Cyberpunk: I'm Not a Scavenger - Chapter 30: The Afterlife (Patreon)

“Almost thirty Maelstrom psychos! Automatic turrets, landmines, the works! You seriously think we can handle that?”

“Pantheon, have you lost your mind?!”

Lucy stared at him as though he'd gone completely insane.

“This is Maelstrom, not a bunch of Scavengers! They have factories of their own. They even design their own netrunning chairs! And they're not using secondhand junk pulled off corpses. They have real military-grade cyberware!”

She seemed exhausted. With a heavy sigh, she looked directly into his eyes.

“This isn't a street shootout anymore. It's a full-blown armed conflict! Why did we even take this job? Do we really need to keep working as mercenaries?”

That last question was what she'd wanted to ask all along. Her childhood and the constant threat of Arasaka's pursuit had left her desperate for a peaceful life, one where she no longer had to get involved in battles between corporations and gangs. As far as Lucy was concerned, the two of them had already saved more than a million eddies. They could live comfortably as middle-class citizens for decades on that money.

Pantheon took her hand and pulled her into his arms.

“Do you really think the corporations would leave us alone?”

Moore Technologies had invested in him. Militech had taken a keen interest in them. And Arasaka might begin hunting Lucy again at any moment.

Lucy buried her face in his chest and trembled slightly. She knew all of that. She simply didn't want to think about it.

“The only reason we're valuable is what we can do. We finish every gig we take, and that's why so many people are willing to 'help' us. The day we stop being useful is probably the day we start running out of time.”

Pantheon smiled bitterly. From the outside, their careers appeared to be going wonderfully. But mercenaries never had it easy. Every one of them lived on a tightrope.

Pantheon was confident he could lead his friends out of this mess. To do that, though, they'd have to keep challenging stronger and more dangerous enemies.

He'd already noticed a pattern in his corpse-collection system. The stronger or smarter someone had been while alive, the more likely their body was to yield a trait. Even when they didn't drop a trait, they produced far more Essence than ordinary cannon fodder.

But the more traits he acquired, the more obvious a serious hidden limitation became. Attribute bonuses from traits of the same rarity could only apply once to a given attribute. Bonuses granted by abilities were unaffected, as were the special effects attached to traits.

In other words, another blue-tier trait that increased Body wouldn't raise his Body attribute at all, unless its special effect specifically provided an additional boost.

He already had [Fitness Enthusiast] (White), [Built Different] (Green), and [Scientific Superpower] (Blue) for Body. For Reflexes, he had [Quick Start] (Green) and [Battlefield Instinct] (Blue).

If he kept picking fights with small-time thugs, that left only one more point he could gain in Reflexes from the missing lower-tier trait. His room for improvement had nearly disappeared.

If he wanted to push beyond those limits, he'd have to take on more dangerous jobs.

All these thoughts raced through Pantheon's mind in a matter of seconds. By the end of them, his decision was unchanged. He turned toward Jackie.

“Jackie, do you trust me?”

Jackie looked serious too. But after everything they'd been through, his faith in Pantheon was strong enough that he answered without hesitation.

“Of course, amigo. We're gonna be legends together, remember?”

Pantheon smiled and nodded, then turned back to Lucy.

“When have you ever seen me go into a fight without a plan?”

A confident smile spread across his face. He looked as though he'd already worked out exactly what they needed to do.

“Here. Let me show you.”

He snapped his fingers, and a three-dimensional projection of the Maelstrom base appeared above the table.

The abandoned dock's main building was a two-story warehouse. An enormous dish antenna had once sat on its roof, but it had been replaced by a signal relay station roughly half a man's height.

Two automatic machine guns flanked the warehouse entrance, protected by concrete barriers. A sturdy-looking metal fence surrounded the compound, where shipping containers were stacked in disorderly rows. Landmines lay hidden in the narrow paths between them and in overlooked gaps where an unwary intruder could easily step on one.

Jackie frowned at the formidable defenses displayed on the map. Lucy tightened her grip on Pantheon's hand without realizing it.

“Without heavy artillery, forcing our way into a fortified position like this would be impossible,” Pantheon explained, rotating the projection. “That's why I'm going in from the water.”

Maelstrom had occupied an abandoned dock and brought it back into service, probably to support their smuggling business.

“Most of their defenses face the road. They've barely bothered protecting the waterfront. If someone draws their attention at the front, I can land behind them and attack from the rear. We'll hit them from both sides before they know what's happening.”

He paused and looked at Lucy.

“Your job is to keep their netrunners pinned down. Don't let the turrets or landmines come into play. I'll handle everything else.”

It was a simple diversion followed by a pincer attack, but Lucy and Jackie were visibly impressed. Lucy stared at his self-satisfied expression with narrowed eyes.

“Pantheon, you're pretty pleased with yourself right now, aren't you?”

“What? Me? Isn't that just basic tactics?”

“Baka! You idiot!”

Pantheon put on an innocent expression, teasing her until she started cursing in her native language. Jackie, standing beside them, was grinning from ear to ear.

“I gotta say, choom, that's one hell of a plan. I already feel a lot better about this job.”

He wasn't flattering him. In Night City, gangs and corporations alike tended to favor direct action. Elaborate plans weren't nearly as common as simply charging in and settling things by force.

“Really?” Pantheon blinked at the praise. Was he actually a genius?

“There is one small problem with the plan, though.”

He cleared his throat twice and glanced discreetly at Lucy. When she showed no reaction, he continued with an air of great seriousness.

“Even if we had three Jackies, that still wouldn't be enough to hold off all those Maelstrom goons. We'll need another crew to draw their fire and clear out the small fry.”

Jackie gave an awkward, good-natured grin.

“I figured you'd ask the Valentinos for help.”

Pantheon shook his head. Padre had specifically said he didn't want a gang war. Inviting the Valentinos to fight Maelstrom would defeat the whole purpose.

As for who else they could recruit, two faces immediately came to mind. A certain foul-tempered little girl and the lady with the cat-ear hairstyle.

“Don't worry. I've already got someone in mind.”

...

Afterlife. Night City's most famous bar for edgerunners.

Located in Little China, Watson, it was the undisputed heart of the city's underworld. The best mercenaries gathered here to take on the most dangerous gigs. If you didn't have a reputation or the skills to back it up, you wouldn't even make it past the door.

It was also the domain of Night City's most powerful fixer, a living legend known as the Queen of the Afterlife. Rogue.

Edgerunners like Jackie shared one firm belief. Getting into Afterlife was the first step toward becoming a legend.

“Holy shit! So this is Afterlife!”

Their car rolled to a stop in the parking lot, and Jackie practically leaped out before the engine had finished idling. As far as he was concerned, this place was more sacred than any church.

Pantheon glanced around and frowned. If nobody had told him where they were, he would have assumed they'd parked outside a scrapyard. Rubbish was piled everywhere, graffiti covered the walls, and the ground was wet and filthy. Only the expensive cars in the parking lot looked halfway respectable.

Afterlife stood underground, supposedly in a converted morgue. No wonder Pantheon felt so comfortable here. It was almost like coming home.

At the entrance to the underground passage stood a massive, stone-faced security guard. Whenever Pantheon saw a guard built like that, he couldn't resist wondering whether the man had come from the Animals.

Then again, with the Animals' limited brainpower, security work was probably the best career most of them could manage. At least taking bullets for someone else wouldn't be a problem.

The guard stepped forward to stop them, but before Jackie could open his mouth, the man appeared to recognize them. He nodded and moved aside.

“Welcome to Afterlife, Mr. King.”

They passed through the doors into a blaze of colorful neon. The pounding rock of Samurai blasted from the speakers, making their eardrums throb. Heavily chromed mercenaries gathered in little groups all around the room, while fixers wrapped in expensive leather and fur mingled among them, talking business.

Jackie took one breath of the air and looked practically drunk. He drifted toward the bar as though sleepwalking, found a stool, and sat staring wide-eyed at everything around him.

“First time here? Want a recommendation?”

Claire, the bartender, greeted them warmly. She was a sturdy woman who'd worked behind this bar long enough to recognize the look on a new arrival's face.

Jackie pulled himself together and confidently recited the order he'd been practicing.

“A tequila old fashioned with chili and beer.”

Claire nodded appreciatively.

“Johnny Silverhand. You know your drinks.”

“You bet! I've been waiting more than ten years for this!”

Pantheon sat beside him and gave his shoulder a friendly pat.

“Jackie, you ready to be the big boss?!”