Maelstrom.
Founded in Night City after the 2023 nuclear detonation during the Red Era, the gang's origins trace back to a crew fixated on extreme cybernetic modifications. Over time, it evolved into what it is now: a heavily augmented gang entrenched in Watson, with an NCPD estimate of around 1,300 active members.
Most Maelstrom members never live long enough to go fully cyberpsycho—their mods usually push their bodies past the breaking point first. This means that, more often than not, Maelstrom soldiers are young, physically strong, and outfitted with dangerously high-burden cyberware.
Thanks to that, even grizzled 6th Street veterans or well-equipped Tyger Claws find themselves outmatched in street combat. It's this overwhelming firepower that lets Maelstrom control a slice of Night City with fewer numbers than other gangs. And under Brick's leadership, they've been gradually expanding into new districts.
For Karl, Maelstrom had been his first real enemy in Night City. It was nearly catching a stray bullet from one of their shootouts that made him pick up a gun and fight back against the city. In the early days of his merc life, Maelstrom showed up in so many gigs that he started groaning whenever they were mentioned.
But now that he thought about it, it had been a while since he'd taken a job involving them.
Not because he was avoiding them—but because fixers didn't bother putting out contracts on Maelstrom.
Why spend eddies to go after a bunch of lunatics who wouldn't live long anyway? Even if they went cyberpsycho, MaxTac or NCPD would eventually clean it up. Better to just wait and let their corpses show up in the gutter than pay someone like Karl to get involved.
And truthfully, Maelstrom didn't go looking for trouble with Karl's crew either. They were insane, not stupid.
It was common knowledge on the streets: Maelstrom weren't dumb. Their cyberware and engineering were top-tier—arguably better than most other gangs, thanks to the sheer number of experimental "subjects" they burned through. Rumor had it that some corpo prototypes were handed over to Maelstrom for field testing before hitting the market.
They knew exactly who they could mess with—and who they absolutely shouldn't. Karl and his team were firmly in that second category. Unless it was absolutely necessary, even Maelstrom wasn't itching to cross them.
But just because they weren't looking for a fight didn't mean Karl wasn't bringing one to their doorstep.
He'd been paid to hit them. That was reason enough.
No guilt. No hesitation.
It's not like Maelstrom could go crying to the NCPD.
Shhhhkt.
Karl stepped out of the waiting Delamain cab, boots landing on a patch of grimy, oil-stained pavement.
Due to their decentralized structure, Maelstrom operated in cells—tight-knit squads of no more than thirty members each. The system was efficient: if one of them went cyberpsycho, they wouldn't drag the whole gang down with them. Even Brick's own squad never exceeded that number.
His current hideout? An old All Foods plant up in the industrial north of Watson. According to intel from T-BUG, the factory used to be operational, but Maelstrom had taken it over and repurposed it—producing synthetic food packs for distribution. Hell, Karl wouldn't be surprised if the noodle stall under his apartment was selling product made here.
Thirty members. Doable.
As he strolled under the midday sun, Karl squinted. The sunlight felt unusually harsh.
Too damn bright.
It made him wonder—was the light from the nuke that hit Night City back in '23 even brighter than this? He'd read survivor accounts describing it as two or three times more intense than the sun, blinding at a glance, enough to make your eyes burn and tear up.
Weird thought. Where'd that come from?
Maybe his head was in a strange place today. Still, unless another Corpo War broke out, there wouldn't be a reason for another nuke to hit Night City. The interests of Militech and Arasaka were too intertwined. Only in an all-out, no-holds-barred conflict would either side even consider it.
With that grim reflection still lingering, Karl approached the All Foods plant—Brick's base of operations.
Strangely, even after walking up to within fifty meters of the facility, there was no sign of surveillance.
No movement. No cameras turning to track him.
He was planning to bust in solo, deliver a humiliating beatdown to Brick, maybe take off a limb or two if necessary—but this lack of resistance was… weird. When he finally arrived at the front gate, he spotted a surveillance camera—just hanging there, limp.
Dead. No response. Like no one was watching the feed.
Did T-BUG get the wrong location? Karl frowned and checked the address on his device.
Nope. This was the right place.
Did she screw up? That's not like her...
Just as he started thinking the place might be empty, a sound echoed from inside the building.
Crack-crack—pop-pop—bang!
Faint, but unmistakable—gunfire.
Karl's face hardened. He'd recognize those sounds anywhere.
Something was going down.
He glanced at the steel shutter in front of him. No time to hesitate.
His monowire slashed through the metal—clean, efficient—creating a rectangular breach. Instantly, a turret behind the door activated, sensing the intrusion.
Click. Whirr.
The barrel lifted—and then retracted.
System override complete.
Karl stepped through like he was walking into a convenience store.
Let's see what the hell's going on in here.
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