"This is N54 News with a breaking report—"
"We've just received word that a Dogtown weapons convoy was ambushed in the Badlands by unknown assailants."
"Casualty numbers are still being tallied. The surrounding area has been locked down by forces dispatched by Colonel Kurt Hansen. Unfortunately, our reporters have been unable to reach the ambitious strategist for comment."
"For more news—"
Cyrus reached over and killed the radio, his expression souring at the report.
While Cyrus stewed, Ethan found himself more curious than upset—still trying to wrap his head around this world.
Not a street kid. Not a corpo rat. Somehow I ended up as Dogtown muscle.
Actually... that might be a good thing. At least I'm a soldier.
Otherwise that firefight would've been way worse.
The year was 2075. The story of this world hadn't fully unfolded yet.
The embers of the Fourth Corporate War still smoldered across the land. Night Corp had left behind its greatest legacy on this patch of North American soil—Night City itself.
All those legends he knew about? They were out there somewhere, walking toward the fates they didn't know were waiting for them.
Speaking of which...
Ethan pulled up his stat panel and winced.
Pathetic. That was the only word for it.
His cyberware was bargain-bin garbage. His stats were in the gutter. His bank account was basically empty.
From what he could piece together, the original owner of this body had blown his military pay on either bootleg Glitter cut with painkillers or all-night card games with the other grunts.
Great. Just great.
Ethan's mind raced with questions he couldn't answer. Where do I go? How do I even start?
He'd barely finished transmigrating before Night City slapped him across the face with a near-death experience.
Guess I have to go back to Dogtown and report in.
Can't exactly walk up to Rebecca's crew and ask to join, right?
His heart was still pounding from the firefight. That brush with death had shaken him more than he wanted to admit.
When he'd shouted at Cyrus to grab the cargo during the ambush, it wasn't really him thinking—it was the original owner's bone-deep fear of Colonel Hansen bleeding through.
The man had presence. Charisma. He knew how to play people, reward loyalty, and punish failure.
Especially punish failure.
[SUBJECT "Rebecca" — AFFINITY UPDATED]
[AFFINITY: 0 — "You've piqued her curiosity. Good luck."]
[REWARD: Reflexes +2]
Lost in thought, Ethan almost missed the notification. He blinked, expecting some rush of power—
Nothing dramatic. Just... his head felt a little clearer. His grip on the rifle felt more natural.
Well. At least there's something to work toward—
SCREECH!
Tires screamed against asphalt.
"Fuck! Bro, we can't go back."
"I don't even want to think about what Hansen's gonna do to us."
Cyrus's sudden brake nearly sent Ethan flying into the dashboard.
That bad? Ethan studied Cyrus's haunted expression. Maybe Hansen was even worse than he'd imagined.
Cyrus cradled his injured arm, hands trembling as he lit a cigarette. "Let's bounce together, man."
Ethan spoke up for the first time. "That's not gonna work. Hansen's got eyes everywhere in Night City. NCPD's in his pocket. Where would you even go? Unless you're planning to leave for the NUSA."
They'd lost the cargo, sure, but there were extenuating circumstances. Running would only make them look guilty.
God knows Hansen might decide Cyrus sold intel to those edgerunners.
"NCPD?" Cyrus shot him a how-do-you-know-that look. "Huh. Anyway, I'm done working for Hansen. What about you, bro?"
Ethan noticed Cyrus's hand drift toward the pistol on his hip. His own fingers tightened around his rifle barrel.
The air went still.
Seconds stretched. The cigarette burned down to the filter.
Finally, Ethan broke the silence:
"Go on, man. Get out of here. I'll tell Hansen I never saw you."
He forced a smile.
Cyrus had saved his life back there. Whatever the guy wanted to do was his business.
As for Ethan? He had his own reasons for going back.
Because the Legend System had given him something to work with:
[SUBJECT: Kurt Hansen]
[AFFILIATION: Dogtown]
[AFFINITY: 0 — "Trust me, you don't want to see what happens when this drops any lower. Go back and own up."]
[DEVELOPMENT VALUE: Extremely high.]
[MILESTONE REWARD: Return to Dogtown and face him → Opportunity to encounter other legends. All stats +1.]
Cyrus's shoulders relaxed when he heard Ethan's answer. He took one last drag, then hopped out of the car—keeping Ethan in his sightline the whole time. Smart. Didn't want to catch a bullet in the back.
"Later, bro. Don't know where I'm headed, but it ain't here."
"Here—take these gloves. Legit corpo gear. Tough, grippy, won't wear out!"
Ethan watched in the rearview mirror as Cyrus's silhouette disappeared around a corner. He picked up the blood-stained gloves and shook his head.
Neither choice was good. But staying in Dogtown might not be as bad as running.
Hansen was vindictive, sure. But he didn't go after his own people without reason—as long as the fuckup wasn't their fault.
The engine rumbled to life. Ethan drove along Pacifica's trash-fire-lit roads until he reached the Dogtown checkpoint.
"Step out for inspection."
A soldier in an exo-frame raised his hand to stop the vehicle. Behind him, a reinforced gate hummed with crisscrossing infrared beams—detailed enough to count the hairs on your head.
Ethan tilted his neck, exposing his neural port. The soldier plugged in a cable and scrolled through his data.
"So you're one of those poor bastards from this morning?" The soldier's tone was mocking. "Colonel Hansen's waiting for you. You're the third one to come crawling back."
Ethan managed a weak smile and followed the escort through multiple scanning stations.
"Move your ass! You think this is a car wash?!"
Even to their own, the checkpoint guards weren't exactly friendly.
The Emerald was one of the few buildings in Dogtown that actually looked respectable—a gleaming tower jutting up from the urban decay. Hansen's empire, planted right in the heart of Night City. The former NUSA officer had become a thorn in every major faction's side.
Ethan stepped out of the car. Soldiers confiscated his weapons, and then a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder.
"Yo, Cole! Keep your eyes open in there!"
The voice belonged to someone who seemed to know the original Ethan—a soldier with letters tattooed across his face and neck. He whispered a few quick warnings before Ethan was escorted to an elevator in the Emerald.
...
"Maine, are you even listening to me?"
Rebecca was sprawled across a couch in a private booth at some dive bar on Jig-Jig Street, her legs dangling over the armrest as she kicked the air in frustration.
"Calm down. You're saying the Barghest guy knew your name?" Maine rubbed his temples. "That doesn't make sense..."
"Wasn't this supposed to be a clean job? That's what the fixer promised, right?" Rebecca snorted, drawing out her words mockingly. "Real clean. So clean the Barghest goons are screaming my name and calling me a dumbass! Fuck!"
Her brother Pilar waved his oversized cyber-arms dramatically. "I thought this gig was gonna be easy as slapping together a grenade!"
"But nooo—now they've got your name! Next thing you know, it's 'Hey! I know you! You're that chick I hit on at the bar!'"
Maine's headache intensified listening to Pilar ramble.
Fixers didn't handle cleanup. That was on the crew. His gaze drifted to the corner of the room, where a woman leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, scrolling through data feeds.
"What do you think, Sasha?"
Sasha Yakovleva's holo-glasses flickered off, a little pink heart icon popping up as the display closed. It matched her black-and-pink netrunner aesthetic perfectly.
She brushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Dogtown's kind of a shithole."
"But leave it to me. I'll find out which Barghest big shot this guy is."