This hardly counted as a reunion—just a coincidence.
The crude interior was cloaked in darkness, the lone lamp casting weak light over jagged concrete edges of the ruins and twisted rebar.
“You guys? Fine... whoever you are.” Arthur set down the box he’d brought from the target in front of them. “Here’s the stuff.”
By the dim light, Arthur managed a quick look at so of the people... They were gaunt, their bodies patched with mismatched Cyberware.
Curiosity struck him. “I heard Hansen’s people were also remnants of the New United States military. Why not go to him?”
The reply ca from the man sitting beside Riel, who shook his head with a bitter smile. Both his hands had been replaced with crude Cyberware, though otherwise he bore no obvious injuries. “We ended up like this because we landed on Arasaka’s blacklist.” He let out a dry chuckle, then added, “Funny thing is, if the New United States had won that war, we’d probably be listed as war heroes instead.”
The war’s remnants... They no longer seed a pressing issue. Even Arasaka had stopped bothering with these “unresolved” cases, but society still refused to accept them.
The crueler truth was that compared to Arasaka’s occasional purges, the New United States had inflicted deeper scars. Locking down their Cyberware had crippled them far more than any bullet.
“How many of you are left now?” Arthur asked, linking this thought with their current preparations.
...
The question wasn’t exactly polite. Silence lingered before anyone answered.
“Fewer than a hundred... and only loosely connected,” Riel finally said. The others didn’t argue.
They really had nothing left to lose.
Arthur rubbed his chin, realizing why V had said Dogtown was never short on people. Here, desperation overflowed—casualties of corporations and wars alike. This was where the defeated gathered, a graveyard where the hopeless were abandoned.
“Alright then. Let spell it out...” Arthur outlined his efforts to rally people. He didn’t share every detail, but he made clear that Hansen was the target.
As expected, the group felt no loyalty toward their old comrade. Whatever bond they once had had died with Hansen’s refusal to help them when they needed it most.
They might be frail now, but with no Arasaka hunting them and with money and dical support, they were far more capable than any gang of street punks.
A band of battle-tested veterans. Arthur figured he’d need to find a doctor too—though whether Victor would bother hauling himself over was another question.
Recruitnt turned out easier than he’d thought. Still, funding aside, treating those veterans would be a massive undertaking.
And above all... Hansen’s n couldn’t catch wind of it. If they did, everything would collapse.
When Arthur returned to base, nothing had changed—not even a trace of movent.
With no other choice, he called V.
“Looks like things went well on your end,” V said as soon as the call connected, as if already in the loop.
Through the feed, Arthur saw the dusty wasteland behind V and frowned. “You went to the Badlands? Well, if you’re looking to eat sand, that’s the place.”
“Relax—we just secured a partner’s shipnt. Two full truckloads of weapons. If we tried to bring them straight into Night City, Militech would’ve rolled out their Basilisk for sure.”
Judging by V’s expression, she seed satisfied with the haul. “Sending you the coordinates. Hurry over. Oh, and rember the Nomad we worked with last ti? We’re at her camp.”
When the line cut, Arthur glanced at his bike. Thinking about the Badlands’ sand, he decided on sothing else and headed for the garage instead.
The camp folks clearly didn’t worry about thieves—the garage was cramd with vehicles.
With growing skill and his neural navigator, Arthur rode quickly to the spot.
In the distance, massive trucks rose from the dunes. There were more than two, but two of them stood out imdiately.
Though all painted black, the two parked side by side were clearly larger than the rest.
Both were trailer-type haulers, their tires nearly two ters in diater, their height easily over five. Heavy black steel plating wrapped the entire cab, even the windshield reinforced with bolted steel bars.
From afar, they looked like twin houses planted firmly in the dirt.
Arthur parked casually, swung the door open, and stepped out. Even after the wind season, the Badlands hadn’t settled. Fine grit carried by the breeze pelted his coat.
Tugging the brim of his hat down, he walked toward the crowd.
A group of people stood around the trailer, staring up in awe at what lay inside.
Boxes—neatly stacked row after row. So looked like wood, others so kind of composite. They filled the truck bed nearly all the way to the backdoor.
That was close to ten ters of cargo.
“How’s it going?” V finally spotted Arthur approaching and stepped up to greet him.
Arthur shrugged, frowning at the stacked crates. “lanie’s corp people want in. Plus a group of... wounded soldiers. Things are rough for them, so they want to give it a shot.”
“Wounded soldiers?” V echoed, surprised—though more in delight than concern.
Yorinobu Arasaka’s funding had included not just these two trucks of weapons but a hefty pile of cash. Redirecting so of that labor budget to cover dical care didn’t sound like a bad move.
Rubbing her chin, V said, “We should still bring in so others. You know—because even if Hansen goes down easy, we’ll need our own strength afterward.”
“Uh... since this shitty plan is yours now, you figure it out,” Arthur shot back. “If it were just a robbery, I’d be glad to throw in so ideas.”
“Put simply, we need a distraction—preferably involving those damn Scavs. Two birds with one stone.” V was already planning ahead. If Dogtown was going to be theirs, the last thing she wanted was Scavs prowling under her nose every day.
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