Beep...
V dialed Panam Palmer's number and waited in silence.
The crew stood outside the Afterlife. Roqi looked half-asleep, with Mower handing him a bottle of water. Jackie leaned lazily against a railing, and T-Bug stood nearby, deep in her own thoughts.
Rogue had tossed them a side gig out of nowhere, but no one looked unhappy.
She was paying too damn well for anyone to complain.
"Hey, Panam. Name's V. Rogue gave me your number," V said as the call connected, hand on his hip. "Let's skip the Rogue part—I'm here to help."
"…If you've got a bone to pick, take it elsewhere. I'm talking about getting your ride and cargo back," he said after hearing her out. "You interested, or should I just fuck off too?"
A few seconds later, he hung up.
"She's over on Bonita Street. Some old rail yard near the city edge. We going?"
"Of course. Let's roll," Roqi replied, scanning the crew. Everyone nodded.
The spot was near Coronado Farm, close to Charter Hill. San Amaro Street was nearby, and just down the road sat a small Militech warehouse.
Panam Palmer was there, hunched under the hood of a car, still working when they approached.
Roqi and Jackie shared a look—and shoved V ahead.
V rolled his eyes but stepped forward.
"Hey, Panam, right?"
"You must be V." She didn't even turn around. Only when she sensed more people did she glance back, frowning. "What's with the whole posse? Whatever. What do you want? Where's my damn car?"
Panam pulled herself out from under the hood and leaned on it with both hands.
She had that tough nomad energy—dark skin glowing under the sun, radiating that unmistakable "I don't take shit from anyone" vibe. Just one person, but she had the presence of a whole squad.
"Rogue sent us," Roqi said.
"You kidding me?" Panam scoffed. "Spit out what you know, then fuck off back to wherever you came from. And tell Rogue to eat shit."
Tough customer.
"Hey, calm down, alright?" V raised a hand. "We know where your ride and cargo are. But going alone? You're just gonna get killed. Let's talk this through."
There was a pause. Just when they thought she might blow up, she spoke again.
"What do you wanna talk about?"
"Simple," Roqi said. "Rogue hired us to get your stuff back. In return, we need you to be our local guide—help us hit Kang Tao. They're not street punks, so we need to know if you're up to it."
"Are you out of your fucking minds?!"
Panam glared.
"Is it too much for you, or are you just scared?" V said, unfazed. "The AV's gonna pass through Jackson Plains. Perfect spot to hit. And we've already got Rogue's people. Just need someone who knows the terrain."
"Sounds easy when you say it," Panam muttered, unconvinced. "Even with Rogue's help, Kang Tao isn't easy prey."
"We've got the intel. It's one AV. No escort. Just loaded with security and bots. Our goal's to move fast, get on board, find the target, and have a nice little chat."
V laid it out plain.
"Fuck!"
The car suddenly made a noise. Panam snapped, ripped out a part, and hurled it to the ground. The noise stopped.
Roqi and Jackie traded a look—yep, she had a temper.
She slammed the hood shut, clearly pissed or just fed up.
"First thing's first—get me my ride. No car, no job."
"I thought the cargo was more important," V said, looking at her arms-crossed, seated coolly on the hood.
"Screw the cargo," she shot back. "With my ride, I can haul anything across the city. Without it? I'm delivering takeout."
"If it's at Rocky Ridge, then the cargo probably is too. You know the way?" V asked.
"Goddamn you, Nash... I swear I'll kill you," she muttered to herself, clearly seething.
"Let me guess—he was your buddy? Screwed you over?" V asked.
"He's not my buddy."
She cut him off instantly, pure fury on her face.
"Okay, former partner?"
"Something like that." She waved it off. "The Wraiths screwed me. Nash jacked my ride and the cargo. They're probably fencing it at Rocky Ridge."
She stared at the dusty ground, teeth clenched.
"Steal from me, will you... Wait, I need to call my client. Gonna ghost that bastard."
She called Boz, convinced him to cancel the deal with Nash.
Now Nash would walk into an ambush, not a transaction.
Panam bet her reputation on it. Whether you're a merc or a nomad, your rep is everything.
"Who's Boz? He won't fuck us over?" V asked.
"Sixth Street. He's solid."
Panam waved it off like it was nothing.
"Sixth Street? Those flag-waving psychos?" Roqi scoffed.
He remembered the shootout between them and the Scavs near Coronado Farm. The whole neighborhood felt like San Andreas—same squat houses, same kinetic weapons, same gritty vibe.
If not for the Night City skyline, you'd swear it was the '90s.
"They pay, I deliver. Long as they're reliable, I don't care what they yell about," Panam shrugged. "Now, we head to the Aldecaldo camp—grab some gear from the crew."
"Didn't they kick you out?" Roqi asked, remembering what Rogue said.
"I still have friends," she muttered, looking away.
"You know, Lucky and I were nomads too," V offered. "Bakkers. Had a falling out, ran into some Snake Nation bullshit, so we bailed to Night City."
"Huh. So we've got something in common," Panam said, a little softer.
Sometimes, empathy worked better than reason.
"I think your old crew might help, but we've got the manpower. What we're short on is time. Let's hit Rocky Ridge now," Roqi suggested. "We've got all the gear—long guns, short guns, maybe even a ride from Rogue if needed."
"Tell that bitch to stay out of it. Rocky Ridge. Now," Panam snapped.
Still not over Rogue, clearly.
She yanked open the car door and slammed it shut.
Roqi and Jackie quickly blocked her and shoved V in the passenger seat.
Only fair—T-Bug wasn't exactly a people person, and V was the only neutral body around.
Jackie slammed the gas pedal and followed the GPS out of the city.
Panam fired up her engine and followed close behind.
Ten minutes later, they reached Rocky Ridge—northeast of Night City.
They took the only highway leading east, into the Badlands—the same one Roqi and Mower had used to intercept that Militech convoy.
From the northern mountains of North Oak to the southern canyons, this was the great divide between Night City's glitz and the wasteland's rot.
But it wasn't quiet.
Nomads. Wraiths. Raffen Shiv. Corpo convoys. Mercs. Fixers. Corporate assets. Border patrols...
A few kilometers from the city, and everything changed.
Roqi stared out at it all, dazed.
Months in Night City, and he hadn't seen this view since day one.
To the west, the ocean. Beyond the city—nothing but endless Badlands.
Nomad camps. Dead mines. Burning oil fields. Polluted wastelands.
Night City looked like a glowing oasis in a desert of death. But people still came, hoping for that one shot.
Live free. Die fast. Out here, survival is law.
Corpos once tried to build a self-sustaining zone in this desert.
Streets were mapped, houses built. Workers never came. The companies went under. The zone became a ghost town—now used by nomads.
Not a market, but still signs of life. The buildings offered shelter, and that's all that mattered.
"Rocky Ridge is totally fucked. Nothing works," V said, scanning around. "Not one working gadget."
Wasteland vibes? Perfectly apocalyptic.
Roqi wouldn't be surprised if zombies popped out.
"No worries. We brought toys. Come help," Roqi said.
He opened up the truck and started unloading crates and cases.
"What is all this?" Jackie asked, hauling a heavy box aside.
"Mobile server rack. Modular base station. Auto-sniper turrets. Recon drones. Anti-tank bots. Thermal scanners…" Roqi recited. "Set it all up. Let's give those Wraith assholes a welcome."
Roqi had come to love traps.
There was something fun about watching someone walk right into your web.
Mower planted auto-snipers on every rooftop. The moment they activated, heads would pop.
T-Bug had her gear plugged into a portable server—she was already writing nasty little code combos on the roof.
Explosive bots were buried, their tops camouflaged with weeds. After a couple hours of wind and dust, they'd be invisible.
Recon drones cloaked and patrolled the air in shifts. Always recharging. Always ready.
"Damn. Never fought a war this loaded," V said, manning a rooftop MG with a bipod.
"Así es. I'm pumped," Jackie replied, posted up across the way.
Mower kept fine-tuning her rifle. Nobody else could touch her precision.
Roqi sat beside her, his PDA propped up. Feed from the buried drones flickered on the screen. He held the remote in his hand.
The entire drone fleet answered to him.
"You guys Rogue's hit squad?" Panam asked from atop the substation, arms crossed.
She looked lost—had no idea what to do with herself.
She'd never seen anyone prep like this.
It wasn't corpo-level tech, but the teamwork was airtight. Camouflage, traps, patterns—nothing left to chance.
Not even the drones broke stealth. Everything was ready for the Wraiths' night run.
No one would ever see it coming.
"No. Just mercs. Same as you," Roqi replied, spinning a drone midair via comms.
Being too prepared had one downside—waiting.
He glanced at the sun, already dipping behind the horizon.
Dear Wraiths... where the hell are you?
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🤖 My Girlfriend's a Cyberpsycho—Who Knew?
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