The Animals' armored truck tore through the dust like a roaring beast, right behind a less modern truck packed to the brim with explosives.
The reinforced cabin of the armored truck throbbed with the industrial beats of MeatMachine, and inside, the crew was riding high on adrenaline, steroids, and arrogance gleaming in their chrome teeth.
"This one's easy money," growled Brickjaw, tagging the company's location and key points on his HUD. The info had been "kindly" provided by a few of the employees. Not like they'd be going back there. "We start with a warm hello, and while they're feeling our 'love,' we clean out the R&D lab, haul ass, and score enough to live like kings at Clouds for a month."
"We should've done this years ago," spat Targa, his bicep thicker than his head. "Don't know why we waited for someone to pay us, but I won't complain about double loot. Heard those real apples are the shit."
The target didn't look like much to most of them: basic buildings, rookie-level protection measures, and way too much greenery that'd catch fire real easy.
They widened the gap by slowing down and let the explosives truck do its magic.
The vehicle rammed the farm's perimeter fence at 120 km/h.
The front end smashed a mini-generator drenched in gasoline, triggering an explosion that lit up half the plains.
BOOOOOOM.
The shockwave blew apart the gate, ripped up hectares of crops, and toppled the external solar panels that powered the facility. Chunks of chassis flew in every direction like shrapnel, injuring several workers.
The fire spread quickly: the mutated, fertile crops were perfect food for the flames, fuel for their brief life.
From the smoke emerged several figures, like predators from hell: the Animals.
Armed with thermal mauls, wide-barrel shotguns, and hydraulic exoskeletons packed with a lot of meat, they strolled in casually, shooting anyone who got too close for comfort.
"Grab what you can and kill anything that moves," ordered Brickjaw, leading the way with half his face covered by a gorilla-shaped iron mask.
The security guards tried to fight back, but to no avail.
One of them drew a pistol loaded with a tranquilizer dart and fired, hitting one of the Animals in the shoulder. The guy just laughed and flicked the dart away.
"This is all you got?" he asked as he rushed at the brave guard. "A damn vaccine?"
He tore the man's arm off in one pull and used it to beat him to death.
In under five minutes, the perimeter was under control and the staff had either fled or been removed from their path.
Then they reached the company's core: the R&D zone.
Inside were sterile lights, metal shelves full of biological samples, and refrigerated capsules with ID systems for each one. They also found some old equipment in a corner, like a giant cauldron next to an oversized wooden oar.
"Here it is!" shouted one of them, pointing at a shelf. "This has to be it. Organic tech… weird names… 'Substance X-27 V6,' 'Substance C-65 V4,' 'Substance T-33'…"
"Why do they have different names than what we were told?" asked one of them, clearly not the brightest.
"Idiot, they must be upgraded versions!" snapped another, pushing him aside. "Means they're worth more!"
"Grab it all! Fast!" Targa ordered as his own hands moved quickly.
While the others grabbed samples, one of the Animals approached a faintly blinking panel. With no clear touchscreen interface, he just hit it.
The lab may have been compromised.
Checking systems.
Confirmed. Initiating underground fusion core self-destruct sequence.
Four minutes to detonation. Please wait patiently for the countdown to end, thieving scum.
"What did it just say?" one Animal looked at another, eyes wide. "Did it just—?"
"Shit, fall back!" growled Brickjaw when he heard the indifferent voice announce everyone's imminent death. "Take whatever we've got!"
He didn't even doubt it was real. Out in the Badlands, a last resort like this made perfect sense.
They loaded two crates full of stolen vials and escaped through one of the side exits that hadn't yet triggered any defense protocols.
What they didn't know was that the self-destruct was fake—just a joke Kiwi had programmed into the alarm.
Why would they use solar panels if they had a fusion core for power?
If they had taken a moment to think, they might've noticed something didn't add up.
Outside, on the edge of the blaze, the extraction transport was already waiting to receive the loot, with more Animals inside to ensure the delivery's safety.
"Anyone missing?" asked Targa, panting as the rest of them approached the transport.
"Rick got unlucky," one Animal shook his head. "Went to grab some real food and got crushed by a massive burning log. Didn't see it coming, snapped his neck. Instant game over."
"I see… We got what we came for, let's get out of here," Targa muttered. He had no use for losers who couldn't dodge a falling log.
The transport door opened and—
"Oh, leaving already?" a young voice said behind them out of nowhere. "Yeah, I don't think so."
Targa, Brickjaw, and the rest suddenly felt the fire's heat vanish and the temperature drop sharply.
Just a glitch in their thermal perception, they thought—until they turned around, weapons ready.
Faelan stood with the inferno behind him, casting his face in shadow as he slowly took off his glasses and brushed his hair back, letting his hood fall to reveal his horns, which were still growing. His green eyes shone intensely, locked on the Animals. A root rose from the ground, forming a wooden staff in his hand.
"What the hell…?" one of the Animals muttered as Faelan's shadow stretched and swayed unnaturally with the firelight, his antlers still growing, his divine features twisted by fury. For a moment, they even had the illusion his teeth had become sharp and triangular.
Pff...
The sound of tires punctured by countless roots was perfectly clear, but no one dared turn their back on the monster standing before them.
"Fill that freak with lead!" Brickjaw shouted as he raised his weapon and started emptying the magazine at Faelan.
The other Animals raised their voices and followed orders by instinct. Pistols, shotguns, rifles—anything that could deal damage was fired.
Faelan stood still, like a scarecrow taking the hits without flinching.
Two full minutes of nonstop gunfire emptied everyone's weapons, but when they lowered their tired arms with smoke rising from their barrels, they all took a step back in unison at the sight of Faelan.
He was completely riddled with holes, even missing part of the left side of his head—but before their very eyes, those holes slowly filled back in until he returned to normal.
Even his clothes stitched themselves up and were perfectly intact—not a single drop of blood on the ground!
"Animals… since you like that name so much, I can help you live up to it," he said with a smile that sent a chill down their spines.
"Argh, let me go!" A root burst from the ground and pierced Targa's shoulder, hoisting him up like a slab of meat and bringing him before Faelan. "Hey, can't we talk this out?" he asked, realizing this job was way out of their league.
He didn't even understand what they were up against!
"But of course!" Faelan nodded as he extended his hand toward him. "I'm sure your buddies will be dying to talk... after this." His hand began to emit a dark green, sinister glow.
"The wha—? AAHH!" Targa had a bad feeling, but pain overwhelmed his nerves before he could finish the question.
In full view of the terrified Animals, Targa's body began to contort as the chrome was expelled from his flesh. His muscles bubbled, twisted, and his bones broke only to be restructured into something entirely different. The process lasted barely a minute before…
"Oink! Oink!"
A pig now stood before them, in the very spot where Targa had just been writhing in agony. The pig looked around, confused, as if it didn't understand why it was there.
Hmm, maybe he'd name this spell Circe's Curse.
"A bit slow, but it's my first time doing it," Faelan murmured, his green eyes flicking from the pig to the rest of the Animals so fast they left trails of light. "Now, are you going to tell me everything like good little boys, or would you rather be served with a side dish for dinner? I'm sure Night City's food center for the homeless would be thrilled to have a hearty pork-based meal~."
The Animals dropped their weapons to the ground, trembling with pale faces—some even visibly wet their pants.
"Oh right, the fire." Faelan raised his wooden staff overhead, and within seconds, rain clouds gathered to extinguish a blaze that would've taken two hours to put out by conventional means. "Now then, where were we?" he asked as the rain poured down on everyone—curiously, he was the only one who didn't get wet.
"...Even if we tell you something, we're screwed either way, aren't we?" said Brickjaw, his voice void of bravado or defiance. A few gray hairs now peeked through his dyed hair.
"You're small fry," Faelan replied coldly, not looking away. "I'm more interested in the big fish behind this. If you give me the information and leave what you stole on the ground—no tricks—I'll let you go. Naturally, I expect to never see you again. Deal?"
Brickjaw looked at the others, completely lost in their own minds.
They were so shaken by what they had just witnessed that they had completely forgotten about the supposed self-destruction they were running from.
"Fuck it." This was his only chance to not end up being served in some run-down soup kitchen. "This wasn't the Animals' idea. The boss accepted a job through a fixer who usually gathers contracts from the megacorps." He spilled everything without holding back. "The job was to burn the place down and steal the samples and data. Tarnish the rep, wipe out assets, the usual. I've got no clue who's behind it, I swear on my mother!"
Faelan looked at him in silence, processing the information.
"What's the fixer's name?"
"Only the boss knows that." Brickjaw shook his head, not daring to meet his gaze. "I was just there when he got the job. Barely saw the guy's face on the holo-display."
"I see." Faelan decided to test a theory. "This fixer… wears a suit and has three optics on the right side of his face?"
Brickjaw looked stunned.
"Yeah. He does."
That settles it. The fixer was Faraday.
"You've got one minute to get out of here as fast as you can," Faelan said, glancing at the Pip-Boy as if he'd just started a countdown.
Brickjaw didn't even look at his crew. After dropping what they had stolen, he jumped into the driver's seat, shoved another guy into the passenger seat, and floored the accelerator without even bothering to close the door.
A few Animals managed to catch on in time and clung to the outside of the vehicle like starfish. But even then, a few were too late and had only one option left.
Run!
Faelan watched them flee with a cold expression. Maybe he said he'd let them go, but what Dorio and the Valentinos might do to them wasn't his concern. Dorio really needed something to shoot right now.
As for him… he could always visit the Animals' boss who took the job later. Whether this would end up like the situation with Maelstrom remained to be seen.
"Faraday?" he repeated aloud. "On one hand, it fits his style—but his involvement here is… odd. I'll call Kiwi and Sasha, let them know to stay alert."
As he made the call, his thoughts drifted while he watched the rain douse the fire.
There was no way Faelan didn't know who Faraday was. He was a ruthless fixer who mostly (though not exclusively) took jobs from Militech, usually corporate espionage targeting Arasaka.
A "regular patron" of Maine's crew—and after Maine's death, he started working with David Martinez, his protégé. Everyone knew how that ended. Faraday was the kind of scum whose biggest contribution to society would be catching a bullet right between the eyes.
But the reason Faelan could never forget that bastard… was that in the original timeline, Kiwi was killed by a goon hired by Faraday, under truly miserable circumstances.
Initially, Faelan hadn't planned on bothering with the guy until much later—after all, their "fields of work" didn't overlap much. Corporate espionage, arms smuggling, target elimination, etc.
But after this attack and these losses?
He'd find that guy. He'd rip out the name of his client.
And then make him wish he were dead.
…
Even so, something didn't feel right.
The explosive truck, the flames, and this blatant attack in broad daylight out in the open field felt like...
A distraction?
It was as if they wanted all the attention focused here and not somewhere else.
"Am I overthinking this?" he wondered, considering he might be getting a little paranoid as the rain eased up and the fire finally died out.
Gloria and David? No, it didn't make sense for them to be the targets.
The land now belonged to him, and she was just another employee. She didn't even have access to the more important documents. Gloria even had a bit of a reputation for having been "scammed" by him, which actually worked as a form of protection.
Viktor? Even less likely. He was a ripperdoc respected by many, and Faraday would gain nothing but trouble by going after him. Besides, their connection, from an outsider's perspective, was barely visible.
Dorio was leading the Valentinos in wiping out the fleeing remnants of the Animals.
Gordon? He didn't even give him a second thought.
Kiwi and Sasha were with Galina, but they were the ones who had given the alert in the first place.
…
Maybe the Animals really were just a bunch of meatheads pumped full of artificial hormones when it came to planning things?
He turned his head to look at the pig beside him.
"Oink?"
Sometimes, the simplest answers turn out to be the right ones.