The neon lights of Night City bled through the smog, spreading like a virus under thick clouds, painting the sky a sickly, bruised magenta.
Acid rain hissed against the Goodwood's cracked windshield, leaving streaks that caught the rainbow gleam of the polluted puddles below.
The patched-up ride had finally stopped coughing smoke, but Rebecca could feel every bolt rattling like it might tear free at any second.
The tires splashed through filthy puddles, the water reflecting the city's chaotic glow like an oil-slicked dream. Pilar sat in the passenger seat, tapping his newly repaired shoulder joint, the metal scraping softly against synthetic skin.
They hit the overpass. Corporate logos and holo-ads crawled across the sides of skyscrapers like some kind of glowing infection. The wasteland behind them faded into the neon sprawl of Night City.
On the billboards, virtual idols blew pixelated kisses to the streaming traffic below. But down in the alleys, the smell told the real story—burnt plastic, cheap food grease, and ozone. The city stank like electricity and sin.
"Feels like we've been gone a hundred years," Rebecca muttered, her voice half-lost under the rumble of the engine.
Her new optics flickered, iris rings pulsing green as they auto-adjusted. She zoomed in on a firefight a few blocks away—muzzle flashes, crumbling concrete, someone going down hard. She blinked fast, forcing the view to reset. Not their problem tonight.
"Hell of a trip, though," Pilar sighed, fiddling with his goggles. "Still gotta spin a story for Maine. Got a real bad feeling about it, Becca. That Red Robe freak... whatever he did to us—"
He touched the back of his neck, feeling the smooth scar from Osiris's hidden implant.
"Don't start, Pilar." Rebecca's tone snapped like broken glass. "We stick to the story, got it? Desert tech-head. Real eccentric, real genius. Fixed the car, patched you up, upgraded my eyes. In return, we grab some parts for him. Simple."
She shot him a glare. "And keep your mouth shut about the robes and the freaky mech-tentacles. You breathe a word of that, Maine'll think we've gone full cyberpsycho."
Pilar frowned but didn't argue.
Rebecca's voice softened a notch. "We'll tell him later, once we've got the goods and he sees the payoff. Then it'll sound like business, not a ghost story."
He gave a weak laugh. "You really think Maine buys that easy?"
"That's why we sell it harder." Rebecca slammed the wheel. The horn squeaked out a pathetic honk. "Think about it. We're still breathing. We got upgrades. That's a fraggin' miracle, Pilar. We play it cool, we cash in, then we decide what comes next."
She grinned, feral and sharp. "We ain't lying. Just... editing the truth a bit. Night City-style."
Pilar let out a slow exhale. In this city, keeping secrets was the same as staying alive.
The Goodwood rolled into the cracked concrete maze of Watson's north industrial park. Rusted pipes webbed above them like the guts of some giant metal beast. They turned into the old warehouse—Maine's base. The engine coughed one last time and died.
Dorio stepped out first from the shadows, tall and broad, eyes like lasers. "Four days. No call, no ping. You two tryin' to make us dig your graves, or what?"
Rebecca and Pilar scrambled out. "Relax, Dorio!" Pilar said with his usual half-grin. "Still in one piece, see?"
"In one piece?" came a rumble from deeper inside.
Maine emerged from the dark like a tank in human form, chrome glinting under the warehouse lights.
His scanner-eyes swept over them slow and heavy. "Car's half-dead. You two look... upgraded."
Rebecca's heart skipped. She forced a shaky laugh. "Wraiths hit us hard, boss. Chased us into the desert. We ran dry on ammo, food, everything. Got lucky—found some old tech-head in a buried shop. Guy's nuts, but he's got golden hands."
Falco leaned on the upper railing, datapad glowing blue against his face. "And he just... patched you up for free?"
Pilar jumped in with the prepped story, all smooth: desperate escape, weird hermit engineer, nothing supernatural. Just another oddball in the Badlands.
Rebecca cut in, flashing her upgraded optics. "He swapped my whole module! Check this—can read serial codes off a drone five hundred meters out. Fixed Pilar's bum shoulder too. Said he needed some rare parts in return—mil-spec cells, neural interface junk, alloys.
Stuff he called 'research material.'" she said making some air quotes.
Maine said nothing for a long moment. Dorio's arms were crossed tight, eyes narrowing. Falco's fingers moved quietly on his pad.
Finally, Maine asked, low: "This tech-loner got a name? Any record?"
Rebecca shook her head. "Nope. Didn't talk much. Just wanted his parts. Didn't even seem interested in eddies. Just... obsessed with his work."
Maine's scanner-eyes glowed brighter, reading every twitch and pulse between them. Rebecca felt the implant at her neck buzz faintly, like a heartbeat that wasn't hers.
Then Maine finally gave a short nod. "Good. You made it back alive. Next time, you clear your background before you take a job." He turned his head slightly. "Falco, check that list. Dorio, get these two some chow."
The storm passed... barely.
Rebecca exhaled, glancing at Pilar. Both of them knew the same thing.
They were safe for now.
But the Red Robe's secret was still humming in their bones, waiting to come due.