Watching Maine's team disappear into the dusty horizon, James stayed prone at the cliff edge for a few more seconds, scanning the desert like a hunter making sure the prey didn't circle back. When he was satisfied, he finally exhaled, folded his arms, and pulled the Kenshin technical sniper rifle close with the careful respect a surgeon gives a scalpel.
He didn't waste time admiring it.
This wasn't Night City. The Badlands had a way of destroying expensive things for fun.
James slid the rifle toward Lucy. "Clean it. Sand removal, barrel check, the whole thing."
Lucy took it without complaint, already opening the maintenance panel with steady hands. Using a precision weapon like the Kenshin in this environment was brutal. One grain of sand in the wrong place, one tiny misalignment, and the rifle would go from "top-tier murder machine" to "expensive scrap."
That was the curse of technical firearms. They were too perfect. Too sensitive. And that was why you didn't see them on the street often—most people couldn't maintain them, and even if they stole one, it would die in their hands within days.
Falco's voice came from the driver's seat. "I got the address Maine sent."
James rolled onto his back and squinted at the sky. The sun was still bright, but the horizon didn't look right. In the distance, a thin yellow scar stretched across the land like a warning line drawn by a god that hated humans.
"Good," James said, then pointed toward it. "But move fast. Weather's turning."
Falco nodded, serious now. "Yeah. That's sandstorm behavior."
Jackie stiffened immediately. "Sandstorm? Like the kind that throws trucks?"
Falco grinned—then made the mistake of speaking like the universe couldn't hear him. "Relax. This ride's modified. Regular sandstorm won't do a thing."
Lucy didn't look up from the rifle. "You just jinxed us."
Jackie didn't argue. He quietly tightened his belt and stared straight ahead like that might help.
They moved.
---
Night Wraith Territory
They reached Faraday's location first—an ugly little cave hidden among the hills, with stone slopes and narrow ridges that worked as a natural windbreak. The place was defensible, private, and perfect for a meet.
It was also marked like a grave.
The rock walls were smeared in gang graffiti—Night Wraith symbols, bold and arrogant, like a dog peeing on someone else's door.
Then the "welcome committee" appeared.
A cluster of armed raiders stepped from the shadows, shouting like they'd hit the jackpot. Their laughter echoed off stone. Their eyes lit up at the sight of a fresh vehicle rolling right into their territory.
"Brothers! Work just drove into our lap!"
James sighed, almost bored. He lifted the Kenshin and glanced at Lucy. "Cut their power."
Lucy's fingers moved instantly.
James turned to Falco. "Floor it. Straight in."
Then to Jackie. "Buckle up."
Jackie froze mid-motion. "Wait—"
He didn't get a second word. Falco slammed the accelerator and the vehicle surged forward with brutal force, pinning Jackie into the seat like gravity had gotten angry at him personally.
The Night Wraiths didn't expect the "rabbit" to bite back.
By the time they raised weapons, the car was already crashing into their camp entrance.
The impact shattered order. Bodies scattered. People screamed.
Then—Lucy killed the power.
Lights died. Machines went silent. The entire camp plunged into darkness so sudden it felt like a hand had closed over their eyes.
Jackie swallowed. "Okay… I'm not questioning you again."
Inside the dark cave, the Kenshin's muzzle flashed like lightning.
And James became something worse than a shooter.
He became a moving death sentence.
---
Lightning in the Dark
Night vision implants existed, sure. Many of the raiders had them. But night vision didn't help much when the enemy was faster, smarter, and using the environment like a weapon.
James's rocket backpack and grappling hook turned the cave into his playground. He moved in bursts—up walls, over machinery, behind cover—always shifting, never giving a stable target.
The Night Wraiths screamed and fired in panic.
"Shoot back!"
"He's flying!"
"Don't spray, you'll hit our own!"
The only clear thing in the darkness was the bright electric spit of the Kenshin, and the sudden collapse of bodies that never had time to understand what hit them.
Meanwhile, inside the armored vehicle, it felt like another world.
Stray bullets pinged off the exterior. A few scratched paint. None broke through.
Falco calmly switched radio stations until he found something with more energy. Music filled the cabin. Jackie stared at him like Falco had lost his mind, but a second later Jackie quietly tightened his belt another notch.
Lucy kept feeding James visual support, scanning corners, tagging threats, preventing anyone from slipping away.
Outside: chaos.
Inside: calm.
The contrast was almost funny—if you ignored the fact people were dying.
---
The Sandstorm Arrives
The Badlands didn't care about human plans.
The radio crackled through static.
> "…A severe sandstorm is approaching. Visibility expected to drop below 50 meters. Seek shelter immediately…"
No one needed the broadcast. The storm was already visible. The world turned yellow. Sand hit the windows like dirty rain. The horizon vanished.
Signal quality dropped hard, and communications began to break like cracked glass.
Maine had already lost contact with Faraday. Even James couldn't reach him.
That meant one thing: the plan was about to get messy.
---
Maine's Push Through the Storm
Dragging an Arasaka container through the Badlands was like towing a coffin chained to your spine. It slowed them down. Worse, to avoid tracking, they kept changing routes, burning time, burning fuel, burning nerves.
Sasha tried the radio again. Static.
Maine tightened his jaw and forced his voice calm. "Don't panic. James has the location. He'll be there before us."
Pilar waved a positioning device like it was a magic charm. "It's close! Just ahead!"
Maine snapped without looking back. "You want to drive faster in this weather? Say one more word and I'll make you get out and push."
Rebecca laughed—then stopped laughing when the yellow wall thickened.
Then Sasha leaned forward. "I see it!"
Through the storm, a valley emerged like a ghost.
Maine stepped on the accelerator. Not much—just enough.
They entered the valley, and the terrain reduced the storm's rage. Visibility improved slightly. But the markings on the rocks made their stomachs tighten.
Night Wraith territory.
Maine's fingers flexed around the steering wheel. "Why would Faraday bring us here?"
They couldn't turn back.
So they drove in.
---
The Camp of Bodies
The moment they entered the cave zone, Maine saw corpses—fresh, scattered like trash.
Rebecca jumped out and crouched over one, touching the neck.
"The bodies are still warm."
Before anyone could respond—
Snap.
The fluorescent lights flickered on. Power surged into the camp. Machinery woke with a noisy mechanical hum.
Everyone raised their guns instantly, aiming at shadows and corners.
But no attack came.
Then a voice echoed from above, calm and familiar.
"What are you waiting for down there?" James leaned over a railing and waved. "Get up here."
Rebecca's relief instantly became rage. She charged up the stairs and leapt onto him like a furious cat, hanging off him and shaking him like she wanted to break his neck.
"You did that on purpose!"
James didn't deny it. His expression said: yes, I did. And it was funny.
Maine lowered his gun and laughed. "I knew you'd get here first."
He didn't need confirmation who wiped out the Night Wraiths. The method was too clean, too cruelly precise. Only one person he knew would bother finding the exact angle to put a bullet into someone's face instead of simply spraying the room.
That was James.
---
Faraday's End
When they entered the building above, the first thing they saw was Faraday on the ground.
Half-dead. Burnt out. Brain-fried.
Rebecca crouched and poked him like a child prodding a dead insect. "Isn't that Faraday? Why's he so crispy?"
Lucy answered without emotion. "I broke his defenses. Hard. Took everything."
She didn't say it proudly. She said it like a doctor describing surgery.
James explained it simply.
Faraday didn't have the money to pay the last installment.
So he planned to use the Night Wraiths to wipe out Maine's team and take the goods.
Faraday made one mistake.
He tried it here—where James arrived first.
Maine laughed so hard his shoulders shook. "So he ran into you before us. Unlucky."
James shrugged like he'd stepped on a bug.
Pilar's eyes sparkled. "Gang camp… means loot."
Jackie and Falco were already "treasure hunting," stripping the place for parts. Pilar ran off, yelling like it was a holiday.
The Night Wraiths were mechanics, raiders, and thieves. They'd robbed corporations many times. That meant rare mods, tech parts, weapons—everything the street loved.
---
James's New Plan
Maine sat down, finally breathing again. "So what now?"
James watched the sandstorm outside like it was a helpful friend. Then he smiled.
"No rush. We leave when the wind dies down. The storm will erase tracks for us."
Then he leaned forward, voice low, pleased.
"When this is over, people are gone and the goods are missing… what do you think Militech will assume?"
Maine stared at Faraday's broken body and understood.
Militech would blame Faraday.
Arasaka would hunt Faraday.
And both corporations would chase a ghost.
James added another nail.
"I checked Faraday's contact history with Militech. He never mentioned you. He planned to leave no survivors from the start."
Maine's smile became quiet and dangerous. "Then I should really thank him."
James delivered the final gift like it was nothing.
"He also hid assets. Almost ten million. We pull it after the storm and split it."
Maine blinked, then barked a laugh. "Ten million? Fixers really live like this?"
James yawned. "He's actually one of the poorer ones."
Then he lay down like he owned the world, resting his head on Lucy's lap, eyes closing.
"One more thing. Open the container. Move everything into my vehicle. Pilar reinforces the sand shields."
Maine stood and made a short hand gesture to the crew.
Work resumed.
---
Militech Arrives Too Late
By night, the sandstorm finally weakened.
Militech's contact team rolled into the meeting area—nervous, impatient, already irritated.
Then they saw the scene.
Dozens of bodies stacked into a mound. Burnt fuel and alcohol had cooked them into something close to charcoal. The smell was thick—burning flesh, melted fabric, scorched metal.
The Night Wraith camp was gone—reduced to wreckage and heat.
Some Militech soldiers flinched, but most didn't. Many were veterans. They'd seen worse.
The leader looked around, jaw tight.
"Still no contact with Faraday?"
The comms officer swallowed. "No. He blocked all channels."
The leader's expression hardened.
Then a soldier shouted: "Arasaka's container has been found!"
They opened it.
It was empty.
The leader stood staring into the hollow space for a long moment, eyes cold.
Then he spoke, voice sharp as a knife.
"Find Faraday."
---
Back Into Night City
By then, James's vehicle was already inside Night City, parked cleanly at Delamain headquarters like it belonged there.
V took custody of the half-dead Faraday without hesitation.
Then he began his specialty: building confusion, planting false trails, and shaping a story.
The Counter-Intelligence department excelled at this kind of work.
They would make it look like Faraday had run with the money.
They would make it look like he betrayed everyone.
They would make sure both corporations wanted him dead.
And while Militech and Arasaka hunted shadows—
James and Maine kept the real prize.
-------------------------------------------
Extra chapters available on patreon
patreon.com/Samurai492
__________________________________