Rocky Ridge. Once a dream, now a carcass gnawed clean by time and war.
On paper, the town had everything — fertile slopes and running water, a clear view of the interstate rail that linked Night City to the outer states, and a fully functional hydro plant left behind by the corps. Three rarest treasures in the Badlands — transport, water, and power — all in one place.
If luck had a capital, it should've been Rocky Ridge.
And yet, that "perfect start" was the first lie.
Because every wanderer who came chasing that promise forgot to ask the simplest question — why was this perfect little town still abandoned after half a century of the Cyberpunk age? Why had no corpo or clan claimed it?
The answer arrived in the form of gunfire and laughter.
The Wraiths came first. Then the Nightwalkers.
The Wraiths were scavengers — a patchwork family of bandits, criminals, and outcasts exiled from Nomad clans. Murderers, slavers, traitors, poisoners. Every name in the Badlands had a story dripping with blood, and every story ended the same — exile.
One outcast is a tragedy. A hundred of them is an army.
The Wraiths roamed the wasteland highways in packs, metal beasts painted in bone-white graffiti, engines screaming their madness to the sky.
But the Nightwalkers… they were worse. Organized. Efficient. Predatory.
If the Wraiths were rabid dogs, the Nightwalkers were wolves — silent, methodical, merciless.
Their den? The Rocky Ridge mountains themselves.
Ten minutes from the ghost town below.
It didn't take long.
The wanderers who tried to rebuild Rocky Ridge never stood a chance. They came with tools and blueprints, dreams and diesel, only to be swallowed alive. The Wraiths would descend in a storm of headlights and laughter, tearing through camps and bodies alike, leaving only blood and silence behind.
Eventually, even the most desperate Nomads learned.
No one went to Rocky Ridge anymore.
No one came back.
...
Neo rode his Rayfield, its engine purring like a living beast, while Panam's Thorton Caliburn roared beside him, keeping perfect pace.
They spoke easily over the hum of the road. The wind carried their voices but didn't steal them.
"You left the Aldecaldos because of Saul?" Neo asked.
Panam snorted softly. "Not because I hate him. Just… I couldn't stay under him anymore. Saul brought us to California to build a better life, right? Look around. A few tents in a sandpit. That's not life — it's surviving in slow motion."
Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "He talks about stability, but all he's really doing is keeping us chained to the same dirt. I want change. I want something real. But Saul? He's a coward. I told him to his face — if he keeps this up, the clan will rot before it thrives."
Neo considered her words. "You both want the same thing, just from different sides of the road."
She glanced at him. "How do you figure?"
"As a leader, Saul has to think of the whole picture. He can't gamble with lives — not when the clan belongs to everyone. To you, he's cautious. To him, he's responsible. But both of you are right, in your own way."
Panam let out a low, skeptical laugh. "You sound like a shrink."
Neo smiled. "Maybe. Or maybe I've just learned when to shut up."
Panam turned toward him slightly, surprise flickering across her face. He wasn't trying to win points or prove himself — just listening. Leaving space.
That silence carried weight.
In art, they called it negative space.
In life, it was the same — knowing when to stop talking was what made your words worth hearing.
...
By the time they reached Rocky Ridge, the sun was dying behind the hills, spilling orange light across the rusting rooftops and broken signs.
And waiting for them at the edge of the ghost town — the Edgerunners.
Lucy, Maine, Rebecca, Dorio, Pilar, and Lucy. The whole crew.
"Neo!"
The familiar, honeyed voice hit him before she did.
Rebecca came sprinting across the cracked asphalt, boots slapping the dust, her braids whipping in the wind.
Neo barely had time to grin before she launched herself into the air.
"I'm here!"
He caught her mid-pounce, laughing as they spun, her light body twisting into his arms like it belonged there.
Two days apart felt like a lifetime.
She kissed him — once, twice, again — loud and unapologetic.
Neo blinked, half-laughing. "Rebecca, there are people watching."
"So what?" she shot back, chin tilted defiantly. "Everyone knows what we are. Let 'em look."
He sighed, helpless against her wild energy. That was Rebecca — no filters, no shame, no apologies.
...
"Boss," Maine called out, walking up with that mountain-sized frame of his. "We swept the area. Whole damn town's empty. Nothing but dust, rats, and bad memories."
Lucy joined in, her voice cool and precise. "According to the grid data, the Nightwalkers' main base is in the hills. Heavily fortified, tight access points. Attacking them head-on would be suicide."
Maine cracked his knuckles. "Sounds like a fun day to me."
Lucy ignored him. "But there's a way to draw them out. This town still has a working power grid. If I hijack the system and light it up tonight, it'll be like waving a red flag in front of a bull. The Nightwalkers won't resist."
Neo nodded. "Good. We bring them down here on our terms."
"Right," Lucy said, already pulling out her deck. "I will handle the systems. Give me a few hours."
Neo turned to Maine and Jackie. "You two build us a line of defense. Makeshift, quick, but solid. Dorio and Pilar — help them fortify."
The orders flowed like water — smooth, confident, unquestioned. The Edgerunners moved immediately.
And for the first time since leaving the city, Panam saw it clearly — the weight he carried. How easily they followed him. How calm he was in chaos.
He was more than a merc. More than a blade.
He was a leader.
...
When the planning was done, Neo turned back to her, Rebecca still tucked close against his side.
"Panam, this is my crew. The Night City Edgerunners."
Then, with that familiar teasing smirk: "And this little devil here—" he squeezed Rebecca's hand gently "—is my girlfriend. Our gunner and demolitions ace."
Rebecca didn't say a word.
She just smiled sweetly, way too sweetly—then pinched the skin at his waist, hard.
Neo winced. "Ow—hey!"
She leaned closer, whispering in his ear, her smile turning razor-sharp. "You really love testing your luck, don't you? Surrounded by bombshells, and I'm the only one built like a soda can."
Neo coughed, fighting a laugh. "You're perfect the way you are."
Rebecca huffed, crossing her arms. "Damn right I am."
Panam just watched them with a half-smile, shaking her head.
For a man who could cut tanks in half, Neo sure had his hands full.