Just a few minutes had passed since the chaos began, but the scene in the North District of Watson Industries had already transformed into pure devastation.
The once-arrogant Vortex Gang, known for their dominance in the area, now lay in ruins. Severed limbs and broken prosthetic parts littered the concrete like mechanical confetti. Smoke curled from charred cyberware. Bodies twitched, broken but not entirely dead.
And at the center of it all, kneeling with his head down and arms trembling, was Doom—the temporary leader of the gang. His pride, his confidence, his control over the district—all shattered.
"Is this... is this still our base?" Doom thought, unable to believe his own eyes. First, their gang had been ravaged by a strike force from a Militech subsidiary. Now, this human hurricane named Mann had shown up out of nowhere and laid waste to whatever was left.
Twice in one week. Two back-to-back beatings. His confidence was no longer broken—it was atomized.
If Doom's shattered emotions could be summarized in a phrase, it would be: "My entire worldview just exploded."
A deep, grinding sound echoed from Mann's armor as the high-tech plating of the [Source Project: Annihilation] began to retract. With a smooth, seamless hiss, the gleaming armor peeled away, revealing the heavily muscled physique underneath. Tattoos covered Mann's arms like war paint, and his cybernetic veins pulsed faintly with bioelectric power.
"Heh... This armor David gave me is so damn cool!" Mann exclaimed with a wide grin, his voice brimming with exhilaration.
Even though his face was bruised and blood-smeared, his excitement was impossible to miss. This wasn't just a weapon—it was a gift, a symbol of trust. One that had turned him into a walking force of nature.
Then, Mann looked down at Doom, who was barely holding himself upright. His cybernetic legs buckled as he tried to avoid eye contact.
Mann cracked his knuckles and stepped forward.
"Doom," he said, his tone suddenly cold. "You get it now, right? You understand your situation? Or... should I beat the message into you again?"
Doom's eyes widened in horror. He immediately began shaking his head.
"N-No! No need to fight anymore! I completely understand! Please don't!"
He almost threw himself forward in a pleading gesture. With the kind of firepower Mann just demonstrated, even a hundred prosthetic upgrades wouldn't save him. If Mann went berserk again, Doom would be lucky to survive as a pile of scrap.
Mann smirked and slid on a pair of chrome-rimmed sunglasses.
"Good. That's what I like to hear," he said, placing his foot on a toppled Vortex signpost. "Now... can we have a real conversation?"
"Absolutely. Let's talk! Let's talk!" Doom yelped like a frightened dog.
"Nice attitude," Mann said approvingly. He pointed casually toward the ruins of the Vortex base. "C'mon, let's head inside and talk like civilized criminals."
Without another word, he started walking toward the shattered entrance of the base, humming to himself. "If you'd started with this attitude, I wouldn't have had to go full demolition mode."
Behind him, Doom stumbled after, his expression that of a man who had stared into the abyss—and decided never to piss off the abyss again.
Meanwhile, dozens of kilometers away, in the Taipingzhou District...
A sleek, black car pulled up to the crumbling remains of what once was the Great Empire Mall. From the passenger side stepped Dorio—tall, fierce, and clad in a black leather jacket that fluttered in the warm wind.
She took a long drag from her cigarette, squinting at the abandoned structure ahead.
"So this is it..." she murmured. "The biggest Beast Gang base in Taipingzhou District."
Officially, the Great Empire Mall was listed as a shopping complex project—another attempt to revitalize the area. But like most ventures in this part of Night City, it failed when the investors' credits dried up. Construction halted, and the half-finished megastructure was left to rot.
That made it the perfect hideout for the Beast Gang.
And the man—or beast—running this stronghold? None other than the infamous Savage King.
Dorio remembered the name. He had competed in the notorious Death Rally not long ago and had made headlines not only for surviving, but for going toe-to-toe with David himself.
Their rivalry, born during that high-octane bloodsport, hadn't faded.
Not that Dorio knew the full story. Back then, Mann's crew hadn't yet joined up with David's. The alliances were different. Loyalties... blurrier.
She flicked her cigarette to the side and approached the entrance of the mall.
Inside the ruined building, a faint hum of electronics and distant rock music echoed through the broken hallways. Cracked neon lights flickered overhead. Banners for stores that had never opened still hung in tattered ribbons.
As Dorio stepped forward, two Beast Gang members immediately emerged from the shadows. Towering, muscle-bound, and shirtless, their skin was covered in graffiti-style tattoos. Cybernetic implants glinted under the dim light.
They blocked her path with crossed arms and menacing scowls.
"What the hell do you want?" one of them growled.
She reached into her jacket and pulled out a badge—one with David's mark etched into the center.
"I'm here to see the Savage King," she said coolly. "Tell him Dorio is here on David's behalf."
The guards exchanged uncertain looks. One of them tapped a comm device behind his ear, muttering a few words.
A moment later, the static crackled in Dorio's earpiece.
"Let her in," came a gravelly voice.
The guards grunted and stepped aside, though they didn't look happy about it.
Dorio nodded once and strode through the rusted gates.
The inner sanctum of the mall was a surreal contrast to its decayed exterior. Makeshift lights hung from exposed beams, casting an eerie glow over repurposed lounges, old store counters, and gang insignia painted in neon colors.
Sitting on a throne made of scrap metal and engine parts, shirtless and covered in scars, sat the Savage King.
He looked up as Dorio approached, his eyes narrowing.
"You're one of David's, huh?"
The Savage King leaned forward, muscles coiling.
"So what does the golden boy want now? Come to demand my loyalty? Make me kiss the ring?"
"Not exactly. David just wants information. He's willing to strike a deal if it's worth his time."
The Savage King sneered but didn't lash out. There was something in Dorio's presence—a quiet strength—that made even a brute like him pause.
"You've got guts," he muttered. "Walking in here alone."
"I've got insurance," Dorio replied, resting her hand near her holstered weapon.
A tense silence hung between them. Somewhere in the mall, a radio clicked to a new station. Heavy bass thumped through the air.
Finally, the Savage King chuckled.
"Fine. Sit. Let's talk. But tell David—if he ever wants a rematch in the Rally... I'm ready."
Dorio gave a tight-lipped smile.
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