Chapter 39: Sasha's Secret
The usual roar of the Afterlife felt muffled, distant, as if filtered through thick glass. But in the crew's usual corner booth, the atmosphere was electric, like an overloaded battery about to spark.
"HA! You shoulda seen those corpo-rats soil themselves!" Pilar waved his newly optimized arm, spitting excitedly, nearly hitting Rebecca. His other hand expertly spun an empty glass. "Their guard car pops its interceptor field, Maine hits 'em with one shot from that electro-thing—Zzzt! Whole convoy's electronics flatlined! Just like chickens with their heads cut off, dead in the water!"
Rebecca kicked Pilar in the shin, making him yelp, but her own cheeks were flushed, her green cyber-eyes gleaming in the dim light. "My plasma pistol wasn't even warmed up before Dorio hammered the last gonk trying to fight back straight into the pavement, armor and all! Biotechnica convoy? Please!"
Maine leaned back deep into the worn sofa, his heavy arm draped over Dorio's shoulders, a grin of pure satisfaction on his face. A half-empty glass of hard liquor sat before him, but his fingers were unconsciously tracing the seams of the heavy metal case at his feet.
Inside that case was the real prize: not just the batch of rare Aldecaldo heirloom seeds that would fetch a fortune on the black market, but also the specific, rare catalysts and gene-therapy serums Joric had listed for Dorio's deep bio-augmentation.
This successful heist hadn't just secured the "payment" for the "Boss"; it had made the name 'Edgerunners' ring louder in Night City's merc circles. Hitting a corpo convoy head-on and walking away? That screamed power.
The confidence boost from their recent upgrades surged through them like high-grade synth-alcohol. Even the usually stoic Falco had a sharper glint in his eyes.
"With this haul, the 'Boss' better deliver," Maine rumbled, satisfied. "Once Dorio's chromed up, we can take on bigger gigs, stand taller in this city."
Dorio just took a long drink, the strength seeming to flow beneath her bronze skin. She craved the coming augmentation—the power to better protect her family, to crush whatever obstacles lay ahead.
Yet, amidst the crew's high spirits, Sasha, in the corner, was a stark contrast. Her drink was untouched. Her hood was pulled low, shadowing her face, revealing only tightly pressed, pale lips. Her fingers traced patterns on the cold glass, her gaze distant, lost in thought. When Pilar had graphically described torching the Biotechnica-marked cargo, her body had gone rigid for just a fraction of a second.
Just then, Maine's private comm chimed. He glanced down—a familiar encrypted signal. Faraday, a fixer they'd worked with before.
"Hey, Maine. Heard you crew's been making waves," Faraday's typically slick fixer voice came through. "Got a gig, if you're not too big-time for it now. Piece of internal research data from Biotechnica. Needs to be extracted... quietly. Payment's the usual."
Normally, Maine would carefully weigh the risks of an infiltration gig. But flush with their recent victory, he felt a prickle of annoyance. This felt like small-time stuff now.
"Biotechnica? Them again?" Maine's voice held a trace of impatience. "Faraday, we got bigger fish right now. This kind of sneaky-beaky..."
"I'll take it." A cool voice cut him off.
It was Sasha. She looked up, her eyes meeting Maine's from the shadow of her hood, her gaze calm but firm. "This gig. I can handle it solo."
Maine paused, surprised. The rest of the crew looked at Sasha. Solo ops weren't common for core members, especially infiltration, which usually required backup.
"Sasha, you sure?" Maine frowned. "It's just data, yeah, but Biotechnica's internal security ain't no joke."
"I know." Sasha's voice was unnervingly calm. "Precisely because we just hit their convoy, their focus will be external, on retaliation. Internal systems might be lax. Besides, data theft... more people means more noise. Solo is smaller, more flexible."
Her logic was sound, but something felt off to Maine. He studied her face, but her amber eyes were like deep pools, revealing nothing.
"Alright," Maine finally nodded, trusting her skills, perhaps his own caution dulled by their recent success. "Your call. Need any support?"
"No. Just the target data and access point intel." Sasha stood up, her movements fluid. "I'll move tonight."
She slipped out of the booth and headed for the exit. Rebecca watched her slender back disappear into the pulsing neon glare of the Afterlife's entrance, frowning unconsciously. She grabbed her own beloved plasma pistol and quickly followed.
"Hey! Sasha!" Rebecca called out, stopping her just outside the bar.
Sasha turned, her face hidden in shadow. "Rebecca?"
"You okay?" Rebecca asked bluntly, her green cyber-eye scanning Sasha intently. "You've been acting weird all night. Is it... because it's Biotechnica?"
Sasha was silent for a moment, the night wind teasing strands of her hair. She shook her head slightly, her voice soft. "I'm fine. Just tired."
"Bullshit!" Rebecca didn't buy it. "We just scored big. You should be buzzing like that idiot Pilar. You got some old beef with Biotechnica?" She tried to keep her tone light, but her eyes held genuine concern.
Sasha's lips trembled, as if she wanted to say something, but she just shook her head again. "Really, I'm fine, Rebecca. Don't worry about me. It's just a simple data snatch."
Rebecca knew she wouldn't get anything more out of her. She sighed and shoved the heavy, warm plasma pistol into Sasha's hands. "Here. Take this. I know you're all stealthy, but if—and I mean if—you run into heavy shit, this packs more punch than your peashooter. And don't you dare delta-damn lose it!"
Sasha looked down at the rugged, powerful weapon, then met Rebecca's defiant gaze. A flicker of something crossed her usually placid features. She nodded softly, carefully tucking the pistol inside her armored jacket. "Thanks."
"Buy me a drink when you get back!" Rebecca gave her arm a rough pat, then watched her turn and melt into the deep shadows of Night City.
When Rebecca returned to the booth, Maine was already on his feet. "Alright, we head out too. Get this 'cargo' to the Boss ASAP, get Dorio's upgrade started." He hefted the heavy metal case, anticipation clear on his face.
Rebecca looked at the excited Pilar, the calm Falco, the battle-ready Dorio, and the satisfied Maine. The faint worry she felt for Sasha was momentarily pushed aside by the crew's momentum. Maybe she was overthinking it. Maybe Sasha was just tired.
The crew left the Afterlife, heading back out into the familiar, secret-hiding desert wastes.
Meanwhile, Sasha, the quiet netrunner, was moving alone, deeper into the cold, steel jungle toward the Biotechnica tower. Her official target was a piece of research data. But deep in her eyes burned a different fire, a desperate, solitary resolve that had nothing to do with the crew's mission. The plasma pistol rested heavy against her chest, like a warm, anxious heartbeat.