Chapter 2: Invitation from the Mercenary Team
Adrian had landed in Night City five years ago, ripped from his old life and dropped into the world of Cyberpunk 2077. But the calendar didn't quite match the game he remembered. He'd arrived in 2070, and now it was June of 2075—two years before the legendary merc known as V would shake the city to its foundations.
Five years was enough to adapt. Mostly.
Back then, when he'd first opened his eyes to the glow of neon and the stench of burning synth-meat, panic was his default state. Guns were everywhere. Chrome was currency. Violence was normal. Night City wasn't built for the weak.
He used to joke about it in his head. A family of two only owns five guns? What's next, mom—using pistols instead of diapers?
The thought still made him smirk bitterly.
Night City's population was officially six million, but anyone with eyes knew the real number broke past seven. And somehow, there were more guns than people. More bullets than meals.
The city was a lottery with no winners. Walking out your door was like strapping your life to a dice roll. Nobody knew if they'd make it to tomorrow—or if tomorrow would even bother showing up.
Warm homes, loving families, soft dreams—that was fairy-tale stuff. Night City didn't deal in fairy tales. It dealt in blood, chrome, and broken promises.
Adrian unwrapped a piece of cheap candy, shoved it into his mouth, and let the sickly-sweet taste coat his tongue. He chewed absently as he stepped out of the basement and into the chaos of Lizzie's Bar.
The music hit him first: a barrage of bass, synth, and distorted vocals. Then came the light, pink and violet strobes pulsing across the crowd. Bodies ground against each other, sweat slick on chrome arms and synth-skin.
"Adrian! Finally crawling out of your hole?"
The voice cut through the noise. A tall woman with long blue hair waved from the edge of the dance floor. Her fishnet-clad legs stretched beneath the short skirt of the Mox's trademark uniform, and she leaned casually on a baseball bat.
Adrian recognized her instantly—Marina, one of the warehouse guards, notorious for her teasing.
"Don't tell me you're planning to live like a rat forever," she smirked. "And hey—don't be pissed at Susan. She's got a lot riding on her shoulders. She snaps sometimes. Happens. Look, Korna's waiting for you over there."
Adrian adjusted his jacket and crossed the floor toward her. Marina's grin widened.
"New skin?" he asked, eyeing the faint shimmer across her arms.
"Noticed, huh?" She stepped forward, draping an arm over his shoulder, her perfume mixing with the stink of liquor. With her free hand, she tugged at his collar, lowering her voice into a sultry purr. "Top of the line. Self-stitched. Better than real leather. Want a taste? I even upgraded down here—this version glows."
Her wicked smile was pure provocation.
Adrian twitched, annoyed, but smirked back. "Sure, I'd try it—but do you really dare let me?"
Marina clicked her tongue and backed off, playful disappointment in her eyes. "Nah. Rita would tear me apart if she found out. Don't wanna die that way." She gave him a pat on the shoulder, her grin softening. "Still… good to see you with us, Adrian."
"Don't get sentimental on me," he muttered, feigning a shudder. Then, with a nod toward the bar, he added, "I'll head in first."
"Go on, choom." Marina winked. "And hey—swing by my place after work. I'll show you my glowing Nana."
Adrian rolled his eyes, flipped her the middle finger, and kept walking. Marina's laugh followed him into the crowd.
He tugged his hat lower, letting the brim shadow his face as he slipped past the writhing guests. Neon strobes painted his bomber jacket in flashes of pink and blue.
At the bar, the bartender Matteo waved him over. "Adrian! Over here."
Matteo leaned close, voice low. "Korna's inside. Brought guests. Susan's with her, too."
Adrian grimaced. "What for? Susan already chewed me out. Now she's got Korna tagging in?"
Matteo shook his head. "Not like that. Korna's guests are mercs. Susan's just keeping things balanced. You know how mercs get—one wrong word, and they're putting holes in walls."
Adrian exhaled, lips curling into a humorless smile. "Great. Exactly what I needed."
He brushed past Matteo and pushed open the door to the backroom.
The noise dulled instantly. The bass was still there, but muted, replaced by low conversation and the hum of electronics.
Adrian spotted Korna first. Her blonde hair was tied into a neat ponytail, her face clean and unmodified. She wore a casual blue sweatshirt, sitting relaxed on a worn sofa. Beside her sat a tall man built like a tank, sunglasses perched on his nose.
Susan was there, too, arms crossed, gaze sharp as always.
But Adrian's eyes moved past them to the strangers.
A towering man, two meters easy, white hair spilling around his shoulders and a beard like steel wire. Next to him sat a broad-shouldered woman, her short hair shaved tight, her jacket open with nothing underneath. She radiated raw aggression.
And in the corner—
A petite girl with a sharp bob cut, a laptop balanced on her knees. She looked up briefly as he entered, big eyes framed by heavy lashes, pink eyeshadow shimmering. Twin grooves in her cheeks exhaled smoke like tiny vents. She smirked, then returned to typing.
Adrian blinked. Recognition clicked.
Team Maelstrom? No… wait. He dug into his memories. He'd watched the anime before he landed here—Cyberpunk: Edgerunners. Pirated through Baidu Netdisk, back when that was his only lifeline to Night City's world.
These weren't strangers. They were legends in the making.
…Fuck me. This is Maine's crew.
"Adrian!" Korna's voice pulled him back. She waved warmly.
Susan, by contrast, glared at him, her look sharp enough to cut. Adrian glared right back, but walked forward anyway. He couldn't refuse Korna.
She'd been the one to pull him in off the streets. Back then, the Mox were newborn, Susan just another girl with a blade, and Korna had been the beating heart of the gang. Without her, Adrian wouldn't have survived his first week in Night City. He owed her everything.
Even now, with his growing strength, his stubborn independence, he couldn't deny her.
Korna gestured toward the merc beside her. "Maine, this is Adrian—the one I mentioned."
Maine's sunglasses slid off, his eyes widening as he gave Adrian a once-over.
"This is the guy?" His voice was rough, disbelieving. "This kid's supposed to have taken down three Tiger Claws?"
He leaned forward, scanning Adrian's frame with a veteran's eye.
"…Standard Kiroshi optics. Outdated OS—hell, looks like biotech from a decade ago. Hands rigged with cheap shock absorbers. And your epidermal system? Shit, a child could wear that." He scoffed. "You telling me this brat dropped three Claws?"
Adrian smirked faintly, unfazed by the insult.
The girl in the corner—Rebecca's sister, Kiwi?—looked up again, smoke venting as her fingers paused over her keyboard.
"Watch your mouth, merc," Susan cut in coldly. She sat up straighter, her voice sharp. "This is Lizzie's. You don't get to walk in here and spit on my people. You got rules on the street? Fine. But don't bring them here. Not unless you're picking a fight with the Mox."
Maine held up his hands, backing off slightly. "Relax. Just calling it how I see it." His grin was wolfish. "But tell me I'm wrong—he doesn't look like he's got the chrome to back the rep."
Adrian stayed quiet, watching.
"Adrian," Korna said softly, "show them."
He sighed. "Do I really have to?"
"It's for your good. Good pay, good contacts." Korna's gaze was steady. "And… because you can't stay with the Mox right now. The Claws are pushing, and they'll use you as leverage. If you work with Maine's crew, it buys us space. You know you're family—but sometimes family means letting go."
Adrian glanced at Susan. "That your plan too?"
Susan snorted, tossing a credchip onto the table. "Here. One hundred twenty thousand eddies. Everything you've earned with your little stunts. Take it, and disappear for a while. Seeing your face pisses me off."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "You really can't say one kind thing, can you?"
Maine chuckled darkly. "See what I mean? He's got a mouth. But a mouth don't win fights."
Susan slid a pistol across the table, the matte pink frame glinting in the dim light. "Here. Omaha model. Let's see what you've got."
Maine's eyes lit up. "Now we're talking."
The moment he blinked, Adrian was already gone from his sight. A flicker of movement, a blur, and then—
Click.
The pink Omaha pressed against Maine's jaw. Adrian leaned close, eyes glowing faint yellow, voice calm as death.
"Close enough for you? Want me to ventilate your chrome skull right here?"
Silence slammed the room.
Susan didn't flinch. Korna smiled faintly. Rebecca sat up straighter, intrigued. Maine froze, then threw his head back and laughed, the sound booming.
"That's more like it! A temper, speed to match, and balls of steel. Guess you're not all bark, kid."
He extended a massive hand, grin splitting his face. "Name's Maine. Leader of this crew. Welcome aboard, choom."
Adrian holstered the pistol with a spin, his expression unreadable.
"Adrian," he said simply. "Mox handyman."
But in that moment, the path forward shifted.
And the mercenary world had just opened its door.