Out in the arid wastelands, three heavily modified Nomad vehicles moved in a tight formation, kicking up trails of dust like warriors marchi
Out in the arid wastelands, three heavily modified Nomad vehicles moved in a tight formation, kicking up trails of dust like warriors marching into battle.
Roqi and Mower rode in the Tingwei Makino "Warhorse," driven by an Aldecaldo whose face Roqi vaguely recognized but whose name he never caught.
"You sure you're good?"
Roqi glanced at Mower from the back seat. She was standing confidently behind the twin-mounted machine gun.
He wasn't doubting her skills—she was ex-special forces, after all—but it still surprised him she could handle both turrets solo.
She shot him a look that screamed, Seriously? You doubt me?
Roqi threw his hands up in surrender. Point taken.
"I still can't believe Saul got captured…" Panam's voice crackled through the comms in the other vehicle.
With the team all on an open channel, everyone could hear her clearly.
"Anyone else, sure. But Saul?" she added.
"Didn't you say he's not as sharp as he used to be?" V replied while driving.
"Yeah, but still…" Panam sighed. "Back in the day, he got civilians across the border under a hail of bullets. Hijacked a Petrochem fuel rig, opened the valves, tossed in some grenades, and turned the whole desert into a goddamn fireworks show—for the kids."
Her voice was thick with nostalgia and pride.
"That's the Saul I remember."
"Everyone's got someone they look up to," V said, picking up on her tone.
"I know, it's just that…"
"Sometimes, people change," Roqi cut in, his voice steady. Everyone went quiet.
"It's not that he's grown weak or cowardly. It's just—he's not a warrior anymore. He's the head of a family now. And when you're responsible for everyone... you start hesitating. Just like the first time you become a parent."
"…You've got a point," Panam said quietly. "But playing it safe won't save the Aldecaldos."
"I've actually read about your history," Roqi said, shifting in his seat.
In the late 1990s, Juan Aldecaldo, founder of one of the original seven Nomad clans, led a bloody war against the gangs running Los Angeles. After his son was killed in a turf war, Juan gave a fiery public speech that shook the nation—a nation already falling apart.
He formed a massive neighborhood watch movement and led a rebellion against corrupt law enforcement and media. Eventually, he left the city behind. During the Collapse, he led thousands south to Mexico, united with other Nomads, and rebuilt Mexico City. After his death, they returned to California with his ashes, where the San Diego branch has led ever since.
The Aldecaldos now span dozens of families across the U.S., never staying in one place.
Panam's faction was just one.
"Being a Nomad means you fight to survive. But once you grow into something bigger, it's not just about being fearless anymore. Saul's caution isn't totally off-base."
"Yeah… Saul's got it rough," Roqi added, recalling the respect Saul commanded back at the camp. Maybe not admiration, but definitely acknowledgment.
Panam stayed silent.
The convoy rolled onto the highway, pushing deeper into the Badlands.
V flicked on the radio, blasting cyber rock over the comms.
Cyberpunk cowboys.
That was the vibe.
The vehicles climbed a steep hill. On the other side, a panoramic view opened up—endless wasteland, jagged peaks, and wide valleys that stretched to the horizon.
"Holy shit! You guys see that?!" Panam shouted, her voice rising with excitement. "That storm's massive!"
Roqi stood up to see, joining Mower at the turret. The wind howled as they peered out.
A continent-sized wall of sand stretched across the sky—an incoming dust tsunami.
"Goddamn, that's so cool!!" Roqi shouted, grinning like a kid. But with the wind roaring, only Mower could hear him.
The turret was cramped, and the two were pressed together shoulder-to-shoulder. Mower tried to push him back into the cabin, but Roqi clung to the turret like a barnacle.
He pretended to admire the view, but his hand was already getting bold.
Mower didn't want anyone to notice the blush creeping up her face.
"That thing's terrifying," V said over the channel.
"Try seeing it up close," Panam warned. "We need to move—fast. Hey! You two! Behave!"
Roqi and Mower froze. Then, in perfect sync, they ducked back into the car like guilty teenagers.
The wind screamed above, but inside the cabin, an awkward silence hung between them.
Roqi looked at his hand and made a subtle squeeze, savoring the memory.
Smack!
Mower slapped his hand down and gave him a glare that could kill, her face now fully red. Then she stiffened and turned away.
But Roqi, ever the little shit, flashed a mischievous grin and did the one thing that always worked—puppy eyes.
Mower: …
She blushed even harder.
She never really knew if Roqi was messing with her on purpose, but he always got under her skin.
And yet, just a second later, he was sitting like a picture-perfect gentleman.
"All right. Showtime," Roqi said, instantly serious.
They parked behind a ridge a short distance from the cement factory now occupied by the Raffen Shiv.
"Okay, I'm heading for a sniper perch," Panam said, stepping out with her rifle.
"You're going in solo?" Roqi frowned. "What if you get spotted?"
"There's too many of them. Going in guns blazing would be suicide," V replied firmly. "You cover me from outside."
The team was sizeable: V, Panam, Roqi, Mower, Mitch, Scorpion, and seven Aldecaldo gunners.
But the Raffen outnumbered them—especially this particular branch, the Night Howlers. Old rivals of the Aldecaldos.
The factory likely held 30 to 40 enemies, but the area was huge—spread out thin enough to work around.
"Okay, then I'm coming with you," Roqi said. "Let's disable their security first. If shit hits the fan, the rest of the team backs us up. Once we've got Saul, we bounce."
Panam nodded. "Be careful."
The cement plant was nestled in a basin, surrounded on three sides by cliffs. Only one road led in.
Roqi and V snuck along a crumbling, half-buried railway line toward the outer wall.
Security wasn't tight—Raffen weren't exactly tactical thinkers.
A couple of tattooed idiots were pacing around outside the wall.
Roqi unslung his Ajax rifle, screwed on a suppressor, and steadied his aim.
Thup.
One bullet, one body down in silence.
Nice.
Meanwhile, V was equally clean—neck snap, body dumped in a crate.
Outer perimeter cleared.
Roqi much preferred dealing with dumb thugs than corpo black-ops units.
They slipped over the wall. Inside, the place looked like an abandoned scrapyard.
"Doesn't look like they're trying to restart the factory," V said, crawling between rusted crates.
"Wouldn't matter if they wanted to. These assholes don't know how to do anything but loot and kill," Roqi muttered, scanning for hostiles.
The silence was broken only by the sandstorm's distant rumble.
Their footsteps crunched audibly on the factory floor.
"Contact. Hide."
Roqi tapped V's shoulder, and both ducked behind a broken terminal.
A Raffen strolled by lazily with a rifle in hand.
Were these guys patrolling or just looking for a place to piss?
Once the guy wandered off, Roqi gave V the signal.
Kill confirmed. No alerts triggered.
"You're near the main building," Panam said over comms. "They've gotta have Saul in there."
"Sniper on the tower," Mitch warned.
Roqi and V immediately took cover.
Modern snipers weren't just deadly—they were practically auto-targeting drones.
"I'm launching a drone. Keep moving," Mitch added. "Battery's short, and the storm's coming."
The compact drone zipped upward like a dragonfly.
"Panam, found him. He's clear. Take the shot."
A soft pop echoed through the channel.
One Raffen sniper down. Panam's silenced rifle had spoken.
"Good. You're clear," she said. "My gut says Saul's in there."
Outside the factory's main building, everything screamed decay—rusted vehicles, crumbling equipment, half-collapsed containers.
Raffens were scattered across the yard. Stealthing past them would be a bitch.
And time was running out—the storm loomed.
"There. Stairs on the side," V pointed.
They took the long way around and reached the second floor undetected.
The control room was right ahead.
Roqi kicked the door in and came face-to-face with a surprised Raffen.
"Lucky day, huh?" Roqi grunted and kicked him hard—neck snapped clean.
"V, move!"
Dragging the body aside, Roqi peered out the glass wall—sandstorm closing in fast.
"I've got eyes on Saul. He's in the basement," V reported, scanning the monitors.
"How is he?" Panam asked anxiously.
"Hard to say. Too dark," V said, marking the map. "We're going down there."
The basement entrance was behind the main building, but the first floor was crawling with enemies.
"V, head to that walkway—see those two guys? Drop them," Roqi said, pointing.
"And you?" V asked.
"I'm going out front. Gonna make some noise. If we don't draw them out now, they'll all pile into the building when the storm hits—and that'll be bad news."
Roqi rotated his shoulders, scanning for something to exploit.
You mess with the Aldecaldos?
Let's see how you like it when the storm hits you back.
-
-
-
🤖 My Girlfriend's a Cyberpsycho—Who Knew?
📢 Cyberpunk Alert! 📢
Loving My Girlfriend's a Cyberpsycho—Who Knew? 💘🤖You can read more chapters in advance exclusively on Patreon! 💥🧠
Join the ride through Night City and stay ahead with early access! 🌆🔫
🔗 Join here: www.patreon.com/c/MrMagnus
👤 Patreon name: SrMagnus🐦 Follow on Twitter: https://x.com/SrMagnusBook
⚠️ Remember, I'll always post more chapters of the novel that gets the most Power Stones!