(TN: extra two chapters for missing Tuesday and Wednesday)
Night had fallen. Racing through a world washed in brown and yellow, drivers found it even easier to lose their sense of direction. The only thing they could really use as a reference was that barely visible strip of highway in front of them.
Any driver with even a bit of experience was scared shitless: there were mines.
The storm was lifting not just sand and dust, but shredded metal fragments; it wasn't just wind howling past, but faint, intermittent screams riding on the gusts.
If they wanted to be safe, all they had to do was get off the road and wait the storm out.
But the sandstorm didn't just erase direction—it dulled their sense of danger as well. With threats lurking everywhere, their sensitivity numbed, and gambler's optimism hit them right in the sweet spot—
Just a bit more. Just a bit more. At least finish this stretch.
Night City was a city of dreams, the biggest stage in the world. They chose to appear at the wildest possible starting line for one reason: to stake their lives, to gamble everything.
But as the night deepened, fear crept in.
Until the radio began punching through the storm.
Bzzzt—
"Night City is having one hell of a night, sandstorm rolling in over the whole…"
A spark of hope lit up. Nobody wanted to back out anymore.
Explosions kept going off inside the storm. No one knew what those faint flashes were—everything felt like they were running into ghosts.
The ones who'd survived by sheer luck shook themselves awake again—but the devils haunting the storm already had them marked.
"Ha! We're finally getting the fuck out!"
The driver slammed his fist onto the steering wheel, and his buddies in the passenger and back seats perked up.
"Hurry the fuck up and listen—see if that idiot host is gonna call us out!"
"Haha, I even flashed my chrome on purpose just now—Militech definitely saw it and blew a fuse!"
BOOM—
An explosion went off to the side. The people in the car turned their heads just in time to see someone in some kind of high-tech helmet and exoskeleton swing over with mantis blades outstretched.
Squelch!
Steel gave way easily; the blades stabbed in and out faster than the eye could follow. The buddy in the back seat's head tilted at a bad angle, a spray of blood following—dead on the spot.
[Target profile:]
[Vehicle: Thorton Colby Mule; armored body; kinetic battering ram; reinforced suspension; MK31 heavy machine gun]
[Signature emblem: crying blind head]
[Target A (neutralized): synthetic arms; recoil-compensation system; heavy subdermal armor (exposed)]
[Target B: racing-chip implant; multi-function cyberlegs]
[Target C: forearm projectile launcher (right); single cyber-eye; milspec targeting optic]
[NCPD database match: homicide; forced prostitution; organ trafficking]
The sudden appearance of a reaper and their buddy's instant death made the remaining two's adrenaline spike; their cyberware creaked and hummed as it spun up. They whipped their arm launchers toward the window.
But V only glanced at them, then immediately retracted her mantis blades and melted back into the dust.
Thunk! The car suddenly jolted as something slammed into it from the side. By the time the guy in the passenger seat turned his head, he saw the armor on his own door punched through with a massive hole—his partner's head twisted a full one-eighty before drooping toward him.
K-tak.
Jaw hitting jaw made a soft little click. His buddy's cyberware hadn't fully powered down yet and was still holding him in "cruise control" posture.
The car rolled forward in a sick, jerky line. The air grew thick with the stench of blood. The corpse in the back seat kept slamming into the interior with every bump.
Adrenaline made his reactions faster. To the last guy, that clacking, rattling sound started to feel like a death clock ticking him down—slow, heavy…
K-tak. K-tak.
The radio suddenly crackled to life:
"Night City! Take a look at this contestant… Militech's stolen MK31 heavy machine gun…"
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHH—"
The kid suddenly screamed his lungs out and swung his launcher arm toward the radio—
BOOM!
The explosion swallowed his voice completely. The launcher on his arm had never even fired; it was torn apart by the blast instead, shells spilling out into the flames.
At the same time, Legend Mackinaw roared up from behind, its front end slamming into the Mule's ass. The two burning vehicles were flung skyward together, lifted by the combined blessing of storm, landmines, and Legend Mackinaw's sheer mass.
The radio transmitter hanging in midair spat out one last line—the last thing that kid ever heard:
"Check this out too—the projectile launcher! Kenley Industrial, one shot and every road-rage psycho's got nothing left to say!"
BOOM!
The loose shells cooked off in midair and detonated a second time.
That was the first car.
[Target profile:]
[Vehicle: Emperor Ragnar; EMP shielding; anti-personnel machine gun]
[Signature emblem: red crown]
[Target A: flamethrower, left arm]
[Target B: milspec laser cutter; Sandevistan Mk.2; enhanced driver package; milspec combat optic]
[Target C: unknown biochem injector]
[NCPD database: verbal abuse of corpo representatives; sexual assault; consumption of illegal meats]
The Emperor Ragnar charged down the highway. With nerves taut as tripwire, the driver wrenched the wheel hard; the whole chassis tilted, tires just skimming past the landmine on the pavement.
He'd barely straightened the vehicle when he ended up right alongside Jackie. Jackie scooped up one of the freshly scavenged mines from Legend's side and hurled it into their cabin, then swung his metal fist up—
BOOM!
The blast ripped through the window armor. The passengers inside watched the driver's head vanish, scrambled to grab the wheel.
They got the vehicle steady—then noticed something flashing between the dead driver's legs.
A landmine. Right in his crotch. LED still blinking.
"Why the hell's there a mine in his pants—?"
BOOM!
"Bzzzt—another certified psycho! Flamethrower A, just 2,000 eddies!"
Second car.
[Target profile:]
[Vehicle: Columbus Freight; turbocharged engine; roof-mounted guided missile rack]
[Signature emblem: mangy black cat]
The vehicle was rolling along at a normal clip when V rammed a blade in through the side panel, severing the chassis load-bearing frame. Jackie hammered in from the right a split-second later.
The Columbus Freight immediately lost control and flipped, tumbling right onto a landmine—
BOOM!
Legend Mackinaw powered straight through the scattered wreckage, bursting out of the flames.
"The mysterious Zombie Tiger! What punk doesn't love a tuned ride? Try… turbo!"
Third.
Next up was a near-impenetrable ultra-heavy Mackinaw. Layer after layer of armor plates and an equally insane turbo engine—the thing flew down the road like some highway beast.
The beast tore through the sandstorm at full speed.
The hunters struck from within the sand.
Years of combat experience let the driver snap the wheel in time to throw V off her first rush. He felt Jackie coming in from the other side too and slammed the brakes.
That one brake tap gave him a crystal-clear view of what, on paper, was the same "brand" of truck—
At that distance, Legend Mackinaw's auto-cannon didn't even need to aim. It only needed to fire.
BOOM!
The cannon chewed through the armor. The passengers burned alive and the truck was swatted aside by the steel monster's charge.
"Made by Kang-Tao—super ceramic ballistic armor! Compatible with any ride, sleep easy knowing you're safe!"
Fourth.
"Towashi-class Gen-3 anti-tank missile, Militech's cutting-edge—Mach 2.5, multi-mode warhead, compatible with multiple platforms!"
FWOOO—
Inside the storm, a missile screamed skyward, a narrow line of light ripping across the track.
One weapon after another got called out and broken down by "experts" from different broadcast shows. People were loving it.
In their heads, everyone was already shopping for their favorite "self-defense tool."
"Stinger-3 suicide drone, punching through armored vehicles is just like playing a game!"
"Xlink-7 cyberlink system from Zetatech—sub-1ms response time, dominate every firefight!"
"Nekomata electromagnetic sniper rifle…"
"Cough, cough."
"This fucking sandstorm, I swear."
"We've gone through so many, and by the looks of it, our ad block should be just about done—by now I'm sure our viewers understand just how scary the hardware in these punks' hands really is."
"Going without a gun? Gives me hives. I don't know about you, but I can't stand it."
"Back to tonight's riot."
"Not sure if the punk getting dogpiled here can escape, 'cause it looks like all that hardware is about to get tested on him."
"If you ask me? Mackinaw got bitten down, dragged into the sandstorm—I'd say this time he's screwed."
FWOOO—
Near the city, the sandstorm hit the skyline and began to tear apart. Santo Domingo, as always, marked the furthest reach the storm could ever get.
Near the Night City checkpoint, visibility slowly returned.
"Alright, timing looks about right. Let's see who's gonna be the first one to blow out of this nightmare."
Who would be first?
Militech's forces posed dutifully at the checkpoint.
No finish line.
Just firing lines.
BOOM—
An engine roar like thunder all but tore through the storm. A drone caught the shape of a giant bursting free of the dust.
Fuel and blood slicked across the chassis still burned in open flame, fanning out in the wind. In its wake, people could barely make out another car torn to pieces, losing what little control it had left as the storm pushed it sideways—
Stanley exploded over the airwaves; bottles and cans clattering in the background as something knocked them loose:
"Militech's garrison is raising their weapons! Viewers, I'm a fucking idiot—I was wrong as hell!
The meanest, fastest, most brutal psycho on the Badlands highway—the Legend who conquered the storm and heavy weapons!
And most importantly, he just conquered my fifty-thousand-eddie bet!"
WHOOSH!
Militech troopers let the rockets fly. Warheads landed around the Mackinaw in a ring of fire, shrapnel clanging off the hull like a metal drumline, announcing the first-place finisher.
Twelve Nomad rigs that had been lying in wait around the checkpoint suddenly burst out from the flanks, opening fire on Militech's troops. Every single one of them cleared a path for Mackinaw before it hit the barrier.
Mackinaw blew through the now-empty defensive line and charged into the next section.
Then, for a few long minutes, everything went quiet.
On the radio, Stanley finally voiced the question:
"Just him? Only one?"
This wasn't about a fifty-thousand-eddie bet anymore.
This was about half a million.