New Home

The Badlands.

Several burning cars were overturned, and a few unlucky souls lay on the ground, wailing in pain. Clearly, they were the main victims of this massive car crash.

The Wraiths held their guns, all aiming at two men crouching on the ground with their heads in their hands.

Mitch and Scorpion.

Mitch wore a green armored soldier's outfit, while Scorpion's combat suit was draped with an orange leather jacket. Both had impressive cybernetic arms attached to their left sides.

Kneeling on the ground, Mitch sweated profusely, struggling to smile. "We're screwed this time."

"You don't need to say it—Hey, you bunch of punks, feeling bold after munching on some new kibble, huh?"

The leader of the Wraiths kicked Scorpion hard!

Bang!

The kick sent Scorpion reeling, slamming into the ground, unable to get up for a long time.

Seeing this, the Wraiths laughed loudly:

"Ha-ha—filthy stray dogs!"

The Wraith who kicked Scorpion laughed the loudest, his two gray-black bionic gorilla arms shaking with his laughter. The high-tech bionic fibers made him look quite advanced.

Mitch glanced at Scorpion with concern, but the thug grabbed him by the neck and lifted him with one hand!

"You two, with such badass cyberware, still hanging around with that group of idiots? You got yourselves into this mess, blame your poor choice of sides.

But right now, things are different. You have two options: I can dismantle you and throw you in the trash, or you kill the other guy and join me."

Bang.

Mitch was slammed to the ground, struggling to catch his breath.

The two brothers on the ground slowly recovered, meeting each other's eyes.

Mitch clutched his throat, panting with a twisted grin. "Ha-ha... idiots."

"Yeah, total idiots—"

The two started cursing, pushing themselves up, staring at the sky.

The Wraith leader frowned, "What did you just say?"

"We said you're an idiot! Pfft!"

Both spat simultaneously. The big guy grinned menacingly, "You wanna die, huh—"

Boom!

A car behind them exploded suddenly!

A powerful bullet pierced the car, igniting the fuel tank and causing a massive explosion as the electromagnetic projectile struck!

Almost at the same moment, the bodies of the two Wraiths in front of Mitch and Scorpion twisted in strange ways—

They'd been hit!

The two brothers immediately snapped into action, grabbing rifles and aiming at the big Wraith!

The impact knocked him back a step, but he saw their movements!

He quickly grabbed two unlucky souls beside him, using them as human shields!

Bang, bang, bang!

"Retreat!"

The big Wraith dragged the human shields and ran toward another car—

In this open terrain, against such a powerful sniper, staying for even a second longer was a death sentence!

Bullets thudded into the human shields as he used his powerful arms to toss aside a henchman who'd reached the car door before him, then dove inside himself.

The car roared to life, but instead of fleeing immediately, he floored the gas, aiming the vehicle straight at Mitch and Scorpion!

In the chaos, Scorpion was thrown several meters away!

Seeing this, Mitch's eyes reddened with rage, not noticing another Wraith behind him aiming a pistol at his back!

Bang!

Gunfire and explosions mixed in the air as Mitch clutched his waist and fell to his knees!

Dazed, he heard the roar of engines, one of them unmistakably belonging to Panam's vehicle.

"Mitch! Scorpion! No, no—V, help me carry them back!"

Hearing Panam's voice, Mitch passed out on the spot.

They were rescued, but the situation was grim.

Scorpion had been hit hard, with massive fractures, extensive internal bleeding, and ruptured organs. If not for Panam's quick action and the blood supply from the Nomads, they might've perished in the Badlands.

Mitch's condition was a bit better; the bullet had lodged near his spine but hadn't caused severe damage.

By nightfall, Mitch was awake.

The first thing Mitch saw upon waking was Panam, Saul, and several of the clan members gathered around him.

Seeing him awake, they all let out a collective sigh of relief.

"...Where's Scorpion?"

Panam, still shaken, said, "He's out of immediate danger for now, but hasn't woken up yet—it was really close this time."

"Yeah—though what's not dangerous out here in the Badlands? We're lucky to have you," Saul said with relief, before quietly leaving the makeshift infirmary.

The camp had relocated, and everything needed rebuilding. The clan members, however, were in low spirits.

Today had been too dangerous—Mitch suddenly recalled what he'd said to convince the clan to come to Night City: He had promised to change the Aldecaldos, to build a new home where they could live in peace.

But now, everything was gone. Even the camp they had found earlier had to be abandoned.

That camp had looked desolate, but it had large areas filled with abandoned wind turbines and signal towers. With a bit of repair work, at least they would've had electricity.

But now, their new home offered nothing but concealment!

After the attack, they had to move again, and with many clan members seriously injured, morale was at an all-time low.

The drone strike hadn't been the worst part of the day, nor was the disappointment of relocating; the fact that Scorpion had fallen into a coma and Mitch was injured had shaken them even more.

Where was their future now? Mitch glanced at the trio of Leo, who had just helped set up his tent nearby—

During the day, Leo had persuaded him, and Mitch had mostly gone along with it.

But now, urgency gnawed at him.

V hammered a nail into a rock. "Those sneaky raiders knew what they were doing. If it weren't for the injured, I swear I could've taken them down."

Leo unfolded a collapsible bed, laid out some bedding, and replied, "That's why it's pointless just to know how to fight. Cunning people always find a way to hit where it hurts—disrupting you, throwing you off balance, even beating you."

"Why does this always turn into some kind of lecture? Jackie, you done back there?"

From behind the tent, Jackie gave a thumbs up.

V, done with her tasks, immediately flopped onto the bed. Looking up through the transparent tent window, she gazed at the night sky.

Out here, the stars were much brighter, though occasionally interrupted by searchlights beaming in from Night City.

"You didn't use your alias 'King,' huh? I heard Panam call you V."

Leo sat on his own bed.

The tent wasn't small, with their three beds placed in different corners. In the center were their guns, gear, and clothes.

"Using an alias for an alias is dumb. Besides, my name overlaps with yours anyway, so I'll stick with V."

"Trying to be special, huh? Looks like you're not cut out for this."

"Screw off." V threw a pillow at him. "Speaking of which, I used to think of a ton of cool names, just waiting for the day I'd become famous and use one."

Leo caught the pillow and tossed it back. "Then why, when asked for a codename, could you barely get a word out, and now you're telling me you thought of loads of names?"

"...Dunno, guess I just couldn't think of anything in the moment. That's why I'm still V.

Maybe it's something from when I was a kid—things just don't matter as much when you grow up."

Looking at the stars, V's voice trailed off, then she glanced at Leo.

"What about you? Didn't you have some cringy names in mind when you were a kid?"

"Nope," Leo said slowly, "but I did love waving a stick or whatever else around."

"Hah, that's not cringy, that's just dumb!"

In Night City, if you wanted to wave something around, you could get a real knife or buy a plastic gun for a few eurobucks.

Nothing beat the feeling of whooshing and pew-pewing real stuff.

Leo, realizing how ridiculous his childhood hobby sounded in Night City, quickly changed the subject. "Jackie, what about you?"

Jackie, who had just put the hammer down, sat down heavily, causing the folding bed to creak.

"Me? We didn't use fake names in the gang, but I did get screwed over with a tattoo."

Jackie rolled up his sleeve, revealing a tattoo on his arm. "I wanted something unique, so I went to a tattoo artist in Japantown. He claimed he knew mystical Eastern scripts.

It looked cool—no one in the gang could translate it.

Then one day, we caught this martial arts guy. I was keeping an eye on him, and he told me it wasn't some mystical script at all—it was just their dialect!

And the translation? Ugh, forget it. Anyway, I covered it up later. That guy told me all kinds of stuff."

V was confused, but Leo grinned knowingly. "Don't tell me it was that."

"Yeah, something like that. Anyway, I covered it up. If it weren't for that guy, I would've been stuck with that tattoo for life."

"What happened to him?"

"I gave him a quick death in the end—ah, I even went back to that tattoo shop for revenge, but after seeing the nonsense the artist had on his own body, I figured it wasn't worth it."

Jackie lay back, staring at the stars. "Turns out, we've all done some pretty dumb stuff to look cool. I thought I was the only idiot."

Leo chuckled. "Doing dumb things is just part of life. If you haven't realized that yet, you probably haven't entered the next phase."

V nodded in agreement. If she hadn't met Leo, she wouldn't have known the world could be like this.

"And the things you thought were stupid before might not seem so bad now."

"You sound like someone who used to curse out corporations, but then joined one and now works overtime killing others to make it to the top."

"Can't you ever think positively?" V threw the pillow again.

She thought to herself: If it were the old her, she never would've come to the Badlands, living in a tent like this.

But now, it didn't seem so bad.

The conversation died down, and the tent fell silent as Leo glanced outside: Saul was walking over.

He couldn't sit still anymore.