Maine walked straight into the territory of the Whirlpool Gang, striding confidently without the slightest attempt at concealment. His heavy footsteps echoed on the cracked pavement, drawing the attention of every sentry stationed around the half-destroyed industrial facility.
"Hey! Who the hell dares to stroll in like that?!"
One of the gang members raised his binoculars, squinting against the foggy Night City air. "Wait a sec... That's... That's Maine! The captain of Team Maine!"
"What?! You're joking—let me see!"
"Damn it, it is him! That bastard really came back!"
Panic instantly rippled through the sentries. Their shocked expressions quickly turned to alarm.
"What now? What are we supposed to do?!"
"Go tell Doom! Right now!"
The youngest of the crew didn't need a second prompt. He dropped his binoculars, scrambled to his feet, and sprinted toward the base with all the grace of a headless chicken.
Since Royce—the former boss of the Whirlpool Gang in Watson's Industrial North District—had been kidnapped by the Militech Corporation, the gang had been thrown into chaos. Their once-mighty stronghold now resembled a scrapyard. Broken walls, scorched metal beams, and torn banners told the story of a group that had gone from top dogs to scavengers overnight.
Leadership had since fallen to Doom, Royce's former second-in-command. Though Doom had a reputation for brutality, he lacked Royce's cunning. And worse, he had inherited a fractured gang and a base in ruins.
After the Militech assault, the remaining gang members had no choice but to regroup and re-evaluate the madness that had unfolded.
Why had Militech even attacked them in the first place?
Why had Maine's team killed several of their own members beforehand?
And what about that floating Militech transport spotted over the Industrial District?
One by one, the pieces started to fall into place.
The stolen Militech hovercraft.
The orchestrated killings.
The carefully timed assault.
It all pointed back to one truth—Team Maine had used the Whirlpool Gang as bait
And now, having lost their territory, their weapons cache, and their boss, the Whirlpool Gang was burning with fury. They were used to shaking down weaker gangs—not getting steamrolled by an elite outfit and left to rot.
The shame was unbearable. Across all branches of the Whirlpool Gang, the North District had once been the crown jewel. Now it was a laughingstock.
Once Doom realized the truth, he made one thing clear: Team Maine had to pay.
His first order as acting boss was to mobilize every available hand to track down Maine's crew.
But when gang scouts stormed Maine's apartment complex in the North District, they found it completely abandoned. Not a soul left. Just dust and silence.
Doom had raged for hours.
And now, two days later, his fury had not cooled.
He sat in what remained of the base's command room—a barely functioning mess of broken monitors and cracked concrete. A grimy cigarette hung from his lips as he barked, "Any updates? Has anyone found so much as a trace of Maine's crew?!"
The boys standing before him hesitated, scratching their heads and exchanging nervous glances.
"Boss Doom," one finally answered, "they vanished. It's like they never existed. We swept their old hideout top to bottom."
"Yeah, and we checked the Turbine Bar too. You know, where the Pila twins used to hang out? The owner told us they quit weeks ago."
"We also went to the hacker Qiwei's old spot. The apartment's empty. Place hasn't been touched in days."
Doom slammed his fist on the table, sending cigarette ash flying. "So this whole thing was planned in advance?!"
His voice echoed through the shattered halls. "Those bastards used us—used us!—and disappeared into thin air?!"
"The Whirlpool Gang, our gang, got screwed over hard by that damn Maine!"
"If I ever catch that son of a b***h..." he seethed, clenching his fists, "I'll feed him piece by piece to the feral dogs outside."
"Boss Doom! Boss Doom!"
The sharp cry pierced the air just as he finished his threat.
A sentry burst into the room, nearly tripping over debris as he rushed inside.
"What now?!" Doom snapped. "Is it Militech again?!"
"N-No, Boss! It's Maine! He's—he's here! Walking straight toward the base!"
The room fell deathly silent.
Doom blinked. "...You're kidding."
"No sir! I saw him with my own eyes. Same old jacket. Same cyberarm. He's walking like he owns the place!"
"Gather everyone. Weapons out. Set up the flamers on the roof and aim at the entrance. If he wants to walk in, let's make him regret it."
The room erupted into movement as Doom lit another cigarette with a shaky hand. Beneath his fury was something else—dread. Why would Maine come here alone? After all that had happened?
Unless he wanted something.
Minutes later, the ruins of the base echoed with the sound of boots and weapons being prepped. Makeshift barricades were erected using scrap metal and broken crates. Sentries took position on the rooftops, sniper rifles pointed at the main path.
And still, Maine walked calmly through it all, hands in his jacket pockets.
Didn't break his stride.
As he stepped into the scorched courtyard, he raised his cybernetic hand.
"Easy, Doom," he called out. "I'm not here to start a war."
From atop the second-floor balcony of the ruined base, Doom appeared, shotgun slung over his shoulder.
"You've got guts, Maine," Doom shouted. "Showing up here after screwing us over. You must really want to die."
"I came to talk," Maine said evenly. "And you came just in time—I've got something important to tell you."
"Talk?! After what you pulled?! You betrayed us!"
"Militech would've burned your base down with or without me," Maine said calmly. "You were just collateral."
"Collateral? You handed us to them on a silver platter!"
"No. I handed Royce to them," Maine corrected. "He made deals with corpos behind your back. He was going to sell your tech and your boys to the highest bidder. You just didn't know it."
The air tensed. Whispers passed through the armed gang members like wildfire.
"What did you just say?"
"You heard me," Maine said, taking another step forward. "Royce was the one who contacted Militech. You were just too loyal to see it."
"You lying bastard...!"
"You think I wanted to help Militech?" Maine asked, his tone dropping. "No. I wanted Royce gone. Because he was going to drag the whole district into hell."
Doom didn't respond right away. His finger hovered near the trigger of his shotgun.
"Then why are you here?"
Maine met his gaze. "Because the city's changing. There's a storm coming. And whether you want to believe it or not, we're on the same side."
A beat of silence followed.
The gang members exchanged nervous glances. Some lowered their guns just slightly. Others looked to Doom for direction.
"You want to be allies?" Doom scoffed. "After everything?"
"I want to survive," Maine replied. "And I think you do too."
"You've got some balls, Maine."
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