Beneath warehouse number three, twenty meters underground.
A thin man approaching middle age was restless.
He wore a burgundy Neokitsch suit with black piping and yellow edges, black gloves and shoes, and a white button-up shirt. But perhaps his most striking feature was his four cybernetic eyes, three of which were installed on the right side of his face.
"What the hell went wrong?" Faraday thought as he sat on a sofa worth more than an apartment building, sipping a glass of brandy and holding a cigarette between his fingers.
The ashtray beside him made it clear this wasn't his first of the day—and certainly wouldn't be the last.
The bottle of brandy had been an indulgence he'd come across by chance during a job, a gift from one of his clients. He had planned to open it to celebrate some important milestone—a transcendent moment in his rise through this city—not for the current situation…
Ever since he saw that the Tree of the Damned in Night City had a twin sprouting from the Animals' base, he knew something had gone wrong.
And he had reason to suspect it.
His Arasaka contacts ignored him, or had cut off the encrypted communication lines he had.
The deals he had with the Animals? Nullified the moment he learned the entire gang was dead.
But even so, it wasn't enough to leave him without information.
He was Faraday; his name could still get him certain intel.
The first thing he looked into was obvious—he wanted to know if the owner of Naturtal&Co was still alive, the target behind all the theatrics and bait that had been thrown out.
If he was dead, things would be much easier.
Bad news—he wasn't just alive, Faraday hadn't been able to locate him since the tree incident.
"Ideally, he'd be gravely wounded or dead."
But relying on possibilities instead of facts would never have kept him alive to this day. Even with evidence, suspicion was always the right choice.
"With the Animals dead, my involvement can be considered minor—or better yet, as if it never happened," he thought as he took another drag from his cigarette, savoring the putrid poison in his lungs.
His interactions had been minimal at best.
Naturtal&Co's technology intrigued him as much as it did most people; it was simply a business with immeasurable economic potential. But no matter how many workers he bribed or threatened, no one could access the facilities he was interested in—the ones with the good stuff.
On the glass table in front of him sat a plate of apple slices from that very same company. Like so many hedonists and those reaping the benefits of their positions, he had become hooked on real food—flavorful, untouched by industrial processing.
"After the attack, they should be rebuilding all the damaged facilities," he said, staring absently at the glass of amber liquid. "They should take about two weeks to fix the most important parts. Should I find some solos to stealthily steal whatever they can?"
Frankly, he didn't even need something as valuable as the C-65 or X-27 formula; as long as he could get the data on how to produce the company's crops, he could retire in fifteen years by starting a rival firm.
Retiring in Night City was an achievement in itself!
He wouldn't even worry about market demand—there was an entire planet to sell to, and there would never be oversupply. If the south was taken by Naturtal&Co, he'd head north to claim his niche.
Even if the company created with that data was considered second-tier—so what?
It would still sell just as well. It was a business that, unless sabotaged, couldn't run at a loss.
"I think I'll move my plans forward," he thought, finishing his drink and eyeing the tempting, juicy fruit. "I'll finish relaxing, and after enjoying my snack, I'll change locations in thirty minutes at most."
He had a feeling that—
BOOM!
[Alert: Security breach detected.]
[Activating defense systems.]
[Alerting security personnel.]
[Guest, please prepare for possible evacuation.]
Faraday let out a weary sigh. Time to raise the red flag, huh?
He stood up and calmly tossed his cigarette into the ashtray, preparing to leave through the hidden elevator. But the plate of apple slices tempted him with its presence.
"I'll eat something on the way," he murmured indifferently.
He only delayed two seconds to grab the plate of fruit before continuing his escape.
Meanwhile, upstairs…
Faelan stood speechless at the sight of the twenty bodies that had made up the site's security, all sharing the same signs: riddled with holes, lifeless, and with the occasional spark flickering from their implants.
How much time had passed from the moment they entered from outside to… this?
Ten, maybe fifteen seconds?
Galina had even managed to locate, prioritize, and eliminate the two guys who had a Sandevistan installed!
"Tch!" Galina clicked her tongue in annoyance as she dropped her weapons, ruined and still smoking. "I didn't even hit Tasogare's rookie benchmark—I've really lost my edge after so long."
Faelan didn't bother to comment.
Galina was bragging, wasn't she?
She was definitely bragging.
"What position did you say you held in Tasogare?"
This wasn't just impressive—it was borderline terrifying.
It was worth noting that Galina didn't currently have high-grade implants in her body. Sure, she had made upgrades over time with the money she earned, but among the mercenary community, her setup would be considered medium-high at best.
Now, imagine what she was capable of when she was loaded to the brim with cutting-edge Arasaka implants…
"Vice-captain." Galina smiled like a predator, a look that made Faelan flinch slightly. "Only the boss was above me, both in authority and skill."
What she didn't mention was that, on several occasions, powerful families had tried to put their spoiled heirs in charge of Tasogare to gain easy prestige through tricks and technicalities, but none of them survived more than three missions.
Not just because they were useless compared to the lowest-ranking member of the team, but because the squad was full of eccentrics with pride of their own.
Galina and Motoko were part of the original roster, the oldest and most respected members. The rest were their juniors. The team listened to them, and Galina had gladly ceded the leader position to Motoko—too many headaches for her liking.
One could imagine what happened when a pampered brat tried to take control of such a team…
Letting them live beyond one mission was the "chance" they gave them to back out, but those idiots never got the hint. Not even the direct one.
(Applause)
"Well, well done," Faraday said as he stepped into the room, clapping slowly while giving the remains of his defenders a disdainful glance. "Given the impatient entrance, I assume you've taken a contract to catch me?" His gaze lingered for a second on Faelan's antlers before refocusing. "I'll pay you triple as lo—"
BANG!
Faraday only had time to cross his eyes at the hole between his brows before falling backward, dead.
Question marks practically floated above Galina's head as she looked at her discarded weapons in confusion. Did these things fire themselves?
"Ahem." Faelan raised his still-smoking pistol, claiming credit for the kill.
He hadn't had a chance to shine earlier, but now he did!
Galina looked at him in surprise.
"What? Come on, even you can see this guy's an impostor," he defended himself under Galina's intense stare. "He's just buying time while the real one escapes out back."
Galina blinked.
"Forget that cheap knockoff. Is that what I think it is?" she said, pointing at the gun in his hand.
"What, did you think I always relied on my abilities for everything? That would be exhausting. Come on, even I know how to use a gun!" Faelan dismissed the idea, a little offended by her incredulity.
It had been tricky, but Dorio and Sasha had given him a crash course in shooting that was good enough to keep him functional. He couldn't hit a fly at two hundred meters, but using a pistol in a place like this was easy enough for him.
"What? No, that's not what I meant!" Galina realized the misunderstanding. "Where the hell did you get that gun?"
"Loot from one of my 'incursions.'" Faelan looked at the weapon without much thought. "It looked nice and hit hard, so I kept it as my personal sidearm. Why?"
"Shit, did you inherit the boss's luck too?" Galina muttered, rubbing her face. "That pistol's an Archangel model. Good damage, high rate of fire, and it even has a concussive effect for the ones who survive the itch. I can guarantee there's not much armor in Night City that can take a hit from that."
She doubted there were more than five of those pistols in the whole city.
"And?"
"And… normal people would have their wrist shattered firing a round from that little monster—especially organics." Galina looked at her own hands. "But that doesn't seem to be a problem for you."
"I've had it for a while; I'm used to it."
He wasn't about to admit that he'd fractured his wrist daily for two months while practicing with it at the shooting range. The pain from the break, combined with the agony of accelerated healing, had left him drenched in sweat—but his wrist had eventually become strong enough to handle the gun after a few minor enhancements.
"Sure," Galina said, not entirely convinced. "What really caught my attention is that it looks modified. Your work?"
Computers, implants, weapons… had he inherited the boss's husband's engineering talent?
"I just tweaked the barrel and the rifling a bit," he said, pointing at the relevant part. "It tended to make things explode on impact—a pretty unpleasant sight—so I concentrated the dispersed kinetic force to increase penetration."
If he had fired the unmodified weapon, the double wouldn't have had a neat hole between the eyes; half his head would have been blown clean off, leaving only the lower jaw and tongue, spraying blood everywhere in a semicircular arc on the wall.
Galina traced the shot's path and noticed that the wall panels had clean-edged holes, the incoming bullet's power barely diminished.
"Shit, does it have the stopping power of an Archangel and the ballistic penetration of a Nekomata Z-2700?" Galina thought, restraining her reaction. "Yeah… he definitely inherited the talent."
"Think you could make me a pair?" she asked, unable to resist.
"I could, though it'd take a while. I don't have a proper gun bench, after all, and I'd need to buy and print some parts."
He'd had to rent a workshop at a gun store to make his own modifications.
"That's what I'm talking about!" Galina gave him a hearty slap on the back—then immediately turned around and crouched, shaking out the same hand. "Дерьмо! What the hell is your body made of?!"
Had he really claimed to be fully organic?
It felt like she'd just hit a solid alloy block!
And because she'd wanted to mess with him, she'd hit a little harder—something that had now backfired.
"Well, we were about to get into a fight—or at least, that's what it looked like—so naturally I prepped myself a bit," Faelan said. He couldn't help it; ever since he'd learned to make small improvements here and there, any time he became aware of a dangerous situation, he reinforced his body.
Being immortal didn't mean he liked pain—or getting killed.
"Those pistols are expensive…" Galina shook out her numb hand. "I'm just a poor fruit-and-veg delivery girl. How about I offer you my daughter as compensation?" she teased with a wink.
"That wouldn't work. Sasha's like a sister to me." Faelan brushed off the joke without thinking too much about it. "Come on, the real one's probably panicking by now, realizing his escape route just vanished."
Galina eyed Faelan's back.
"Tch, guess I'll have to change tactics and start with Kiwi," she thought as the feeling returned to her hand. She flexed it a few times before following him. "But that girl's as jealous as a dragon guarding a hoard. No wonder! It won't be easy to become family like we planned, boss."
Faelan had no idea about Galina's thoughts or intentions—his mind was entirely on Faraday and his imminent contribution to the safety of those he cared about.
And even if he did know, he'd only ask Galina to drop it, for everyone's sake.
Kiwi, Sasha, and he were a trio of best friends, but things between Kiwi and him had been going on for a while. Regardless of his own feelings, he doubted Kiwi would just shrug and accept it—even if it was Sasha, whom he trusted.
Besides, Sasha had never shown romantic interest in him. At most, she'd pulled a few pranks, made some light obscene gestures, or cracked mischievous jokes—the kind Kiwi herself sometimes fell victim to before they all ended up laughing.
But that was just Sasha—part of her personality and her way of being.
One second…
Faelan's step faltered for a moment, considering a possibility he had never thought of because, subconsciously, he believed it couldn't happen—not with his knowledge of the events and characters.
But SAV had already messed up plenty of things (yeah, he'd come to the conclusion that this so-called deity hadn't done its job properly), and his presence had changed even more. Maybe that knowledge had been subtly altered, at the very least.
"No, I'm overthinking this… right?" he muttered to himself, full of doubts.
He would have noticed if that were the case, Kiwi with her sharpness would have picked up on the signs, Dorio would have noticed if it happened, and even Galina should be aware of it if it were true—she was her daughter, right?
Yeah, he was overthinking it.
"What's got you so lost in thought?" Galina caught up to him in moments. "Hey! What's with that look?!"
Ah, right. Best to banish those thoughts.
"Nothing. I think that after we finish here, I really need to follow through with that plan to visit some armories to clear my head a bit." He rubbed his forehead. "I'm starting to feel a little overwhelmed with so much on my mind."
"You know, sometimes you forget you're only sixteen," Galina nudged him playfully with her elbow. "It's okay to trust the adults more."
…He couldn't deny that. Maybe he really did need to find more people to delegate work to.
By the way, shouldn't this place have automated defenses?
"Well, last stop," Galina said, stopping in front of the door. "Knock, knock! Room ser—"
RATATATATATATATATA!
Before Faelan could react, Galina—who was standing right in front of the door—was turned into a human sieve!
He immediately grabbed her by the collar and yanked her aside, while thick roots burst through the bullet holes in the door as soon as the gunfire stopped. The door shot inward, smashing one of the turrets in half, while the roots—being riddled with more bullets—finished crushing the other three like a constrictor.
It all happened far too quickly, and behind a very expensive-looking sofa, Faraday was sweating as he watched the scene through the underground camera.
"Right now I really hate plants…" he thought irritably, weighing his chances. "No matter. The real threat's been neutralized—only he's left. As long as I—"
Until he heard her.
"Мать вашу... Я только что постирал эту куртку!!!"
Faelan winced as he saw Galina get back up, her face flushed bright red with rage.
A full sentence in Russian? Oh yes—she was really pissed.
As for Faelan—he was thrilled!
Not only had the straw dolls worked better and faster than expected, but he was also glad he'd handed them out before this happened.
He'd just have to remember to give Galina another one after they were done here.
"What's it like to die?" he asked with dark humor.
Galina pointed at him with a finger and opened her mouth, only to stop and close it, recalling the pain in her hand from just minutes ago. Her head slowly turned toward where Faraday was hiding.
The same Faraday who was now perplexed, checking if his systems had been hacked to feed him false information.
That woman was dead!
Numerous bullet holes in the head, heart, lungs, pelvis, limbs…
Even if she had an artificial backup heart for emergencies (some people installed them—he himself had one), it was impossible to survive that!
Faelan knew the moment Galina stepped slowly into the final room of the shelter—goodbye to Faraday's experiments with potions.
Faraday was about to learn firsthand what it meant to fall into the hands of the former Vice-Captain of Tasogare, and Faelan wouldn't want to be in his place!
With a click, the door shut, and Faelan decided to find something to do.
His gaze settled on the still-warm bodies of the shelter guards.
"They died recently, and if they're guarding this place, they must have decent bodies…" He considered the implications of his idea. "If I inject them with the potions, will they still work, or will they fail to activate because they're already dead?"
He walked to the nearest table and unlocked the suitcase with his thumbs.
"Well, there's only one way to find out."