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Early morning, Night City checkpoint.
When the group piled out of their vehicles—covered in dried blood, chrome plates sparking, and looking like they'd been dragged through a rock crusher—the security officer's mouth twitched. He rested his hand on his holster, already eyeing the alarm toggle.
"Where are you from?" he asked warily. These weren't tourists; these were bad news wrapped in ballistic nylon.
"Just left the city yesterday. Paperwork's all here," Maine said, stepping forward with a calm that belied his shredded tactical vest. He handed over the digital manifests Rogue had provided.
"What did you do out there to get in this state?"
Maine narrowed his eyes, leaning in slightly. "Some things, officer, you shouldn't ask. Better for the blood pressure."
As he spoke, Maine's massive hand brushed the officer's pocket, smoothly depositing a data shard. The officer froze, then subtly checked the credit value.
Holy... five thousand?
The officer's eyes widened. He cleared his throat, suddenly looking much more accommodating. "Since your papers are in order, I'll waive the physical inspection. But listen—don't go causing a scene in the city, or I'll have to come and find you. Got it?"
"Understood. We're just law-abiding citizens," Maine replied with a wink.
The gates groaned open, and the convoy rolled back into the neon embrace of Night City. Jax sat in the passenger seat of Jackie's car, while Kiwi, Rebecca, and Lucy shared the back. The silence of the desert was replaced by the constant, low-frequency hum of the megalopolis.
"Finally back," Jackie sighed, letting the city wind ruffle his hair. "One day out there felt like a decade. I'm hitting the rack for forty-eight hours."
"No jobs for a few days, Maine?" Jackie asked over the comms.
"Not a chance," Maine's voice crackled back. "We enjoy the eddies first. Plus, the 'extra' salvage Pilar pulled off those bosses... fencing high-tier chrome with serial numbers is a headache. We need a specialist."
"Can't Viktor help?" Jax asked.
Jackie looked back at him, then quickly back to the road. "Viktor? No way, mano. Vik is an upright man. He doesn't touch hot tech or black-market gear without a paper trail. He keeps his hands clean so his clients stay safe."
"Our stuff has a 'trail,'" Pilar chimed in. "The previous owners are currently feeding the vultures."
"Doesn't matter," Jackie laughed. "Serial numbers are like ghosts; they follow you. But don't worry, once we move this gear, I'm telling Ma I'm a real mercenary now. A professional!"
As they entered Santo Domingo, Jax's phone began to vibrate. He checked the ID and his eyebrows shot up. "Maine, hold on. It's Rogue."
"Answer it. Let's hear the verdict."
Jax patched it through. "Hello?"
"A bit of a mess in the Badlands, but you finished the job. Impressive," Rogue's voice was smooth, carrying a hint of genuine approval. "The news that you annihilated a Nightwalker cell has already hit the street. Dakota Smith is out there singing your praises—calling you a 'brave and resourceful' crew. Jax, you've officially debuted."
"And the pay?" Jax asked.
"Babos was terrified when he heard you stormed a factory and walked out with his cargo," Rogue chuckled. "He didn't even argue. One million Eurodollars is sitting in my escrow. It's all yours."
"One million?" Jax felt the weight of that number.
"Reputation is the only currency that matters, Jax. When you're a nobody, you're a rug. When you're a legend, people start offering their hands to shake. Enjoy the fame. You're going to be getting a lot of calls."
She hung up, and almost instantly, another call from an unknown number flashed on Jax's HUD.
"Jax? Muamar Reyes here. Most people call me El Capitán. I hear you're the new heavy hitters in Santo Domingo. I think we'll get along. Interested in some local work?"
"I'll give it some thought, Captain," Jax replied, keeping his tone professional.
"Do that. I'll be in touch."
Next was a video call. An elderly woman with a kindly, grandmotherly face appeared. Wakako Okada.
"Good morning, Jax," she said gently. "I believe introductions aren't necessary."
"Why the call, Wakako? I thought Rogue made our position clear."
"Rogue made her point. But business is business. That previous matter was strictly for the Tyger Claws. I don't hold grudges, and I hope you don't either. I have a contract involving the Claws that I think... fits your specific interests."
"If it's against the Tyger Claws, I'll take it," Jax said firmly. To him, every blow against the Claws was a win for the Moxes.
"I expected as much. I will send the details soon. Have a pleasant day."
Emails began flooding in too—one from Regina Jones in Watson, another from Padre calling Jackie directly to congratulate the "sons of Heywood."
"Why are you so popular all of a sudden?" Jackie asked, half-joking.
"Reputation," Jax said, but his mind was elsewhere. A familiar ping sounded in his head—the system notification he hadn't seen in years.
[Hidden Quest Completed — Displaying Your Edge] [Next Stage Unlocked — Making a Name for Yourself]
Quest Reward: Obtain Title: (Displaying Your Edge). Equipped Bonus: +0.5 to All Attributes. Passive Bonus: Charisma +1.
Description: Whether you're an edgerunner or a beggar, you have to find a way to make the world notice. You've finally made a name for yourself in Night City. Show them your unique punk spirit.
Jax stared at the floating text. A Title function? After five years, the system was finally opening up.
He felt a subtle shift in his perception, a newfound clarity. With the +0.5 boost across the board, his stats were creeping closer to the superhuman.
"Everything alright, Jax?" Rebecca asked, leaning over the seat.
Jax smiled, the neon lights of Santo Domingo reflecting in his eyes. "Yeah. Everything's just getting started."
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