Karl crawled through the wrecked driver's cabin as the storm howled around him. Fine dust swirled in through the shattered windows, lashing against his face. Squinting, he groped under the driver's seat, finally pulling out a grease-covered verification chip. Wiping off the grime, he slotted it into his phone, and data instantly began to scroll across the screen.
"No issues with the check. Serial number matches—it's the Militech truck that went missing," Karl shouted, though his voice was barely audible over the howling wind.
Lifting his head, he looked through the cracked windshield and saw V and Jack working around the truck's rear. Their silhouettes were vague, cloaked in a veil of yellow sand.
V crouched, inspecting the undercarriage with quick, precise movements—clearly familiar with this kind of military hardware. Jack stood nearby, frowning as he held up a component salvaged from the cargo bay.
"It's carrying parts of the Basilisk," Jack muttered, scratching his head, "but it looks like only half? Could there have been two trucks?"
V stood up, clapping dust from his hands and shaking his head. "Nah, just one. Running two trucks with Basilisk parts would've drawn too much attention. It was a backdoor deal—Saul's crew already got the other half through various channels. This was the missing piece."
As he spoke, he pounded the side armor of the truck with a fist, the thick plating ringing out a dull echo.
"I checked. There's no way we're getting this thing started again. There's still some fuel left, though. Once the storm clears and interference dies down, we can call Saul's crew to come pick it up. But yeah—this one's headed for the scrap heap."
Jack grinned at that, a flicker of excitement in his eyes. "Now I'm really looking forward to seeing the thing fully assembled—finally in the flesh."
He looked at the part in his hand, eyes sparkling. "I've seen Militech hyping it up all over the news and in those polished promo vids. Finally, I get to see what it looks like for real."
Karl dropped out of the cab and brushed sand from his hair, only for the wind to slap a fresh layer onto him the next second.
With a sigh, he felt the grit inside his clothes. One shake and he could hear the grains sliding out. "How much longer is this storm gonna last? If it keeps up, we'll be out here 'til nightfall."
V glanced up at the sky. The wind was still fierce, but he sensed a subtle shift. "Shouldn't be much longer," he said with confidence. "The gusts are already tapering off. If my gut's right, this'll blow over sooner than expected. Way shorter than I thought."
Karl rolled his eyes. "Shorter? We've been sitting in this for half a damn day. What kind of life did you live before?"
V chuckled, eyes drifting as old memories surfaced. "Back in the day, I was running around securing supplies and locking things down—time flew. The real pain came after the storm—hunting down gear, people... stuff that got blown away. Sometimes we'd spend days searching. And yeah, sometimes we only found... mummified remains."
"Mummified?" Karl raised an eyebrow. "That's a bit much. Sure, I know dehydration can kill in hours, but natural mummification? That takes time."
He paused, then continued with a surprisingly academic tone:
"When a body's buried in soil, bacteria break down the soft tissues, blending them into the earth. The soil around it darkens. Over the next few years—two or three—the bones dry out, turning yellow or gray. Then, over ten or more years, they become brittle and eventually crumble.
Now, if the burial site's rich in minerals, it can absorb moisture from the body and slow decay. That's how you get natural mummification—but even then, we're talking three to five years."
V laughed. "Okay, point taken. It's just an expression. Man, you really know your death science. What have you been watching, brain dances?"
Karl crossed his arms—then suddenly remembered the chip grease on his hands. In that moment, he realized it had already gotten into his hair and smeared on his shirt. His face twisted in disgust.
"Damn it. I need a shower now. This weather's killing me."
"Think positive, Karl," Jack said. "Once we get back to Aldecaldo territory, you can wash up all you want. We just need to wait out the storm."
As he spoke, the storm actually was dying down—just as V had predicted. Visibility was improving, and the dust started to settle.
"Looks like it's almost over. Let me check the signal... still crap, though. Might need a bit longer."
"I'm picking up some weak signal now," V said. "It's choppy, but give it a little more time and we should be able to reach someone."
As he fiddled with his comms, something at the edge of his vision caught his attention—dust rising on the horizon.
"Over there... is that...?"
He zoomed in with his cyberoptic. "Wait, that's not Aldecaldos. Looks more like..."
"The Machetes?" Jack scowled. "What the hell are they doing here?"
"Never underestimate their intel network," Karl said. "Militech lost cargo, and it involves the Aldecaldos? That's not a secret out here. In the Badlands, info is everything."
The Machetes thrived off raiding and surviving out here. If they didn't have solid intel, they wouldn't be able to make half the trouble they caused for nomad clans and corporate convoys.
"Looks like they caught wind of the Basilisk parts and decided to crash the party... They spotted us. They're heading this way."
Karl raised an eyebrow.
Storm's not even fully gone and they're already pushing in.
Bold, he thought.
They really found the damn truck before anyone else did.
If it hadn't been for their team getting there first...
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🔥 CYBERPUNK: THE RELENTLESS
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🔥 THE STORY DOESN'T STOP HERE. NEITHER DOES HE.
Night City breaks people every day.
Some crawl away.
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Cyberpunk: The Relentless has 500+ chapters ahead available for readers who want to keep going.
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⚡ NO BRAKES. NO MERCY. NO TURNING BACK.
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