Their city warehouse stronghold wasn't completely abandoned but downgraded into a functional outpost and emergency refuge point.
Maine, together with Dorio and Falco, carefully screened supplies needing keeping in the city.
Several well-maintained but not top-tier SMGs and pistols, standard-caliber corresponding ammunition, some basic med-kits and trauma gel, several sets of ordinary clothing for disguise, plus crates of long-shelf-life synthetic foods.
These supplies were categorized and stored in warehouse concealed compartments—value sufficient handling emergencies, but even total losses wouldn't fundamentally hurt the team.
Watching over this stronghold was Maine's old friend named Old Wayne.
He'd once been a decent mechanic, later injured his hand in an accident—unable continuing precision work—now running an inconspicuous parts stall.
Old Wayne kept low profiles, had no deep entanglements with major corps or gangs. Most importantly, he owed Maine a considerable favor.
Maine paid him a modest monthly caretaking fee. Tasks were simple too—every week or so, entering warehouses under pretexts of checking water-electric lines, opening windows for ventilation, ensuring no break-ins or surveillance equipment installations.
This arrangement maximized risk reduction. Even if Old Wayne's side had incidents, trails basically ended at him.
Entire wasteland stronghold renovation processes lasted several weeks.
During this period, Aldecaldo family workers displayed Nomads' characteristic resilience and efficiency.
They erected rows of practical canvas tents on vacant lots at wasteland town edges, enclosing small temporary camps.
Whenever night fell, campfires would ignite, dispelling Badlands' chill and darkness.
Maine's team provided sufficient drinking water and food, sometimes sharing synthetic steaks and pre-mixed drinks brought from the city—considered "luxuries" to Nomads.
These nightly campfire sides became brief information and exchange locations.
Rebecca and Pilar were regulars here.
Rebecca generously produced her treasured spirits, exchanging for Nomads recounting thrilling migration stories across vast Badlands.
Like predicting and avoiding lethal sandstorms, which dried riverbeds might hide precious water sources, handling encounters with mutant vipers or radiation scorpions, plus other Nomad family anecdotes and territorial ranges.
Pilar was especially interested in "tech treasures" occasionally mentioned in stories from abandoned military bases or pre-era ruins, always pressing for details.
Though Dorio and Falco rarely joined chats, they'd quietly listen from the sides. Falco especially focused on terrain changes Nomads mentioned, known danger zones, plus other armed gang activity ranges—information he'd silently note down, supplementing electronic map databases.
This exchange—built purely on work and transactions foundations while maintaining appropriate distances—to some extent alleviated wasteland life's monotony and isolation, also giving Maine's crew more concrete cognition of their environments.
When projects ultimately completed, presented before Maine's crew was no longer a dilapidated repair station but a fortress standing at Badlands edges—silent yet solid.
Its low-profile silhouette merged with desolate horizons. Exterior unpretentious, even somewhat rugged. But interiors underwent meticulous planning and reinforcements.
Thick composite metal walls, rapidly-closing alloy window shields, concealed firing ports, multi-layered outer sensor networks, plus independent small-scale power generation and water supply systems—together comprising reliable defense and survival frameworks.
Here would become their new operations center under Night City's turbulent shadows, also their final fallback defensive lines.
Choosing permanent wasteland residence—another unspoken yet mutually-understood reason—was sheltering under Cairo's workshop deterrent force.
That mysterious location hidden deeper in deserts, occasionally transmitting low humming and anomalous energy fluctuations, was invisible power shrouding these wastelands.
Cairo himself almost never appeared, displaying complete indifference toward Maine crew's daily affairs. But his very existence was like reassurance pills—or rather, swords hanging over potential enemies' heads.
Maine—during one internal team meeting—once knocked knuckles on newly-installed metal tabletops, tone serious emphasizing: "Everyone keep positions straight. Living here doesn't mean the boss is our babysitter."
He paused, surveying everyone: "But if we really encounter tough nuts we can't crack even fighting tooth and nail—at least we know which direction seeking help, roads closest too. That's enough."
This dependence on and awe toward Cairo's power—after closely observing Morell's transformation—became more concrete, profound, even tinged with burning desires.
Morell—that once-Militech "Switchblade" squad member equipped with experimental Sandevistan and mantis blades, nearly wiping them all out with ghost-like speeds at 66 Gas Station—after being captured and deeply modified by Cairo, had already transformed into completely different, formidable weapons.
She still maintained basic human outlines, making her existence not overly shocking.
But any slightly-experienced warriors could detect abnormalities about her. Her movements carried absolute precision and efficiency—zero superfluous swaying. Every step, every turn seemed optimally calculated.
Beneath that dark-gray combat attire was a reborn body fusing unknown tech with local cyberware technology. Occasionally under specific lighting, joint connections showed faint luster differing from ordinary cyberware's dull gleams.
Most eye-catching were those thoroughly-modified sonic blades.
They normally perfectly retracted within forearm interiors, only silently sliding into palms when used.
When activated, no dazzling light effects—only low, oppressive humming. That sound seemed capable penetrating eardrums, directly stirring listeners' viscera, bringing instinctive fear.
On that relatively flat sandy-gravel clearing outside wasteland strongholds, Morell and Dorio conducted several unpublicized sparring sessions.
During first sparring, all Maine crew members were present. Atmosphere carried indescribable tension and curiosity.
Dorio—after Cairo's preliminary biological enhancements—her strength, speed, reaction nerves had long transcended mortal limits.
She could bare-hand catch high-speed slashing mantis blades, one-punch piercing light armor plates—scenes still deeply branded in everyone's memories.
Her combat style was fierce and explosive, like humanoid storms, relying on crushing power and solid defenses destroying opponents.
This made Maine crew members all anticipate battles between her and Morell.
----------
Advanced chapters for $7 @patreon:michaelv1.