The Behemoth heavy truck finally rolled into Santo Domingo, then pulled up on a stretch of open scrubland.
Santo Domingo—one of Night City's oldest districts—now serves as the city's industrial park and power plant hub. Compared to Watson's industrial zone, it has plenty of factories too, but the vibe is more suburban parkland, with its eastern edge bordering the Badlands.
So finding a patch of wasteland here isn't hard—perfect for the final curtain.
As the Behemoth stopped, the armed pickups that had been tailing them fanned out to block every exit, forming a half-encirclement around the truck.
They'd run a long way; Arasaka's follow-on reinforcements arrived as well. Black-liveried Arasaka vehicles boxed in the scrub on all sides.
"Showtime," Lin Mo said, peering out the window and counting. "Not too many, not too few—ten cars on the nose. For just the two of us, they really are willing to spend."
Ten vehicles—two bodies per car is already twenty men. Ten to one.
"Heh. Compared to those marauders outside the research facility, no matter how big a ruckus they made, they only blew off some exterior cladding," Lucy said, looking through the glass. "We, on the other hand, blew up the research lab. That's a real loss."
She glanced at Lin Mo. "You're not going out there to take them down?"
"Uh-huh, who's the boss here, you or me?" Lin Mo arched a brow. "Why don't you hop out and handle them?"
Lucy's mouth twitched. She gave him a helpless side-eye, fresh irritation bubbling up.
Soon, Arasaka guards began dismounting around the truck, moving with textbook tactics, muzzles trained coldly on the Behemoth.
Their leader shouted the usual—come out with your hands up, or else.
Lin Mo treated it as wind in his ear. He lazily tuned the truck's radio instead and let music drift through the cab, utterly unbothered by the tightening noose.
When the pair still didn't emerge, the guards fired a warning barrage—rounds hammering the truck until the windows crazed into spiderwebs but held.
After that volley, they barked another warning: next time, they'd bring out the heavy stuff.
Lin Mo still didn't bother. At Lucy's slightly worried look, he chuckled. "They should be here any second."
…
As the guards hauled up heavier weapons, Maine's crew finally sprang the ambush.
Two Emperor 720s and a purple Quadra. Just three cars—but they made it feel like everyone else was surrounded.
First out, of course, was the twin-tails gremlin. She hopped down, braced her light machine gun on the door, and cackled as her big-bore stream tore through several guards before they even reacted.
A burly man with a topknot followed, striking a cowboy draw pose. Twin pistols flashed like a gunslinger's trick shots; his grin said this was more range day than firefight.
The others piled on—sniper rifle laid across a hood, Kitagawa Hiro's every shot a kill. Even guards tucked behind doors couldn't hide from EM-accelerated rounds.
Pilar shouldered his launcher and lobbed flash rounds into clusters; whiteout blossoms robbed half the line of their senses, gifting his team a perfect DPS window.
Maine's number two, Dorio, worked a Crusher one-handed while keeping an eye on everyone's lanes so nobody got hotheaded and careless.
Even David, under Jackie's watch, popped out with an Ajax kinetic rifle and took potshots from cover.
If you charted damage contribution, though… kid probably wouldn't crack ten percent. Still—he was here. He'd chosen to step in. That mattered.
Watching from the cab, Lin Mo felt a quiet satisfaction. Only one thing was missing—where the hell was Maine himself?
His brow knit—then he caught it: a huge silhouette blitzing across the field, too fast for normal eyes… but not for his.
A rugged face and hulking frame—Maine, running a Sandevistan.
He'd lit the speedware and was carving the battlefield like the wind. Some guards with reflexware managed to track him, but their bullets pinged off subdermal armor.
Lin Mo watched Maine sprint behind a pickup where several guards huddled. Maine grinned, lifted his forearm—clearly going for a wrist-mounted grenade launcher—only for it to jam, the arm refusing to deploy.
He smacked the limb in annoyance, then just used his fists, caving skulls in three quick blows.
All of it in time-slowed perception—details only Lin Mo would catch.
[Maine, don't overextend! Fall back!] Dorio snapped over comms, clocking his headlong dive and worrying.
[I'm fine. Relax!] he shot back.
After the kills he tucked behind the truck for cover, eyes gleaming, itching to hit that time-dilation high again.
…
When did he install a Sandy?
Lin Mo frowned. He understood why—Maine's an aug junkie, always chasing bigger, meaner chrome. After seeing Lin Mo freeze time, who wouldn't crave it?
Even without that influence, Maine would've hunted speedware eventually.
Lin Mo pinged Regina on the side: did she supply it?
Her reply was instant—she'd been following the op.
[Yeah. Pulled from my stock. Mark III. He sneered at Mark I and II. He's your guy, so call it a favor.]
"No wonder."
Before tonight, Lin Mo had leaned on her network to smooth Maine's gear purchases—hard-to-find pieces, doors only a pro fixer could open.
Maine must've lusted after a Sandy for ages—just lacked the right unit. A Mark I or II wasn't his style.
And if even David's mom could be a source sometimes, that told you plenty about Maine's other connections. Rising stars at Afterlife, sure—but still just one sharp crew among many. Not the inner circle.
Without Wakako, Lin Mo himself wouldn't have scored his Sandevistan. And the red-suit, four-eyes fixer they'd worked with? Judging by his attitude, that was business, not loyalty.
Regina cracking open her vault for a Mark III made the difference. In the real world, Mark IVs are just entering the market—you don't stroll into some ripper and pick one off the shelf.
Could he handle the side effects, though…? Lin Mo wondered.
"The people you brought are strong," Lucy said, tracking the fight.
"Mm. Strong enough," Lin Mo replied.
With his current stats, to be honest, Maine's team didn't look that scary anymore. Reflex from 10 to 15 is a quasi-exponential jump.
Back when he thought they were monsters, it was because he hadn't grown yet. Now they were what they are: Afterlife's promising newcomers—potent, but shy of top tier.
As for his crew… they haven't even knocked on Afterlife's door yet.
Not that he planned to recruit some hyper-elite outfit. No time, and he wouldn't find a better fit than these folks anyway.
"You're really not gonna go show off?" Lucy probed.
"No interest. If I mop them all myself, why bring Maine's people? To cheer and wave flags?" Lin Mo snorted.
He'd paid for help. Might as well use it.
"So when they're down, what then?" Lucy asked.
"Regina's people come in for cleanup. We smuggle the cyberpsychos out. Blow this truck and Arasaka's cars to scrap. Erase our footprints. Even if the corps want to chase it down, they won't be tracing it back to us."
"The guards aren't still pinging for backup?"
"Jammers are up. No signals in or out. This place is the grave we picked for them." Lin Mo's voice had gone cool.
Seeing Lucy about to keep asking, he preempted her with his own question: "Ever wonder why Night City has so many abandoned cars?"
"Why?" Lucy arched a brow.
"Because when you blast them to hell, that's one clean full stop."
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