A few days passed, but Dexter DeShawn's sense of astonishment had not faded. Wesker, Electro, and Ryouma Sengoku's power continued to leave him speechless. The missions they carried out were unbelievable, and their individual strength was nothing short of terrifying.
Among them, Dexter was particularly impressed by the "Electric Man" who worked alongside him on one mission. They had gone to the Badlands—the territory of the Aldecaldos. At first, Dexter hadn't wanted to go there; he knew his appearance would draw too much attention, especially in Saul Bright's domain, where he clearly didn't belong.
He also knew that ever since Saul Bright had taken over leadership, he'd been trying to break away from the family's smuggling traditions and build ties with the corporations. But this approach had stirred deep resentment in the camp. Some called Saul a corporate lapdog, claiming he used the Aldecaldos' name for personal gain, but Dexter DeShawn knew there was more to it than that.
In the end, he decided to have Oleg—who had also been injected with the virus—drive them to Saul Bright's camp. Oleg had changed completely; he was no longer the overweight man he once was.
Dexter DeShawn and his companions drove across a barren desert until they reached Aldecaldo territory.
The Badlands were desolate and perilous—one of the most dangerous regions around Night City. The ground was blanketed in yellow sand that danced in the wind, shrouding everything in a hazy blur. The sun blazed mercilessly overhead, baking the land and sending shimmering waves of heat through the air. Amid the endless dunes, only a few stubborn patches of vegetation clung to life, surviving against all odds.
At the camp entrance stood a heavy iron gate emblazoned with the Aldecaldo family crest, symbolizing their pride and authority. Several rugged guards stood watch, weapons in hand, their sharp eyes scanning the horizon for any hint of threat.
Dexter DeShawn led the way, his eyes sweeping over his surroundings, missing no detail. Though he appeared calm on the surface, he was fully alert inside. In a place like the Badlands, one reckless move could mean death.
Oleg followed close behind, the cyberware on his body gleaming faintly, ready for action at a moment's notice.
Electric Man walked silently behind them.
As they entered the camp, the Aldecaldo members didn't exactly welcome them warmly. Some gave Dexter, Oleg, and Electric Man cold, suspicious looks.
The camp reeked of oil fumes and sweat. Aldecaldo members moved busily about, each wearing an expression of wariness and indifference. The Badlands were not a friendly place—it was a marketplace of survival and power. Here, people believed only in profit; emotion and morality were luxuries long forgotten.
Dexter DeShawn got out of the vehicle and surveyed the camp. The place was littered with ruined buildings and wrecked vehicles, silent witnesses to time and hardship. The dusty streets—if they could be called that—were crowded with people bartering and whispering deals in the open.
"Where's Saul Bright?" Dexter's voice was cold and commanding, showing no trace of courtesy.
A large, muscular guard stepped forward, a sneer curling his lips. "Who are you? What business do you have with our leader?"
"Trade," Dexter replied.
"Trade?" the guard scoffed. "We don't deal with corporate lapdogs."
Oleg frowned, clearly annoyed by the man's tone. His eyes went cold as his hand hovered over his weapon, ready to strike.
But Dexter raised a hand to stop him. With a cool smile, he said, "I'm no corporate dog. I'm a broker. I'm here to offer something that benefits both sides."
The guard's brows furrowed—he clearly didn't buy it. "A broker, huh? You think you can just walk into our territory and make deals? You're overestimating yourself."
"You don't have to believe me," Dexter said calmly, "but I think Saul Bright will want to hear what I have to say."
The guard hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. I'll tell the boss. We'll see if he's interested."
Dexter nodded and waited patiently. He knew that no matter what the others thought, Saul Bright wouldn't ignore any potential opportunity. In the Badlands, power and resources were everything—and anyone who could bring him either was worth listening to.
When Saul Bright finally appeared, he studied Dexter silently for a while before speaking.
"You here to do business with me?" His voice was firm, even, and devoid of emotion.
"Yes," Dexter replied bluntly, hiding nothing.
"You're not the same Dexter DeShawn I used to know," Saul said, frowning slightly.
Dexter smirked. "You could say I've been using the same enhancement formulas as the Animal Gang—super testosterone, bio-nutrient injections. You might have noticed the change in my friend Oleg here."
Saul glanced at Oleg, then nodded. "Alright. Talk."
"A company business proposal," Dexter said.
"A company?" Saul repeated, intrigued but cautious. He had been considering some corporate connections recently. If this really was Dexter DeShawn, then he must know people inside the corps—useful people.
"Go on."
"We're planning to hit the Corporate Plaza."
"What!?" Saul shouted, visibly shaken.
Hearing the commotion, several Aldecaldo guards rushed in. "Move! Move!" Saul immediately barked orders to stand down.
Once the room cleared, he sat back down, still trying to process what he'd heard. "You're attacking a megacorp?"
"Let's just say—it's business." Dexter pulled out a cigar. "Mind if I smoke?"
Saul waved a hand. "Go ahead."
The room fell silent. Dexter lit the cigar and exhaled slowly. Time passed.
Finally, Saul sighed. "I'm sorry, but I can't drag the Aldecaldos into this."
"Don't you want to hear what's in it for you?" Dexter asked one last time.
"No. I won't endanger my family," Saul said firmly, though his tone was almost regretful.
Dexter nodded, rising to his feet. "Alright. Then let's pretend this conversation never happened." He took another puff and added, "I wouldn't want the corps to hear about this anyway."
Saul smiled faintly. "I didn't see Dexter DeShawn today."
"Next time we have business to discuss, we'll talk again."
…
Dexter DeShawn, Oleg, Electric Man, and Wesker later arrived at the territory of the Wraiths—a ruined factory surrounded by crumbling buildings and rusted-out vehicles, the whole place radiating a post-apocalyptic desolation.
The Wraiths' territory was as deadly as the Badlands themselves. In this world, the law of the jungle reigned supreme—only the strong survived. Dexter knew this truth well and stayed on guard.
The Wraiths were a large, notorious group of nomads whose influence stretched across multiple states. They lived by violence and theft, preying on mercs and city folk alike. In this brutal wasteland, they were like a pack of starving wolves, always ready to strike.
Dexter led the way with a calm expression, showing no fear. Negotiating with people like the Wraiths wasn't easy, but he had confidence—and leverage.
"We need to be careful. The Wraiths aren't to be underestimated," Dexter murmured to his companions.
Oleg stayed cautious, while Electro and Wesker remained expressionless.
As they advanced deeper into the compound, they were soon surrounded by armed Wraiths, weapons raised, eyes full of suspicion.
"Who are you? What do you want here?" one of them growled.
Dexter gave a faint smile. He knew their hostility was standard procedure. "We're here for business. A partnership proposal."
The Wraiths exchanged skeptical glances. One sneered. "Partnership? You think we'd believe that? Out here, the only thing that's real is profit."
"I say we kill them and take their stuff," another hissed.
"We mean no harm," Dexter replied firmly. "We're here to offer a deal that benefits both sides."
At that moment, a tall figure emerged from the crowd—broad-shouldered, covered in tattoos, eyes sharp as knives. It was Nash, leader of the Wraiths.
Nash glared at Dexter and his crew with disdain. "Who the hell are you?"
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