"No! The intruder is BT!!!"
"Run, don't block my way, ahhh!!!"
"Spare me, please, give me a chance! I'll quit the Scavengers right now!"
The screams echoed through a dank, subterranean Scavenger hideout in Kabuki before being abruptly silenced by the rhythmic hum of electromagnetic fire. Three minutes later, Kael emerged into the night air. He looked like a nightmare from the Frontier: a sleek, high-quality Pilot helmet (a custom job with a retracting visor), a reinforced tactical vest, and the glowing blue thrusters of his Jump Kit.
This was the fourth Scavenger base he had zeroed this month.
"You were a bit slow this time," Lucy said, leaning against the red-and-white Nazaré.
She was a vision of dangerous elegance in high-waisted leather culottes that made her look ten feet tall. She didn't even look up from her internal HUD as Kael approached.
"These rats started scurrying the moment they heard the thrusters. It took a second to root them out of the vents," Kael replied. He tapped the side of his helmet; the visor slid up with a mechanical whir, the frame shifting into the profile of a standard motorcycle helmet. He took the long coat Lucy handed him, throwing it over his gear to hide the Jump Kit.
"The footage is edited and uploaded," Lucy noted. "The 'BT' channel is trending in Watson. We're getting requests, but most of them are small-time—errands, petty theft, the usual gutter work."
Kael had used the Scavengers as stepping stones for his reputation. In Night City, nobody respects a newcomer until they've stood on a mountain of corpses. By wiping out four strongholds solo, Kael had proven he wasn't just another street kid with a gun; he was a professional.
"Patience, Lucy. The big fish will bite soon."
Kael hopped on the bike, sliding in behind Lucy. He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"People online are already calling you the 'Scavenger Killer'," she teased, twisting the throttle.
"What a trash nickname. I need something with more... flair."
The Nazaré roared to life, darting onto the main road like a kinetic slug. Lucy drove with the aggressive, edge-of-psychosis flair typical of Night City, weaving through heavy traffic at triple-digit speeds. Kael just held on, enjoying the scent of her hair and the hum of the engine.
Behind them, the NCPD arrived at the hideout. They didn't even bother with yellow tape. For Scavengers, a body bag was the most "justice" they ever received.
"Headshots. Every single one," a beat cop muttered, looking at a pile of bodies. "This BT guy is a surgical instrument."
Back at the apartment, Kael was stripping off his tactical vest when an encrypted call request flashed in his Kiroshis.
The caller ID was a stylized fan. Kael answered, and the face of an elderly woman with sharp eyes and white hair appeared. Wakako Okada, the Fixer of Westbrook.
"Are you BT?" her voice was like dry parchment.
"I am."
"I've seen your work. It's rare to find a newcomer who doesn't waste ammunition. I have a job that needs a surgical touch. Interested?"
"If the Eddies are right, Wakako."
"Check your link. Don't make me wait." She hung up immediately.
Kael looked at Lucy. "The Queen of Japantown just called. Seems our advertising worked."
"The bath can wait five minutes," Lucy said, her eyes glowing as she intercepted the data packet.
The contract was a "Face-Saving" operation for the Tyger Claws. A group of Maelstrom psychos had hijacked a Tyger transport. The Claws didn't want a full-scale gang war, so they wanted a "neutral" party to retrieve the cargo and zero the thieves.
The payout: 100,000 Eurodollars. Plus, Wakako mentioned a "first-meeting gift"—any cargo not explicitly listed in the Tyger's manifest was Kael's to keep.
"A hundred thousand? That's a serious upgrade to our lifestyle," Kael said.
An hour later, the Nazaré hummed toward the industrial docks. Lucy had used her Netrunning to pinpoint the exact warehouse where the Maelstromers were celebrating.
A Tyger Claws truck sat in the middle of a dark lot, its tires smoldering. A dozen Maelstromers were gathered around a makeshift grill. The smell hitting Kael's sensors wasn't the usual chemical tang of synthetic protein; it was rich, fatty, and iron-heavy.
"Real beef," Kael whispered. "Smuggled Wagyu."
In 2077, organic meat was a luxury for the ultra-rich, illegal for the masses due to corporate protein monopolies. This truckload was worth a fortune.
"Boss! When are we hitting the next one?" a Maelstromer shouted, his jaw replaced by a chrome maw.
The leader, a man with a single, massive optical sensor and reinforced titanium plating, sat on a "sofa" made from the bodies of the Tyger Claws drivers. He didn't answer. He was busy gnawing on a raw slab of steak.
Suddenly, a single headlight cut through the dark.
The Maelstromers squinted into the glare. Before they could react, a figure launched from the bike into a high-speed power slide.
Hum-hum-hum.
The Kenshin tech-pistol roared. At 3.5 rounds per second, Kael wasn't firing; he was painting the room in lead.
By the time he finished his slide, two magazines were empty. A dozen Maelstromers lay in the dirt, their "ganic" parts turned to mush. The only one left was the leader, whose thick alloy skull-plate had sparked off the fatal rounds.
Kael didn't give him a second chance. He fired four precision shots into the leader's elbow and knee joints, pinning him to the ground.
"You... Tyger lapdog..." the leader wheezed.
"I'm an independent contractor," Kael said, charging the Kenshin's electromagnetic rails. "And you're in the way of my dinner."
The Kenshin let out a high-pitched whine before unleashing a bolt of pure kinetic energy. It punched straight through the leader's reinforced eye-socket, exiting through the back of his head.
"Area clear," Lucy said, pulling up on the bike.
Kael rushed to the freezer boxes in the back of the truck. "Please tell me they didn't eat it all."
Lucy scanned the crates. "There are ten slabs of A5 Wagyu left. Vacuum sealed."
"Perfect," Kael grinned. "Steak and red wine for dinner."
He snapped a photo of the carnage and sent it to Wakako. Moments later, a notification chimed: [+100,000 Eddies Received].
"Time for a new apartment," Kael said, looking at the grim industrial skyline. "I'm tired of hearing rockets at 3 AM. Let's find something in Corpo Plaza. I want to live like a king before I burn Arasaka to the ground."