The morning light crept over Night City like a reluctant truth, bathing M's mansion in warm gold. In the courtyard, the wind rustled through high fences and neon-lit vines. Birds didn't sing in Night City. They'd learned better.
M sat at the edge of his balcony, bare-chested again, sipping thick black coffee while watching a news drone hover past the skyline. Ava was in the kitchen. Something was frying—smelled like eggs, real eggs. Not synthetic.
He was thinking about scavs.
He hated them. Not from moral outrage. No, M had long discarded that particular crutch. He hated them because they were inefficient filth. Cancer with guns. The lowest denominator of human behavior.
But more importantly?
They gave points.
And points were progress.
M leaned back and tapped his glasses. Neural link synced.
"Delamain."
"Yes, Mister M?"
"contact Rogue for me tell he I have money and I need somethings, if she questions it just tell her I am one of your highest paying customers that should do the trick."
"Of course."
One minute later, his comm buzzed.
Incoming call: ROGUE AMENDIARES
He smirked. That was fast. He answered.
Her voice was smoke and scar tissue. Old, tired, iron-forged, and perpetually unimpressed.
"So. You're the guy with a lot of money."
M chuckled, low and smooth. "And you're the lady with a lot of power."
"Heard you want to do some business with me."
"I do, my lady. I'd say it's a pleasure, but I've got a feeling you don't deal in pleasures."
"Only in contracts. Let's hear it."
He leaned forward, tapping his knuckles on the balcony rail. "Three things."
"Of course you want three," she sighed.
"First: I want the locations of every scav hideout in the city and Badlands. I want them ranked—easy, moderate, hard. With all known defenses, patterns, gang intel, traffic in and out. Everything."
"Hoo boy," she muttered. "Someone's got a grudge."
"Grudge? No, no. There's no such thing as vengeance," M grinned. "I'm just a sportsman. And what better sport than killing scavs? No one misses them, no one mourns them. You can clear a room of twenty and still sleep like a baby."
She actually laughed—a short, dry bark.
"You're a goddamn lunatic. The useful kind."
He raised his glass in a mock toast. "I try to be."
"Fine. Second?"
"I want guns. Big, small, loud, silent. All power types. And I want them custom. I need a gunsmith you'd trust with your own life."
"I might know a guy," she replied, "down in Vista Del Rey. Works out of a trashhole shop, looks like someone stapled a junkyard to a garage. Name's Rickon. But he's a genius. You pay, he delivers. Don't haggle."
"Noted."
"Third?"
"I need a Nomad vehicle. Off-road capable. Armored. Weaponized. Doesn't explode if someone sneezes near it. Black and gold, of course."
"Because of course," she muttered again. "I'll pull a favor from Dakota. She's got a Javelina that might tick your boxes."
"And the cost?"
"A hundred for the info. One-fifty for the car. Guns? You'll figure that out when you empty your wallet at Rickon's place."
M grinned. "Rogue… you're a queen."
"I'm a businesswoman. Wait a few hours. Don't call again I will call when your meal is ready."
The call ended.
M stood, stretched his arms, and smirked. The hunt begins.
Four Hours Later – Gunsmith Rickon's Shop
The front of the shop was an insult to the idea of architecture. A mashup of scrap, flickering neon, and parts dangling from wires like meat hooks. The sign just read :
**BANG**
Inside, it was cleaner—barely. A dozen weapon racks, parts stacked in labeled bins, a cybermod workbench, and a man with oil-streaked arms, a mohawk, and cybernetic eyes that flicked with every movement M made.
"You Rickon?"
"Who's asking?" the man replied, pausing mid-weld on a barrel extension.
M dropped a credchip on the counter—custom-branded in gold.
Rickon looked at it. Looked up at M then Smirked. "You're that guy. Rouge told me you will come, a rich kid with a lot of money to spend".
"I need toys," M said simply. "Big ones."
"What kind of toys?"
The Shopping List was as follows :
Defender Power LMG – "For crowd control."
DB-4 IGLA Double-Barrel Shotgun – "For door breaching."
SPT32 Grad Sniper Rifle – "For poetic justice at long range."
M251S Ajax Assault Rifle – "General killing."
Two Overture Revolvers – "Old school. Makes a point."
Two Unity Pistols – "Standard issue."
Two Nue Pistols – "Concealable, sexy."
SOR-22 Precision Rifle – "For the elegant ones."
M2038 Tactician Shotgun – "Explosive negotiations."
Two Tamayura Pistols – "Exotic and smooth."
MA70 HB Light Machine Gun – "For when a wall need a new paint job."
Two Liberty Pistols – "Just because."
Two Machetes – "Some things need to be felt."
One Legendary Katana – "Custom sheath. Electromagnetic eject function. Sheath can be used as a bludgeon."
Rickon let out a long whistle.
"750k," he said. "No discounts."
M didn't blink. "Upload the modifications I sent earlier. I want every grip tuned to my biometric feedback. Calibrated recoil compensation. Gold micro-inlays on all handles. Removable silencers not trashy ones the top of the line ones."
"Done in three days."
"Done in two," M replied.
Rickon grinned. "You're intense. I like that."
Later That Night – In the Garage .....
Back at the mansion, M walked past the line of his four beloved machines and laid eyes on his new beast:
The Type-66 Javelina.
Black and gold. Reinforced windows. Chameleon paint coating. Military-grade armor, a turret that popped from the roof, and an off-road suspension system that could survive a warzone. It looked like it was built to break through walls—and the souls behind them.
Vehicle cost: 150,000 eddies
Rogue's info: 100,000 eddies
Weapons: 750,000 eddies
Total: 1 million spent.
M ran a hand along the new Javelina's body, then stepped back, surveying his gathered tools of chaos.
He smirked, eyes gleaming behind the glasses.
"I hope you're ready," he murmured to no one in particular. "I'm coming, scav bastards. And I'm not here to save anyone. I am just here to kick ass and chew bubblegum ..... And I am all out of bubblegum".
He walked back into the house.
The hunt was on.
........
Hey everyone one the author is here .
I can still write ten to 15 more chapters today . But since there are no feedback I am kinda of feeling down so until I see some feedback mainly comments . That's all for today.
Thanks , author out.