Beneath the neon glow, Night City pulsed with its usual beauty — shimmering colors, flickering lights, and the illusion of peace. But that fragile illusion shattered the instant gunfire split the night.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
A storm of bullets screamed down the street. Several blacked-out cars surged from behind, their tinted windows sliding open to reveal the gleam of cold barrels. Flames burst from muzzles, lighting up the darkness as rounds tore into the vehicle carrying Neo and his crew.
"Shit!" Jackie slammed the steering wheel. "Scavs! Those bastards are back!"
He floored the accelerator, the engine roaring as sparks flew from the asphalt.
Behind them, the Scav convoy surged faster, their headlights slicing through the smog like the eyes of predators closing in.
"Can't shake 'em!" Jackie growled, checking the mirror. "These chrome junkies stick worse than a bad implant!"
Rebecca leaned out the side window, Ironheart shotgun already humming with heat. "You picked the wrong damn car to chase, assholes!"
The next second, the night exploded again — this time with Rebecca's boomstick answering fire. Her scatter rounds roared down the highway, punching holes in the Scav car at the rear.
David wasn't far behind. He yanked open the opposite window, his modified pistol whirring as he returned fire, chrome optics locking on to the nearest target.
Thus began a full-blown neon-lit highway shootout — bullets flying, engines screaming, city lights flashing like strobes across cracked armor and shattered glass.
Rebecca was in her element. Even with the Scavs' suppressive fire hammering their car, she moved like a storm, every shot deliberate, rhythmic.
She was playing their tempo — waiting for it.
Every group had a firing rhythm, a cycle between bursts. The Scavs weren't soldiers; they were butchers with guns. They emptied clips like maniacs, leaving just enough space between volleys for someone fast enough, or insane enough, to strike back.
Rebecca lived for that space.
The moment their fire thinned, she leaned halfway out the window, Ironheart kicking thunder. The nearest Scav car's windshield shattered, spraying sparks and smoke.
Jackie cursed again, jerking the wheel as bullets ripped past. Through it all, Neo sat perfectly calm.
He hadn't flinched once.
Jackie couldn't help but stare.
"V, we're literally being lit up like a Christmas tree, and you're sittin' there like you're on a damn joyride?"
Neo's tone was calm, steady, almost lazy.
"So what? They're chasing us, but Jackie, haven't you noticed?"
He gestured subtly toward the back.
"Rebecca and David are already holding them off. Sometimes, you just need to trust your crew."
Jackie blinked, then laughed, short and surprised. "Heh. Guess you're right."
And damn it, Neo was right.
The moment he stopped panicking and really looked, he saw it, the Scavs weren't gaining any ground. Rebecca's counterfire and David's precision bursts were locking them down completely.
"Alright, hermano," Jackie said with a grin. "I get it now."
Neo nodded once. "Then keep driving."
…
In the back seat, Rebecca flashed a toothy grin, shouting over the gunfire. "Hey, rookie! You hear what V said?"
David ducked as a bullet whizzed past his head. "What'd he say, Rebecca?!"
Rebecca racked the shotgun, laughter bubbling in her throat. "He said—let's blow these chrome-freak bastards straight to hell!"
David's eyes gleamed. "Yes, ma'am!"
Neo's words had settled in both of them. Trust your crew. Know your strengths. Cover each other's backs.
Rebecca believed in that. She lived for it.
She grinned wildly and hit her comms. "Oi! Dead-bro! Your baby sister's got Scavs on her tail! Get your ass over here!"
…
On another street, a heavily modified Quadra cut through traffic like a beast unleashed. Pilar's voice exploded through the comms, half fury, half panic. "What?! Those Scav bastards are chasing my baby sister?!"
His foot slammed down, and the car screamed into a hard turn, neon lights blurring past as they gunned it toward Rebecca's GPS ping.
In the back seat, Maine's eyes snapped open, fury lighting up his face. Dorio beside him cracked her knuckles.
"Someone's touching my crew?" Maine growled. "They're already dead."
…
The Scavs had no idea the noose was already tightening. They were so consumed with rage, so intent on payback, they didn't notice death approaching from behind.
From the darkness, Pilar's car burst into view.
Thunk—Thunk—BOOM!
Maine leaned out the window, his massive arm locked into the grenade launcher socket. A cascade of fiery explosions ripped through the rear of the Scav convoy.
Two vehicles went up in a storm of orange fire, chrome and flesh flying skyward.
"Hell yeah!" Pilar whooped from the driver's seat.
Up front, Jackie slammed the brakes, tires screaming. Neo's group car skidded sideways to a stop.
Doors flew open.
Rebecca leaped out, Ironheart blazing. David followed, every servo in his limbs pushing to full output, his movements fast enough to blur. Even Jackie joined in, finally making good on his earlier promise — pulling a real grenade this time, not the EMP kind.
"Try dodging this, pendejos!" he roared, tossing it into the nearest Scav car.
The explosion tore through the street.
Caught between Maine's barrage from behind and Neo's crew up front, the Scavs didn't stand a chance.
The firefight lasted barely a minute. When the smoke cleared, the road was littered with burning vehicles and broken chrome.
Every Scav who'd come for revenge lay in twisted heaps of metal and flesh.
Total annihilation.
Rebecca laughed, resting her shotgun on her shoulder. "Now that's how you make roadkill."
Jackie whistled, shaking his head. "Damn, that felt good."
Maine's voice came through the comm. "You good, pequeña?"
Rebecca smirked. "Better than good."
Before the NCPD's sirens could cut through the night, the two crews worked fast — scavenging what was left.
Chrome limbs, implants, weapon mods — stripped clean, packed up, loaded into trunks.
Jackie snorted. "Can't let good cyberware go to waste, huh?"
Rebecca winked. "Hey, Scavs taught us something useful. Waste not, want not."
Neo just looked up at the smog-choked sky, neon reflecting in his eyes. "Let's go. Before the city wakes up."
…
Later that night, Watson District.
Neo's apartment was quiet. He hadn't gone with Jackie to settle the loot split with Maine's crew — numbers bored him. Counting chrome and arguing over eddies wasn't his thing.
He showered, changed into clean clothes, and sank into his couch.
The TV flickered to life, playing the Night City Nightline.
Same as always — a cheerful host listing out the body count like weather stats. How many gang shootouts since sundown, how many corpos executed by their rivals, how many citizens just "vanished."
Neo barely listened. The noise was just background hum — like the hum of neon outside the window.
Then—
Beep. Beep.
A message pinged onto his HUD.
[You have a new friend request.]
[From: Evelyn Parker]
Neo's brows lifted slightly.
"Evelyn Parker, huh?" he murmured, leaning back with a faint, knowing smile.
Night City wasn't done with him yet.