I pressed my back against the cold concrete of a shattered planter outside the Batty. The plant inside was wrecked, torn to shreds, with dirt spilling onto the pavement like a fresh wound. My Kenshin was held tight in one hand as I leaned out just enough to get a glimpse of the chaos.

The street outside the Batty had turned into a warzone. My internal Agent buzzed nonstop, bombarding me with alert: Pacifica was under attack. No fucking kidding.

Three vans had parked out front of the Batty on the lower entrance level. Scavs poured out, a swarm of patchwork chrome that was bolted to skin without care, crude tattoos that marked past kills, and those glitchy masks that covered their faces, flickering like old CRT screens. They moved with a reckless fury – angry, unhinged, and high on whatever cocktail of chems kept them from feeling pain.

Gunfire cracked, loud and unforgiving. Bullets tore into the Batty’s façade, pinging off the metal railing by the steps, and chewed through the battered planter shielding me. The Scavs weren’t wasting any time, rushing up the steps to the Batty’s entrance, firing wildly. The railing that covered the stairs didn’t offer any real cover, barely more than a token obstacle, and the few Pack members inside couldn’t get a clear shot at the onrushing Scavs.

I braced myself. If I could slow them down, maybe we’d have a chance to turn this around. I shifted, lining up my pistol to take a shot – when a blur of movement snapped my attention to the right.

Cyndi.

She stormed out of the Batty, her Satara gleaming in the sun. The Scavs barely had time to notice her before her shotgun roared. The first shot hit like a freight train, turning a Scav into a crimson smear. The follow-up blast took down two more, their bodies crumpling and folding awkwardly as they tumbled back down the steps.

Cyndi didn’t stop moving, her Satara barking out with every step forward. Fire, reload, fire again. Pack member poured out behind her, rallying around her, hitting the Scavs with SMGs and shotguns and anything else they had. The Scavs rushing up the steps didn’t stand a chance. Caught in the open, they were cut down in seconds.

Above the chaos, the sharp crack of a precision rifle echoed. I craned my neck but couldn’t see much from my cover. But then again…I didn’t really need to. It had to be Zion. He’d taken up position on the second floor, obviously with clear sightlines so he could punish any Scav trying to attack the Batty.

I saw a Scav dart for cover, only to drop instantly, a neat hole punched clean through his skull. Another fell mid-sprint, his body collapsing as a pink mist hung in the air where his head used to be. Zion’s shots were surgical, each one clearing the path for Cyndi and the others, forcing the Scavs to falter just enough for us to push back.

I took the moment of breathing room to pick my own targets. I popped out of cover, firing quick, precise shots into the mob, focusing on those lingering near the vans.

Notifications from my internal Agent pinged incessantly, each one a red alert demanding my chaos and doing its best to try and drown me in chaos. Most of them were screaming about attacks across Pacifica, but one location came up over and over: the GIM. Whatever the Scavs wanted, they were focused there, either trying to make a statement or just burn the place down for the hell of it.

I clenched my teeth and sent out a quick command.

Noah: pull back to the GIM. I’m coming with Cyndi and reinforcements.

The Batty was still vulnerable, and leaving it felt like tearing off a limb. But Zion was upstairs, and he had a solid crew of security forces he’d been training. If anyone could hold the Batty, it was him. The man was a damn surgeon with a sniper rifle, and I’d seen him fight enough to know he wouldn’t let the Batty fall without one hell of a fight.

“Cyndi,” I barked, already moving toward the street.

She was beside me in second, calmly sliding fresh shells into her Satara like she had all the time in the world. “We’re heading to the GIM,” I said. “Grab who you can.”

She gave me a quick nod, already calling for nearby Pack members to form up. Most of them were the ones who’d been holding the Batty against the initial wave of Scavs. I didn’t wait for them to assemble; I was already moving, the urgency in my chest dragging me forward.

The rack of gunfire followed us as we sprinted out, the sound echoing in the air like a constant reminder that we were under siege. Neon signs reflected off shattered glass and spilled blood, painting the streets in garish, otherworldly hues. Pacifica felt like it was unraveling.

As we ran, the entrance to Dogtown loomed to the left. Barghest soldiers were dug in there, rifles barking out controlled bursts at anything that came too close. Scavs were keeping their distance, but Barghest didn’t seem picky about their targets. Civilians unlucky enough to be caught in the crossfire lay crumpled where they fell – some shot mid-sprint, their faces frozen in terror.

The scene twisted my gut, but there was nothing I could do for them now. I kept my eyes forward, my people close behind me, our boots pounding against the pavement. In hindsight, grabbing a vehicle would’ve been smarter, but I wasn’t thinking straight. My mind was locked on the GIM, and the question hammering in the back of my head: why the hell were Scavs coming after us like this? They weren’t the type to hit major players. Scavs preyed on the weak – kidnapping, chopping, and selling whatever scraps they could get. This? This was organized and something much more deliberate than their usual brand of chaos.

The GIM was just ahead, but to reach it, we had to rush through the underpass – a sprawling area that used to be a grim haven for the homeless. When we’d taken over Pacifica, we’d cleared out the space, offering everyone there a chance to join us or settle somewhere safer. Now, it was a battleground.

Gunfire ricocheted off concrete walls, amplified by the underpass’s natural echo. I could see Pack members dug in, crouching behind barricades of debris and unloading round after round into the charging Scavs. The air was thick was smoke, cutting visibility down to only a few feet. The Scavs were coming in waves, completely unhinged, sprinting toward members of The Pack like they had a death wish.

Bodies piled up along the edges of the fight, Scavs dropping like insects under the relentless gunfire. But for every one that fell, it felt like two more took their place, rushing forward with reckless fury.

I slowed for just a second, every instinct in me screaming to jump in and help. The Pack members were outnumbered, pinned down, holding on by sheer willpower and desperation. Bullets sparked off the makeshift barricades they’d cobbled together. Cyndi moved up beside me, her Satara resting against her shoulder. Her eyes flicked between the firefight and me. “Noah?” she asked, ready to move in at my signal.

I swallowed hard. Every fiber of me wanted to stay and fight. But instead, I shook my head. “No. We can’t stop here. The GIM’s the priority.”

Saying it felt like swallowing glass, but I knew that if the Scavs broke the GIM, Pacifica was finished. The Batty, the Pack, all of it – it would fall like dominos.

We veered right before the underpass, sprinting across a stretch of cracked asphalt that had once been a parking lot. The skeletal remains of old stores loomed around us, windows shattered, signs rusted and clinging to their frames. Even after we’d taken over Pacifica and tried to revitalize everything, places like this still lingered, untouched by our efforts. There was never enough time or resources to fix it all.

My breath came in sharp bursts, my heart hammering against my ribs as the sound of boots pounding behind me reassured me that Cyndi and the members of The Pack were still with me. We were so close to the GIM.

And that’s when the ambush hit.

Gunfire tore through the air, and I threw myself to the ground. My hands and arms were torn up by the cracked asphalt and gravel bit into my skin as the Pack scattered behind me. Some dove for cover; others tried to find where the shooting was coming from.

“Shit,” I hissed, rolling behind the rusted shell of a car.

Shadows moved in the ruins around us. A dozen Scavs crawled out from behind abandoned stores and wrecked vehicles, their mismatched gear glinting in the hazy sunlight. They didn’t hesitate. Gunfire erupted from their cheap weapons.

The Pack members closest to me dropped, their bodies hitting the pavement hard. Three of them. Blood spread across the ground like ink spilled on paper, and I barely had time to process it before Cyndi sprang into action.

Her Satara roared, each blast like a thundercap. The first shot tore through two Scavs, sending them sprawling, their bodies crumpling in a mess of blood and broken chrome. The second shot ripped through another, his glitchy mask flickering one last time before he dropped.

I raised my Kenshin, leaning out just far enough from the car to get a clear shot. The first Scav I saw had a mask flickering between a red smiley face and blue static. I squeezed the trigger, and my Kenshin snapped. One precise hit to the chest dropped him where he stood.

Another Scav charged at Cyndi, swinging a machete with wild, reckless aggression. I adjusted my aim and fired again. The three round burst caught him in the neck, spinning him like a ragdoll before he hit the ground in a pool of blood.

Cyndi, unfazed, kept moving. She reloaded and more Scavs went down. The rest of the Pack rallied, returning fire and cutting through the remaining Scavs like a buzzsaw.

In seconds, the ambush was over.

The parking lot was silent now, the chaos replaced by the distant crackle of gunfire coming from the GIM or the main drag. I rose to my feet, shaking off the adrenaline that threatened to cloud my focus.

I glanced at the bodies on the ground. Three Pack members I’d led into this mess – gone. Their lifeless faces stared at nothing, their blood seeping into the cracked asphalt. I wanted to look away, to block it out, but the images seared themselves into my brain.

Cyndi reloaded her Satara, the sound of shells snapping into place pulling me back to the moment. Her face was streaked with sweat and dirt. “Let’s move, boss.”

I nodded, forcing down the lump in my throat. We’d have to grieve later.

The parking lot gave way to what might have once been a small park – or maybe an outdoor mall. The remnants were still there: palm trees swaying in the night breeze, broken benches and shattered planters littering the ground. There were also signs that people had once made this a hangout spot: folded chairs sat scattered and overturned coolers lay abandoned, the contents spilled and forgotten. A few patches of grass had been trampled flat, the footprints of civilians making their desperate escape.

The quiet here was eerie, broken only by the distant staccato of gunfire echoing from other parts of Pacifica. For just a moment, I let myself imagine this spot before everything went to hell. Maybe people laughed here, lounged in the sun. Maybe they’d grilled burgers while trading stories about BDs they’d watched. I caught myself lingering in the thought and shook it off. This wasn’t the time for daydreams.

We kept running toward the GIM. The parking lot stretched ahead like an endless ocean of concrete, dotted with rusted light posts and the skeletal frames of abandoned cars. My legs screamed with each step, the burning in my calves and lungs pushing me to the edge of my stamina, but the sight ahead forced me to keep moving.

The GIM was a warzone.

A semicircle of Scav vans were parked in front of the GIM, blocking escape. Their drivers were firing from cover while more Scavs poured out, adding to the assault. Civilians were caught in the crossfire. I clenched my teeth as I watched a woman fall, her body jolting with the impact of stray rounds. She didn’t get back up.

Closer to the GIM, The Pack was holding the line. They were retreating in good order despite the chaos, but it was clear they were under incredible pressure. At the forefront was Deng, barking orders while firing his Kyubi. The assault rifle spat precise bursts of fire, cutting down Scavs, but even from here, I could see how bad things had got. The Pack was outnumbered. The line was crumbling.

My gut twisted as I chanced a glance back the way we’d come. The Batty was nearly lost in a haze of smoke and the distant flicker of flames. A pang of anxiety shot through me. Had the Scavs set it ablaze? And where was Zion? I couldn’t pick out the crack of his rifle anymore. Was he reloading? Moving to a new position?”

“Focus, Noah,” I muttered under my breath.

I felt a jolt in my chest and instantly knew something was wrong. Scavs surged forward with reckless abandon. Deng and his people were falling back, covering each other as they moved, but they were being overwhelmed. We weren’t going to make it in time.

I pushed harder, willing every ounce of energy into my legs, trying to close the distance. If we could hit the Scavs from behind, we could relieve some of the pressure on Deng and his team. But the space between us and the GIM felt endless, and the tide of Scavs wasn’t slowing.

The Scavs surged again, this time coming from the flank of Deng’s group. It was an overwhelming wave, too many to count. Their weapons were crude – SMGs and Nova pistols that sprayed bullets with wild inaccuracy – but their sheer numbers made up for it. They broke through The Pack’s flank like a flood, rushing in with a chaotic frenzy.

Deng was swarmed.

It was like watching a lion brought down by jackals. One Scav buried a blade deep into his side, and then another joined, slashing at him. Deng grunted, his rifle slipping from his hands as his knees buckled. He reached for the pistol holstered at his hip. He got it out – barely – and fired, hitting a Scav in the leg. The bastard howled and crumpled, but it wasn’t enough. More piled on, knives flashing.

And I just…froze.

The first time I met Deng, I thought he was going to kill me. He didn’t say or do anything threatening – he just had that air about him. Like he owned whatever space he was in. Like he didn’t just walk into a room; he took it over.

Now that same man, the one who radiated an almost unshakable power, was being dragged down in front of me.

I should’ve been firing. I had my Kenshin in my hand, but I might as well have been holding air. My fingers felt useless. My brain was screaming at me to do something, to pull him out, to save him. But all I could do was stand there, paralyzed, watching.

Deng had pulled me into this life. Told me I was more than just some kid loitering in the alcove. One of the first jobs we pulled, we broke into some dead guy’s apartment in a megabuilding. Deng and his crew rifled through the man’s things, finding everything worth selling, barking orders at me like he’d known me forever.

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He took me under his wing. Just like Fred did. Just like Mor did. I was a kid. He didn’t know me, but he looked after me.

Deng always had a story. About Night City before the nuke. About the RED – about chaos and survival. He’d seen it all. Survived it all. He was supposed to survive this too.

He’d put me on this path. Fred and Mor, sure, they gave me a place I belonged. They’d taught me. They looked after me. But Deng had sat me down and explained that I had more to give. Said that I couldn’t just waste my life away as a homeless kid in Night City.

The jacket I was wearing was a gift. He gave it to me. Told me I’d earned it. That I’d earned my place in this city. I remembered how proud he looked when I put it on. That rare, quiet smile of his, like I’d passed some unspoken test.

And now? That smile was gone, twisted into a grimace of pain.

I moved forward – or tried to. It didn’t feel like moving. More like sinking. Like stepping into deep water, the cold wrapping me, pulling me under.

The edges of everything blurred.

Dissolved.

My chest rose, fell, strained.

No air.

Nothing came.

I couldn’t

Breathe. My skin burned, heat crawling up from deep inside me, a fire I couldn’t control. Couldn’t stope.

My arms. They wouldn’t move. Strapped down. Locked. Muscles screaming at me to do something. Anything. I couldn’t stretch. Couldn’t reach. Couldn’t stop them.

The walls were closing in. My ribs felt like they were folding inward, crushing my lungs. Like the weight of the ocean was pressing me down, deeper and deeper. I tried to move. Tried to fight. Body wouldn’t listen.

Every inch of me was stuffed into a box too small, too tight, too closed off, my limbs thrashing in a useless, desperate attempt to break free. My arms twitched. My fingers clawed at the air. But they weren’t my fingers. Someone else’s hands. Someone else’s failure.

Pressure.

Crushing. Suffocating.

I needed to breathe. I needed to stretch. To move. To do. But my body betrayed me, collapsing under the weight. My mind – splintering and grasping for something to hold onto.

Anything.

Sparks of thought flared and fizzled out in the dark. Where am I? What’s happening?

I was strong once. Unbreakable. Wasn’t I?

I could hear them. The Scavs. Their laughter. It was sharp and static-filled, worming its way into my ears.

They were laughing at me.

Laughing at Deng. Laughing at Fred. At Mor. Laughing at how easy it was to break us. Break me.

I wasn’t breathing anymore. Was I? My lungs burned, but there was no air. Just the pressure. The panic.

I was drowning.

The world was slipping. Fading. Pulling me deeper into the suffocating drink.

I clawed for something. Some shred of memory, some thread of reality, some thread of hope.

But there was nothing. Just the void.

Just the dark.

&&&

Diego

The GIM was hell. Smoke and blood turned the air into something thick and unbreathable. The floor was slick with gore, the jagged remains of shattered chrome and bones glinting like teeth under the flickering lights. Diego’s shotgun barked again, the recoil rattling his cybernetic arms as he sent another Scav sprawling in a mess of metal and torn flesh. But it didn’t matter.

They just kept coming.

Scavs were rushing at the lines like rats onto a ship.

And Deng…Deng was gone.

Diego tried not to think about it, but it was there – burned into his mind. The image of his friend dragged down, swallowed whole by that writhing, snarling tied of Scavs. He’d fired into the mass, desperate to clear a path, desperate to do something. But it wasn’t enough. Deng was lost.

The loss felt like a blow to the chest, a gaping wound Diego couldn’t afford to tend to right now. Deng wasn’t just another fallen comrade in a history replete with them. He was more than that. He’d understood. Deng had been one of the few who truly got what it meant to claw your way back from the corporate machine and try to piece together a life.

They’d met at a veterans’ support group. A grim circle of people who wore the same scars and carried the same haunts. Diego had been lost back then, still caught in the rhythms of a life built for endless wars. Militech had turned him into a weapon, a blunt instrument honed for their purposes, and when they were done, they’d discarded him without a second thought.

Deng had seen that. He’d reached out to Diego with that steady, calm authority of his – the kind that made you stop and listen. He’d been through the same thing, walked the same road, clawed his way out of the same pit. He’d shown Diego how to use what the corps had made him into, how to reclaim his humanity instead of letting it drown under all the chrome and circuitry. Others who’d been in the vet support group hadn’t been so lucky.

Without Deng, Diego would’ve been another ghost in the city. Another hollow merc in a city full of hollow men.

But Deng was gone now.

Diego shoved the thought aside, his grip tightening on his shotgun. He couldn’t afford to lose himself. Not here. Not now.

Movement caught his eye, pulling him back into the fight.

Noah.

The kid was charging into the chaos alongside Cyndi, with a squad of Pack fighters at their back.

But…something was different.

Diego saw Noah wade into the fray. The Kenshin in his hand spat fire with every step, and his other arm whipped a glowing monowire through the air. The razor-thin line sliced through the Scavs like a reaper’s scythe, leaving svered limbs and spraying viscera in its wake.

Why wasn’t Cyndi holding him back?

She was supposed to be protecting him. Keeping him from doing something reckless. Sure, Noah could handle himself in a fight – he’d learned fast under Deng, Zion, and Diego’s guidance – but this? This wasn’t strategy. This wasn’t control.

Noah was on the front line, leading the charge. And there was something about the way he moved that froze Diego’s insides.

Each strike was deadly, but it wasn’t the skill that unnerved him. It was the coldness. The absence of hesitation. Noah wasn’t fighting like the eager, green kid Diego had worked with. This was different.

Darker.

Diego had never seen Noah fight like this. He’d always had something holding him back – a sense of restraint, maybe even doubt. But now? Now there was nothing stopping him. Every Scav that fell to his monowire, to his gun, only seemed to drive him forward.

This wasn’t the Noah he knew.

This was something else. Something sharper. Colder. Something broken.

Cyndi was right there beside Noah, her Satara roaring as it tore through the Scavs. The heavy thud of each shot echoed across the GIM as she punched hole after hole through their ranks. When her gun ran dry, she didn’t hesitate. She tossed the Satara aside, the weapon clattering to the ground as her mantis blades snapped into place with a metallic clink. In an instant, she became a whirlwind of steel, moving with lethal precision.

Together, Noah and Cyndi tore through the Scavs. Blood, chrome, and bodies scattered in their wake. The Pack fighters followed close behind, pouring in, filling the gaps, adding to the chaos. For a brief moment, Diego dared to hope. Maybe – just maybe – they could hold the line. Maybe they could push these bastards back.

He slammed a fresh magazine into his shotgun, pumping it with a practiced rhythm. The boom of each shot became the heartbeat of their survival, each blast cutting down the feral attackers in front of him. But then…he saw them.

Not Scavs.

A group of new fighters poured through the GIM’s entrance. They moved like predators – controlled, efficient, and coldly lethal. This wasn’t the wild, chaotic rabble that Diego had been cutting through. These guys knew what they were doing. Their formation was tight and practiced, each one carrying their weapons with the calm confidence of years of combat drills.

Diego’s gut clenched. He knew exactly what he was looking at. Years with Militech had taught him how to spot corporate training from a mile away. These weren’t hired thugs. They were something different.

At the head of the group was a massive borg – a walking tank with chrome gleaming in the dim, flickering light. The merc looked like he’d been ripped straight from a corpo recruitment vid. Big. Mean. His arms ended in hydraulic fists that looked like they could crush skulls with a single hit.

Diego fired on instinct. The shotgun’s blast thundered, the shot cutting through the chaos. The merc blurred – ducking behind cover with a speed that didn’t match his size.

Fucking Sandy users.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it. His shotgun bucked again as he fired into the line of corporate soldiers charging in. One of them went down with a heavy thud, his body hitting the ground like a ragdoll. Another staggered as a slug caught him in the shoulder, spinning him to the floor. But Diego wasn’t fooled. He knew the score. Corpo subdermal armor wasn’t the kind you picked up at a street ripper. They’d take more than a couple shotgun blasts to go down for good. For now, though, they were out of the fight.

He aimed at the spot where the borg had ducked, but before he could pull the trigger, the merc was on him.

In the blink of an eye, the borg covered the distance between them, his gorilla arms flying toward Diego.

It felt like a fucking mountain had hit him. The force sent Diego reeling, his ribs flaring with white-hot pain, but he didn’t fall. Years of training, of sheer stubbornness, kept him on his feet. His shotgun slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground, but he didn’t have time to think about it.

The merc lunged forward, pressing his advantage. Diego didn’t have a plan. He didn’t think. He just moved. Instinct kicked in as he sidestepped the next swing, his body screaming in protest. He slammed his fist into the merc’s ribs. The borg grunted, but Diego wasn’t finished. He followed it up by slamming his forehead into the merc’s face.

The impact shot a spike of pain through Diego’s skull, but it worked. The borg’s head snapped back, momentarily stunned. Diego seized the chance, grabbing the borg and forcing him back toward the makeshift barricade The Pack had hastily thrown together.

They were locked in a brutal struggle, flesh and chrome clashing together, the two of them fighting for control. Each moment was a battle of wills, and Diego would be damned if he was gonna lose.

Anna

Anna pressed her back against the cool stone of the massive dolphin statue. The calm of the statue felt wrong in the madness going on around her. She peeked out from behind it, raising her rifle with steady hands. A Scav darted across the open floor, and her shot rang out, the round slamming into his chest. He crumpled, just another body to add to the growing pile.

Beside her, one of the GIM’s security turrets hummed and swiveled, tracking its targets. It unleashed a brutal barrage, shredding a group of Scavs that had peeled away from the entrance. The air was filled with screams and the heavy thud of bodies hitting the ground.

Anna’s eyes traced their way across the room, catching sight of Noah and Cyndi in the thick of the action. They were a blur of movement, carving through the Scavs like they were nothing more than paper. Blood and borg fluid sprayed in their wake. Noah’s monowire flashed out like a serpent, slicing clean through flesh and chrome. Cyndi’s mantis blades flashed, cutting arcs of devastation.

Across the room, Diego was locked in a brutal struggle with a borged-out merc. Anna felt a pang of frustration. She wanted to help – wanted to give Diego an opening – but they were too close together. Her shots would only risk hitting him. If Zion were here, that fight would be over already. Anna winced as the borg landed a heavy blow to Diego’s ribs, but he didn’t go down. Instead, he countered with a brutal headbutt, sending the merc stumbling back, and the two of them locked into a wrestling match.

Anna gritted her teeth, refocusing on the fight around her. Her rifle snapped up, picking off a few attackers who’d emerged from behind cover. They moved with a discipline that set them apart from the rest of the Scavs. They looked…dangerous. Anna started taking shots, trying to force the mercs to duck behind cover.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of movement. A figure, fast as can be, we rushing toward Diego. The merc’s mantis blades gleamed like fangs. He was airborne, leaping toward Diego. Anna didn’t think – she just reacted. She fired at the merc as he reached the apex of his jump. But the shots missed, flying wide as the merc landed on top of Diego.

It happened in an instant, but it felt like time slowed to a crawl.

The borg holding Diego shifted, twisting his position, as if presenting him to the incoming merc. Anna’s heart skipped a beat. She watched in horror as the merc’s mantis blades slammed into Diego’s side, punching through his subdermal armor and deep into his flesh. Diego staggered, dropping to one knee, a look of shock and pain spreading across his face.

Anna raised her rifle, her aim steady even as panic surged through her chest. She fired twice, the rounds slamming into the merc’s head. The impact was brutal – one shot shattered his skull, the next penetrated it, sending a mist of blood into the air. He topped lifelessly, but Anna knew it was too late.

Diego was barely holding himself up, his body swaying as if it were already giving way. His eyes were empty, distant – he was fading. Anna swung her rifle toward the borg, ready to finish him off, but before she could fire, a thin, glowing orange line shot out, wrapping around the borg’s neck.

Anna blinked, tracking the line back to Noah. He was standing a few feet away, blood-slick and wide-eyed, his body shaking with adrenaline. He snarled, activating the monowire, pulling it tight with a vicious twist. The line sliced cleanly through the borg’s neck, decapitating it in a single smooth motion. The head hit the ground first, followed by the rest of the body.

Cyndi was already rushing toward Diego. Her mantis blades snapping back into her arms as she dropped to her knees beside him. Anna didn’t need to hear the words – they didn’t matter. The look on Cyndi’s face said everything. It was too late.

Anna gave herself a moment, just standing there, staring listlessly at Cyndi and Diego. The room was a whirlwind of destruction, but for her, everything stopped.

A whirring sound snapped her back to reality. She glanced to her left, confused, and saw the security turret that had been fending off the Scavs now swiveling toward her. Her eyes narrowed. What the hell?

Before she could react, the turret opened fire.

Cyndi

Cyndi knelt by Diego’s side, her breath hitching as she took in the scene. Blood spread beneath him in a dark, viscous pool, soaking into the cracked floor like a shadow swallowing him whole. His eyes were half-closed, lifeless, but his face wasn’t twisted in fear or pain. He looked…at peace. The sight of it made Cyndi’s chest tighten, the grief curling inward like a fist squeezing her lungs.

Diego had been her rock – the one who’d stood by her when her world had been stripped bare. Back when she’d been little more than a shattered shell, a girl scarred and broken after being kidnapped and sold to that Tyger Claw psycho fuck. Diego had found her in the wreckage of her life, helped her claw her way out. He’d been patient, even through the tears and the screaming fits, even when she’d pushed him away. He’d trained her, taught her to fight, and how to choose cyberware that didn’t just make her stronger but made her feel safe. He’d treated her like family, like a daughter. And now he was gone.

She felt something break inside her, but she shoved it down, forcing the pain and grief into the pit of her stomach. The fight wasn’t over, and Diego wouldn’t want her to fall apart here. Not now.

The sharp thump-thump-thump of gunfire snapped her head up. One of the GIM’s security turrets had swung into action. But it wasn’t firing at Scavs anymore. Its barrel was turning – toward her and Noah.

Noah.

He stood a few feet away, drenched in blood and borg fluid, his stance all wrong. He wasn’t moving. Wasn’t reacting. His head was tilted slightly, his expression vacant, like he wasn’t even in his own body anymore. The turret’s targeting laser glinted against his chest, zeroing in.

Cyndi’s instincts roared to life. She didn’t think – she just moved. In one swift motion, she launched forward, slamming into Noah and tackling him to the ground, the turret rounds screaming past where he’d just been standing.

“Noah, move!” she barked, her voice sharp, trying to cut through the haze that clouded his eyes. She pulled him up and dragged him forward, keeping low as the turret continued to whir and click, searching for another shot. Her focus split, half on the chaos unfolding around them and half on the man she’d sworn to protect.

Noah wasn’t just The Pack’s leader; he was their center. Their heart. He was the one who’d pulled them all together, turned their fractured group into something solid, something real. Cyndi didn’t think he even realized what he’d done – or how much he meant to them. To her.

Diego, Fred, Mor, even Deng – they’d all seen it. They’d treated Noah like their son, their protégé, their reason to keep fighting. She’d seen the quiet pride in their eyes whenever they talked about him, about how he’d taken the homeless and the forgotten and turned them into The Pack. He’d given them something worth fighting for. Something worth dying for.

Diego had been lost after clawing his way out from under Militech’s oppressive shadow. His life, once dictated by orders barked through corporate comms, had unraveled when they discarded him like scrap. Then Noah came along and gave him purpose. With Noah, Diego found a way to protect people who truly needed it, to make a living without selling his soul to the corpo machine that had chewed him up and spit him out.

Zion had been a wreck, chasing the edge as a merc. Job after job, thrill after thrill, like he was daring death to claim him. Diego used to say Zion was trying to burn himself out, a slow-motion suicide by the barrel of someone else’s gun. Then Noah stepped in and offered Zion something he never thought he could have – a chance to build something that mattered. A reason to live beyond the next adrenaline high.

Anna had shared her story with Cyndi once, late at night over too much vodka. She’d been a badge, drowning in the rot of the NCPD, trying to do good in a system rigged to crush her. Then she met Noah. “Kid’s done more for Night City in a day than most cops do in their whole damn careers,” she’d said, her voice thick parts with equal parts bitterness and admiration. Admiration that Noah had taken out the most damaging cancer cells in Night City. Bitterness that he was the one who had to.

And then there was her and John. Cyndi still woke up some nights, heart racing, cold sweat slicking her skin, memories of Jotaro Shobo searing her mind. That living nightmare would’ve swallowed them whole if not for Noah. He’d rescued them, given them more than just a second chance. He’d given them a place to belong, a family, a reason to believe in tomorrow.

She’d sworn to protect him, whatever it took. Whatever it cost her.

Cyndi gritted her teeth, her muscles screaming in protest as she hauled Noah up the shattered remnants of the GIM’s escalators. Her grip on him was iron-tight, his weight dragging like an anchor as he stumbled behind her. He was dazed, the fire that usually burned in his eyes dulled, his monowire dangling useless at his side. His Kenshin hung loosely from his hand, more deadweight than weapon.

In the back of her mind, Deng’s voice rang clear, steady as it always had been. “There’s a tunnel in Noah’s office, through the projection room. If things ever go to shit, that’s your way out.”

And things had gone to shit. Utterly and completely.

The lights of the GIM flickered, casting jagged, chaotic shadows across the walls. The once-bustling mall was now a tomb, filled with gunshots and the guttural roars of fighting below. Cyndi cursed under her breath.

What the hell was going on now?

The security turrets that had been their saving grace moments ago had gone silent. Their protective rain of fire, which had held back the tide of chaos, was gone. The sound of the Scavs’ onslaught grew louder, unchecked, their feral cries a cacophony of madness.

Her thoughts raced. The GIM’s automated systems weren’t supposed to fail like that. They’d been built to be untouchable, hardened against outside interference. Sandra and Deng had been so sure of that.

Unless…

Cyndi’s blood ran cold, and her mind raced with a singular, chilling thought: The Voodoo Boys.

The Pack had annihilated them though. Their attack had been brutal and decisive, dismantling infrastructure, wiping out any and all gang members, and ensuring the VDB couldn’t ever rise again. At least, that’s what everyone thought.

But what if they hadn’t finished the job?

The lights flickered again, then snuffed out completely. The sudden darkness felt alive, pressing in on her. Cyndi’s breath hitched as she tightened her grip on Noah’s arm.

“C’mon, Noah,” she urged, her voice firm despite the fear clawing at her insides. “Just a little farther.”

Her legs felt like they were made of lead, but she forced herself forward. The GIM was crumbling, chaos threatening to swallow them whole. She had to get him out. There was no room for hesitation.

Dim emergency lights kicked in, casting a sickly, uneven glow over the hallways as they entered the derelict cinema. The place smelled of mildew and decay. Dust motes floated like restless ghosts in the faint light. The space was cavernous and empty, chipped tiles and cracked concrete echoing each step they made. The abandoned cinema was little more than a path to Noah’s office in the projector room.

And then she heard it: the distinct, deliberate rhythm of boots striking tile behind them.

Her heart dropped into her stomach.

She whirled around, shoving Noah towards his office with more force than she intended. “Go!” she shouted, her voice raw with desperation.

Noah stumbled forward, his steps sluggish and uneven as he tried to obey. But Cyndi didn’t wait to see if he reached his office. She turned towards the oncoming threat, her instincts honed to a razor edge.

The darkness seemed to grow heavier around her, the faint emergency lighting barely enough to show the shapes moving toward them. Her mantis blades snapped into place with a chilling shink, their edges gleaming faintly in the dim light.

Cyndi activated her Berserk OS.

The world seemed to slow, then sharpen, flooding her vision with stark clarity. Blood roared in her ears, her muscles burned with artificial power, and every nerve screamed to fight. Pain was gone. Doubt erased.

The first merc burst into the room, his rifle half-raised. She was on him in a flash, her mantis blades slashing through his torso in a spray of blood and borg fluid. His face twisted into terror before he crumpled to the ground.

Another merc. Then another. She sprinted through the rushing horde of mercs, blades slicing flesh and steel. A man screamed as she tore through his chest, his voice gurgling and wet. Blood splattered her face, warm and sticky. She reveled in the fear that bloomed in the eyes of those who dared to attack her.

Four were dead before one even managed to aim. She sidestepped a merc, his shotgun blast tearing through the air where she’d been a split second earlier. Her blade arced low, carving through the merc’s leg. He dropped like a stone, howling.

A gunshot. Sharp and close. Her body jerked as the bullet found her side. She tried to pivot, but her response was sluggish. She wasn’t invincible. The Berserk OS pushed her past pain and hesitation, but it couldn’t stop the inevitable.

Another merc rushed her. She dodged to the side, driving her blade through his throat before tearing it free. She didn’t stop, carving through two more who came at her in tandem. One screamed as she plunged her blades into his chest, his blood washing over her hands.

A flicker in her vision. Something wrong. A quickhack.

She snarled and charged the netrunner trying to fry her system. Her blades pierced his chest, her weight slamming him to the floor. His body twitched and fell silent.

A deafening boom.

Her shoulder exploded as her arm, her mantis blades still extended, was blasted clean off by a shotgun. She fell to the ground.

The room shook. Behind her, an explosion ripped through the air.

Shouts. Screams. The sound of collapsing debris filled the space. Dust and smoke clouded her vision, and she coughed as her lungs fought for breath.

She forced herself up, but her body wasn’t cooperating. She collapsed to the ground, her vision swimming. Her head lolled, and she tried to get a glimpse of the project room.

Noah’s office.

It was gone.

Dust and debris swallowed everything. Chunks of concrete and twisted metal filled the space. Nothing could have survived that.

Her head fell back. Her Berserk OS shut off.

A shadow loomed over her. A merc who raised a Crusher shotgun.

Cyndi stared up at him, defiant even as her strength drained away.