"I thought my optics were glitching," one of the Night Wraiths laughed, voice crackling over the comms. "Didn't expect some brain-dead punks would actually try to take Rocky Ridge Town from us!"
"Yeah, let's see if they brought women," another barked, saliva thick in his throat. "Been too long since we've tasted anything fresh. The dolls back at camp are getting boring. Time to try something… real."
"Kill every man. Rip out their chrome, pull their organs, sell the scraps to Scavs or the fixers in Night City. We'll make a killing—literally!"
"Haha! Let's make it fun—whoever bags the most kills tonight, wins!"
The laughter rose, harsh and animal.
Humanity had long been stripped from these creatures. The Night Wraiths' moral compass had rotted years ago—buried under greed, lust, and the thrill of carnage.
To them, everything was a game. Everything had a price.
...
The convoy roared toward Rocky Ridge Town, their engines screaming like a swarm of beasts.
And then—
BOOM!
The lights went out. The whole town plunged into darkness.
The night swallowed everything.
By the power station, Lucy flicked the final switch. The town's power grid died instantly, her blue eyes glowing in the dark as she murmured, "Lights out."
The war began.
...
BANG!
From the rooftop, Panam's rifle thundered. Through the scope, she watched the first driver's skull explode into a spray of red mist.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Rebecca's gun came alive, coughing out storm shells that detonated midair like thunderbolts. Her explosive rounds tore through the lead trucks, scattering fire and shrapnel across the convoy.
Precision? Forget it. Rebecca didn't do precision.
She did destruction.
Each shell turned a vehicle into a fireball, sending chunks of burning metal flying into the rest of the column.
Then Pilar and Dorio's machine guns opened up from the flanks, streams of tracer fire slicing the night.
...
Down below, a door exploded outward. Jackie Welles and Maine charged into the street like rampaging bulls, each wielding cybernetic gorilla arms glowing faintly red from overclocked hydraulics.
They hit the first vehicle like wrecking balls—fists smashing through steel, tossing armored cars onto their sides.
Bullets filled the air. The street turned into chaos, muzzle flashes lighting up the night like lightning.
Every time a gun fired, a Wraith fell.
"Shit! We're ambushed!"
"Get to cover! Find the shooters!"
"Two on the rooftops—take them out, fast!"
The Night Wraiths scattered, some diving behind ruined walls, others scrambling out of burning vehicles. Even caught off guard, they adapted fast—they weren't called devils of the Badlands for nothing.
Still, the damage was done. The trap had sprung.
...
From the power station, Neo's voice came calmly through the comms:
"They'll try to dig in. Don't let them."
"Rebecca—let them know rooftops aren't just for snipers. You're on assault."
"Dorio, Pilar—cover her fire lanes, make sure no one flanks her."
"Jackie, Maine—forget the shooters. Focus on the buildings. If you can't hit the people, destroy their cover."
"David—you're on overwatch. Hunt down any snipers or netrunners who try to flank us. You find them, you kill them."
"Move!"
Neo ended the transmission, then smiled faintly.
He turned to Lucy. "Johnny. Wake the ghosts."
He tapped the hilt of the Unregistered Katana X, and a distorted hologram shimmered into view beside him.
Johnny Silverhand materialized, arms crossed, grinning. "You sure know how to start a party."
Lucy glanced between them. "You're not going out there?"
Neo's tone was cool. "Not yet. Someone's gotta keep the team running. And I'm not letting anything happen to our netrunner."
She folded her arms. "Protecting me? Or avoiding getting your hands dirty?"
He chuckled. "Both. Besides…" He looked toward the burning horizon. "The Night Wraiths have survived this long for a reason. Their leader's not a fool. I want to see if he's worth the blade."
Lucy's gaze softened slightly. "You mean, you're waiting for someone worthy of dying by your hand."
Neo smiled, cold and calm. "Exactly."
...
The Night Wraiths had ruled the Badlands for years—slaughtering nomads, raiding convoys, terrorizing travelers. They'd made enemies everywhere: corps, fixers, even the Aldecaldos. By all rights, they should have been wiped out a dozen times over.
But they hadn't.
Because their current leader wasn't just another raider. He was something more.
And Neo could feel it.
...
Meanwhile, the battle raged inside Rocky Ridge.
It was David's time to move.
While Jackie and Maine drew the enemy's attention with pure chaos, David slipped through the darkness like a shadow. His body hummed with tension, every nerve tuned to kill.
He crept behind a Night Wraith sniper perched on a half-collapsed balcony.
A flash.
The man's throat opened in silence.
"Shit!" Another voice hissed from nearby. "These bastards—who the hell are they? Even Aldecaldos don't hit this hard!"
"Too damn fast," another cursed, reloading. "Feels like fighting ghosts!"
They ducked inside a ruined building, shaking, eyes scanning the dark.
One of them growled, "Once we find that sneaky piece of—"
A voice spoke behind them. Calm. Cold.
"You won't get the chance."
Shhlick.
Two blades flashed. Two bodies fell.
David wiped his knife clean on one of their jackets, eyes glinting.
Before the next patrol could react, he triggered his Sandevistan—time stretched, the world slowing to syrup.
He moved like lightning.
The hunt had begun.
And tonight, under the dead lights of Rocky Ridge Town,
the Edgerunners became the ghosts that hunted the Night Wraiths.