Watson District — North Industrial Zone.
The old All Foods plant stood under the skeletal shadow of cooling towers, its hollow windows glinting with faint morning light.
When Neo arrived, he almost didn't recognize the place.
The reek of garbage that had once blanketed the entrance was gone. Inside, the floor that used to be sticky with oil and blood had been stripped clean. The flickering overhead lights now burned steady. Even the walls—once tagged with Maelstrom graffiti—had been scrubbed raw, replaced with armored plating and reinforced panels.
Weapon racks lined the walls, neatly categorized: rifles here, handguns there, heavy ordnance stacked in symmetrical rows. The mounted turrets that used to feel more like wild dogs had been recalibrated, repositioned with military precision.
Yeah. The Maelstrom stink was gone.
This wasn't a slaughterhouse anymore.
It was the start of something else.
Neo smiled faintly. "Efficient, aren't we?"
Before he could take another step, a familiar voice cut through the room.
"Neo!"
Rebecca came barreling toward him, grease-stained gloves still on her hands, the half-assembled pistol she'd been working on clattering to the floor behind her.
From the far side of the room, Pilar threw his hands in the air. "Oh, come on! You can't just ditch my gun mid-repair like that!"
Rebecca's glare could've melted titanium. "Shut it, old man! Keep running your mouth and I'll test-fire the gun on your face when I'm done fixing it!"
Pilar paled immediately, retreating behind Maine. "See that? This is abuse! Maine, you hearing this?"
Maine didn't even look up from the data pad in his hands. "Pilar, are you done with the signage out front?"
Pilar hesitated. "Uh… about that… kinda waiting on someone to pick a name and logo first." He gave Neo a pleading look. "Speaking of which—our fearless new boss just showed up. Maybe he'd like to handle it."
Neo raised an eyebrow. "Logo?"
Maine nodded, setting down the pad. "We've moved in, refitted, cleaned up. Now it's time to give this crew an identity. You're in charge. What's our name?"
Neo studied Maine for a moment. There was no hint of ego in his tone—just quiet respect.
And that, more than anything, spoke volumes.
Maine was a man who'd built his crew from nothing, who bled first and healed last. When bullets flew, he stood in front. When someone needed saving, he stayed behind. He wasn't the strongest merc in Night City, but he was one of the rarest kinds—a leader who cared.
And now, without hesitation, he was stepping back to make room for Neo.
That was all the confirmation Neo needed.
Around him, the crew gathered—his crew now.
Pilar raised a hand meekly. "I vote for something flashy. Something that makes people go whoa. Like, you hear it once and you know—those guys? Don't mess with them."
Jackie Welles chuckled. "Don't worry, choom. My brother's a genius. He's got a knack for names with meaning. Deep ones."
Rebecca crossed her arms. "Whatever he calls it, I'm in. No questions asked."
David grinned. "How about we get matching jackets? Something sleek, something that screams cyberpunk. I want people to spot us and go—'oh shit, that's them.'"
Dorio smirked. "Leave the uniforms to me. Give me half a day, and I'll have you all looking sharper than corpos at a board meeting."
Kiwi remained silent, arms folded, glowing eyes flicking toward Neo. Lucy, meanwhile, smiled softly. "If you describe what you want," she said, "I can design the logo. Any style, any animation."
Neo took a long breath, his gaze sweeping across each of them—every face scarred by the city, hardened by survival, yet still here. Still human.
This wasn't just a crew.
It was the spark of something new.
He nodded once. "Alright."
The room quieted.
"Our name," Neo said slowly, "is Night's Ember."
He paused, letting the words hang.
"The night burns, even when it's swallowed by darkness. That ember—us—is what refuses to die."
Rebecca mouthed the name once, quietly, as if testing its taste. Then she grinned wide. "Night's Ember… I like it."
Jackie clapped Neo on the shoulder. "Hell yeah, hermano. Got a nice ring to it."
Pilar nodded enthusiastically. "High-class. Mysterious. Sexy. I'm in."
Neo turned to Lucy. "Uniforms—mirror black. No markings, no colors. The back gets the logo—a phoenix of light rising from shadow. Make it reactive. When someone scans it with a cyber-eye, they'll see it flare alive."
Lucy's eyes glowed faintly. "On it."
And just like that, Night's Ember was born.
…
Of course, every birth needed blood.
Neo, ever the generous leader, decided to shed a little.
A few hours later, the whole crew rolled up at Viktor Vector's clinic, filling the narrow space with a wall of cyberpunk chaos.
Viktor was adjusting a retinal calibrator when the door swung open. His brow furrowed.
"…I swear, every time you walk in, Neo, my blood pressure spikes."
Neo grinned. "Relax, Vik. We're not here to rob you."
Viktor snorted. "That's what people always say before robbing me."
"Actually," Neo said, "we're here to pay you. Heavily."
Viktor paused mid-motion. "You're what now?"
Neo gestured behind him. Jackie and Maine hauled in two massive cases—metal, reinforced, stamped with Militech serials. The sound they made when they hit the floor was heavy, satisfying.
"We've got the parts," Neo continued. "All I need is your hand with the installs."
Viktor blinked. "You mean to tell me you're upgrading all of them? Full-body refits? Neo, this clinic's barely rated for—"
"Old man," Rebecca interrupted, spinning her pistol and grinning, "stop complaining and start cutting. Daddy Neo's paying for everyone's chrome."
Viktor sighed. "You're gonna be the death of me."
Neo stepped closer, his voice lowering. "One more thing, Vik."
The ripperdoc raised an eyebrow. "There's always one more thing with you."
Neo smiled. "Join us."
Viktor froze, the room going still.