Deng and I boarded the NCART in North Watson and headed down towards Lizzie’s. As we settled into our seats, my mind wandered back to my first ride on an NCART train.

I was a wide-eyed newcomer to Night City, fresh from my misadventures in the Badlands, and the NCART ride was the first good thing to happen to me in this world. Of course, the mugging as soon as I left the station had kinda put a damper on things, but the ride leading up to the mugging was pretty good.

Back then, the NCART represented everything good about the city. It was a vibrant artery that connected me straight to the heart of Night City. I remembered marveling at the cityscape flashing by – the endless neon lights, the towering skyscrapers, the bustling crowds, and the glow of street signs and stores that I yearned to explore. Even the mundane passengers on the train had seemed extraordinary, as if they were characters in a grand story that was unfolding around me.

But now, riding the NCART from North Watson down to Ellison Plaza, all I felt was boredom and regret. All the feelings of joy, wonder, and amazement had been replaced by a single lingering frustration that consumed my thoughts.

“God, I need to get a car,” I mumbled.

Deng heard me and chuckled. “You know, we could have taken one of the Scav vans. It was free.”

“Meh,” I shrugged. “I’ve always hated driving vans and trucks. They always feel too bulky to me. Every time I’m behind the wheel of one I feel like I’m going to run into everything on the road. They handle like shit, and I want something better.”

“What’re you thinking?”

There was only one ride for me; the very first vehicle I bought in every single one of my playthroughs. “The Kusanagi CT-3X”

“Why the hell would you want that? At least get an ARCH or something if you’re gonna get a motorcycle. Those are the kings of bikes.”

I couldn’t explain that my love for the Kusanagi stemmed solely from the reason that it was an Akira bike. Hell, I didn’t even know if Akira had been made in the Cyberpunk universe. In my mind, if you had the eddies and didn’t buy an Akira bike, what was the point of living in Night City? Instead, I simply told him I was a fan of the thing and knew a guy who had one a while back.

We got out at Ellison Plaza, and I strolled towards Lizzie’s. On the way, I ran through all the information that Regina had collected and sent me about The Hun.

Albert Park. He was a man shaped by ambition and ruthlessness in the crucible of one of the most powerful and feared corporations in the world – Arasaka. Like David Martinez, he attended the prestigious Arasaka Academy, an institution designed to create the next generation of corporate drones.

When he graduated, he transitioned into Arasaka proper, where he bounced between various divisions, each stint a steppingstone into what would become his ultimate role. He primarily focused on the financial aspects of the company – banking, real estate, investments – and it wasn’t long before he eventually found his niche in mergers and acquisitions.

He specialized in hostile takeovers of small startup companies. He’d identify companies with patents on groundbreaking products, specifically ones that were resistant to Arasaka’s initial overtures to buy them up. Normally, the second Arasaka showed interest in purchasing a small company, the president of that company would jump at the chance to get wealthy quickly. But there were people who focused on designing new cyberware, guns, vehicles, and other innovations, who remained wary of the corporate juggernaut. They feared Arasaka’s reputation for muscling out competition and dismantling companies for their intellectual property.

Those were the companies that Albert targeted. He’d introduce himself as an independent investor who was interested in nurturing and growing small businesses. He’d promise to bring in resources and expertise to help them flourish, and his charm and charisma made it easy for business leaders to trust him.

Once he ingratiated himself with the company’s leadership, he’d use a network of shelf companies provided by Arasaka and orchestrate a series of leveraged buyouts, racking up massive debt in the name of the small business. Those buyouts often targeted even smaller competitors, presenting the illusion of growth and expansion. On paper, the companies that Albert worked with seemed to be thriving, but in reality they were sinking deeper into financial quicksand.

With the company on the hook for tons of debt, Albert would then identify key suppliers and customers who were crucial to the company’s operations. He’d funnel that information back to Arasaka who would leverage their influence and power to pressure the suppliers and clients. Supplies would suddenly become scarce or more expensive, and customers would face unforeseen issues leading to delays and lost revenues. Consequently, the company would be unable to produce and deliver its products, triggering a cascade of failures.

As the company’s situation grew increasingly dire and the leaders found themselves burdened by insurmountable debt and crippled by operational difficulties, Arasaka would step in and offer to ‘rescue’ the company by acquiring it outright. Desperate and out of options, the company owners would agree, seeing it as their only chance of survival.

But the rescue was a feeding frenzy. Arasaka would gut the company, strip it of its valuable patents and technologies, fire the workers, and dismantle their operations, reducing the once-promising business to a hollow shell.

Albert’s unique talents in mergers and acquisitions eventually earned him the nickname “The Hun” because he’d ravage small companies and leave a trail of devastation in his wake.

His crowning achievement was the hostile takeover of Lotus Designs, a fashion brand led by an independent designer renowned for producing high-quality netsuits. The designer had been adamant about staying independent, wary of Arasaka’s encroaching influence in the netsuit market. But Albert was relentless. Through cutthroat financial maneuvers, he acquired Lotus Designs, gutted the company, and sold it to Arasaka. This acquisition was a significant victory as the technology and designs from Lotus formed the backbone of Arasaka’s netrunner suits, a critical asset in the company’s cyber division.

So, how did “The Hun” go from dismantling companies for Arasaka to being a known quantity among the homeless population of Night City? Unfortunately, I didn’t have much to go on. Regina’s information was sadly lacking in this area. All she knew was that, like a corpo V, Albert had fallen victim to some internal power struggle in the company.

What Regina could tell me was that, in a swift and brutal move, all of Albert’s expensive Arasaka implants were nuked, rendering them useless. His bank accounts were seized, leaving him financially destitute. His apartment was sold out from under him, and he was physically removed from Arasaka Tower and thrown out onto the streets of Night City like so much refuse.

When we finally reached the alcove at Lizzie’s, we found the place packed. Most of the time I stopped by, there had always been a low-grade celebration going on. It was where we all congregated to celebrate finding something unexpected in the trash, pulling off a small gig, or scoring an unexpected payday. But now, the place was bustling with activity.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

I saw Tani and a few of her people from the camp huddled over on one side of the alcove, sharing news and information with the homeless who normally occupied the area. Rita was standing guard by Lizzie’s front door, keeping an eye on the growing crowd of homeless people in the alcove. She wasn’t threatened, but she also wasn’t going to take any chance that trouble would break out and threaten the club.

As we approached, Deng headed off towards Tani, ready to deliver the good news that we had stopped the Scav attack on her camp. North Watson wasn’t suddenly free from Scav invasions, but this was definitely a win for the homeless up North.

I, meanwhile, went off in search of Mor. I found him in his usual spot, seated on a beat-up couch in the alcove. Beside him sat a middle-aged Asian man in a blue linen shirt and khakis. Despite the disheveled appearance of his clothes, the man still carried himself with the air of a corpo, as if the clothes had been tailored specifically for him.

I approached Mor and the new guy. When they saw me, the Asian guy stood up and extended his hand, a smile on his face.

“Noah Batty, I presume?” the man said.

I shook his hand, feeling his firm grip. “Mr. Park.”

He seemed slightly put off by the fact that I knew his name and didn’t just call him The Hun. I don’t know why that would surprise him. Unlike me, he had a long and detailed history in Night City, and he had to know it’d be fairly easy to get information about him.

“I have to say, you’re a hard man to figure out.” He smiled as he retook his seat, and I slid into one of the chairs next to the couch. “From what I have been able to gather, you popped up out of nowhere in Night City. No history at all. You made your way to the alcove where Fred and Mor took you in, helped educate you about life in the city, and protected you until you found your footing. Now, you lead a team of capable mercs. Both Fred and Mor speak very highly of you, and from what I see, you are making yourself a known quantity around the alcove.”

I shrugged. I didn’t know what the guy’s play was, but I could feel him buttering me up. It felt like I should downplay any qualifications I had until I could get a better read on him. “I don’t know about all that. Scavs are scum, and I heard they were picking on some people up in North Watson. Anything I can do to erase Scavs from this city seems like a public service to me.”

Albert smiled at that, then paused for a second, trying to find the words to broach the topic he’d come here for. “I heard that you are a student of history; that you are a fan of the time before the Red.”

He was referring to the time before Johnny Silverhand nuked Arasaka Tower and completely wrecked Night City. I didn’t know too much about what happened after the bombs dropped. I had heard a little about how the city had to rebuild and how the whole place had been a scavenger’s wet dream after the 4th corporate war, but all my knowledge of Night City had come from playing the video game and it never really touched on the time between the game and Johnny’s era.

“Johnny Silverhand, Morgan Blackhand, Adam Smasher, Rache Bartmoss, Spider Murphy,” I said, tossing out the big names who shaped Night City. “What’s not to like? They were giants who carved their names into this city.

Albert nodded. “And how about The Pack? What do you feel about them?”

“Who?” I asked. There hadn’t been any mentions of ‘The Pack’ in the game. None of Johnny’s “memories” or any of the conversations or shards you could pick up mentioned anything about a Pack. “Were they like the Bozos or something?”

He chuckled at that. “Oh no, not anything like those homicidal maniacs. They were a protection gang in Night City, back in the ‘20s. They evolved from a small Nomad family who banded together a lot of the homeless, and they extended their protection throughout the city. They were one of the powers before the bombs dropped and ruined everything. They made agreements with several booster and poser gangs, offering manpower in large gang wars in exchange for protection. Hell, even Johnny Silverhand worked with The Pack. He used to throw benefit concerts with them.”

“Ah, that’s what this is about. You want to start up a homeless gang in Night City.”

“Naturally,” replied Albert. “Like me, you found yourself adrift in Night City. And like me, you were saved by those this city has discarded. Like me, you have been helping out in whatever ways you could. While my talents lie in organizing, you’ve been taking a more hands-on approach. From what I understand, you just finished fending off a Scav attack on our brothers to the North?”

I nodded.

“Everything I have heard about you says you’re good people,” Albert continued. “Fred and Mor have both vouched for you, and I would like for us to establish a closer working relationship. I want to give a voice to the voiceless, hope to the hopeless, and a future for the bereft and adrift. The answer to all that is reforming The Pack.”

I considered the man in front of me carefully. He was corporate to the bone, yet he hinted that we were similar. Questions lingered about what had happened after he was kicked out of Arasaka. The hints he dropped suggested that he had been taken in by a homeless group in the city, much like how Fred and Mor had taken me in and looked after me. His natural organizational talents and experiences with one of the largest corporations in the world would have lent themselves well to building a massive gang. But what was his end goal?

Reforming The Pack wasn’t a completely ridiculous idea. The Mox, The Tyger Claws, the Voodoo Boys, and 6th Street had all originally formed as protection gangs. Of course, they evolved from there and didn’t do much protection anymore. What would happen to The Pack in ten, twenty, thirty years? Would it just become another gang in the city, preying off randoms and committing crimes?

“So, how would all this work? I mean, the Mox have their BDs, joytoys, and clubs. The Animals focus on their steroids and muscle. The Tyger Claws have their drugs and whatever else they want. You’re talking about building a massive organization to go toe-to-toe with them, but that would require payroll and infrastructure and a host of other things. How are we going to build that?”

“How many homeless do you think are in Night City?” Albert asked. “How many of our people live on the streets, constantly keeping their eyes and ears open about what the gangs are doing because to do otherwise could lead to death? Didn’t you know everything the gangs were doing in whatever neighborhood you were hanging around in? From what I gather, you’ve already seen the advantage the homeless bring to the table. How many spots has your crew hit over the past week due to tips from people in the alcove?”

“Not enough to get me a Kusanagi bike, unfortunately,” I joked. He had a point though. He saw exactly what I did when it came to the homeless. They were an army of lookouts throughout the city, constantly aware of what the gangs, cops, corporations, and small-time hoods were doing in every neighborhood. It was an intelligence network that, if it could be weaponized, would be a game changer.

He grinned. “That’s a fine machine. And one you’ll easily be able to afford once we get The Pack off the ground.” He knew he had scored a point with his argument.

We kept talking about how The Pack would be formed, what it would mean for the homeless, and how my crew and the alcove would benefit from a protection gang looking out for homeless interests in the city. By the time Tani and the rest of her people started to leave the alcove to head back north to their camp under Ross Street, nothing had truly been decided. There were still too many unknowns. Albert’s polished demeanor and corporate background made me wary of trusting him. I wanted to chat with my crew to figure out what the best move for us would be.

“Let me talk it over with my team,” I said, standing up as he rose to follow Tani back north. “I’ll need their input before I come to any decision.

Albert nodded, his expression unreadable. “I understand. Take your time. This is a big decision and it’s important to get it right.”

As Tani and her people started to leave, I watched Albert join them. He sidled up to Tani, made some comment, and I saw her laughing at his easy charm. As the last of the group disappeared into the night, the alcove returned to its usual level of rowdiness. The murmur of conversations, the occasional burst of laughter, and the steady hum of life in the alcove resumed. I noticed Rita looked a little calmer, relieved that the mass of homeless people had left and weren’t planning on taking up permanent residence outside Lizzie’s.

I turned to Mor, who had been quiet the entire night. Outside of offering a few bits of information, he seemed content to simply observe the conversation between Albert and me. “What do you think of all this?” I asked, settling down on the well-worn couch.

Mor sighed deeply. “I don’t rightly know. Don’t got much advice to give you. Taking care of this place is about the most organizing I feel comfortable with. You two are talking about creating a whole ‘nother power in Night City, and that…that might not go down well with the Claws or Maelstrom or everyone else.”

He pulled two cans of NiCola from the fridge next to the couch and tossed me one. “Right now, all of us out on the streets are viewed as…kinda just there. We’re tolerated. What are people going to think if they see a homeless guy and there is a massive homeless gang throughout the city? Are the Claws going to think we’re encroaching on their territory if someone starts panhandling out in Kabuki?

“That being said, you know the NCPD has been cracking down hard on what they call the homeless problem up in North Watson. They clear that spot out, how soon is it going to be before they start moving south? Things need to change, that’s for sure. Maybe if we had an ally that could show a little teeth every now and then, we’d be a little bit safer.”

“And you’re thinking The Pack could be that ally.”

“Maybe,” replied Mor, his tone cautious. “But I don’t know if that’s entirely the right idea. That Albert guy has a slick way about him, and I can’t shake the feeling he might have his own agenda.”

I nodded, feeling the same. “Yea, I feel like I should talk with Deng and everyone about this. See what they got to say about it.”

“Good. You shouldn’t get roped into something just because you have some misguided idea about protecting people. You’ve got to think about yourself too. Deng and Fred and I were happy when you got your shit together and rented an apartment and started doing…whatever it is you do all day that keeps you off the streets. You wanna be a merc? You can be a merc. You wanna form a gang to challenge everyone in Night City? Do it, but only if it’s something you want to do. Don’t do it because you think you’re being forced into it.”

I sat back and sipped my NiCola, thinking about everything Mor had just said. “Do what’s good for me, huh?”

“Yea, that reminds me,” Mor said as he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “What would really be good for you is if the next time you drop a badge, you try and hide the body, huh?”

“What was I supposed to do? Carry him out to the Badlands or something? I don’t even have a car.”

He tsked. “Stupidest smart kid I know."

“Yea, that’s me alright.” But the question was: is helping to form The Pack stupid or smart?