Kicked out of the workshop by Cairo, Maine and the others temporarily settled into a relatively intact abandoned building at the wasteland's edge.
This building had once been some small repair station's storefront. Thick concrete walls blocked most sandstorms, but time still left deep marks.
Large patches of wall plaster had peeled away, exposing dark-red bricks beneath. Several windows lacked glass, only barely nailed shut with thick waterproof tarps that occasionally billowed with desert gusts, making flapping sounds.
The roof seemed slightly leaky—corners showed faint water stains.
Rebecca had briefly cleaned here when planning to stay watching over Sasha. It counted as their only foothold in this desolation.
She'd used an old broom found who-knows-where, roughly sweeping years of accumulated sand and debris toward wall corners. The floor couldn't be called clean, but at least lacked foot-cutting glass shards and sharp metal scraps.
The interior space wasn't large—just a few crooked, broken-down tables and chairs scavenged from other ruins, plus several sleeping bags laid directly on cold floors, comprising all furniture.
Air still thick with unsettled dust and desert's characteristic rust-scented dryness. Compared to their Watson district warehouse hideout—packed with modified equipment, weapon crates, full of life—this was worlds apart.
Oppressive silence lasted several minutes before Rebecca finally broke it.
She suddenly slammed a fist on the nearby metal crate—"CLANG"—drawing everyone's attention.
"Fuck! Militech! Biotechnica! They really think highly of us!" Rebecca's voice went shrill from excitement, green optics glowing in dim light. "Sent AVs, mechs, plus those Sandevistan psychos! All for us street hustlers scraping by? That's fucking overkill!"
Pilar rubbed his chest that nearly stopped beating during combat earlier, chiming in: "You're telling me! Before, we mostly just tangled with corp security or gang members. When did we ever see this kind of heat? They came at us like we're a goddamn army!"
Falco leaned against the wall, removing shades slowly wiping them clean. Tone relatively calm but eyes carrying barely concealed unusual gleam: "Scale definitely exceeded normal. This doesn't look like simple retaliation—more like a carefully planned capture operation. They wanted taking us alive."
"Alive?" Maine's brow furrowed tight. Thick fingers unconsciously drummed the table. "Why? Just because we hit Biotechnica convoys, or Sasha's situation?
Sure, it's not small, but logically shouldn't warrant both corps teaming up making this big a move, specially deploying augmented soldiers..."
Dorio crossed arms, voice steady analyzing: "Their targets very likely weren't us personally. Think back—their firepower at first was heavy, yes, but definitely restrained. More like trying forcing surrender.
Not until we used the boss's Teslarifle downing AVs did they completely go berserk."
Those words sparked realization.
Rebecca immediately got excited, nearly jumping up: "Right! The boss! They're definitely coming for the boss! For the gear the boss gave us!"
She waved arms, face radiating emotions mixing lingering fear with exhilaration. "You see that? My plasma pistol melted their armored vehicles in one shot! Plus the boss's Teslarifle—took out two AVs just like that!
And Dorio—you can now bare-hand catch mantis blades! This stuff—corps are definitely jealous!"
Thinking how they'd relied on Cairo-provided weapons and enhancements, actually holding out under such disadvantages against corp elite squads—even ultimately forcing opponents near-total annihilation—an absurd yet blood-pumping sense of achievement sprouted in several hearts.
Rebecca was most blunt. Hands on hips, face full of street punk arrogance: "Ha! Corp dogs kicked steel plates this time! Wanted grabbing us? What happened?
AVs dropped, mechs wrecked, their precious augmented soldiers got captured by us! Now we're really famous!
From now on, who in Night City won't know us 'Edgerunners' dare going toe-to-toe with corps, making them eat major losses!"
Even usually steady Maine couldn't suppress a faint smile tugging his mouth corners.
In Night City, being able to oppose corps and survive already symbolized credentials and glory.
This undoubtedly proved their crew's capabilities, plus following Cairo's path—though dangerous—might reach unprecedented heights.
Falco and Dorio said nothing but eyes also showed similar emotions—that excitement belonging to street mercs' instinctive thrill at challenging authority successfully, buried beneath caution.
However, amid this gradually rising excited atmosphere, Kiwi in the corner seemed completely out of place.
She'd shrunk herself into shadows, deep-red coat collar pulled high, nearly covering half her face.
Both hands tightly hugging her own arms, knuckles slightly whitening from pressure.
Everyone's discussion—especially Rebecca's cheerful tone—sounded jarring to her ears.
Unlike Maine and others who'd contacted Cairo for a while, somewhat accustomed to that beyond-reason existence.
She was newly joined. Today's experiences impacted her too heavily.
First mission traps, then army-level sieges, then Cairo's god-descending-like terror methods—instantly paralyzing entire corp armed forces through networks.
That sensation of consciousness forcibly occupied, body completely uncontrolled—recalling now still sent waves of chills.
That couldn't be described as "technology" at all. More like... rule-level crushing.
She feared Cairo's power, also feared being swept into this vortex.
Fighting corps? Sounded passionate, but only truly experiencing it could one feel that behemoth's suffocating oppressive weight.
She was just a solo netrunner pursuing technical and information freedom—not becoming chess pieces in this level conflicts.
"...Fame isn't necessarily good." Kiwi's voice was light, carrying barely detectable trembling, interrupting Rebecca's high spirits. "This means we'll become corps' priority targets. From now on in Night City, probably can't move an inch."
Her words like cold water doused just-ignited excitement flames. Interior atmosphere turned heavy again.
Maine took a deep breath, nodding. That trace of excitement rapidly faded from his face, recovering leader's calm: "Kiwi's right. Excitement aside, reality problems must be faced.
We made Militech and Biotechnica eat major losses this time. They absolutely won't let this slide."
Falco picked up, tone heavy: "Exactly. Public bounties will definitely escalate. Covert assassinations won't be fewer. Fixers' side...
People like Faraday selling us out for profit definitely won't be the last. Short-term—we can't stay in Night City."
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