2: New Me, New Crew

— Atom —

A trail of vivid red lifeblood leaked onto the carpet of Sasha's apartment, "Shit…"

Of course, saying that only caused more to leak, drip, spill, and generally make a bigger mess than I needed before I could concentrate enough to stem the bleeding again.

Maine had the gall — the fucking gall — to chuckle at me, "You're one crazy fucking gonk, choom."

"Hrng," I gave him a noncommittal, nonverbal grunt as an answer. He wasn't wrong. I'd just prefer if he let me focus right now. The work I was doing was delicate. Important. I didn't mind him watching. I would just rather he shut up about it when I was cutting my chest open.

Now that my situation was stable, I had focused on improving it instead of just maintaining the 'survival' quo. I had a place to stay — much safer than my previous shithole —, with food, running water, and no more need to scavenge to survive. I could turn my eyes to improving myself so I wouldn't end up in such a situation ever again. Lacking power and control burned me. I was determined to reverse that arrangement at any cost.

In Night City, that determination usually would've seen me turn to cyberware. I… wasn't keen on that route. I couldn't shake the feeling that it'd be a poor stop-gap measure for me. Fortunately, I had other advantages to call upon. Inspired Inventor+ meant I didn't have to settle for janky, shitty, inherently flawed chrome. At least, not chrome alone…

Joining Maine's crew earned me a new point. A safe place to stay earned me another. Then, the week ticked over. I was left with three points I could use to improve myself through Inspired Inventor+. And I'd been heavily considering how to go about that when I had the opportunity since my second week here, plotting and planning my future rise. Immediate survival had taken priority. Now… I turned my gaze to power.

Inspired Inventor+

[+] Genetic Engineering (Evolutionary) I

[+] Force Bio-Alchemy II

Knowledge and skill were drugs, and I was high. I wouldn't be cloning, curing cancer, crafting diseases, or creating designer babies any time soon with genetic engineering. Instead, I focused the unlock on the aspect most useful to me — both long and short-term — and got more because of that specificity. My unlock was centered around the improvement of the human form, through carefully controlled mutation and purposefully directed evolution. And with it, I was working on a prototype of a magnum opus already.

Force Bio-Alchemy opened paths that science didn't. Again, my unlock was more specialized than 'just' Force Alchemy. At its core, Force Alchemy was simply using the Force to permanently alter an essential aspect of something. The classic 'lead to gold' was technically possible, and even rather rudimentary. Energy to energy, matter to matter, anything in between, and so, so much more beyond — through the Force, anything seemed possible. Much of my new knowledge and skill didn't limit itself to physics, logic, or morality.

My specific unlock focused on the Living side of the 'magical' equation. It also compensated for my current lack of equipment. My two levels in Bio-Alchemy (and one in genetic engineering) were significant. But also… still very basic. Only the fundamentals. Fortunately, what I was aiming to accomplish could be considered the most fundamental undertaking of both disciplines.

With my Humanity [Maxed], I aimed to mirror that in a more literal sense. To push my humanity to the maximum. To enhance and evolve myself in purposeful, ever-beneficial ways. So far, my efforts were basic. Crude, even. I was confident they would work. And that I could 'patch' them with updates as my skills and knowledge grew.

In the week and change since joining Maine's crew — most of it spent locked away in Sasha's apartment — I developed a sort of biological system's update, tuned to my body, DNA, and Force presence. Again, it was more fundamental than anything specific. Increases across the board but nothing more than lite-superhuman in any one area. Stronger muscles, richer blood, reinforced bones, enhanced senses, quicker neurons, snappier reflexes, steadier hands, more efficient organs, more flexible tendons and ligaments, and generally, just better. I would make myself better at the base first and foremost. It was a fundamental first step. But then, I would only keep improving, keep striving to mirror that boon, keep building off that superior foundation.

Such fundamental enhancement called for what could reasonably be considered drastic actions. I didn't sacrifice a baby and a puppy. But my 'update' — essentially a benevolent virus but I wasn't stupid enough to call it that, even in private — was grown and attuned in my blood. It also required almost all of my attention and energy over the last week. I hadn't gotten the chance to meet the rest of my new crew. But most drastic… it couldn't be introduced to my system in any way other than injecting it directly into my heart.

I wouldn't even risk injecting it through the skin. Not when I had a premonition that I'd only get one chance to do this effectively. The Force was telling me that… something… would go wrong if I failed now and tried again later. I didn't know 'how' or 'what' but my new knowledge of Force Alchemy pointed me toward the 'why'. The resonance of the repeated idea and the first failure would enforce the very concept of failure on any attempts after the first. Fucking 'not-magic' bullshit…

I had one shot to get my shit straight. So I figured I might as well cut out the chaff and just cut open my chest to get at my heart. Improvised medical care gave me the skills I needed. A mirror gave me a clear view of the operating area. Force healing kept me from bleeding out, stilled any shaking in my hands, and numbed the pain so I could still think straight. During the update's development, the point countdown ticked over again. I'd immediately put it into Force Healing II. As… insurance.

That was how I found myself performing open-chest surgery. On myself. With just a mirror to assist. And the Force. Somehow, it wasn't even the worst experience I'd had since being ripped into this reality. That prize went to the first mutated, demon rat from the hellish, shithole underbelly of Nar Shaddaa that I had to eat to survive… Compared to that vile meal, cutting open my own chest was… almost calming. And how many people could say they'd seen their heart still beating in their chest with their own eyes?

Sasha had a quick errand to run at the moment. Before she left, she'd called up Maine and asked him to watch me. She apparently thought I needed a babysitter. Considering what I was currently doing, she might've been right… Maine was a terrible choice for the task, though. He was much more amused than concerned as he watched me cut myself open and aim an injector at my heart.

This was only my second meeting with anyone else from the crew other than Sasha. After the first, I'd immediately holed myself up in her apartment and got to work on my update. Even Sasha hadn't seen much of me the past week. That might've been why she was concerned enough to assign me a babysitter.

I'd make it up to her. This was worth it. It would be worth it. A base of power to call my own. Something that could never be taken away from me. It would be the beginning of everything else. From here, I would only go up. The very concept of enhancement was to be built into the foundation of my body and being. And as Inspired Inventor+ grew, I could update my update. Growth, evolution, and power were at my fingertips. The injector I held over my open chest was the first step of many to come.

I'd paid Maine no mind when he walked in on me with a scalpel in my hand, a mirror aimed at my chest, and a very determined intent in my eyes. And though he was meant to be watching over me, he'd returned the favor in kind. The massive, intimidating merc had just plopped himself down beside me and settled in to do what Sasha asked of him: watch. Nothing more. Even as I cut open my chest over my heart and began leaking blood, he didn't stop me. If anything, he seemed more concerned with rolling himself a blunt than stopping me from mutilating myself.

"Is that flower?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

My chest was split open as I spoke, skin and muscle spread and held open by sterilized clamps. The only thing keeping my heart in place was my ribcage. The Force healing trance I kept myself in was making the process much cleaner than it should've been. There was blood. But I was less 'bleeding' than I was simmering in it.

"This lil' ol' sticky icky herb?" Maine chuckled, answering. "Yeah, I don't fuck with spice. And don't get me started on karkin' deathsticks, choom. Call me old fashioned but I prefer my highs straight from the dirt. Spice this, spice that — fuck all of it, gang. Gimme ganja and nothing more and I'll die a happy man. 'Course, these days, I gotta grow the shit myself. I sponsor a grow op down in Watson. Best qual' — and only — source of the green on Nar Shaddaa. Why? You partake?"

"Hrng. After," I grunted. "Need to focus now."

"You gonna tell me what'cher doin' there, choom? Looks like something Sasha would flip over," Maine noted cannily, his tone entirely free of judgment.

"Nunya," I snapped. "And nun of hers either. I'll tell her when I succeed. Don't need the interference until then."

Maine barked a laugh, shaking his head, "Choom, she's gonna chew you a new one."

"I'll make it up to her," I insisted.

Maine grinned, "I don't doubt it. But until you do… Yo, I say thanks yet?"

"Huh?"

"Thanks. For saving our girl. I said it yet?"

"You just did," I replied distractedly while arranging the clamps in my chest to better positions.

"Heh, guess I did," Maine chuckled. "You ain't half bad people, choom. Happy to have you in the crew."

"I'll pay my way," I chopped out. "Contribute. I'm not dead weight. That's why I'm doing this. I've got info, too. Profitable info."

"Oh, yeah? Whatchu got?"

"That Tyger Claw-Maelstrom war? That was me. Set them against each other so I could survive in the chaos. Looted both sides, too."

"That would do it," Maine nodded, grinning. "I can think of a way or two to profit off that."

"Your crew is my crew now. I'm not going back to struggling alone," I scowled, not at Maine but at the thought of going back.

"I think I'm starting to see why Sash' is crazy about you," He said.

I scoffed, "She's crazy about me because she's crazy."

"Without a doubt," Maine barked. "And she's been even worse since you saved her ass. I swear, that girl is turning goth as hell… But you ain't much better, choom. At least she never cut her fraggin' chest open to get at her heart."

"This is the most sane thing I've ever done," I sniped back. "Now, shut up. I need to focus again."

Maine shook his head and chuckled, "You can hop on the back end of this blunt when you're done. Don't mind me. I'll just be keefin' up in the meantime."

He sparked his blunt with the snap of his fingers. Damn convenient ass chrome… I ignored the smoke and the nostalgic smell, even if I couldn't remember exactly why I was so fond of it. My heart beat in my open chest and I finally got the clamps arranged in a satisfactory manner. With a deep breath, I watched my lungs inflate in the mirror. My grip on the injector tightened. I took aim…

"Bit to the left, choom," Maine instructed through a lungful of smoke. "You'll slip right off if you do it there."

I grunted in acknowledgment. My hand shifted. The injector was raised. I thumbed the trigger on the back. I began to bring it down… Only for another interruption to come, this one through the door to the apartment.

"Atom! Maine! I'm back~!" Sasha called cheerfully. "I got the newbie and the rest of the crew 'cause, I figured, why not-… WHAT THE FUCK-?! ATOM! WHY IS THERE BLOOD ON MY CARP-?! OH, FUCK, YOUR CHEST!"

She rushed straight through the entry to my side. I didn't let myself flinch at the surprise entrance. The injector continued its journey downward. It rested securely against my heart and I depressed the trigger with a twitching groan. I… couldn't describe the sensation of something touching my still-beating heart. It didn't 'hurt', per se… But it wasn't pleasant either. And that was before the needle came into play. With a shuddering breath, I focused on the Force, healing, and circulating the update through my body. In doing so, the injector was forgotten about… stuck in my beating heart as it was.

"Fuck-! Kark-! Oh, shit-!" Sasha was panicking in her worry for me, her hands hovering and only stopped from touching me by that same worry. "Maine! How could you let this happen?!"

"Choom did it to himself," Maine shrugged, continuing to puff away at his blunt. "You asked me to watch. I watched."

"Baby, you know that wasn't what she meant," Dorio chided, coming to sit next to Maine and sounding more amused than reproachful.

"What can I say?" Maine passed his blunt to in a familiar motion. "He was determined. I'm just a feeble old man. I can't keep up with these young'ins."

"Atom? Atom?! Talk to me!" Sasha pleaded frantically. "Oh, what did you do to yourself?!"

The rest of the crew joined the scene then, having come back with Sasha. I was familiar with them in theory but not in person. The only ones I'd personally met so far were Sasha, Becca, Maine, and Dorio. Now, Kiwi — a tall, mask-faced netrunner woman —, Pilar — Becca's long-armed idiot of a brother —, and a new girl with colored hair that bordered between neon and pastel rounded out the whole crew.

"He chopped himself open. Duh," Kiwi deadpanned.

"You bleedin' all over the place without me?" Becca frowned fiercely. I could feel her disappointment as a damn-near physical pout in the Force. "Not cool, choom…"

"We takin' in stray druggies now?" Pilar leered at the injector still stuck in my chest. "Bullshit! I'm the crew's druggie rep!"

Becca was quick to hit her brother — with a fully closed fist — on the back of his head, "Shut up, gonk! Your addictions aren't representation! You're just a dickhead with a deathstick problem!"

The new girl spoke up then, "Uh, no drug requires you to cut open your chest and inject it straight into your heart. Not really a sustainable method of getting spiced. I don't know what this is, but it isn't drugs. What the hell did I get myself into…?"

When Sasha looked to Maine for answers, he simply smirked and sold me up the river without hesitation, "Nunya. He said he was doing 'nunya'."

"Atom!" Sasha gasped, sounding scandalized and perhaps a little hurt.

That pain in her voice made me scowl for a moment but I growled regardless, "Will all of you shut. Up. For one. Fucking. Minute…? Please."

Because as they were all going back and forth, I was struggling to adjust to the literal evolution in my veins. It spread like fire. Force healing fanned the flames. Everywhere it touched, I could practically feel my update rewriting my DNA. Patching loose ends. Upheaving whole chromosomes. In that first instant, I knew I hadn't programmed it perfectly. It shouldn't have worked. But that didn't seem to matter once the Force took over. Then, all that mattered was my intent. Improve. Enchance. Evolve.

With every heartbeat, every breath, I was remade better. The Force was the only thing keeping me all together. In retrospect, a week of hasty development didn't say promising things for an evolutionary update. I should've done a second draft. I didn't want to wait, to linger in pathetic weakness for a single moment longer. What was done was done. Somehow, I was coming out better for it, despite my reckless haste. Once again, the Force proved to me that it should really be trusted in just about every situation, that it was very much worth putting my faith in it…

For those first few moments, I could feel the electricity in my nerves. I could feel the chemicals in my blood. I felt every minuscule molecule of air in my lungs. Then, the surge of unnatural sensitivity passed in a rush. Enhancement was left behind.

My body felt good in a way that surpassed mere words. My heartbeat was slow and calm, despite the fundamental revolution I was undergoing. My breathing was steady. Too steady. And even on Nar Shaddaa, every breath now felt clean as a forest breeze. I felt like I could run a marathon, climb a mountain, and then wrestle a bear, all back to back. I likely could…

And my senses… I'd never been more sober and never more high — both, at the same time. My mind was clear when it should've been overwhelmed. My vision was bright and vivid enough to almost hurt. I could smell every wisp of smoke from Maine's blunt. And when someone spoke, I had a feeling I could pinpoint them with my eyes closed by sound alone.

Kiwi snorted in the face of my request for silence, "I don't see why we should be the ones to shut up. None of us cut ourselves the fuck open and complained when we reaped what we sowed."

"You, uh… You good, choom?" Becca sounded earnestly concerned about me, uncharacteristically so.

"He's not going 'psycho… right?" The new girl asked, shifting warily where she stood.

I got my first good look at her then. Even with my new vision, I couldn't see a natural blemish on her porcelain pale skin. Her expression was hard and guarded on her perfect features. I couldn't help my blood from running slightly hot as I took in her and those curves in that body suit of hers. Damn fucking gorgeous cyberpunks…

"I'm. Fucking. Fine," I snapped before relaxing slightly. "More than fine. Who are you supposed to be?"

"Lucy," She shot back just as testily. "Best netrunner this side of the moon. Kiwi and Dorio recruited me."

"Hrrn, Atom," I grunted, keeping up what I found to be an easy, enjoyably hostile chemistry with her. "Well met."

I finally ripped the stuck injector from my heart. Almost as punctuation for my words. Then I began removing the clamps from my chest. The crew watched me as I efficiently and informally finished my self-surgery. Lucy stared. Kiwi rolled her eyes. I didn't give a shit what Pilar did. Becca — upon seeing I was fine — looked to be on the verge of outright cackling. Dorio shot Maine an exasperated look, and he just smirked back at her on my behalf. And Sasha… Sasha seemed to be reaching the end of her patience.

"Atom. Seriously. What. The. Fuck."

"It's something I made," I explained as I pushed my chest back together. Force healing held it in one piece from there as if the surgery had never happened. "Like combat drugs. But permanent. And better. Not toxic, degenerative, or addictive. Think of it as biological chrome."

"That's…" Lucy began, her face screwed up in confusion and disbelief.

"Fucking nova!" Becca finished, likely not in the way Lucy would have. "Ganic chrome?! So, so fucking preem! Ha, I knew you were a find and a half, choom!"

Sasha looked equally impressed but despite the softening look in her eyes, she wasn't completely swayed, "Atom… Correct me if I'm wrong here. You used a homemade, untested, combat-drug-esque biological agent. Developed in a week. Made with whatever you could scavenge from my apartment and space magic. On yourself. Cutting yourself open in the process. Getting your blood on my carpet. With only a vague clue of what it would do. Is that everything…?"

"And he dragged lil' ol' me into the crossfire," Maine added helpfully, holding out the blunt for me. "You want those puffs now, brother?"

I nodded. Sasha stole it before I could take it from him. She took a long, deep draw. Some of the tension drained out of her with the exhale. But she still held the blunt hostage, staring at me and awaiting my answer with a blank, raised eyebrow expression.

"It was necessary," I scowled. "I won't be weak. Won't accept it ever again. Strength, power, versatility, endurance — the update makes me better. I created a chance for myself, took it, and ran with it. Hesitation would've been my death."

Sasha nodded at my answer. She turned it over in her mind for a moment, taking another drag of the blunt. The rest of the tension in her posture and expression drained away with that second puff. Finally, she passed the blunt to me.

The next words out of her mouth were abrupt, making me pause mid-puff, "I need to flatline something. Someone. Fuck it, everyone in a designated area. Atom, you're coming with me. Instead of me yelling at you like I kind of want to right now, we're going to work through our problems in a productive, cathartic manner like a good couple should."

"We're not a couple," I grunted.

"Do you want to kill some shit or not, Atom?"

"… I'll get my gear."

I handed the blunt back to Maine as I stood. Going to fetch my gear as I said I would, my new hearing picked up the exchange I left behind.

"No SHOT you're goin' on a spree without me, Sash'," Becca firmly declared.

"Oh… yeah, I guess you can come too, Becks."

"Fuck that," Maine chuckled. "Let's make it a whole crew activity. Atom said he had info on Maelstrom and the Tyger Claws. Those fuckers always need a good culling."

"Murder: fun for the whole family~!" Becca and Pilar chimed in synch, cackling maniacally like the mad siblings they were.

"Lucy, you gonna be good to run with us so soon?" Dorio asked, sounding almost motherly.

"… I can hang."

As she said that, I returned to the rest of the crew with my 44 blaster on my hip, a compact SE-14a SMG-type blaster under my arm, a scoped A280 blaster rifle slung across my back, a 'Trandoshan' scattergun in my hands, a bandolier of my improvised powerpack grenades, a pouch overflowing with additional ammo, and a vibroblade sheathed on the inside of my off-forearm. All courtesy of (read: looted from) the two groups we were about to turn our sights on.

When she saw me come back decked out for war — and not just the gangland variety — Lucy stopped, stared, and muttered to herself, "Shit, uh… probably…? Can I hang…?"

IIIII

— Lucy —

*BOOOOOOOM!*

Elsewhere, the building shook violently with an explosion that Lucy had quickly come to associate with Atom's handiwork. Those scrapped-together grenades of his were vicious. Sasha's soundtrack — booming out of hacked and hijacked speakers — invoked the urge to rip and tear. Hard rock and heavy basslines were accompanied by Maelstrom death knells. The distant, echoing cackles of a bloodthirsty gun gremlin didn't help the building's ambiance, either.

Lucy could not hang. This was SO not her field. She was a netrunning ace, not-… not this! Violence wasn't a stranger to her. But there was a difference between 'running and fucking all-out war. Because she couldn't see their current gig as anything else. It was war. Gang warfare. Battles, not shoot-outs. Criminal conquest. She was about half a step away from calling it some kind of 'cide. Gang-o-cide.

Lucy dove behind an upturned table, thanking her stars that it was made of some strong alloy. Blaster bolts struck it with dramatic whines and the pops of bubbling metal. Across the room, a slim chromed-out woman unleashed a hail of suppressing fire from her own cover while two, more hulking, mostly metal men stalked toward Lucy's position.

Lucy pinged Kiwi. Then she waited. Sure enough, a second later, the slim woman at the back cried out as she went up in sparks. Without the blaster bolts pinning her down, Lucy peeked to the side of her cover. Her cyberdeck was up in a flash, and one of the metal men suddenly went down on one knee. Swinging a hand over her table, the other found out what whip-like monowire tasted like.

The top half of his head fell off, cut clean from the jaw. His next step stuttered. The monstrosity of a man collapsed like a dead Hutt. Lucy vaulted over the table and dashed at the last Maelstrom fuck remaining. Before he could shake off her quickhack, she shoved a vibroblade straight through the armor plating of his skull. A half-foot of vibrating steel in what was left of his brain ensured he'd never rise from his knees again.

In other rooms throughout the building, the raid continued around Lucy. She barely had time to catch her breath. It wasn't the stiffest resistance they'd run into so far. But Lucy wasn't used to keeping up the crew's relentless pace of action. Back to back, they'd been going since late that morning. This Maelstrom hangout spot was just the latest in an extensive campaign of raids.

Still, she sucked it up and ran with her new crew. They'd be watching her, and Lucy would make damn sure they didn't regret giving her a shot. She was in it with them now. A more cynical part of her couldn't help but notice that this was a good way to tie the crew further together. More accurately, it was a good way to tie the newbies to the crew through shared violence and force of action. That… wasn't a terrible thought. It meant they were in it together until the end, beyond what just money could accomplish.

Or as Pilar and Becca put it… Murder: fun for the whole family!

Family… It'd been a long time for Lucy. Not since her sperm donor all but sold her to his 'Saka, corpo, bloodsucking masters. Not since she discovered what he'd done in the Nar Shaddaa Corpo Wars at their behest before that. She was pretty sure her mom was still searching for her, somewhere out there. But… Lucy just couldn't trust either of her parents' intentions for her. Not after that ruthless underground Arasaka slicing program that nearly killed her. Not while her donor was still on Arasaka's payroll. So she ran and ran. The only way she'd ever feel safe would be to get off the infamous Smuggler's Moon. Something easier said than done…

After an adulthood of running, Lucy had just about lost the ability to trust. Life without any anchors to hold her down wasn't kind. But Lucy wouldn't let herself go back. The only way was forward, and 'forward' eventually brought her to the Night City sector of Nar Shaddaa. In utterly unfamiliar — and uniquely foreign compared to the rest of the moon — territory, Lucy found herself in need of a crew.

Kiwi had been the one to find her. The older netrunner slowly brought her into the fold of Maine's crew. Then, a bit more than a week ago, something changed. Kiwi accelerated Lucy's recruitment. She later found out that was because they thought they were down a netrunner. And by the time Sasha showed back up, Lucy was essentially a member already.

That morning saw her fetched by Kiwi and Sasha. They collected Dorio, Becca, and Pilar afterward. Lucy figured it was time for her to get her first official shot in the crew. Sasha was… cool. She had good style. And if she worked with Kiwi, Lucy knew she had to be another ace. She had a certain peppy force of personality that dragged others into her orbit. But never to the point that Lucy felt they clashed.

Then, they went back to Sasha's apartment to meet up with the rest of the crew… And walked in on a fucking baffling scene. From what Lucy gathered with observant eyes, Sasha and this 'Atom' were close. He was the one who saved her and brought her back from the brink of death. That didn't explain why they walked in on him cutting himself open, though.

That fucker was crazy. Hot in a gruff, broody, and ruthless way. But crazy. Mad as a monkey-lizard. That glare he'd given her when they introduced themselves to each other… The way he ripped an injector from his literal heart and closed himself up without losing a single fuck… Well, that was certainly something. The aura he carried himself with was fucking intoxicating. Though Lucy could only glare back at the time, she could see why Sasha liked him so much.

He seemed to be the main push behind their current campaign of open gang warfare against Maelstrom and the Tyger Claws. There was history there, Lucy could tell. Recent history. And it was his deets that they were working off. Without his info, their blitz wouldn't have been possible.

He was still a crazy motherfucker. But in Lucy's new crew, he was far from the only one. Sasha was eagerly taking the excuse to work off some of her anger at Atom. Becca and Pilar were letting loose. And no one else in the crew seemed to mind the chance for a good few firefights.

They hit Maelstrom first. The Borg-schuttas couldn't be reasoned with. Almost every single one of them was too high on chrome to even know what 'peace' meant. Cyberware wasn't rare throughout the rest of Nar Shaddaa. Lucy even had a few good-quality pieces for herself, despite not growing up in Night City. It was much more prominent in the Night City sector, though — practically a fact of life. Maelstrom were the first ones Lucy had seen take it so far. Some of them weren't even recognizable as human anymore. Just glowing eyes, berserker rage, and more metal than flesh.

When her enemies were so malicious and inhuman, Lucy could hardly bring herself to feel too bad about the crew's ongoing gang-o-cide. It helped that the loot was very, very good. With her cut, she'd be halfway to buying a ticket off-world. If she could find someone willing to take her, that is… Nar Shaddaa was one of the hardest places in the galaxy to make it off of, not in the least because of the fucking Hutts with their slimy fingers in every. Single. Pie.

The crew hit stash houses and hideouts as a matter of priority. In between raids, they picked off wayward Maelstrom Borgs who got in their way. Lucy stuck to the relative backlines and still saw plenty of action. The crew's other newbie… didn't, and Atom saw even more as a result.

Lucy watched him work his way through raid, after raid, after raid — never slowing for even a single moment. He was enduring and driven. Cold. Calculated. Punching above what one would assume to be his weight class through sheer ruthlessness. By the time the night was over, Maelstrom likely wouldn't exist as an organization. The Tyger Claws would have to wait for another night, but Lucy imagined their days were similarly numbered with Atom dead-set against them.

Lucy was starting to think there might just be something to his 'organic chrome' shit. Even Maine and Dorio rotated front-line duty. Atom didn't. He was at the front and leading the raids. Every. Single. Time. Though, to be fair, Becca was with him more often than not. But she was only slightly less of an anomaly than Atom was. Even on the other side of the moon, Lucy had heard about Night City's gun gremlin…

It was a bit wild to be fighting beside her now. Well… behind her. The Gun Gremlin wasn't someone known for her restraint. Something Lucy was bearing witness to in action. After the hangout raid was wrapped up without complication, the crew quickly moved on to its next target: Maelstrom's chrome factory. 'Cause on Nar Shaddaa, the gangs had infrastructure and whole supply chains backing them up…

Taking out Maelstrom's factory would be a crippling blow, more than any other they'd struck that night. Without a consistent source of chrome under their control, Maelstrom would crumble from the bottom up. For a gang of Borg-sluts, it was the most essential aspect of their operations.

The crew had their raiding tactics down to a science at that point. The whole of Maelstrom was on high alert. There was no other outcome to them losing site after site — the majority of the holdings in their core territory — in a single night. But there, the reputation of Maine's crew aided them. The crew were known as mercenaries. As such, Maelstrom assumed Maine had been hired to make trouble by their biggest rival. Another all-out gang war had started on the border of Maelstrom's territory with the Tyger Claws. A separate one. And the Borgs didn't have a damn clue that the crew was currently in it for themselves…

Despite the skyrocketing Maelstrom bounties that must've been on all of their heads, the crew was able to find a vantage point overlooking the factory. It was a squat building, sandwiched between two of Night City's levels. The space between the roof and upper level was open to the air, some kind of loading and unloading dock. That seemed to be where Maelstrom was staging its defenses.

The netrunners were up first, opening the raid as they'd quickly become accustomed to. Kiwi hijacked every camera she could find, sketching up a vague map that she sent to everyone (including Atom's handheld personal computer, of all things…). Lucy and Sasha were left free to unleash some demons amongst their enemies. And if there was one thing Lucy knew, it was demons.

Immediately, Maelstrom members found their chrome turning against them. Some sparked and short-circ'ed. Others exploded outright. A few found their cyberarms raised out of their control to fire blindly into their own defenses. Lucy was particularly proud of those hacks… Until she saw three Maelstrom Borgs turn their weapons on themselves… Lucy thought she was probably better, but Sasha was frakking scary.

Then came the hammer. One of Atom's improvised 'nades was lobbed with unholy precision, landing amongst some of the short-circ'ing Borgs and finishing them for good in a blinding flash of plasma. It was followed by quick, precise, snappy shots from his scoped blaster rifle. The bolts burned through the air and evaporated armored heads without fail. Not a single shot was missed or wasted. And Lucy mentally gave another point to Atom's 'Ganic chrome.

"Don't killsteal jerk-ass!" Becca shouted. "Didn't your momma teach you better than that?!"

"Probably," Atom grunted, loosing another blaster bolt without pause. "Don't fucking remember her anymore, though."

That surprise, depressing lore drop brought even Becca up short, "Oh… Well, you got a head start but I bet I can still get more than you!"

Atom turned a feral grin toward her, "Race ya."

Becca grinned right back, matching his 'feral' with her pure thirst for violence, "You're SO fucking on, choom!"

Atom quickly and efficiently shot a grapple at the factory's roof. The line was pulled taut and anchored. Lucy knew it was something he'd straight-up ripped from an unlucky Maelstrom Borg's cyberarm… He stopped after anchoring it and waved Becca ahead of him with a smirk. It was the only expression resembling an actual smile Lucy had seen on his face so far.

"Ladies first."

"A gentle-choom after my own heart~!"

The crew's two crazies took the zipline straight into the thick of it. Straight into the brawl. Moments later, Becca's telltale cackles started up. Her oversized scattergun — Atom's Trandoshan one that she'd 'borrowed' even though it barely fit her tiny frame — tore through metal flesh like it was paper. The mismatched sight would've been comical… if it wasn't so stars-damned effective. By the time Atom landed a second behind her, his landing zone was completely clear and Becca was already moving onto 'greener pastures'.

Atom didn't flinch at the lack of immediate targets. That double-barreled 44 blaster that he favored tore through Borgs just as well as a full-sized scattergun. No full organic should've been that good… yet Lucy was watching him with her own eyes. He even seemed to have picked up his own form of blaster-fu somewhere along the way (He quite literally had, though Lucy had no way of knowing that… Gun-Fu I: picked up with the point from his first job with the crew and combined with the Force and Atom's update for full effect).

"Sash', your man… He good?" Dorio asked diplomatically back with the rest of the crew.

"Yeah, that shit was dark, lil' sis," Maine added. "I can't imagine not remembering my mama."

"Probably…" Sasha worried at her lip. "With that information… I may have to shift a few plans around to make sure he knows how loved he is."

She turned to Lucy, suddenly with a suspiciously sweet tone to her voice, "Hey, Lucy~Luce~? I already know what Becca's answer will be but… How do you feel about… sharing~?"

Lucy simply stared at her for a few long moments, her expression purposefully blank. Then she glanced back at the action on the factory rooftop. Just in time to see Atom decapitate and roll over the back of one Borg, kick the head into another with enough force that metal shattered, and fill a roaring third's open mouth with so full of plasma that the Borg glowed from the inside out.

"Well…" Lucy hedged.

"I swear to every slug-sucking god out there, if you don't say yes after that, girl, I'll say it for you!" Kiwi snapped.

"Yeah… Yeah," Lucy sighed. "That might've just been sexy enough to share."

The wide, genuine, devotion-tinged smile that appeared on Sasha's face at Lucy's admittance enlightened her to something… In a crew full of crazies — including the infamous Gun Gremlin and Mr. Organic Chrome —, Sasha was probably the craziest of them all… She just happened to hide it the best.