"Too damn loud!"
A sharp, annoyed voice cracked through the air. "You're all making so much noise my gun almost went off by itself!"
BANG!
The door to the adjoining room flew open. Out stormed a small, furious figure with twin pigtails bouncing and eyes glowing red from cybernetic modification.
Rebecca.
Night City's most explosive mix of gunpowder, caffeine, and chaos — all packed into a five-foot frame.
She looked around the room with pure irritation until her eyes landed on the green-haired stranger sitting near the couch.
Her scowl deepened instantly. "Huh? So all this damn racket's 'cause you're throwing a welcome party for this guy? What's so special about him, huh? Other than the green moss growing on his head?"
Dorio sighed from across the room. Pilar groaned. Lucy smirked quietly.
That was Rebecca — the team's weapons tech, sidefire support, and certified loudmouth.
Her life revolved around three things:
Maintaining and upgrading every gun in Maine's arsenal.
Modifying them until they nearly exploded.
Eating, sleeping, and shooting things that annoyed her — including her own brother.
When Lucy had first brought the dashcam chip to Maine, Rebecca hadn't bothered to come out from her workroom. She'd been tuning her handguns, assuming it was just another pointless meeting.
Now she was regretting that decision — mostly because everyone was too loud to let her nap.
And the source of the commotion? Apparently, this green-haired weirdo.
She stomped forward, the heels of her boots tapping sharp against the metal floor. Her crimson eyes flicked up and down Neo's figure — calm posture, lean build, the faint gleam of a blade by his side.
Okay, fine. She admitted it — he didn't look half bad.
Still. That wasn't the point.
She crossed her arms. "So, I've been hearing it over and over — some big story about a guy who's got no cyberware and still wrecks people like it's nothing."
Her voice carried a teasing bite. "So tell me, hotshot — what's so 'special' about you, huh? Show me the part that's supposed to make me impressed."
Pilar immediately held up his hands. "Hey, hey, Becks, tone it down. V's a guest. So's Jackie. You can't just—"
Rebecca spun on her heel, cutting him off. "Don't 'tone it down' me, you chromed-up fossil. I'm just asking a question."
Before Pilar could respond, she bounced over to Neo — light on her feet, eyes gleaming with curiosity and challenge.
"Name's Rebecca," she said, grinning like a devil. "And you?"
Neo met her gaze with a calm smile. "V. Or Neo, if you prefer the full name. Call me whichever you like."
Rebecca's nose crinkled. "Neo, huh? Too corpo for me. I'll stick with your real one."
"Suit yourself."
That made her pause for a second — not expecting him to be so relaxed.
From the couch, Pilar rubbed his eyes dramatically. "Oh great, hell must've frozen over. She's being… nice."
Rebecca didn't even look at him.
BANG!
A fresh bullet hole appeared in the wall right next to Pilar's head.
"Next one goes in your skull, old man," she said sweetly, blowing imaginary smoke from her pistol's muzzle. "Don't test me."
Pilar went silent, clutching his mouth to keep from whimpering.
Neo chuckled quietly. "You're… quite direct."
Rebecca grinned. "Better than being fake."
"Alright, enough."
Maine's deep voice cut through the laughter and tension, pulling the room back under his control.
He nodded to Dorio. "Grab the stash. It's in the second cabinet."
"On it."
Moments later, Dorio returned with a bottle of expensive whiskey — the kind you didn't drink unless a deal or a war was brewing.
The crew gathered around the central table. Maine poured generous measures for everyone: Jackie, Neo, even David, though the kid tried to hide how out of place he felt.
Rebecca, of course, plopped herself right beside Neo, resting her elbow on the table, chin in her palm.
Maine raised his glass. "To new faces and old legends. Night City's big enough for a few more stories."
Glasses clinked.
Neo took a sip — smooth, rich, and burning just right. He set it down without a word, but his expression said it all: good liquor.
The conversation turned to work — jobs, fixers, and potential contracts.
Neo, however, drifted. He wasn't trying to be rude; it just… didn't interest him.
He'd fought Adam Smasher. Burned the Arasaka Tower. Changed worlds.
Maine's deals: moderate-risk, average payout, felt like a side quest in comparison.
He stared into his drink, barely noticing Rebecca's eyes on him.
"You're bored," she said suddenly, cutting through the chatter.
Neo looked up. "You could tell?"
Rebecca smirked. "You look exactly like I do whenever Pilar starts talking."
He chuckled. "Then we're both suffering."
"Wanna fix that?" she said, leaning closer. "Let's ditch this snooze fest. I know a few places in Watson where the real fun happens."
Neo tilted his head. "Fun?"
"Guns, booze, maybe a little chaos," she said with a grin that could melt steel. "You in?"
He thought for a moment. Then, "Sure. Why not?"
Maine's deep laugh rumbled from across the room. "Go on, Rebecca. Show our guest a good time — but don't get him killed. Got it?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know!"
She darted off to her room, rummaging for gear, muttering something about "extra clips and neon jackets."
Jackie, lounging nearby, picked up the car keys from the table and tossed them to Neo. "Have fun, hermano. Try not to level half the district."
A few minutes later, Rebecca burst out, dressed for trouble — short jacket, knee-high boots, holsters gleaming.
"Alright, Neo," she said, grinning from ear to ear. "Let's hit the streets."
But before they could reach the door, another voice stopped them cold.
"Wait."
Lucy stepped forward, her blue eyes steady, her tone calm but unreadable.
"If you don't mind," she said softly, "can I come too?"
The room fell quiet for half a second.
Rebecca's smirk returned, a spark of mischief in her crimson gaze. "Sure, ice queen. The more, the merrier."
Neo glanced between the two women — one all fire, one all frost — and exhaled quietly.
Something told him tonight wouldn't be peaceful.
But then again, in Night City, nothing ever was.