The sky was vast, the land boundless.
Wind swept through the sands, revealing buried explosives.
Boom—
Dozens upon dozens of muffled explosions erupted in sequence. Yellow dust billowed, stones, shrapnel, and steel pellets shot out in all directions like rain. When the noise finally settled—shff, shff…
A group of rugged n, dressed in old, dusty clothes, crawled out from behind a desolate sand dune.
"Saul, it's all clear here, no issues."
"No. Just to be safe, Mitch—you and Scorpion double-check the minefield. This is corporate work. The client's picky. If we miss anything, our effort's wasted. Not worth the risk."
The speaker, Saul—a burly man with a thick beard—had distinct Latino features. A tattoo of a skeletal horse from the Aldecaldo clan, one of the Seven Nations, was inked on his left arm.
They were Nomads.
Clearly, Saul was the leader.
Following his orders, Mitch—a middle-aged white man—called over a hooded comrade. They jumped off the rocks, boarded a wildly painted, heavily modified vehicle behind the dune, and sped toward the recently blasted minefield.
"Alright, folks, let's get started on the next clearing zone..."
Clapping his hands, Saul's cyber-eye flickered orange-red.
In his implant, tuned only to Nomad clan mbers' video channels, a map of Night City's northern sectors appeared.
The Arasaka Coastal area and part of the northern old industrial zone bordering it had been mapped as the new administrative zone for the Arasaka Research Center in the city's northern outskirts.
Saul zood in on the minefield area north of Night City's badlands, explaining today's demining objectives to his family.
Among Nomads, family always ca first. Clan loyalty was paramount, and mbers referred to each other as kin.
thodically assigning tasks, Saul was interrupted by a sudden vroom—
The roar of engines.
A bulky muscle car with sharp lines, high suspension, and oversized wheels thundered in. Several Mizutani Shion-series "Desert Wolf" modded cars followed behind.
Saul imdiately recognized the lead car—a Thorton Mackinaw MTL1. Or rather, the person driving it.
His face darkened.
Not with hostility or confrontation—but with a hint of resignation. That look of being forced to accept sothing you didn't want to argue about. Irritated. Subtly bitter.
Screech. The Mackinaw MTL1 drifted and braked smoothly.
Click. The door opened. Two Nomads, their clothes dusty and covered with sand, quickly got to work. They unloaded a stretcher carrying a comrade with a broken leg and bloodied lower body.
"Walt?"
Seeing a family mber injured, Saul imdiately dropped everything.
He leapt down the dune in long strides, shouting for a dic and asking, his voice sharp and urgent, "Who was it? How did Walt get hurt?"
"Because of your damn idea!"
Bang! A heavy door slam. A woman jumped out of the Mackinaw's driver seat and went straight at Saul.
Simple, practical jeans and a cropped jacket. Light brown eyes, olive-toned skin, freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, and black curly hair like a steel-wool coil tied behind her head.
At a glance—fiery, wild.
"This is your so-called land of hope you promised everyone? Fuck off! Is this how you said you'd change the Aldecaldos after we ca to California? By becoming dogs for corps and governnt?"
"Panam, ease up..."
Soone tried to interject.
"I will not!"
The fierce brown-skinned woman shoved him aside.
"Demining—my ass. Do you know why those bloodsuckers in their luxury coffins gave us this job? It's their war ss! They know how dangerous these minefields are and wanted cheap scapegoats. And you! You dragged us around half the damn Jackson Plains just to clear mines for them in the north? You might as well go eat shit yourself!"
Panam's face was full of fury.
The minefields in the Badlands were remnants of past wars.
Not all of the mines had been cleared, and six or seven years ago, another tal War added new ones on top of the old—making the area a true no-man's-land. Only the most seasoned smugglers knew how to pass through safely.
Now, due to a new land acquisition agreent between Arasaka and the Night City municipal governnt, the city was expanding northward. Arasaka and the City Hall had begun clearing the minefields in the northern suburbs.
This Aldecaldo branch clan had, under Saul's initiative, taken one of the outsourced contracts jointly announced by Arasaka and City Hall: demining.
Having just arrived in California, with nothing but a few tents on sand dunes, the Nomads had no choice. Other than demining or serving as cheap labor, they couldn't land any big corporate jobs.
"I know you disagree with my approach."
Saul ignored the biting sarcasm in Panam's words. He asked, "But what's important now is for you to tell how Walt got injured."
"Landmine blast. Those bastards from Raffen Shiv… I swear I'll skin them alive soday."
Panam growled through gritted teeth, seething with hate.
"They're fighting you for that 'shit feast' and clashed with us. Walt got provoked while demining and triggered an old-style anti-personnel mine. Damn! Those corp bastards built this crap so well—it's been half a century, and it still kills…"
Raffen Shiv—Nomads among Nomads.
They were the worst of the worst, often exiled from their original tribes for breaking core codes—murder, rape of clan mbers, poisoning water supplies, human trafficking, betrayal...
Among Nomads, they were branded with a na: Raffen Shiv.
"Those oath-breakers—I'll settle with them in ti," Saul muttered, then added, "But first, let's finish the job."
"Fuck that."
Panam's expression was full of disillusionnt. "Are you stupid or just can't understand words? Still thinking about that goddamn corporate contract? What we should be doing now is—"
"What, then?" Saul stared straight into her eyes. "On the street, trust is everything. If you take a job, you finish it. Are you just here for one-ti gigs?"
Seeing Panam's darkening expression, Saul doubled down: "What matters is that I need this to feed our family... Water, food, dicine, weapons, building materials, fuel…" He pointed south.
Toward the northernmost Watson District of Night City.
From there ca the muffled roar of engines, shouting voices, and heavy machinery.
In the newly designated expansion zone, abandoned factories and half-finished buildings were being leveled. Under the northern wall of Arasaka Coastal, the mixed crowd had been forcibly cleared by NCPD and Arasaka security forces. Settlents in the wild were flattened, the outer city dismantled, camps evicted…
Hundreds of massive bulldozers and rollers worked simultaneously—a spectacular sight.
"That," Saul said, pointing, "isn't sothing your little smuggling operation with 6th Street patriots can even compare to."
"Oh please, 6th Street got stomped by the Barghest from Pacifica. Arasaka's already clearing their leftovers in Heywood's Vista del Rey. Even a backwoods hick like from the Badlands knows that—don't tell you don't."
Saul was well aware that his decision to abandon the clan's traditional smuggling and seek cooperation with corps hadn't won favor among the elders.
But he had no choice.
Living off scavenging scrap yards, raiding fuel depots, or ambushing corporate convoys—life on the road was unforgiving. The clan couldn't afford more turmoil. One wrong move, and they'd collapse.
Only corporate jobs could provide the money and supplies the family needed to survive.
Like Panam, Saul didn't have much love for the corps either. He didn't want the clan to beco tools under their thumb—but corps had power, influence, and most importantly, money. And his clan desperately needed money and supplies.
As long as they weren't selling their souls or getting completely sucked in, doing this kind of backbreaking, groveling work was... acceptable.
"Panam… don't let bias ruin you. You need to control that temper."
The wind swept through Saul's thick, ssy hair and his worn-out work clothes.
"We'll deal with our differences later. Right now, we finish the job. Arasaka and City Hall are at least straightforward. The contract was picked up directly at the Arasaka checkpoint—no middlen taking a cut. As long as Arasaka confirms this zone is clear of mines, the pay's enough to support the family for a good while..."
He spoke sincerely.
"Screw you."
Panam was still visibly furious.
"After this job, just you wait—I'll go solo. I'll keep smuggling and prove you wrong. Living off Arasaka's scraps? Hmph, you've already forgotten what Aldecaldos stood for at the beginning. I'm telling you, rely on corps, and the clan's dood."
She stord off.
After asking Mitch and Scorpion's whereabouts, she drove away. Though her words said otherwise, the hot-blooded woman still cared deeply for the family. She cursed, but she was still willing to dive into the minefield.
Watching her drive off, Saul sighed.
She was great—except for being too stubborn.
But there was no ti for long sighs. Saul quickly got his head back in the ga. As he was checking on the severely injured Walt and briefing the clan doctor to take good care of him, suddenly—
A series of violent explosions erupted from the mine-covered "death zone."
"Who set that off?!"
His expression turned grim, voice sharp.
"Before we started, I emphasized over and over—no large-scale detonations without warning on comms. We can't risk friendly fire..."
Beep beep.
The comm channel lit up.
[Mitch: Saul, we've got a situation!]
[Scorpion: Fuck fuck fuck, Mitch, Saul, tell everyone to fall back now. I'm telling you—it's the corps. There's an abandoned outskirt town in the 'death zone.' Just now, five or six Arasaka AVs flew over—military-grade Surveyor A6 units. And now... fuck, there really are people inside. Bastards even have missile trucks...]
[Panam: Then why the fuck are you still watching?! Wanna die? If we see too much of Arasaka's ss, we'll be silenced for sure!]
[Mitch: Scorpion, STOP LOOKING. FALL BACK!]
ssage boxes popped up nonstop in the family channel.
Understanding the gravity of the situation, Saul acted instantly.
"Mitch, Scorpion, pull back. Everyone—job's on hold."
Money was important, but he'd never gamble his people's lives on a corp's rcy.
[Scorpion: Got it.]
But then—BOOM! BOOM! A series of massive blasts roared through Scorpion's ID mic feed. Every Aldecaldo clan mber's channel was filled with chaos—until a near-distorted scream ca through—
[Scorpion: FUCK, IT'S ADAM SMASHER—!]
From Saul's dune, looking northeast, a dense plu of smoke and sand rose like an elongated mushroom cloud from the other side of the rocky ridgeline.
His heart sank.
"That... was an ammo dump going off?"
...
"Report, Director Russell. Militech's hidden outpost in the northern Badlands has been discovered. Adam Smasher has arrived with Tyrant units—elimination operation underway."
Corporate Plaza. Arasaka Tower, 109th floor, war room.
Shhh…
Reclining in her chair, Vela gave a slight nod, fingers tracing the table as she watched live feeds transmitted from Surveyor A6s, cyber Tyrants, and Adam Smasher's POV.
Under the crimson neon scan lines outlining the virtual exclusion zone, the entire structure collapsed in on itself.
Or more precisely—was crushed. There were no flying debris; it all got sucked underground by a red gravitational field. The ground compressed like a pounded foundation, sinking even faster. Misty blood and bone fragnts flew over ten ters.
Gravitational Manipulation Device.
And with it—Smasher's guttural, heavy tal-like laugh.
"Hahaha... Fuck yeah, co on, co on, babies—grind for , I'm gonna mash you into at paste!"
Explosions continued. Gunfire flooded the feed. Rocket screeches and autocannon roars overlapped. But then—whirrr—
The screen jittered with hyper-speed motion—Adam Smasher had activated the Sandevistan. Clad in an upgraded Cyber Kong 1.2 (Prototype Arasaka Cyberskeleton) with torso armor, he moved like a blur.
Under the strange magnetic field, nearby enemies—Militech operatives hiding in buildings—had their weapons ripped away. Even heavy machine guns on fixed mounts were forcibly torn loose, their brackets groaning in agony.
Next mont, Smasher pulled the triggers on dozens of guns at once—rounds of all calibers rained like hail.
The screen filled with flying limbs and scattered gore.
Magnetic Generator.
And this—was just Adam Smasher alone.
Then—THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!
Four Tyrants slamd the ground as they activated.
"Authorization: Vela Adelheid Russell, Director. Protocol confird... Comncing extermination operation."
Whrrr whrrr whrrr…
Fivefold gravity fields.
Crimson scan lines etched across the ruined town's buildings. In a flash, the world shook. An earth-shattering roar.
Tremors… thunder…
The visuals—utterly stunning.
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