"News Channel 54 reports—"
"An urgent news interruption. We've just received word that the Dogtown convoy assigned to deliver weapons was ambushed in the Badlands by unidentified forces."
"Casualties are still being counted. The surrounding area has been locked down by troops under Colonel Kurt Hansen. Unfortunately, our reporter has yet to establish contact with this ambitious military strategist."
"For more updates, please stay tuned—"
The radio cut to silence with a sharp click. Senor leaned forward, switching it off with a scowl etched across his face. His features, usually calm and disciplined, were drawn tight with tension.
Across from him, William stared out the cracked window of the vehicle, his mind wandering. Compared to Senor's grim expression, his own reaction was one of confusion—curiosity, even.
This world still felt unreal to him.
He wasn't a street rat scraping for scraps, nor some corpo hound shackled to a cubicle, so why did he suddenly find himself as one of Dogtown's soldiers?
Then again… perhaps it wasn't all bad. Being part of Dogtown at least offered him a sliver of protection. Without that thin layer of affiliation, the battle earlier might have gone far worse—he might already be dead.
It was the year 2075. The story of this era had yet to fully unfold.
The embers of the Fourth Corporate War still smoldered across the globe, scarring both city skylines and the minds of its survivors. The Ye Corporation's shadow still loomed large, leaving behind its legacy buried deep in the fertile soil of North America, where Night City rose like a neon jewel on a broken crown.
The legends of this world were already stepping onto the stage. William knew their stories, knew their names. But he? He was no legend.
Not yet.
With a heavy breath, William flicked open his personal attribute panel. His eyes darkened at the numbers glaring back at him.
Weak.
That was the only word he could use to describe himself.
His cyberware was a patchwork of cheap, second-hand implants—assembly-line junk barely worth the screws holding them together. His stats were low, his reflexes lagged compared to even the most half-baked street merc, and worst of all, his bank account was almost empty.
Most of his military pay had gone into two things: painkillers mixed with glitter for sleepless nights… or losing hand after hand at cards with Dogtown's grizzled veterans.
He was broke, under-equipped, and—if he was honest with himself—completely unprepared.
William exhaled, shoulders heavy with hesitation.
Where was he supposed to go now? What was he supposed to do?
Having just been thrust back into this world through what felt like a second life, he hadn't even found his footing before Night City had slapped him in the face. He was adrift, disoriented, yet painfully aware that standing still meant death.
The only option left was to return to Dogtown.
But that came with its own risks.
He couldn't just stroll through the city, knocking on doors and asking people like Rebecca to join him. That was absurd.
His pulse still raced from the firefight earlier, the near-death moment that had left his hands trembling around his rifle. Even now, echoes of gunfire rang in his ears.
During that battle, he'd instinctively shouted at Senor to bring the supplies, a reaction born of something deeper—fear. Fear of one man: Colonel Kurt Hansen.
Hansen's reputation was ironclad. A man as decisive as he was ruthless, he ruled Dogtown with an iron grip. Rewards and punishments came swiftly, but when he chose punishment, it was brutal.
The panel blinked again.
[Character "Rebecca" Favorability Updated]
[Favorability: 0 (You've caught her attention. Good luck.)]
[Reward: Reaction +2]
William blinked in surprise, staring at the glowing words. He had expected… something more. Maybe a rush of strength, or a surge of clarity. Instead, all he felt was a faint lightness in his head and a steadier grip on the rifle in his hands.
Not much, but it was something. A sign that the system—whatever strange thing had given him this chance—was real.
"Finally," he whispered under his breath. "A way forward."
The sharp squeal of tires jolted him back to reality.
"Shit! Brother, we can't go back," Senor growled, slamming the brakes hard enough that William nearly slammed face-first into the dashboard.
William frowned. Senor's panic was palpable. Could Hansen truly be that terrifying?
From the passenger seat, Cyno groaned, shaking his bloodied arm as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket. His fingers trembled as he lit it, the flame catching with difficulty. Smoke curled through the cramped space.
"Listen, buddy," William said carefully, "this isn't a good idea. Hansen's influence stretches across the city. The NCPD's in his pocket, the corps don't interfere, and Dogtown is his turf. Where do you think you can run? Unless you plan on leaving Night City altogether and heading into New America."
His tone was calm, but his words were heavy.
If they abandoned their mission now, there was still a sliver of an excuse left to cling to—ambush, overwhelming odds, bad luck. Hansen might spare them. But if Cyno fled? That would paint him as a traitor, and Hansen had no mercy for traitors.
"NCPD?" Cyno scoffed, his eyes flicking toward William. The smirk he wore was half-bitter, half-resigned. "Brother, you're not wrong. But I'm not going back to be Hansen's dog again. Not after this."
His hand drifted casually toward the pistol at his waist.
William's grip on his rifle tightened instinctively. The air grew thick with tension, silence stretching as both men measured each other.
Seconds ticked by, marked only by the soft hiss of Cyno's burning cigarette. When it was nearly gone, William finally spoke.
"Alright, buddy," he said softly. "Go. I'll tell Hansen I never saw you."
The words came with a forced smile, but the relief in Cyno's eyes was unmistakable.
Everyone carried their own burdens, their own ambitions. If Cyno wanted to gamble his life on freedom, William had no right to stop him. Besides, he owed the man—Cyno had saved his skin back in the firefight.
As for William? He had no choice but to return.
The system's panel flashed again:
[Character: Kurt Hansen]
[Faction: Dogtown]
[Favorability: 0 (You definitely don't want him thinking you're useless. Return, admit your mistake.)]
[Development Potential: Extremely High]
[Stage Reward: Return to Dogtown and meet Hansen. Gain access to other Legends. +1 to all stats.]
The words glowed like a cruel beacon. The message was clear: his path lay back in Dogtown.
Senor let out a shaky sigh, tension bleeding from his body. He finished his cigarette, flicked the butt out the window, and stepped out of the car. William watched in silence as the man shuffled away, shoulders heavy with defeat.
"Here," Senor said suddenly, tossing something through the window. A pair of sweat-soaked gloves landed in William's lap. "Company-made. Durable. Non-slip. You'll need them more than me."
William stared at the gloves for a long moment before shaking his head with a weary smile.
Neither path was easy. But compared to running, Dogtown felt… less hopeless.
Colonel Hansen might be ruthless, but he didn't waste useful soldiers. If William could prove his worth, Hansen would not throw him away.
That was enough of a reason to go back.
The engine rumbled to life. The car crept forward along the Taiping Island highway, headlights cutting through a haze of smoke, garbage fires, and half-collapsed paint-smeared walls. At the end of the stretch loomed Dogtown's checkpoint.
"Submit to inspection," a soldier in heavy exo-armor barked, raising a hand.
A massive shutter descended, filling the night air with a low mechanical whir. Crisscrossing beams of infrared light spread across the road, catching every detail—from William's face to the strands of his hair.
William tilted his head obediently, exposing the neural port at the base of his skull. The soldier connected a cable to his interface, eyes narrowing as he scanned.
"Well, well," the guard chuckled. "So you're one of the unlucky bastards from this morning? Colonel Hansen's waiting for you. You're the third one to limp back alive."
William forced a smile and remained still through the process.
"Move it! What's the holdup, a car wash?" another soldier barked, shoving him forward with casual disrespect.
Dogtown's soldiers weren't exactly polite—not even to their own.
The vehicle finally pulled into the heart of Dogtown. Rising above the decrepit streets stood a rare jewel: the Sapphire Blue, one of the district's only truly elegant buildings. A skyscraper of glass and steel, it shone like an alien monument against the ruin surrounding it. This was Hansen's fortress, his seat of power.
William barely had time to step out before several guards disarmed him and shoved him toward the elevators. A heavy hand slammed onto his shoulder.
"Hey, William. Keep your eyes open," a soldier muttered, his face tattooed with letters. The voice was strangely familiar—someone William had known in his last life. But before he could respond, the soldier shoved him toward the elevator doors.
The metallic hiss of the elevator swallowed him whole.
---
Meanwhile, across town on Twisted Street, Rebecca kicked her boots onto the table, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.
"Mann, did you even hear me? Those Netherhound assholes shouted my name! My name! Do you know what that means?"
"Calm down," Mann muttered, rubbing his temples as though the headache was drilling into his skull.
Rebecca wasn't having it. "We agreed this job was supposed to be top secret! But instead, those idiots were screaming it like a damn fan club! 'Rebecca this, Rebecca that!' What the hell, Mann?"
Her brother Pyrrha threw his arms wide, exaggerating every word. "I thought this job would be simple. Like, you know, assembling a grenade! But no, now everyone in Dogtown knows my sister's name. Great job!"
Mann closed his eyes, praying for patience. The middleman wouldn't have botched this deal. Which meant the problem was theirs. Slowly, he turned to the quiet figure leaning in the corner, arms folded across her chest.
"Sasha. What's your read?"
Sasha Yakovleva's holographic lenses blinked shut, closing the message she'd been scanning. A pink heart popped across the display before vanishing. She brushed a lock of black hair behind her ear, her punk-pink highlights glinting under the neon lights.
"Dogtown," she said flatly. "Always the same. Rot and ruin wrapped in neon."
Her lips curved into a sly smile. "But leave it to me. I'll dig into the Netherhounds' net. We'll see which big shot over there has your name in their mouth."
Rebecca leaned back, still fuming but comforted—at least a little—by Sasha's words.
Outside, the night pulsed with Dogtown's rhythm: dangerous, restless, alive.
And William's path was only just beginning.
---
[End of Chapter 2]