an open exterior window.
The repair shop was empty, no vehicle was currently being serviced, and no Raffen personnel present. To Cyrus's three o'clock was two shelving units filled with ammunition and vehicle maintenance tools. Other miscellaneous items and a vintage vinyl record populated alongside the previous item.
Cyrus noted that this shop was more suited for a single specific vehicle rather than a large connection of automobiles. He deduced that this was a personal service garage for one particular individual.
The Headhunter was unable to decipher who claimed the garage from his current location. Consequently, he resumed his search towards the second floor, locating a private compartment containing a refrigerator and a personal console. He crouched beneath an adjacent window avoiding the sweeping gaze of a surveillance camera and its auto turret.
The Spartan plugged in a data shard Chamber had gifted him the day before. His A.I. companion was able to produce a hacking device for him when she was otherwise unavailable. The shard contained a piece of her algorithm that could splice through any security system it was exposed to while also compiling and replicating any data it came across.
The program was nearly finished when Vargas's voice crackled in his right ear. "Cyrus, you ok?"
"Recovering data, standby." A few anxious moments passed until the program was finally completed. Cyrus ripped the shard from its jack port and pocketed the device swiftly. "I have what I need. Palmer take out their eyes."
" With pleasure."
Panam squeezed off a single shot; her target was a surveillance camera scanning the central courtyard and the factory's front entrance. The shell pierced the camera's optics shattering its inner functions and causing its structure to implode. Standing on a catwalk just above the camera, a Wraith sniper was startled by its destruction; however, he was put down with a second squeeze from her GRAD.
The Aldecaldo immediately sighted a second Raffen sniper loitering on the factory's roof. A third squeeze resulted in the GRAD firing a silent shell through the sniper's left optic. The bullet's sheer kinetic energy twirled the flailing corpse like a clock before it ultimately collapsed on its ruined visage.
Panam fired off a final shot, impacting the final Wraith Sniper perched in one of the construction cranes. A quick survey of the compound assured her the bandits were not alerted to her violent actions. "Cameras and Snipers are down and out. V, you're up."
" Kaboom."
An earth-shaking explosion rocked the Wraith hunters below, causing a significant number to stumble and fall to the ground in shock. The explosion was immediately followed by a piercing shriek emitting from V's Nekomata. A streak of blue light impacted a Raffen Hunter just below the throat, blasting a fist-size hole through his cervical spine; he was dead long before he hit the dirt.
"We've been engaged!" A Wraith Lieutenant attempted to rally his subordinates but was immediately put down by Panam's silenced GRAD.
"Where are they!?"
"There in the cliffside!" A Raffen hunter managed to point out V's position on the cliffside. However, around from Panam's GRAD punctured through his right humerus taking his arm clean off from the shoulder down. His suffering was ended by a projectile from V's Nekomata blasting out the back of his head.
Four more Wraiths were cut down in a hail of precise and deadly fire from Panam and V. The bandits were disoriented, and their remaining leadership was under intense pressure to get them organized.
"V. You see that gas tank in the courtyard?" Panam inquired.
" Yeah. I see what you're getting at." V fired off a projectile from her Nekomata, setting off a chain reaction of volatile substances. The fuel tank's explosion caused a daisy chain of Raffen vehicles to detonate like a string of fireworks.
Ten Wraiths were immediately consumed in the fiery explosion, while another eight had their bodies perforated in scorching shrapnel. Panam grinned in barely restrained satisfaction as the blazing heat consumed a Raffen.
"Nice shot."
" I aim to please." V fired off a charged shot from her tech rifle, killing a Wraith taking cover behind an undamaged Thorton. " C.Y., where you at?"
" Breaching the main complex now." The Concrete Factory's main structure immediately lit up in gunfire and the shrieks of dying Raffen.
"I almost feel bad for those guys," V said whimsically.
"I don't."
The Merc and Aldecaldo traded shots with the remaining Wraiths. Smart rounds and ballistic shells impacted all around V's shelter from what Panam observed from her position. "Panam, I'm displacing, bastards got me zeroed. You alright up there."
Panam squeezed off another shot knocking the head clean off a Wraith Marauder, startling his comrades into seeking hardcover. "I'm good; find a different position. I'll keep them busy."
The Headhunter's voice cut into their conversation. "Negative, Vargas get down here and clear the courtyard; I'll find Saul."
" On my way." The Aldecaldo fired off two more shots from her grad, killing two more Wraith Ghoul's attempting to reinforce their comrades engaging Cyrus. "Panam, cover me."
"I got ya, girl." Panam sighted a Raffen hunter attempting to slide towards a Wraith Quadra. She was immediately put down mid slide, body stopping on a dime as a ballistic shell shattered through her clavicle.
Panam heard the familiar click of an empty chamber; she discarded the spent magazine and inserted a fresh mag. Her periphery immediately caught sight of the ever-encroaching sandstorm. "Put your ass into the next gear, you two. That sandstorm is getting closer by the second, and if it hits before we get Saul. We're fucked."
" Copy." Gunfire could be heard from Cyrus' background, and she could only hope her warning would be enough to quicken his pace.
The Aldecaldo cursed under her breath as a ballistic shell crashed against her cover. The offending Wraith was calling out her position outside the compound wall when V crashed into his body. The Merc shoved her Unity underneath his chin and squeezed off a single shot, shattering his jaw and splattering his brain across the ground.
"Thanks, V." Panam popped out of cover and continued engaging the Wraiths below. There was still a sizeable force fighting inside the compound; she was confident in Cyrus and V's capabilities.
As far as Panam was concerned, the whole world couldn't stop a raging Cyrus and a somewhat unhinged V.
Despite the heavy casualties, the Wraiths were still putting up fierce resistance to the trio's relentless assault. V wasn't entirely sure how many more of these Scavs they would have to deal with, but she hoped it'd be over soon.
V braced her body against the concrete wall; she could hear the smattering of footsteps and scattered voices on the other side. She peeked past the edge of the concrete wall, spotting a quartet of Wraith's taking cover from Panam's shots, behind a stack of cargo crates.
The Merc fired off a burst of ballistic shots in their vicinity, catching one Wraith in the right cheek and another in the left eye socket. She braced behind the security wall as soon as the rest of the Wraith's spotted her, bullets and smart rounds chipping away at her cover.
"Panam, I got two assholes pelting my position. You got eyes?" V traded a barrage of shots with the two Ravens.
"I got 'em." The telltale sound of two bodies hitting the dirt greeted the Merc's ears.
"Much obliged."
V pushed into the compound walls with a furious pace, gunning down any Wraith foolish enough to cross her path. The carnage Panam and she unleashed on these Scavs littered the factory grounds in a river of blood. She stepped over a pair of Raffen with fist-sized holes in their chests, a reminder of the devastating power the Nekomata could unleash.
She holstered her Unity and retrieved an M221 Saratoga acquired from the always plentiful Aldecaldo Armory. Mitch was beside himself when he discovered she was rolling out in only a pair of Unity's and a Nekomata. V would never say no to free iron, so she graciously accepted the Veteran's gift.
The Merc aimed with her Saratoga opening up a barrage of lethal fire on a large cluster of Wraiths taking cover behind a maze of concrete barriers. Raffen after Raffen fell to her furious onslaught, some attempted to coordinate a cyberattack on her systems, but her own overheat daemon immediately countered them. Those not affected were gun down in short order.
"Fucking whore!" A Wraith Hunter through an impact grenade in V's direction.
With speed that would have impressed even Cyrus, the Merc fired a single burst of 5.56mm rounds in the Hunter's direction. Two of the shots barely missed their intended target, but the final shot impacted the grenade with a glancing blow.
The glance was enough to prematurely detonate the impact grenade a mere meter from its previous owner. The Wraith Hunter was immediately pelted, shrapnel piercing his enhanced skin and wounding two other Raffen comrades on either side of him.
V cursed under her breath, narrowly dodging a mantis blade mere inches from clipping her left arm. The Merc backpedaled two more meters avoiding a flurry of slashes and stabs, all in a bid to cut her in two.
She was saved by a muffled shot clipping the berserker's left arm, giving her enough space to unleash a full magazine into the cyber woman's torso and finishing her off with a head kick.
" Thanks, P." The Aldecaldo chuckled in satisfaction.
" Anytime." V returned to engaging the remaining Raffen still holding out on the southeast side of the compound. She could still hear the muffled shots from Panam's GRAD every few seconds. The girl was racking up quite the kill count today, not as much as her's and most likely nowhere near Cyrus', but it was respectable, nonetheless.
Between V's nonstop gunfire and the muffled shots from Panam's GRAD, the Wraith's stood little chance in surviving the Merc's relentless march. She fired a burst of shots piercing the final surviving Raffen in both knees, and the Wraith fell on his stomach uselessly crawling away from her stalking form.
"YOU FUCKING BITCH!" The Wraith launched a needless tirade of expletives directed at V, who spent the next few seconds reloading her spent Saratoga.
"JUST WAIT UNTIL THE BOSS GET'S AHOLD OF YOU! HE'LL PEEL YOUR SKIN FROM YOUR FUCKING CORPSE AND!" V ended his ranting with a single shot from her Saratoga, blood sprayed across the dirt floor.
A deep breath of air flowed through V's lungs and out her nose. "Fucking prick."
"Eh," Johnny's voice rubbed against the front of her head. "I'd have preferred killing Corpos, but Raffen works too."
Johnny kicked at a Wraith's corpse, eyeing the massive hole in his chest leaking bodily fluids and bone fragments. "But I definitely would not mind using that tech rifle, fucker packs a punch."
"You think he'll let me keep it." V reached behind her and grasped the tech rifle's grip; the texture was now familiar to her nerves, and she loved this Nekomata like it was her newborn.
"Fuck no," Johnny bit out harshly. "At least I wouldn't, rifle like that ain't worth wasting on you of all people. V shot the Engram a nasty look followed by the universal sign of displeasure and animosity.
" Vargas, status?" V belatedly realized that the entire factory had fallen into complete silence. Three people had taken down an entire Raffen compound in little more than twenty minutes; Johnny would have proud if he weren't such a dick.
"Perimeter clear, we can bring the transport up now." V strode toward the factory's front entrance, standing guard in front of the factory's double doors.
" Palmer?"
" On my way." Panam's voice broke out in a string of laughter. "Mitch would be jealous of the shitstorm we unleashed on these fuckers. I love watching you guys work, honest."
"Job's not done yet, Panam," V replied with a broad smile. "Let's grab Saul than delta the fuck out of here; these Scavs smell like shit when there alive and worse when there dead."
"I hear that; I'll be down in two. Just make it quick, that storms going to be here any minute." The Merc kicked a Raffen corpse to check for any vitals; the body rolled onto its back. Four gunshot wounds were scattered across the man's torso, and she listlessly remembered being the perpetrator of this Wraiths death.
Not exactly something she would lose sleepover.
V dipped her head backward, eyes glancing towards behind her, scanning the double doors leading into the no doubt house of horrors inside. She shook her head in thought, curiosity was her biggest quirk, and she was prone to indulge in it more often than not.
"No." The Engram's voice echoed in her head once again before appearing suddenly to her right. Johnny was leaning against the wall parallel of the factory doors.
V regarded the Rockerboy with a raised eyebrow. "Why not?"
"Because I'd rather not," Johnny motioned to the doors. "That piece of metal is all that separates us from that grade A sociopath, and I'd prefer to keep my distance, thank you."
V gave him a glance over with a shit-eating grin plastered across her face as she opened up the factory doors. Johnny's eyes went dead, and his expression fell into downright annoyance at his courier, she doubted he'd forgive her for this slight for at least a week.
"You know what, I fucking hate you. Just so much right now." V responded in kind.
"Feelings mutual."
"Fuck me, Cyrus."
House of horrors didn't come close to what V walked into. Her first indication of the carnage unleashed inside was a Raffen's body falling on top of her face first. She shrugged off the corpse and watched it fall onto its back; an expression of horror was practically etched into the bandit's face.
V pushed into the main factory line; the auxiliary power was still pumping out minimal electricity volumes, but that only served to expand upon the unsettling environment. There had to be at least twenty-five deceased Wraith's scattered across the entire factory line from her estimation.
One Raffen was hanging from a cluster of wires by their head. However, the rest of the corpse was cut from the torso down, drops of crimson liquid fell onto the floor below, caking the concrete floor and the Wraith's legs in more blood.
More corpses littered the catwalks above, and she couldn't get a rough estimation from her position. But V had to guess at least another fifteen from the amount of blood dripping in between the bars.
"Our boy does not fuck around, that's for sure." The Merc muttered to herself.
A trail of decaying bodies eventually led V toward the basement level, where she encountered a Berserker missing both arms and head facing the wrong direction.
"Cyrus," V called out over the radio. "I'm heading down; try not to shoot me, will ya."
" Copy," The Spartan replied directly. "W atch your step."
"Thanks for the warning." She shot back sarcastically. "You find Saul?"
" Affirmative, Spiked Superjet is kicking in; he'll be conscious in five." Panam's frantic voice cut out over the comms.
" OH SHIT!" Panam spat out. "Sandstorm is rolling in, and I got headlights coming in from the north."
"How many?" V asked hesitantly.
" Too fucking many. We need to delta out of here now, or we're going to be swarming in Raffen and sand."
The Merc increased her pace and ran through two security doors, nearly barreling over Cyrus and Saul in the process. The Spartan had the Aldecaldo leader slung over his left shoulder while his right was still armed with a Unity pistol.
The Wraiths had done a number on the Aldecaldo Leader, both eyes were swollen, and his lip was busted something good. She could practically feel the bone sticking out of his right arm; the Spiked Superjet was the only thing letting him stand on his own two feet.
Despite the Aldecaldos considerable weight, Cyrus was bearing it with little exertion and even nudged V back up the set of stairs. "Quit gawking, Vargas. We have to go now!"
The trio made with all haste up the flight of stairs as quickly as their legs could take them. "Panam! We're coming out now, be ready!"
" I'm here! How is Saul looking!?" V shot Cyrus a look even as the Aldecaldo leader was coughing up blood.
"Not good we need to get him out of here and find a place to stabilize him."
" Fuck! Get your asses up here now!"
V sprinted ahead of the Spartan and his staggering compatriot; the final set of doors did not open automatically. She attempted to force open the doors, but Cyrus nudged her out of the way and kicked down the final obstacle to their escape.
Sand practically blasted into the entryway; their environment was quickly filling up with grain and sand particles. The howling wind stung V's eyes, and from Saul's screams of pain grated against his open wounds.
V's gaze eventually picked out the Aldecaldo minivan with its rear doors wide open; inside was a frantic Panam waving the trio in. "Come on, hurry the fuck up!"
Out in the distance was an extensive collection of Headlights advancing towards their location. She soon lost sight of the beams of light when the intensity of the storm shrouded them in dust. Cyrus practically threw Saul into the backseat with V, slamming the rear doors shut behind him.
"Drive." He ordered sharply.
Panam wasted no time in responding, slamming on the gas pedal and shooting out of the compound like a missile. She veered the vehicle off to the left, away from the no doubt populated road filled with Wraith vehicles.
V returned her attention to the severely wounded Aldecaldo leader. Saul's right arm needed to be reset immediately, but she needed him to be held down firmly. She grasped Cyrus's shoulder, pulling his attention back toward her.
"I need you." The Headhunter nodded in affirmation. "Hold him down. I'm going to reset his bone and then pop some auto doc's in his system."
Cyrus wasted no time executing, placing a considerable amount of weight on the Aldecaldo leader's sternum and shoulders. V maneuvered her hand in the correct position, locking eyes with Cyrus, who nodded sternly.
"1, 2, 3!" V popped the bone back into place, causing a shriek of pain to emit from Saul's voice box. Panam's gaze shot to them in an instant, V silenced her protests with a stern look.
"We gotta get him somewhere safe now, Panam!"
The woman nodded in barely restrained anxiety, mind racing for the nearest safe house they could take refuge in. "I know a place."
The Merc returned her attention to Saul, pumping two auto docs into his right arm to kick start his recovery. The Aldecaldo soon stopped moaning in pain and fell into a listless sleep. Cyrus finally let go of the man's shoulders and leaned his back against the passenger seat.
"Thanks for helping." The Spartan waved her off with a simple wave.
"Don't mention it."
V leaned against the driver seat, back impacting the cushion due to the bumpy off-road experience they were subjected to. "How far out is this place, Panam?"
"Twenty minutes, maybe a little more." She replied. "Just keep an eye on him; we'll be there before you know it."
V closed her eyes for a moment, recollecting her scattered thoughts before palming Evelyn's cigarette case. She could practically feel Johnny's goading as she played with one of the cigarette buds. The Spartan's gaze drew her attention and her own curiosity, waving one of them towards him.
"You partake?" Cyrus shook his head in response. "Yeah, I figured you say that."
V popped the cigar back into its previous place, ignoring the bitching from her unwanted guest echoing through her thoughts.
She could only pray he'd get bored eventually.
Night City, Northern California
Aldecaldo Safehouse, Red Peaks
Cyrus was patrolling the perimeter keeping an eye out for Ravens, while Panam and V tended to Saul's injuries. The Aldecaldo leader was laid out on a twin-sized bed. His limbs and battered face were wrapped in medical bandages.
V gathered enough fabrics from a pile of worn-out shirts and crafted a sling for Saul's broken arm. The man was done in pretty good by her standards, and Panam didn't leave his side for at least an hour after they rolled into the safehouse.
Despite the grim circumstances, she was confident that Saul would make a full recovery. It would just take time and patience for his body to start feeling normal once again, a sentiment that she expressed to a somewhat anxious Panam.
Since their arrival, Panam had been locking horns with Cyrus almost as soon as he pulled Saul out of the minivan. He didn't seem to mind her obscene gestures and threats of pain if he dropped Saul on his head. Almost as soon as he put the Aldecaldo leader down, Panam barked orders at the Headhunter like a drill sergeant. Demanding he restore power to the safe house and get the heater running again.
To his credit, Cyrus understood the woman's inner turmoil and offered no resistance to her otherwise discourteous tone. He executed her demands without hesitation, and V knew Panam appreciated that gesture.
When the power came back on, the heater soon followed, warming the barren safe house to a more tolerable temperature. A blanket of comfort engulfed her body as she leaned into a comfortable sofa; V had already deposited most of her gear on the safehouses kitchen table along with Panam's.
Johnny had gone quiet again, why he would choose now of all times to exercise a mute button, V did not know, but she was grateful all the same. The Merc tolerated Johnny and his antics daily. Sometimes she found him endearing; other times, she hated the man's guts.
Once Saul was out of the danger zone, V had elected to give Panam some space with her wayward….father figure? It was hard to describe their relationship at times, primarily since all she's ever heard was how volatile the duo could be to one another.
Whatever the case may be, Panam still gave a shit about the man's health, and V already knew Saul still worried about her in return. V snorted in amusement at such a ridiculous kinship.
Only Nomads embraced the capability of hating one another's guts one moment, and in the very next second, grabbing an iron to fight a horde of Wraiths to save the Nomad there beefing with.
It was a stark reminder of her former clan and the relationship that was broken there. V wouldn't admit it to anyone, but she was looking for her own family after departing from the Bakkers. Growing up around Nomads leaves you with a desire for freedom and companionship.
She had those desires filled at one point; flashes of long-forgotten memories echoed through her mind. She had formed an unlikely friendship with a former Valentino and a Netrunner whose skills rivaled the West's best.
Yet, despite their capabilities, they both still died, taken by the shadows of Night City. This place isn't meant for the faint of heart; friends come and go, family live and die, and all anyone can do is bear its weight and survive.
And V was tired of watching her family die.
"V." Panam's voice cut through her wayward thoughts.
"Yeah." Her eyes shot open, hands rubbing away the weariness she was often consumed by. "What is it?"
"Where's C.Y.?" The Aldecaldo leader pillaged the safehouse cabinets, grasping a whiskey bottle in each hand before tossing one to V.
"He's still patrolling the perimeter." The Merc took in a mouthful of whiskey. "You know how paranoid he gets sometimes."
"Yeah, I've noticed," Panam joined her on the couch, back leaning against the corner and legs propped up on a dining table. "Thanks for having my back V."
"Anytime, girl." The women clicked their whiskey bottles in salute and ingested two full gulps of alcoholic liquid promptly.
"You two have been busy lately," Panam began. "Him with his usual antics, or is it crusade? And you for some problem with the Tyger Claws."
"I'm helping out a choom of mine with appropriating a fancy nightclub, and we're still working out the details."
"Need any help?"
"Could always use another iron," V pointed out. "But you have your own issues."
"I do," Panam countered. "But that doesn't mean I can't help."
V let out a humorous chuckle, her hand depositing whiskey down her throat.
"Panam, let's focus on getting Saul back to camp before he wakes up," V replied with a brief nod. "We handle your problem; then we can talk about handling my issues."
The Aldecaldo offered no resistance to her counter, alternatively indulging in her premium bottle of whiskey. Her mind began to wander to various subjects, the clan, Saul, and her unhinged choom named Cyrus.
Panam vaguely recalled that he had not met Saul officially, and she doubted they had a lengthy conversation when Cyrus pulled him out of the factory.
"Should probably keep Cyrus away from him," Panam noted suddenly.
The Merc raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"
"Have you met anyone that can tolerate Cyrus for very long?"
"Yeah, I do," V drawled out sarcastically. "Their names are Panam and V. I'm sure you've met one of them before."
"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult."
"It's a compliment," V replied tersely. "I'm not going to insult myself."
"Your right," The Aldecaldo answered naturally, returning her attention to the bottle of whiskey. "You do that well enough by yourself anyway."
It was rare that the duo's conversations didn't lead to insults or jabs at one another's faults. Panam's assertive temperament melded well with V's sarcastic mindset. Leading the two dominating personalities into spats that appeared hostile was, in fact, enjoyable.
"Screw you, Panam."
"Only in your dreams V," Panam slurred out suggestively. "You couldn't possibly handle this." Her hands flared out along her sides, emphasizing her enticing features and drawing V's leering gaze.
The Merc's one trait that irritated most of her chooms was her constant need to make them uncomfortable. This attribute frequently grated on Cyrus' nerves to the third degree; for Panam, she instead preferred to fight fire with fire.
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes." The Aldecaldo's legs swung slowly from the dining room table and rested on V's toned thighs. The Merc was clicked her tongue in response, she was impressed with Panam's audacity, but the girl was playing against a provocative queen.
"Careful now," V warned playfully. "Don't bite off more than you can chew."
The Merc emphasized her caution with a light swipe to Panam's thigh; the impact caused her to yelp in indignation. V gave the now irate woman a canary smile that broke into a hearty laugh when she received a retaliatory strike to her cranium.
"Shut up and drink, V." The Merc obliged her companion, downing a considerable amount of alcohol in one go. V did not expect Panam to tip the bottle, causing more liquid than she could handle to run down her throat.
V fell into a string of coughing fits, smacking her free hand against her sternum in a vain attempt to clear her throat. Now it was Panam's turn to fall into hysterical laughter at her companion's expense.
The Merc shot her a venomous look that promised vengeance at the earliest convenience. The Aldecaldo wisely flexed her hands to display confidence, hoping to stall V's retaliation for a few more minutes. Both traded narrowed looks raising the tension in the safehouse considerably.
That tension was cut by sporadic sniggering that slowly converted into joyous laughter. Panam was the first to break under pressure, leaving V the victor in a game only they would ever truly understand. Once their giggles subside, the environment turned into one of comfortable stillness.
V dipped her head backward, resting it against the oddly comfortable back cushion with her eyes closed. Panam's leg was still resting comfortably on her thighs, but she didn't mind the Aldecaldo using her as a leg rest.
V breathed a sigh of relief and swiped a strand of hair from her face before absentmindedly tracing circles on Panam's left calf. If the Aldecaldo minded the action, she did not show it.
"Shit, I could go for a hot bath right about now."
Panam let out an amused snort and nodded her head. "This place could go for a decent little motel in the middle of bum fuck nowhere. We got a fireplace, a grumpy security guard out front, and whiskey. Couldn't ask for much more."
V disagreed with the choice of beverage. "Eh, I could ask for better beer, honestly, but that's just my standards not a fan of whiskey. Nor is it a fan of me in particular."
"Come on, V." Panam chided her chooms words. "Whiskey is the best thing to drink after a fight. That warm subtle metallic aftertaste hits me right where I like it."
"Oh, I bet it does." The Merc's suggestive expression was not lost on Panam.
The Aldecaldo shook her head in muted exasperation; V chalked up a victory for her childish antics in her head.
"Mind if I ask you a personal question V?" The Merc opened a single eye to regard her companion.
"No, go ahead." She wasn't prepared for what came out of Panam's mouth.
"What was it like leaving the Bakkers?"
No response came from the Merc. V's face turned ever slowly into one of subdued dejection, her mind occupied by a sudden rush of memories of her previous life. Panam almost apologized on instinct for bringing up turbulent memories, but V answered her nonetheless.
"It was hard," The Merc began, only to stop herself midsentence. A shake of her head followed a noise of frustration. "The hardest thing I've ever done in my life. Despite everything that happened, I still wonder if I should go back. But I wasn't going to follow them to snake nation, and those gonks are the corporate version of Nomad factions."
"Do you regret leaving?" Panam questioned softly.
"Never," V insisted. "But that doesn't mean I don't think about my decision. I foolishly believed I could out a new life in Night City, but I was wrong. You don't carve out Night City, and it whittles you down until there are only bones left."
"You want my opinion, V." Panam supplied. "There's one person in the world that can carve his way through this city like nothing."
V laughed at the prediction; Panam didn't need to tell her who she was referring to. "I believe you."
"You'd better," The Aldecaldo replied sternly. "And when Cyrus does, I want to be there to see it, and I hope you do too."
"I'll be there." Panam tilted her whiskey bottle towards V, the Merc regarding her for a moment before returning the gesture.
"To Cyrus," V remarked with a beaming grin.
"To Cyrus."
Cyrus didn't trust for a second that the Wraiths would let them walk away without an attempt at retaliation. They had sucker-punched the Raffen horde so viciously that the only logical choice for the bandits was to seek vengeance. Too bad mother nature was stalling their reprisal attempts in its tracks.
The Spartan took refuge on the safehouses rooftop; a set of combat goggles shielded his augmented eyes that Vargas gave him before deviating for the perimeter. The protective gear allowed him the ability to pick out passing vehicles in the raging sandstorm without grains of sand slicing his eyes.
Raffen activity had not subsided since their escape from the cement factory; headlights trailed off in the distance at an alarming rate. Cyrus watched the Wraith vehicles gather in a mass of steel heading in every direction, but the sandstorm was hampering their search efforts.
Patience was his ally while he vigilantly patrolled the perimeter; the safe house was located in a desolate marsh kilometers away from any roads, dirt or paved. It was also close enough to the Aldecaldo territories to dissuade any Wraiths from combing the entire marsh, lest a passing Aldecaldo patrol spots them.
The War between the Aldecaldo's and the Wraiths was going to take a dramatic turn after today's events. Cyrus had little doubt more lives would be lost in the coming weeks, and the Nomads needed to be prepared for that.
For the first time in months, Cyrus felt a strain of weariness course through his body. His augmented body could withstand even the most hazardous of conditions, but even it had its limits, and he was starting to test those limitations with each passing month.
Cyrus had only slept the bare minimum of hours since his escape from Arasaka Tower a little more than a month ago. Chamber had been pushing him towards proper rest for weeks now, but there was still far too much work to be done.
The Tyger Claws preyed on the citizens of Japantown; the 6th Street Gang took advantage of their own people, the Wraiths that hunted individuals for sport, the Corporations bleeding this world dry. All of them needed to be reeducated or destroyed; there was no other alternative.
But he could not execute this campaign without assistance; Chamber floated the idea of reeducating the 6th Street Gang into a militia controlled by Cyrus. But he did not give credence to the proposal until the A.I. made a case for their viability.
As typical of his artificial companion, she already had a detailed dossier and elaborate strategy to implement the gang's rehabilitation into something more than simple gangers.
Cyrus chose to appease Chamber's suggestion and agreed to establish a meeting with one of the most critical pieces to their plans. Captain Alex Decker and her faction were prime candidates to expand their influence in Night City.
Chamber hoped that the 6th Street Gang's renewed purpose could prove to be the lynchpin in their campaign against the decadent of Night City, but he dared not put his faith into the unknown. There were better ways to die in his line of work, and betrayal was not one that would get him killed.
The sandstorm's intensity grew with each passing moment, and Cyrus watched as the marauder headlights soon disappeared behind a mass of sand. The Wraiths would not find their hovel in this storm, and he was slowly getting tired of the sand gathering inside his clothing.
Cyrus dismounted from the safehouse roof and entered the main complex with the howling winds at his back. The door swinging open was a refreshing spectacle, and the audible sound of it shutting behind him was an added improvement.
The entire structure was silent; the howling wins and quiet snores from the three sleeping occupants inside were the exceptions.
The combat goggles and mask wrapped around his face dropped grains across the carpet floor as he carefully removed them. Cyrus had to wipe between his eyes to remove the remaining crust of sand stuck to his face.
The Spartan slowly looked back to his handheld comms device, his gaze regarding the transmission request from an unknown connection. He didn't have to guess who was calling in the near-dead of night. Cyrus accepted the connection as a speck of sand lodged itself inside his right eyelid, a grumble of annoyance leaked into his speech.
"What is it, Chamber?"
"I've been trying to contact you for an hour now; that sandstorm rolling through the badlands forced me to divert an orbiting communications satellite quietly."
"I've noticed." The frustrated tone was not lost on the UNSC AI.
" Jesus, what crawled up your ass and died?"
"Sand," Cyrus growled out; flakes of sand fell out of his clothing in clumps, leaving small piles of the offending object scattered across the floor. "You call for a reason?"
" Well," her sarcastic tone practically bled through his ears. I was calling to check on the wellbeing of one of the few bags of meat I care about, but he's an asshole right now."
"Apologies." Cyrus conceded softly.
" Sigh, don't worry about it. I called to notify you the updates on our MJOLNIR are finalized, and the new toy we've been tinkering with is ready for field testing." His ears perked up in anticipation.
"The camo module?"
" One in the same," Chamber declared snidely. "When your done playing in the sand, come back to the hideout; I need to stretch my legs."
The connection winked out abruptly, and his eyes blinked slowly as he regarded the comms device. Evidently, she was still a little annoyed with his frustrated tone and lack of decorum, and he would pay for that on his return to the hideout.
His eyes soon passed over the sleeping forms of Palmer and Vargas. Empty whiskey bottles were thrown haphazardly on the ground. Both women shared the only futon in the safe house as a makeshift bed, their backsides were touching, and appendages wrapped around their bodies in an attempt to stave off the cold.
Cyrus retrieved a blanket from the spare room and quietly kneeled next to the slumbering pair placing the cover gently across their slumbering figures. Palmer curled into the blanket on instinct while Vargas tossed it over her head, wrapping herself in a human-like cacoon.
Her eyes glanced over Panam's content face before trailing to Vargas's curled up form. He watched them for a long moment, mind blanketed in silent wonder and uncertainty with the two most irritating enigmas in his life. They produced emotional responses he always assumed only his previous colleagues could ever surface.
Where Eliza and Casey were a subtle scalpel utilizing body movements and quiet scolding to keep him in line, Palmer and Vargas were a sledgehammer, always needling when he least desired it and goading him when he least expected it. The Merc especially favored provoking him at inopportune moments, far more than Palmer ever did.
Cyrus dismissed the otherwise frustrating thoughts to the back of his mind and marched towards the dining table. He braced his back against the table and removed most of his weapons, save the Kukri strapped to his chest and a single Unity pistol.
During deployments, he and his team would sleep back to back. It was a subtle reminder that even in the shadows of blown-out cities, Eliza and Casey always had his back, and eventually, it turned into a habit, a routine he gravely missed as time passed. Now all he was left with were fading memories of the second family he had lost in his lifetime.
Cyrus was growing weary of fate taking what he cherished.
His thoughts slowly faded away from gut-wrenching memories, and his focus was snatched by years of brutal training and instinct. Eyes bore into the only entrance and exit into the safehouse, the irksome reminder that Vargas was supposed to take his place on watch crossed his mind.
A glance back to the passed out Merc and Aldecaldo promptly discarded that notion.
The girls needed more rest than he did anyway.
The sandstorm sputtered out an hour before dawn broke, and Cyrus was thankful for this fortunate turn of events. He was rarely allowed the opportunity to bear witness to one of the most fascinating scenery's a human could ever see.
Cyrus had never viewed the breaking of dawn while residing in the slums of Ferax. The chemical and solid wastes coupled with the foul odor from the city's sewage system and human machinery left an unbearable smog hanging in the sky, blocking the sun and all its majesty until it was long past sunrise.
It was not until his induction in the Spartan III program that he was able to observe the beauty of daybreak properly. It was one of a select few things he was grateful to the ONI operative that took him off the metropolis streets.
There is no more extraordinary view in the galaxy than a sun shining across an open plain, bare of obstacles and skyscraping towers. It begins as a tiny ball of light creeping across the horizon, its majesty and diameter increase with each passing moment.
Solar rays emitted from the burning ball of flame are pleasant to the physical sensation's humanity is blessed with. The sun reaching for the blue sky marks the beginning of the day's activities, and some unfortunate few never live to see the next sunrise.
Cyrus noted the solar beams shimmering in between the distant wind turbines; they only served to boost the majestic landscape. He could have sat on those steps for years in ignorant bliss, but duty always won out in the end.
Palmer and Vargas were still slumbering inside, and Saul's wounds were slowly mending from the auto-doc compounds coursing through his veins. His damaged arm would not be back to normal for a long while, and the Wraith's had taken a metal bat to the limb without mercy.
A memo had already been sent to the one Aldecaldo Officer he tolerated, and Mitch was dispatching a team of Nomads led by Cassidy to the safehouse. They were set to arrive within the next hour, but Cyrus was content to wait. Apart of him wanted to depart for Night City and send a missive to the Aldecaldos so they could retrieve the slumbering trio once the sandstorm passed.
Nevertheless, something told Cyrus, neither Palmer nor Vargas would take kindly to his sudden disappearance no matter what explanation he could drum up. Consequently, he chose to wait patiently and save himself the future headache.
A full twenty minutes ticked by with little activity before the safehouse door swished open. Cyrus didn't bother to turn around and acknowledge his guest as a subtle smatter of footsteps drew closer; he had her pegged the moment she took a step towards him.
The woman brought a daintily hand up to cover her mouth and suppress a string of drawn-out yawns. Her free arm stretched towards the heavens, and Cyrus could pick up the audible cracking of stiff joints. Locks of wet hair stuck to her cheek, and her vivid features were flushed with renewed life from the previous day's events.
A hand settled on Cyrus's left shoulder; Palmer was using him as a crutch as her body settled down next to him on the safehouse steps. She cleared her throat and scratched her left cheek words hesitated to spill from her mouth until Cyrus beat her to it.
"Palmer," Cyrus began. "Sleep well?"
"Yes, I did," Panam replied pleasantly. "What about you? I thought you and V were supposed to switch places on watch?"
"She needed the rest, much like you did." The Spartan replied with a tone absent of emotion. "Don't need as much sleep as any of you do."
"That doesn't mean you should slack on it, Cyrus," Panama retorted abruptly. "You may act like you're untouchable, but you are still human, and last I checked, humans still needed proper sleep."
The Spartan bit back an amused snort; he could practically hear his UNSC AI's voice practically echoing inside his head. No matter where he was, he always had women hounding him about his lack of sleep. Cyrus was beginning to wonder if this would turn into a trend at this point.
"I've heard that regularly." Palmer turned slowly towards him, her hands slipped from her knees, grin widening substantially as an amused chuckle fell from her lips.
"Friends, keep each other honest Cyrus, you should know that by now."
The Spartan groaned in irritation; this was not a topic he wished to broach any further. He had plenty of lectures from Chamber's own voice, and the last thing he wanted was to hear Palmer's alongside it.
"How's your boss?" Palmer closed her eyes on instinct, hands brushing back her black locks. The weary Aldecaldo drew a long lungful of air through her nose before letting a labored exhale through her mouth.
"Saul will be fine," Palmer replied softly. "He's sporting a cracked skull, more than a few broken ribs, both kidneys are bruised pretty good. The worst damage was done to his right arm, as you know, but he'll make a full recovery. It's only a matter of time until he's back on his feet ordering people around and whining about the clan and how dangerous it was for us to come after him."
"I suppose a thank you was asking for too much." Palmer snorted in response, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.
"You're preaching to the converted brother," the Aldecaldo explained with a knowing look. Her expression turned in on itself as her hand rubbed the back of her neck. "Cyrus, I'm glad you came; I can't stress enough how much it meant to me when V and you showed up."
She wasn't surprised in the least when all he did was bob his head in response. An exasperated sigh fell from her lips. Cyrus was a tough one to talk to, most of the time, if you weren't discussing about hunting gangers or Merc's, he was as silent as a tomb. All it really did was frustrate anyone who tried to befriend him through conventional means.
"V and I talked while you were on patrol," Palmer admitted. "I'm not sure if you know this, but she considers you more than just a friend."
Now his head turned sharply, and the words got caught in Palmer's mouth as she bared witness to his glowing crimson eyes. The mask and hood he wore did an admirable job of concealing his face, but his eyes shone through like a beacon. It always possessed an intense stare that went right through you, and the Aldecaldo was fascinated and terrified all the same.
Palmer mustered her remaining confidence and found her voice. "She trusts you. We both do. And that means more in this city than you could possibly know; faith is not so easily given out to anyone who dwells here."
"I know." The Aldecaldo paused in thought, considering whether anything else needed to be said before a final question filtered through his mouth.
"Do you trust us?"
The Headhunter did not hesitate. "Yes."
"Then take off the mask."
Cyrus's posture stiffened, eyes dilated, and breath-catching itself before his will took control of his elevated heartbeat. It was straight forward question followed up by an equally simple request, and yet he found himself pausing, nonetheless.
He did not lie when he stated that he trusted Vargas and Palmer; they had earned that right through blood. One of the easiest ways to gain a Spartan's confidence was to fight and bleed alongside him. Their very language and way of life was dictated through warfare, and both women earned that distinction when they fought beside him against the Kang Tao mercenaries.
As usual, he allowed his actions to speak louder than words.
After a moment of tense silence, his left hand reached behind and pulled his coat's hood back. The sun glistened across his pale skin as its protection fell off his head. Palmer's eyes stared in muted anticipation, something she would not realize until days later.
Her eyes only grew in intrigue when his right hand pulled down the facemask he wore over his nose. In mere moments, Panam was greeted to the face of one of the few enigma's still left in Night City, and she was not disappointed.
Cyrus was younger, far younger than he should have been for someone in his line of work. She called bullshit on V when the Merc informed her of his age while they were on their drinking binge. Now she was disheartened not because she was wrong, but that V's words were ultimately accurate.
He was handsome that she had no doubt, but it wasn't his defined cheeks or sharp jaw that drew her in. It was the pair of crimson red eyes that were no longer shadowed behind a hood. They had a distinctive way of pulling you in with little more than a passing glance. It was a trait that left her and V mesmerized on occasion.
"Satisfied?" Cyrus's dull tone shook her from her stupor; his eyes turned away from Palmer and returned to admiring the scenery before them.
"No," she admitted solemnly. "Thank you for trusting me."
"If I didn't trust you, Palmer, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
It should not have been a statement that brought Palmer relief, but it did. Her throat, which was constricted and filled with tension throughout the exchange, disappeared like a whisper. The morning air served to settle her nerves, and the pleasant wind was cool to the touch.
Cyrus was content in letting their conversation die out into a comfortable silence, and for a time, Palmer obliged his silent request. However, he knew better than to believe it could last for longer than twenty minutes.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"You have a lot of those today." The remark was bleeding with sarcasm.
"Don't be a dick," Palmer countered sharply. "Just answer the question yes or no, please."
The Spartan nodded slowly, and Palmer capitalized on the opportunity to ask a final burning question that was at the front of her mind for weeks. "Why do you call me by my last name? Out of all the people I've met, not a single one of them has called me Palmer as long as you have."
"Force of habit," The dubious look he received forced him to elaborate. " I don't usually speak to individuals long enough to use their first names regularly. There are only a select few people on this planet I maintain a correspondence with on a weekly basis. You and Vargas make up two-thirds of that number."
"Well, how about you use my first name," Palmer bit out. "You make me feel like a fucking stranger sometimes, and that goes for V too. The girl doesn't show it often, but she practically seethes whenever you call her out by her last name."
"I'll work on it." The look she gave him promised mental and physical torment if her demands were not meant.
"Who's the other one?"
"Her name is Dana Parker. She's an Outcast Chieftain that runs a shelter in Northside called Camp August."
The Aldecaldo paused in thought; the cogs in her head started working as she digested his final statement before an incredulous look crossed her face.
"Are you telling me that you only have three people you can confidently call a friend?" Palmer asked in a state of pure disbelief.
"Yes." Cyrus wouldn't call Clint, Parker's security chief, a friend nor an acquaintance. Most people he interacted with tended to suffer an early and often brutal demise.
"Cyrus," Palmer started with a grimace. "You really need to get out more."
"Noted." The Spartan's ears picked up the familiar sound of approaching vehicles; he closed his eyes and focused on a recognizable pattern. Aldecaldo vehicles had a distinct growl to their engines that originated from their modified exhaust systems.
"We have company." The Spartan found his feet immediately, while Panam's eyes scanned the horizon. A small convoy of Aldecaldo marked vehicles approached from the north, a sight that brought relief to the Nomad. She found her feet soon after and paced towards the approaching nomads.
Cyrus donned his hood and neck gaiter once again; the familiar sense of fabric covering his lower face produced his own sense of relief. Hopefully, this wouldn't take long, he had to get back to the hideout soon, and Cyrus was dying to get back into his MJOLNIR.
The Headhunter's eyes focused on the lead Thorton, worn-out paint mixed in with fresh decals along the vehicle's sides. Instinct alone compelled his hand to grip his sheathed Unity as the vehicle approached at a steady pace.
Cassidy stepped out of the vehicle not long after it stopped a mere twenty meters from the safehouse grounds.
He was an older man, most likely a veteran from a long past conflict, with wrinkles and grayed slicked-back hair coupled with a similarly colored mustache.
His attire consisted of a weathered white cowboy hat, a plaid shirt, with soft patches of yellow and purple, over a dirty white undershirt, and padded corduroy-textured pants tucked into combat boots. His look was finished off with an Aldecaldo full-body harness fitted with a gun holster.
His name was Cassidy, and he was the least irritating Aldecaldo Lieutenant he had to deal with aside from Mitch.
The rest of the nomads positioned their cars in a loose perimeter around the Aldecaldo safehouse. Cassidy was the only one to approach the safehouse while the rest maintained a vigilant watch on the perimeter.
"Panam," Palmer rushed to greet him in an embrace fit for a daughter embracing her father. Cassidy nodded assuredly in her direction as their embrace broke, his eyes trailing back to their silent spectator. "Cyrus."
"Cassidy." The Spartan replied in a blank tone, his hand falling away from his holster.
If the elder Aldecaldo took offense to the Spartan's actions, he did not show it. "How is he?"
"He's a little roughed up, Cass," Panam began as she retreated back towards the safehouse, Cassidy hot on her tail. "But he'll heal fast like always."
"I hear that," Cassidy replied with a hearty laugh. "You guys made a mess of the Wraiths. The Raffen are running scared shitless right now, haven't been anywhere near our territories since the storm passed. You enjoy yourselves?"
"Of course," A shit-eating smirk crossed Panam's lips. "Nothing gets the blood flowing more than wrecking Raffen. Right C.Y.?"
The statement was met with an annoyed grunt from the super-soldier. The noise abruptly stopped when the female Aldecaldo punched him playfully in the arm. His eyes glared sharp daggers into her eye sockets before she inevitably doubled down on her antics.
"Come on, C.Y. You can be a party pooper later." She began while dragging Cyrus by his right arm, causing an entertained grin to cross Cassidy's face. "Right now, I need you to help me pull Saul out of bed. God knows I'm just going to drag him to Cass by his bad arm."
"Hurray." His derision earned him another punch to the arm, an act that seemed to be quickly turning into a regular occurrence, and that exasperated him more than he liked.
"Good morning, V." The Aldecaldo woman's voice amplified the crushing hangover. "Did you sleep alright?"
It was not an over-exaggeration to say that V's head felt like a hammer was pounding it in. One of the reasons she had a love/hate relationship with Whiskey was because it was the only drink that gave her a hangover from hell. The knowing smirk etched on Panam's face was a surefire indication that she knew precisely what V was going through.
Panam felt no inclination to ease the Merc's pain and instead chose the path of amusement at V's expense. This had to be payback for the antics she got up to the previous night; otherwise, it would be just cruel and unusual punishment. V was actively massaging the growing knot in her neck before finally taking notice of the minivan parked out front.
Cassidy was doing medical checks on Saul's broken arm, and the Aldecaldo leader was laying on a makeshift medical gurney while another nomad fussed over his torso injuries. Saul was wide awake and trying his best to regain his pride, which was ruthlessly cut down when the Aldecaldo Medic dressed him down like a rookie out of basic.
V didn't pity the man, her minimal interactions with Saul left a poor impression on her. He reminded her far too much of her own leaders in the Bakkers, far too willing to sell everything and anything in order to protect the integrity of the clan. That's how Nomad Clans died, not in a blaze of glory but a pathetic whimper. The Merc banished those lingering thoughts and moved to join her two companions on the safehouse porch.
The Aldecaldo planted her cute ass on the stairs glancing between V and her former clan leader. Off to her right was her favorite yet incredibly unsociable grade-A sociopath, leaning against the safehouse railing.
"Terrific," V leaned against the porch railing, shuffling next to the silent watcher who always seemed to have his mind on something else. "My back's killing me, next time I pick the motel we stay at. Sleep well, Cyrus?"
"Not particularly, V." The Merc's hand stopped their ministrations, and her brows furrowed in bewilderment.
"Oh my god, you didn't call me Vargas," Her hand immediately shot up to cup his forehead in embellished worry. "Are you feeling ok, C.Y.? Got a fever or uncurable disease that makes you talk like a normal human being."
"You're antics are not amusing." Cyrus swatted V's offending limb away, and the Merc used that to wrap her arm in between his own. Panam's amused gaze took in V's antics; she always enjoyed a good laugh, especially at Cyrus's expense.
"Is this the part you propose to me, and we go on our honeymoon," V teased with a wide smirk, leaning into the Headhunters side. "I'm flattered, but I think Panam will be jealous."
That final statement earned V the universal sign of displeasure. "Up yours, V."
"Someone ever tell you how vexing you can be?" Cyrus's deadpan stare fell onto his entrapped limb.
"And fetching if I do say so myself," The Merc graciously released her hold on his left arm, spreading out her arms to accentuating her full figure. "I have all the qualities a woman could ever ask for."
"Except reliability," Cyrus cut in ruthlessly. "As I recall, you were supposed to switch with me on watch, or did you forget that?"
"Right," her expression fell almost immediately, and a bark of laughter from Panam did not mitigate that feeling. "Sorry about that."
Cyrus shrugged in response, brushing off her antics with relative ease. He wasn't bent out of shape over the lack of sleep, but he did take pleasure in keeping V grounded on occasion. The woman needed to be kept in check more often than not. Otherwise, she'd run around making everyone's life significantly more uncomfortable.
"Well, as fun as it is watching you squirm, V," Panam stood on her toes, brushing the dirt off her hands. "I need to get going, not sure I'm wanted here anymore."
Cautious glances had been shot Panam's way since the Aldecaldo's arrived at the safehouse. Her reputation was still a relative question mark within the clan, and many members weren't sure how to treat their former second in command.
V thought it was complete horse shit; the Aldecaldo's were practically helpless without Panam's input. They were missing that sharpened edge that kept every nomad clan afloat. You needed some bite to your bark when living in the badlands, and Saul was all bark but no bite in her opinion.
"These people need you, Panam," V started abruptly. "Not one of them will admit it, but this clan will fall apart without you. I can see that, and you can see that."
"I know," Panam marched towards a pair of Aldecaldo dirt bikes graciously provided by her clan; the Merc and Spartan followed closely behind. "Come on. I'm tired of this place."
"The Wraiths, the constant skirmishes along our border territories. I'd have to be blind and stupid not to realize what's coming. Saul will get our camps and other affiliated locations up to speed, and Castle will lead the incursion teams to keep the Raffen on the back foot." Panam stated while leaning against one of the dirt bikes.
"Say what you want about those two gonks, but they know what they're doing most of the time." The Merc leaned her weight against the bike's front while Cyrus stood quietly off Panam's left.
"And what about you?" V's inquiry caught Panam flat-footed. "What are you going to do?"
"The Raffens wanted our traffic routes, storage locations, and radio frequencies; you name it, they wanted it. I figure it's our turn to perform some recon and start shitting down their throat." Panam mounted her bike and gestured to the Aldecaldo's climbing into their vehicles. "Going to roll with these guys back to camp make sure Saul gets back in one piece, from there I'll probably be given a team of Wardens to start prodding the Wraiths."
"I'll join you; I need to go pick up my Avenger anyway. Here's hoping your chooms didn't strip it for parts while we were gone." V mounted the separate dirt bike, earning a nod of appreciation from Panam. Both women's eyes lingered back towards Cyrus, who was quietly staring off in the distance. Panam snapped her fingers and redrew his attention abruptly.
"You ok, C.Y.?" Cyrus nodded in affirmation. "Alright, you ridding with us back to camp? I'm sure one of us could make some room for you."
The Spartan shook his head, gaze returning to the horizon. "No, I have my own ride."
V's ears picked up the silent hum from an Aerodyne turbine shimmering across the flat desert. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, settling on a black dot emerging from the rolling hills to their east. An appreciative whistle fell from her lip's and Panam's own expression turned into one of pleasant surprise.
"Of course, he does," V muttered under her breath.
Cyrus turned on his heel and started towards the A.V. as it settled inside the Aldecaldo perimeter. Cassidy and his nomads stared in cautious positions; rumors had sprouted throughout the camp about Panam's chooms.
One a Merc whose reputation was well known among Night City's most informed individuals; the other was a walking enigma known only from first-hand accounts provided by Panam. Saul would have banned her from bringing Cyrus into camp if he hadn't been captured by the Wraiths, whether or not his tune would change after recent events remained to be seen.
The A.V. was a Militech Phantom Transport, coated in experimental photoreactive panels on its fore and aft sections. The covert insertion vehicle was supposed to be shipped out to a section of Militech Specter's, but Chamber modified the manifest and marked it off as L.O.A.
As far as the Corpos were concerned, their experimental asset was a pile of burnt steel a hundred kilometers east of Night City.
The aerodyne possessed no unique markings that V could distinguish from her vast knowledge of Government and Corpo agencies. The only denoting symbol was a white eagle emblazoned on the aft section of the airship, and she wasn't familiar with any organization in continental North America possessing that insignia. Cyrus didn't strike her as someone that belonged to a Euro Government or Corporation; she doubted he'd been anywhere near the NUSA if that was the case.
"If you need help," the Spartan said coolly as the A.V. doors slid open. "You know how to find me."
Both women bid him farewell as the A.V. doors closed abruptly. The airship soon took to the skies, its photoreactive panels blending in with its surrounding environment. Soon all V could see was a shimmering box disappearing into the clouds.
"Ya know," Panam eye's glanced back towards the equally amused Merc. "For a guy who doesn't talk much, he is hopelessly dramatic." A string of warm laughter broke out suddenly between the two women before it tapered off towards a comfortable silence.
"Maybe," V responded after a few moments. "But I wouldn't trade him for the world."
"Amen, sister."
Important Note at the bottom, please read.
This Chapter was only supposed to be seven thousand words, then I lost control. With the Aldecaldo introductory arc finished, we now turn our attention to the Spartan's own crusade.
I will be switching to weekly updates now, but the chapters will be longer.
Like always I hope you enjoy it, criticism is always welcomed. Please leave a review if you have questions or just wanna say hello.
Hope you have a great rest of your week.
Review:
timroy48: Thank you. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story's progression.
Brown: No master chief here I assure you.
SilverExcel115: Excellent argument, no real counter because you're not wrong. So I will have to give a good reason to his lack of violent human encounters in the Haloverse.