Cyberpunk: I'm Not a Scavenger - Chapter 50: New Clues (Patreon)

Nearly all the surviving Wraiths were wounded, and none of them could put up much of a fight. Pantheon finished off the resistance in a matter of moments.

[Quick Draw] (Green)

Description: Have you even gotten it in yet? Or is it already over?

Effect: Cool +2. Special effect: Allows you to draw a firearm faster than most people.

Pantheon's expression stiffened when he read the trait's description.

Fuck. That wasn't going to come with some embarrassing side effect, was it?

“A-are you... are you even human?”

Panam stepped into the gas station and stared at Pantheon. There was barely any dirt on the hem of his clothes. For a long moment, she couldn't find the words.

“If I'm not human, what am I? A T-800? Some kind of cyber-vampire?”

Pantheon shot back irritably, then found the freight truck's keys on one of the bodies.

Panam had seen plenty in her time, but she'd never seen anyone wipe out a dozen Wraiths so effortlessly. Thinking back, all Pantheon had done was throw two grenades and fire a couple of shots. Then it was over.

Was that really all it took?

The whole thing had looked so easy that, for one ridiculous moment, Panam felt as if she could have done it herself.

Brain: Sure, no problem.

Hands: Keep dreaming.

Ignoring the dazed Panam, Pantheon headed straight for the heavy freight truck parked behind the gas station.

The cargo compartment was locked. He couldn't find the right key and didn't feel like wasting time on it, so he drew his Malorian and fired several rounds into the lock, blasting the mechanism apart.

Creeeeak.

He hauled the heavy metal doors open, and a stench of blood and damp earth struck him in the face. Someone suddenly lunged at him from the dark interior.

Pantheon reacted instantly, raising his gun and firing.

Bang!

The Wraith dropped, but a grenade slipped from the dead man's hand at the same moment.

“Fuck! Sneaky bastard!”

Pantheon's breath caught.

[Edgerunner]!

BOOM!

Fire erupted from the cargo compartment, followed by a violent shockwave carrying razor-sharp metal fragments. A pale blue energy shield sprang up out of nowhere, and shrapnel hammered against its surface, sending ripples across the barrier.

When the smoke cleared, Pantheon waved dust away from his face. He was covered in grime from head to toe.

“Fuck! That was close!”

He looked as miserable as a pilot who'd just crashed his aircraft. The last few battles had gone so smoothly that he'd let his guard down.

Staring at the mangled corpse in the truck, Pantheon was reminded of exactly where he was. These weren't honorable opponents who followed rules. They were desperate outlaws with nowhere left to run. There was no telling what they'd try, and a moment's carelessness could cost him everything.

He took a moment to reflect on what had happened. If nothing else, that grenade had taught him a lesson about arrogance and complacency.

The explosion had startled Panam too. She hurried around to the back of the station to see what had happened.

“Fuck! King! You okay?”

“Still alive, for now.”

Pantheon stepped past the corpse and inspected the freight compartment.

“Looks like nothing but parts. This isn't the shipment we're after.”

Panam frowned. Saisel had said each group had taken a separate truck. Apparently it wasn't going to be that easy.

Pantheon sighed and dragged Saisel out again. The moment the Wraith opened his eyes, he saw scattered limbs and mangled bodies everywhere. The terrifying man standing over him, meanwhile, looked practically untouched.

“Bro! Bro! Just ask me! Don't hit me! I'll tell you whatever you want!”

Pantheon planted a foot on Saisel's hand and applied just enough pressure to make him howl.

“One more chance. Think carefully. Where's the shipment?”

Tears poured down Saisel's face. Between the pain and his overwhelming fear of death, his mind suddenly raced, dredging up details he'd never thought much about before.

“I remember! I remember!”

He shouted as though he'd just found a lifeline.

“Then talk!”

“I heard some of the older gang members mention an abandoned mine in the mountains behind our old camp.”

“A while back, I saw the boss's right-hand man leave with several crates of explosives. Soon after, there was this muffled boom from the mountain. I thought it was an earthquake!”

Now that was interesting.

Pantheon narrowed his eyes as the clues came together. His instincts told him that Night Corp's shipment was hidden in that mine, and that the other Wraiths were probably there too.

This particular Wraith had been lucky enough to remember something useful.

Pantheon glanced at the man sprawled on the ground, an odd expression on his face, then gave Panam a subtle look. She understood immediately and brought the butt of her rifle down on the back of Saisel's head, knocking him unconscious.

“So what now?” Panam asked, looking troubled.

“The mountain ranges out here stretch for miles and miles. Even if we know they're hiding in a mine, finding them without coordinates is practically impossible.”

Pantheon gazed toward the distant mountains, tapping his fingers against the grip of his gun.

“We could get a netrunner to dig up old mining maps and check them one by one.”

“Or we could find some of the old-timers who used to live around here. They usually know a thing or two.”

Panam's eyes lit up.

“There's a little town by a bend in Highway I-7. One of the elders at our Aldecaldos camp used to live there.”

“What are we waiting for? Let's go.”

The Aldecaldos were one of the seven oldest Nomad nations, and Panam's family belonged to one of their branches.

One of the Aldecaldos' earliest contracts had involved salvaging supplies from the Pit-Arco nuclear power plant in Pittsburgh after a nuclear accident. Later, following the nuclear bombing of Arasaka Tower, Storm Technologies organized numerous Nomad clans, including the Aldecaldos, to help rebuild Night City.

By 2052, reconstruction was largely complete. The returning megacorporations drove the Nomads out of the city again.

At the same time, many Nomad clans abandoned the Northern California region around Night City to avoid the Unification War launched by the New United States. Panam's clan was one of the few that returned after the war ended.

“If you don't want to get blown sky-high, stick to my route. Don't go wandering off.”

As they approached the Aldecaldos camp, Panam began to relax. She was even in the mood to joke.

Following her lead, the two vehicles drove into the settlement one behind the other. Dozens of modified vehicles stood around its outskirts.

Most were Thorton Galena Geckos or Galena Rattlers, both modified from the Galena G240. Their components looked like scrap metal, and the tires were worn and cracked. Any mechanic who saw one roll into a repair shop would probably think the owner had come looking for trouble. Nobody could be expected to fix a wreck like that.

The better vehicles were Little Mules, modified from the Thorton Colby.

The heart of the Aldecaldos camp consisted of more than a dozen large canvas tents and roughly as many heavy trucks, each serving its own purpose.

Some trucks had been converted into clinics for ripperdocs, others into netrunner workshops, and still others into bars and eateries. They also had essential support vehicles, including water tankers, fuel trucks, and mobile generators.

The entire community was built around its vehicles. No wonder city dwellers called them Nomads.