The bar's chaos felt muffled, like it was trapped behind thick soundproof glass, while the atmosphere in Maine's crew's usual booth crackled like an overloaded battery—hot, swelling, ready to spark.
"Ha! You should've seen those corpo dogs!" Pilar waved his freshly optimized arm around, practically spitting in Rebecca's face while his other hand spun an empty glass. "Their escort vehicle barely got its interception field up when boss hit it with a voltaic round—zzzap! Whole convoy's electronics just died! Like chickens with their heads cut off!"
Rebecca kicked him in the shin hard enough to shut him up, though her own face was flushed with excitement, green optic implants gleaming in the dim light. "My plasma gun wasn't even warmed up before Dorio pounded the last dumbass who tried fighting back straight into the pavement—armor and all! Biotechnica convoy? Please!"
Maine sank deep into the wide sofa, thick arm draped over Dorio's shoulders, a smug grin he couldn't quite hide playing at his lips. Half a glass of hard liquor sat on the table, but mostly his fingers absently stroked the heavy metal case at his feet.
Inside that case was the real prize from this job—not just a batch of Avocado-2 wheat seeds that'd fetch a fortune on the black market, but also several rare catalysts and gene-adjustment serum Cairo had listed for Dorio's deep biochemical enhancement.
This successful raid hadn't just scraped together payment for the "boss"—it'd made "Edgerunners" a name that rang out in Night City's merc circles. Taking down a corpo convoy head-on was its own kind of statement.
The confidence from growing stronger flowed through every team member like liquor. Even the usually composed Falco had a sharper edge to his gaze.
"With this haul, the 'boss' should make good on his promise." Maine's deep voice carried satisfaction. "Once Dorio's transformation is complete, we can take harder gigs, stand on firmer ground in Night City."
Dorio didn't say much, just tilted her head back for a drink, power seeming to flow beneath her bronze skin. She was eager for the coming enhancement—meant she could better protect this crew, crush more obstacles in their path.
Yet amid this rising tide of celebration, Sasha sat in the corner like she didn't belong.
Her drink sat untouched. Hood pulled low, shadowing most of her face, only showing tightly pressed, bloodless lips. Her fingers traced absent patterns on the cold glass, gaze distant and unfocused.
Especially when Pilar dramatically described raiding the convoy and torching cargo marked with Biotechnica logos—her body went rigid for a barely perceptible instant.
Just then, Maine's private comm channel lit up. He glanced—familiar encrypted signal. Faraday, a fixer they'd worked with before.
"Hey, Maine. Heard you've been making waves lately." Faraday's voice had that typical fixer smoothness. "Got a job, dunno if it's still worth your time. Biotechnica internal research data that needs to 'quietly disappear.' Payment's standard rate."
Normally, Maine would carefully weigh the risks of this kind of infiltration and theft job.
But right now, fresh off a big score, he instinctively felt like this "small-time stuff" was beneath the team's current "level."
"Biotechnica? Them again." Maine's tone carried irritation. "Faraday, we've got more important things going on. This sneaking around—"
"I'll do it." A cool voice cut him off.
Sasha. She looked up, eyes beneath the hood meeting Maine's with calm but unshakeable determination. "This job, I can handle alone."
Maine blinked. The others looked at Sasha with surprise. Solo operations weren't common for core members, especially infiltrations that usually needed backup.
"Sasha, you sure?" Maine frowned. "It's just data theft, yeah, but Biotechnica's internal security isn't a joke."
"I know." Sasha's voice stayed steady—too calm, really. "Precisely because we just hit their convoy, their attention's probably on external defense and retaliation. Internal security might be slack. Besides, data theft—more people just means more exposure. Solo, I'm a smaller target, more flexible."
Her reasoning made sense, but Maine felt something was off. He studied Sasha, trying to catch something in her expression, but those amber eyes were like deep pools—perfectly still.
"Alright," Maine finally nodded—trusting his partner's abilities, or maybe recent victories had dulled his caution. "If you insist. Need any support?"
"No. Just give me the target data and access point info." Sasha stood, movements still graceful. "I'll move tonight."
Sasha left the booth, heading for the bar exit.
Rebecca watched that slender silhouette disappear into the flickering neon glow of the Afterlife's entrance, frown creasing her brow. She grabbed her beloved plasma pistol and hurried after her.
"Hey! Sasha!" Rebecca called out at the bar entrance.
Sasha stopped and turned, face hidden in shadow beneath her hood. "Rebecca?"
"You okay?" Rebecca asked bluntly, green optics studying Sasha carefully. "You've been weird all night. Is it... because of Biotechnica?"
Sasha was silent for a moment, night wind stirring loose strands of hair. She shook her head slightly, voice soft. "I'm fine. Just tired."
"Bullshit!" Rebecca wasn't buying it. "We just pulled off a huge score—you should be hyped like that idiot Pilar. Got some old beef with Biotechnica?"
She tried keeping her tone light, but genuine concern showed in her eyes.
Sasha's lips trembled slightly, like she wanted to say something, but ultimately just shook her head again. "Really, I'm fine, Rebecca. Don't worry. Just a simple data theft job."
Rebecca could tell pressing wouldn't help. She sighed and shoved her heavy, warm plasma pistol into Sasha's hands. "Here, take this. I know you're good at stealth, but just in case—just in case you hit trouble, this thing works way better than that peashooter you carry. Don't you dare lose it!"
Sasha looked down at the crudely styled weapon radiating destructive potential, then met Rebecca's eyes that clearly said "try refusing, I dare you." Something rippled across her cold heart. She nodded gently, carefully tucking the pistol inside her oversized ballistic jacket. "Thanks."
"Buy me a drink when you get back!" Rebecca clapped her arm hard, watching her turn and melt into Night City's deep shadows.
When she returned to the booth, Maine was already standing. "Alright, we should head out too. Sooner we deliver the 'goods' to the boss, sooner Dorio's transformation can start." He picked up the metal case containing precious materials, anticipation returning to his face.
Rebecca glanced at the excited Pilar, composed Falco, the battle-ready Dorio beside her, and the satisfied Maine. That nagging worry about Sasha got temporarily buried under the team's high spirits. Maybe she was overthinking? Maybe Sasha really was just tired.
They left the Afterlife, driving toward that familiar stretch of desert wasteland hiding secrets.
Meanwhile, Sasha—the normally quiet hacker—was infiltrating alone toward the cold steel jungle depths of Biotechnica Tower. Her stated target was research data, but something burned in her eyes that had nothing to do with the team's mission—some desperate, all-or-nothing resolve.
Rebecca's plasma pistol pressed heavy against her chest like a warm, uneasy heartbeat.
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