Rebecca and Pilar, carrying the trays Dorio had handed them, slipped into a quiet corner of the warehouse and sat down.
Their plates held a sad excuse for a meal: slabs of charred synthetic protein dripping with fake-orange glaze, a blob of nutrient paste, and two boiled culture pods pretending to be veggies.
The mix of artificial aroma and warehouse dust made the air taste metallic.
"Choom, I could eat a damn cyberarm right now," Rebecca muttered, stabbing a fork into the protein block. She took a huge bite and grimaced. The texture was rubbery, flavor flat, but it filled the void in her gut.
Pilar turned a culture pod between his metal fingers, not eating. Through his flashy goggles, he kept one eye on Maine, Dorio, and Falco talking quietly across the room. Then he leaned closer, voice low. "They're still watchin' us… You think the boss actually bought our story?"
Rebecca didn't look up. "Eat, and shut it. Whether he bought it or not ain't our biz now. If the truth slips, forget Osiris's goodies, Maine'll have us gutted for spare parts." She pointed at his untouched plate with her fork.
"And that sludge? Might taste like garbage, but at least it'll give you juice to dodge a punch."
Pilar sighed and finally took a bite, chewing slow. "Yeah, I know… just, something feels off. The buzz in my head's gone. Totally silent. And this arm…"
He flexed his shoulder; the joint moved smooth and whisper-quiet. "Too light. Doesn't even feel like mine."
Rebecca paused, her cyber-eye gleaming faint green as she scanned him. "Listen, big bro. We're breathin'. The ride's still in one piece. We got upgrades most gonks would kill for. That's the score. Don't question the how."
She shoveled another forkful, smirking faintly. "Once we score that Militech cell and deliver, Maine'll see the payout himself. Then we tell him the weird bits. If we talk now, he'll think we're chrome-fried and pull the plug on the deal."
She slurped up the neon-orange goo. "So eat up. Tomorrow, we hunt batteries."
The two ate in silence, their forks scraping dull metal.
Cheap synth-food, greasy air, and a silence heavy enough to choke on, it was Night City's dinner soundtrack.
Night fell. The warehouse dimmed, yellow work lights flickering. Maine, Dorio, and Falco gathered around a scratched table, a holo-display of Osiris's list and data chip floating above the surface.
"What's the read?" Maine asked, voice low and gravelly, knuckles tapping the metal.
Falco's eyes flicked over the data. "Rebecca's optics, custom high-tier stuff. Not even Militech backchannels move 'em that clean. Pilar's shoulder fix? Nanometer precision. No cutting, no scarring. Whoever did it works beyond corpo-grade. We're talkin' preem-level tech, maybe experimental."
Dorio folded her arms, leaning into the light. "Whatever the case, they came back alive and better equipped. This solo, if he's real, knows his chrome.
Look at the list: Militech batteries, prototype interfaces, restricted alloys. That's serious tech, not scav trash."
Falco adjusted his pad, tone cold. "Exactly. It's too clean. Smells corpo to me. Could be bait, some Biotechnica psy-op. Dangle high-grade mods, have us pull dirty work, then scrap us for parts once the job's done."
Maine grunted, cyber-eyes flaring slightly. "Corpo ops usually hit harder, faster. This feels… different. The way they described his shop, it doesn't fit.
Too quiet. Too isolated. Maybe not corpo, maybe somethin' older. Stranger."
A beat passed. Dorio broke it. "Maine, we need edge. We're laggin'. If this mystery tech can keep us runnin' longer, we take the risk. We vet him, slow."
Falco frowned. "Unknown means unmanageable. You gamble the team on some desert ghost, don't cry when he flips the table."
Maine sat back, silent for a long moment. The hum of the lamps filled the gap.
Finally, he nodded. "We play it smart. Falco, break down the list, flag what we can pull first. We'll test him with one piece, the Thunder-7 battery. See if he's legit." He turned to Dorio. "Next meet, you take a backup crew. If it smells off, you bail. No hesitation."
He leaned forward, gaze sharp. "And this? Between the three of us. Not a word to the others, especially Rebecca and Pilar. We watch 'em. Carefully."
Dorio gave a curt nod. Falco exhaled through his nose, reluctant but accepting.
The holo flickered off, leaving them in half-light. The only sound left was the low hum of old machines, and the tension of a deal that could either make them legends or ghosts.