Watson, subzone of Northside Industrial District.
In the abandoned All Foods factory, Maelstrom's central base was becoming a hive of excitement as its members discussed plans for their next big job.
A representative of an unnamed megacorporation had offered them a job with simple objectives and generous rewards.
Go to the company Naturtal&Co, raid the place at will with no prisoners, and the only thing they had to recover were plant samples and data from their research laboratory.
They accepted almost immediately.
Thanks to the fact that this company was "isolated" in the wastelands, the use of heavy equipment wouldn't be a problem, and they could already imagine the beautiful explosions and screams that were about to happen.
Maelstrom didn't like that company; they believed in the perfect symbiosis of flesh and machine. It definitely wasn't because they were bitter about not being able to taste a single bite of the organic food flowing into the city.
That vegetation? They thought it was highly flammable.
Hence the barrels of fuel loaded onto the vehicles.
That thought showed just how twisted Maelstrom's minds had become, since due to the repeated sale and consumption of neurochemical and synthetic drugs, their minds had begun to deteriorate, turning them into psychopaths.
And the more chrome and crazier you were, the higher up the command chain you could rise.
Reflex enhancers, pain inhibitors, sensation extenders, etc.
All taken casually as if grabbing a handful of candy for bad breath, but they also had the crown jewel: Black Lace.
This was a drug specially created by Maelstrom that nullified fear and pain, ideal for psychopaths with combat implants and excessive chrome.
Just like themselves!
After all, their main source of income came from raiding shipments, kidnapping technicians, and stealing experimental implants which they then sold on the black market. That is, if they didn't install the coolest implants themselves.
They also occasionally took undercover jobs for corporations, like the current case. As for the reward, it was impossible to refuse:
Three million eurodollars.
Five armored vehicles with heavy artillery installed.
Fifteen experimental CRA-VI exoskeletons.
Thirty next-generation limb implants.
Two hundred assault rifles fresh out of the factory, with ammunition included.
And three formulas for new drugs associated with implant performance.
Maelstrom's leader wasn't interested in the impractical vehicles inside the city and they already had more than enough weapons; what really pushed him to accept the deal were the formulas and promised implants.
After the job, some of his men could replace their low-quality arms with Gorilla Arms, Mantis Blades, Monowires, etc.
The exoskeletons would be for him and the band's executives.
But the formulas—that was where the real long-term money was!
They didn't doubt these formulas were obsolete, they definitely had better versions in their hands, but for them, as long as they worked, there was no complaint.
A two-meter-tall guy with chrome installed on his body like a centipede crawling through flesh stood up and asked a nearby henchman as the lens of his optic focused.
"Is everyone here?"
"Yes, boss," a thin man with a single-eye optic nodded while rubbing his wrists. Given the importance of the operation, everyone had to be "clean" until they reached the attack site and secured the goods. "We've brought brothers from all the industrial zones, abandoned factories, and clubs. Only the new meat is missing, as you ordered."
"New meat" was what they called the rookies or newly recruited into Maelstrom.
They lacked blood on their hands, chrome in their flesh, or weren't crazy enough.
They weren't present because someone had to watch the warehouses during the hours they would be out; it was risky, because if someone noticed no veterans were guarding the warehouses, they might try their luck.
But the boss spat on the ground, not caring about that small possibility, and nodded. If someone took an implant from them, they'd make sure to recover ten in interest.
"Listen up, mangy dogs!" —the current Maelstrom leader, Donti Miraqi, stepped forward onto the high platform while the other members turned to look at him with their red optics, one of the band's distinctive marks.
Others would have felt intimidated by the sight Donti was seeing, but for him, more eyes meant more power to command. It was truly exhilarating…
"Lately there have been rats trying to interfere with our business, our affairs, and our chrome"—which wasn't true, but something he learned before gutting the previous leader with an ice cream spoon was that a good speech could make these idiots smarten up— "It's time to remind them of Maelstrom's power! In half an hour, we'll be heading to the wastelands and wipe out an entire corporation, just because we can!"
"Wooooohhhh!!!"
The Maelstrom members raised their weapons and fired at the ceiling, while others laughed maniacally or bit their metal fingers excitedly.
Or maybe it was the withdrawal from not being able to take anything yet.
Donti looked at the idiots yelling below with disdain, easily hidden by his chromed and disfigured face. He wasn't going to tell them this was a paid job; he'd let them loose on the factory, and the band's executives would handle getting the samples and information "for fun" when the time came.
The money? Naturally, as leader he would keep seventy percent before splitting the rest among the participants.
Very reasonable.
And if someone found out and didn't agree with him?
Then the gun would have to be lubricated with some fresh blood…
"Uh, boss," the henchman next to Donti called out hesitantly, his optic blinking. "Burk, John, and Mike, who were guarding the entrance, aren't responding. I think… we might have a rat sneaking into the party."
BANG!
Donti pulled the revolver from his holster and shot the henchman in the head, annoyed by the news.
The people below stopped upon hearing the shot.
"Looks like we're going to have a little preview!" Donti pointed the gun down at the crowd. "We have a rat in the house. Whoever finds and kills the rat can use the heavy machine gun later!"
The Maelstrom got excited by the unexpected surprise, but how could they refuse blowing something up?
"Uh, guys?" —a guy with a shaved head and jaw chromed in four sections like a mantis pointed at something— "Is that what I think it is or am I still seeing things?"
Donti almost shot the bastard who ruined the mood, but stopped when he realized he was pointing… behind him.
And there shouldn't be anyone else nearby.
He turned quickly and jumped backward, surprised by what he saw, falling off the platform by mistake and using several of his subordinates as a cushion. He was sure he broke someone's neck, but that wasn't important now…
An ethereal emerald green butterfly silently flapped its wings exactly where Donti had been seconds before.
"There's another one there!"
They saw another butterfly on a fire extinguisher on the roof.
"There too!"
One of the weapon racks had another, on the radio, on a half-eaten nacho tray…
More and more noticed their presence as Donti began sweating internally, aware of the meaning of those butterflies while standing up and counting each one present.
"Someone must be messing with me," he thought, trying to rationalize the situation. "There's no way that person came for us, right? Their target has always been the scavengers, there's no way that… Damn!"
Donti recalled the appearance of that person's victims and then thought about the supposed reforestation achievement of the company they were going to attack today. If he couldn't see the connection and similarity, he didn't deserve to be the leader of a bunch of lunatics.
So that person was part of the company.
Maybe the founder, one of the partners, a researcher, or even hired.
He didn't care, but he knew that if he was right, they were screwed.
"Everyone take up arms!" Donti shouted, not going to fall without a fight. "Today won't be the day a rat dies, but a ghost!"
And if things went wrong, he could always use these scum to run and live another day!
The Maelstrom already had their weapons loaded and optics scanning the surroundings in less than two seconds. Maybe they were chromed, crazy, and drugged most of the time, but their destructive (and self-destructive) power was impeccable.
They didn't need to search.
As soon as everyone was alert, the butterflies began to calmly converge on the elevated platform where Donti had been moments before, slowly forming a human figure as if it were a 3D printer.
The Maelstrom were speechless.
Donti wasn't easily impressed and tried to understand how it was done.
Dermal invisibility implant combined with some kind of hologram machine he didn't know?
Faelan materialized in front of the entire Maelstrom gang, holding his wooden staff gracefully while his calm and casual demeanor pissed off everyone present.
Did he make such a dramatic entrance and they had to stay silent?
This was their damn base!
"Are you all here? Good…" —Faelan looked at the sea of red optics and nodded.
BANG!
The sudden shot snapped everyone out of their stupor and they opened fire immediately with a single shared thought.
Damn it, let me shoot him a bit too!
Faelan grimaced under his glasses as he felt riddled with bullets, but the effects of the pain-numbing potion seemed to work wonders.
Ka-chak! Ka-chak! Ka-chak!
Only when the sound of being out of ammo echoed throughout the factory did they realize they had emptied their magazines into the intruder.
And he was still standing.
There were no holes in his clothes, no blood on the floor or brains on the walls, and he wasn't screaming.
"I guess no one taught you not to interrupt someone while they're speaking," Faelan continued once they finished their little show. "Now, which one of you, pretty eyes, is Donti?"
The Maelstrom instinctively turned their heads toward Donti, who cursed his mothers for giving birth to such idiots.
Where was their oath of brotherhood, loyalty, and chrome?
Oh, wait, they didn't have that...
"What are you doing here?" Donti had no choice but to "step onto the stage," though the fact that this guy looked down on him made him furious. "I thought you were someone who only went after the scavengers!"
Truth be told, the reduction of scavengers had greatly benefited his gang's business.
The Maelstrom exchanged glances—did the boss know this guy?
Though most didn't, some paled when they associated "butterflies" and "scavengers," recalling a certain urban legend in Night City...
"And you'd be right," Faelan nodded, eyeing curiously the body of the lackey Donti had killed, even kicking him a bit to make sure he was dead. "But a little bird told me that you and your gang intend to touch something that's mine and..." —Faelan's eyes lit up enough to be visible through the disguise— "I don't like people messing with my things."
"I knew it!" Donti roared inside.
He was proud of having successfully pieced together all the clues, angry for not having asked for a higher price for the job, and a little scared that Faelan was still standing as if nothing had happened despite having taken more bullets than a shooting range.
"...What do you want?" Donti asked while signaling discreetly to a gang executive, who moved stealthily toward a long box.
"Since you haven't done anything yet... I'll settle for the name of whoever hired you to do this," Faelan said with feigned magnanimity. "Although—"
KA-BOOM!
"Ha, take that, monster!" the executive laughed while lowering the smoking rocket launcher. "No matter what kind of implant your skin's armored with, a direct blast from a JAF-III like that would hurt even Adam Smasher himself!"
Donti wiped the sweat from his brow, relieved the problem was over.
He was about to order someone to finish the job when...
BOOM!
Faelan jumped off the shattered platform, emerging from the smoke while coughing and grabbing the executive by the neck with inhuman speed. The sight would have been comical under other circumstances, since the executive was taller than Faelan.
"Damn it, cough, you know how annoying that is?" —by his voice, it was clear he wasn't in as good a mood as before. To the Maelstrom's surprised looks, his free arm transformed into a strange colorful pincer—"Never mind, I'll teach you a lesson in nature instead. Do you know how powerful a mantis shrimp's punch is? It can reach 274 km/h in just an instant, as powerful as a .22 caliber bullet. Now, how do you think that punch would be magnified to human scale?"
The executive didn't get a chance to respond. As the Maelstrom noticed the movement of the strange limb, a mist of blood erupted while several chunks of deformed metal embedded themselves in the wall.
Even the sound of the punch seemed delayed by a second.
Judging by the number and shape of the metal pieces, they were the executive's implants...
"Last chance?" Faelan turned toward Donti as his arm returned to normal. "Give me a name."
There was no more response except some screams as Donti turned and tried to run, pushing others out of his way. He didn't even hesitate to shoot those who took too long to clear his path.
"Did I go too far?" Faelan wondered.
He didn't think Donti was stubborn out of loyalty to whoever offered him the job. It was more that he'd exceeded his fear threshold and just wanted to get out.
"Well, I hope Kiwi and Sasha can salvage something later."
He had tried, but this time he wasn't planning on turning those present into human flowerpots; his thoughts were on something... more special.
He struck the ground with the wooden staff while throwing back his hood, and his antlers grew back.
The factory trembled.
Roots sprang from the ground like whips, grabbing Donti by the legs and dragging him, screaming, toward a freshly opened crack.
The other Maelstrom had secretly reloaded their weapons and opened fire once again, expanding their offensive. Bullets, lasers, grenades, and microdrones shot out. But behind Faelan, shoots emerged in response. Dark, thorny plants with bleeding flowers and serrated leaves.
The gunfire didn't stop anything despite its abundance. One by one, the Maelstrom were caught by black roots that sprouted from the walls, the ceiling, the very metal itself.
They screamed. They begged. They fired blindly, killing some of their own without even realizing it. But the roots reached them, immobilized them, absorbed them. They fused with the bark beginning to form in the center of the floor, where before there had only been stolen parts.
Faelan raised his staff.
"May their sins nourish the forest."
And then, the tree grew.
A deafening crack shook All Foods. From the center of the factory, a spiral of dark wood, giant roots, and twisted branches exploded upward, breaking roofs, walls, and machinery. The factory's structure partially collapsed while a colossal, impossible, unnatural tree rose, stretching toward Night City's gray sky.
The bodies of the Maelstrom were trapped inside the trunk, visible beneath the bark as twisted faces and shadows of fear. Those nearby when it happened swore they heard their voices, their pleas… still alive in some twisted form.
"What the hell?" Faelan looked at his recent creation, a little puzzled. "It's… a bit bigger than I expected. How many bad things did these guys do to feed its growth so much?" he wondered as he put his hood back on once the antlers shrank, continuing to inspect the tree with its unsettlingly red flowers among the leaves.
What he said about sins wasn't just some cool phrase — the tree he made this time literally grew according to the evil sins of its sacrifice. If they hadn't done anything wrong, it wouldn't have worked at all.
It was a ritual he wanted to test recently, and well, he knew Maelstrom had bad people, but damn, this went far beyond his predictions…
If the tree took Adam Smasher or Saburo Arasaka, how much would it grow?
"A message is a message," he decided there was no point in dwelling on it now, releasing some green butterflies to continuously patrol the tree and leave a "signature" of the culprit.
"Let's try one more while I'm here."
Faelan walked to the bark and placed his hand on it. It cracked and opened, revealing his potion workshop on the other side. He nodded, satisfied. Looks like traveling will be more convenient if he plants some trees here and there around the city.
Maybe he should send a proposal to the mayor to green some parks?
He entered the breach, and it closed behind him without a trace.
Two days later, the tree was still there. The NCPD had cordoned off the area and was investigating what happened.
Superstitious people had started calling it with fear: The Tree of the Damned.
A living warning in the middle of a dead city. And the remains of Maelstrom?
Coincidentally, ALL their warehouses were raided the same day. What bad luck!