The walls of Dogtown were infamous, a barrier that had kept outsiders at bay for decades. They weren't just walls of concrete and steel; they were symbols of paranoia, greed, and ruthless survival.
Every inch had been tested by smugglers, mercenaries, and desperate fugitives. The underground passages had been flooded years ago. The tunnels, carved in secret by criminals trying to slip past NCPD patrols, were long collapsed. Even the hidden holes clawed into the earth had been mapped, sealed, or mined.
And the mines—oh, the mines were something else entirely. Military-grade, the kind that could sit dormant underwater for a decade and still detonate with enough force to send shockwaves rolling across the city blocks. They weren't just deterrents; they were relics of a forgotten war, yet still sharp as knives in the dark.
People often cursed Dogtown's walls. The structure was too large, too fortified, and too unnatural, a reminder of the corporate obsession with control. Whispers floated around the back alleys of Night City, suggesting that the real horrors weren't on the surface but buried beneath, where old military tech still hummed in silence.
But no wall was perfect. Not when greed was involved.
For the small price of a thousand eurodollars, Dolio had secured their entry. The four of them squeezed into a rusty construction waste truck, its sides rattling like old bones as it lumbered toward the gates. It was a fool's method, but sometimes, the foolish ways worked best.
From her nest on Japan Street, Sasha's presence flickered into their systems. She wasn't physically with them, but her mind was sharp as steel, her fingers dancing across invisible boards as she intercepted and countered the digital vultures circling overhead. A tiny cyber-cat avatar, ears twitching, appeared on their phones and overlays, her voice calm but strained.
> "That's it. When you're done inside, head for the exit point. Thirty minutes, no more. The window closes fast after the shooting starts."
The middleman who had sold them passage shoved open the truck's rear door, muttered a quick reminder, and disappeared without looking back.
Rebecca groaned, tossing her head back with an exaggerated sigh.
> "Thirty minutes? What if that slippery bastard gets away? Tsk. Typical shady deal."
Her mismatched cybernetic eye blinked, glowing faintly in the dim light. She had always been reckless, the type to laugh at gunfire, but something about tonight gnawed at her instincts. For once, she didn't crack a joke.
Then, Sasha's avatar twitched again, its whiskers sparking slightly as she adjusted her equipment. She took a deep breath.
Mann noticed. His brows knit together. Out of everyone in the crew, Sasha was the one he worried about most. Not because she was weak, but because she carried her burdens silently, burying her unease under layers of code and silence.
> "You alright, Sasha?" Mann asked.
She shook her head quickly, forcing composure.
> "The enemy hackers aren't amateurs. They've been at this longer than I have. But don't worry—I'll pull the Netherhound data. Just make sure you finish the job and get out before the clock runs out."
Mann held her gaze through the projection and offered a small nod. The team echoed the same sentiment in silence: Be safe.
The truck groaned as it rolled deeper into Dogtown, closer to the lair of Colonel Hansen, the warlord of this forsaken district.
Rebecca let out another sigh, her shoulders rolling back as though shaking off the unease. She flicked the safety on her shotgun, checked the chamber, then looked down at her own reflection in the gleaming shell.
Her twin green pigtails bobbed as she adjusted her headset. For anyone who didn't know her, she might've looked like a runaway teen with a gun too big for her arms. But her eyes—the prosthetic and the natural one—glimmered with sharpness and a hunger for the fight.
Dolio, the group's powerhouse, placed a steadying hand on Rebecca's shoulder. Her touch was grounding, reassuring, like a steel pillar in the storm.
> "Relax. We handle our business, nothing more. Save your fire for the real fight."
Rebecca smirked faintly.
The tension eased briefly as Mann, ever the flirt, decided now was the time for his nonsense. Twisting a length of rebar sticking out of the truck's wall, he leaned closer to Dolio, resting a casual hand on her shoulder.
> "You know, after this mission, we should celebrate. Maybe… just the two of us?"
Dolio's hand on Rebecca's shoulder grew heavier.
Mann didn't take the hint. His fingers squeezed lightly against her jacket.
> "I'm serious. I think we'd have fun—"
Bang!
His sunglasses flew sideways as blood streamed from his nose. Dolio hadn't even turned her head.
Rebecca burst out laughing, muttering under her breath.
> "Serves you right. Dumbass."
For the first time since they boarded, the mood lightened. Rebecca spun a shotgun shell between her fingers before tossing it high into the air. Catching it, she slammed it smoothly into the chamber of her weapon with a satisfying clack.
She loved the feel of guns, the solid weight, the raw potential. It gave her a rush, like holding lightning in her palms.
Across from her, Pyrrha shifted uncomfortably. She wasn't amused. Her research project—half-done—was already gnawing at her mind, and this detour to Dogtown had thrown her plans into chaos. Still, when family was involved, she had no choice but to come.
The truck screeched to a halt. Silence descended, broken only by the creak of the doors opening.
A ghost hound stood outside, eyes wide as he saw the passengers: Mann, his bulk filling the frame; Dolio, expression like carved stone; Pyrrha, tense and quiet; and Rebecca, practically vibrating with anticipation, shotgun resting across her lap.
The man swallowed hard, stepped aside, and waved them through.
> "Go on. Don't linger."
The setting sun painted Dogtown's sky in shades of blood, staining the concrete towers crimson as shadows stretched long.
---
Meanwhile, perched in the hills behind Dogtown, William adjusted his sniper rifle.
The Nekomata's scope bathed the motel below in a faint green glow. Through the digital overlay, every living thing lit up like a beacon. He ran the diagnostics again, letting his prosthetic eye synchronize with the rifle's sensors. The weapon had plug-in compatibility—a rare, precious feature—and it fed every byte of combat data directly into his vision.
> "Big darling," he whispered to the rifle, "don't let me down tonight."
Hamster's voice crackled in his ear, impatient as ever.
> "[Hey, squeak if you can hear me.]"
William rolled his eyes.
> "Yeah, I hear you."
> "[Good. Now shut the fuck up. Just hearing your voice pisses me off.]"
William smirked, settling against the broken rooftop.
Night fell quickly, and the residents of Dogtown stirred below. Fires burned in trash barrels, throwing orange light across ruined sofas. Laughter, music, and the occasional scream echoed through the alleys. Organ thieves lounged on motorcycles, their eyes scanning for prey. Life went on, even in a place carved from chaos.
Then, from the distant pyramid tower, a green laser cut through the night sky, glowing like a wound against the stars. The half-moon appeared pale beside it, fragile and far away.
For a brief moment, William let his mind wander. By 2075, the lunar port would be complete. Maybe, if he saved enough, he could ride the space train, stand on the moon, and finally see something untouched by corporate bloodshed.
His thoughts were cut short.
> "[Here they come!]" Hamster's voice hissed. "[They're stealing the data. Hansen's system uploads every twenty minutes. Hold your ground.]"
William's grip tightened on the trigger.
Below, Mann and his crew erupted into chaos. Gunfire ripped across the motel as turrets spat streams of lead. The gang's vehicle rammed through the barricade, flames licking its sides.
Rebecca appeared from behind the pickup truck, her small frame almost swallowed by the heavy machine gun she carried. Sparks and muzzle flashes lit her face, her eyes alight with manic energy.
William's scope tracked across them one by one—Mann's thick skull, Dolio's sharp stance, Pyrrha's focused movements—before locking on Rebecca.
Hamster's voice screamed in his ear.
> "[Shoot! That bitch is tearing apart the turrets! You have to drop her now!]"
William's heartbeat thundered. Sweat rolled down his temple. His crosshairs steadied on Rebecca's head.
This was it.
> "Fuck," William growled, twisting the muzzle, "why the hell is it her?"
The Nekomata charged, its blue light humming with deadly power. With a deafening buzz—bang! the bullet tore from the barrel, streaking across the night sky straight toward Rebecca, who was still laughing as she fired into the chaos.
And in that single, suspended moment, the future of Night City seemed to tremble.