In 2023, when the nuclear blast tore a scar through the heart of Night City, the surrounding districts became a kind of twisted Noah's Ark — a refuge for those the city didn't save but also didn't yet kill.
By the 2050s, that refuge had begun to rot. The Ark turned into a grave. The once-bright American dream found its last echo here, in this decaying corner of neon and ash.
It had once been the center of Night City. Now, it was its gutter.
Watson District.
Once built for dreamers. Now, home to the damned.
…
Watson, Northside Industrial Zone.
NCPD had long since tagged the area as "High Risk, No-Go."
Three factions ruled these streets: the desperate, the ruthless, and the dead. If you didn't belong to one of the first two, you'd soon join the third.
It was here that Maine's crew operated — mercenaries, smugglers, Edgerunners. People too dangerous to be forgotten and too broke to be remembered.
Inside their safehouse — a warehouse littered with beer cans, cables, and half-dead lights — laughter suddenly broke through the thick haze of cigar smoke.
"Holy shit, Lucy, didn't think you of all people would slip up!"
Pilar laughed so hard his chrome-plated ribs clicked audibly. He nearly fell off the couch.
Across from him, Lucy sat calm and collected, smoke curling from her lips as she watched the display.
It wasn't often that the team's resident netrunner goddess became the punchline.
From the couch's far end, Dorio, her broad shoulders and cyberarms gleaming under the flickering light, shot Pilar a look. "Enough. We've worked with Lucy plenty of times. Don't act like you've never botched a run before."
Pilar grinned, unrepentant. "Still, gotta say, it's rare to see perfection stumble. Makes a man feel better about himself, you know?"
Silence fell as Kiwi, quiet and calculating as ever, finally spoke up from her seat in the corner. Her voice was flat, tinted with curiosity.
"So, let me get this straight. You were on a train. You and this guy had a contest to see who could lift the most chips the fastest. And you—" her cyber-eye blinked, "—lost?"
Lucy exhaled a slow plume of smoke. "Yeah."
Kiwi leaned forward, intrigued. "You said he had no cyberware. No port, no implants, nothing. And he beat you? Just flesh and blood?"
Lucy's tone was calm but edged with something deeper — awe, maybe even unease. "That's not the terrifying part." She flicked ash into an empty cup. "What's terrifying is that he overpowered me. Without chrome, without a neural port, without anything. He suppressed my movement — as if I were the one outmatched."
Pilar's grin froze. Even his augmented eyes widened a bit.
The room went still. The only sound left was the faint hiss of burning tobacco.
Maine finally spoke.
"Well," he rumbled, his deep voice carrying through the silence, "looks like Night City's got itself a new wildcard."
He tapped the ash off his cigar, expression unreadable. "But you didn't come here just to tell us about your bruised ego, did you, Lucy?"
A smirk curled her lips. "Of course not."
She reached into her jacket and tossed a datachip across the table. "Think of this as a surprise. A gift. And when you watch it… try not to scream."
…
Maine caught the chip midair, slotted it into the neural port at the back of his neck, and synced it to the team's shared feed.
The projection flickered to life.
A video played — dashcam footage from a passing vehicle. Nighttime. Heavy rain.
On-screen, several Beast Gang vehicles were in hot pursuit of a long black Arasaka limo. The gang fired wildly, bullets shredding cars, civilians, and concrete alike.
"Beasts shooting up a corpo convoy? So what?" Pilar said, unimpressed. "They do that every Tuesday."
But Maine wasn't listening. His brows furrowed as he leaned closer.
Then the dashcam shifted, catching a brief shot of another car — and in its passenger seat, a face appeared.
Maine's cigar almost fell from his mouth. "Wait… is that Jackie Welles?"
The others turned.
The footage wasn't perfect, but there was no mistaking that build, that grin. Jackie — the merc who practically lived at Lizzie's Bar, the guy every fixer in Watson knew by name.
Maine's crew and Jackie had never worked together directly, but they'd crossed paths enough to know each other's reputations.
The footage rolled on.
Through the windshield, a man stepped out of his car — tall, lean, with wild green hair glinting under the neon rain.
No chrome. No implants.
He raised a blade.
The camera caught only flashes:
One strike splitting a flying car chassis.
Another slicing through a Beast Gang vehicle like paper.
A final swing, pure, invisible power, and the entire street erupted in flame.
The dashcam cut to static.
When the video ended, no one spoke.
Lucy broke the silence, her voice low. "A man with no augments. One sword. And he wiped an entire Beast Gang squad by himself."
She smiled faintly. "So, tell me, Maine — shouldn't we at least get to know this kind of man?"
Maine grunted, already scrolling through his contacts.
"Who're you calling?" Dorio asked.
"Who else? Jackie Welles. Gotta find out who our new friend is."
…
Meanwhile, across Watson, at a small apartment complex...
Neo was taking a quiet walk outside his building when he nearly bumped into a familiar face.
David Martinez.
The boy looked nervous, clutching a small envelope in his hands.
"Mr." he said quickly, bowing slightly, "thank you for last night. You saved me and my mom. We… we don't have much, but please, take this."
He held out the envelope.
"Two thousand eddies. It's not enough, but it's everything we have."
Neo looked down at the offering, then back at the kid. "Two thousand, huh? Not bad."
David blinked, embarrassed. "I know it's—"
"I'm not talking about the amount," Neo interrupted softly. "I'm saying I don't need it. Keep it."
David froze. "But—"
Before he could say more, an engine roared behind them.
Jackie's voice cut through the noise. "V! There you are!"
He pulled up in his car, window rolled down, his grin as wide as ever.
"C'mon, choom, get in! I got something lined up for us — a crew you need to meet."
He spotted David and quickly changed his tone. "Ah, sorry, kid. Business call. You take care now, yeah?"
Neo gave David a nod, a quiet promise in his eyes, then stepped toward the car, calling him in.
The engine purred, headlights slicing through the Watson smog as Jackie grinned.
"Trust me, hermano," he said, "these folks? You're gonna like 'em."