Four years had passed, and Faelan was finally able to buy the land from Gloria. Not only that—he managed to acquire the surrounding properties and rapidly expanded the green zone into the Badlands. Many people tried to sell him their own land upon seeing his eagerness to buy as much as possible, but when they maliciously tried to inflate prices, they failed to achieve their goal.
By now, Night City's upper management was aware of Substance X-27, and there wasn't much fuss about it—though some scientists were practically killing themselves trying to figure out the unknown key component. Literally dying of stress.
Faelan kept his promise to Gloria and gave her a good job in the company, which had become the industry leader in real food. It was essentially an administrative and logistics position she could do remotely from home, with excellent pay.
But Faelan started to notice certain... things during his rapid expansion.
He had always suspected something wasn't adding up.
Faelan had become aware of an anomaly, a blind spot in his own logic—and in everyone else's.
Despite using SCP-166's aura on several occasions… his Pip-Boy never malfunctioned!
(Seriously, did anyone else notice that, or did you all overlook it too?)
Sure, he maintained and updated it with Kiwi just below the threshold to prevent hacking, but even so, SCP-166's aura hit it directly every time—it was strapped to his wrist—yet it never broke down the way it should have.
The same thing happened with the signal blockers embedded in his sunglasses.
Why?
Faelan immediately renewed his suspicions about SAV. He had always felt that its traps were… not exactly badly made or incomplete, but maybe more like a rushed, half-finished job.
Vague limits. Unclear specifications. Etc.
Today, he was going to try something more extreme to clear things up.
Dorio had rounded up a couple of junkies off the street—the kind who would do anything for their next fix, utterly beyond saving—and brought them to a remote spot in the Badlands. Each was given a gun with a single bullet and one task: shoot and kill the other to get the free dose and walk away.
BANG!
To the junkies' surprise, the one who took a bullet between the eyes was alive… and the one who shot him was dead, with a hole right between his eyebrows.
BANG!
A second shot from Dorio corrected the imbalance and leveled the scoreboard.
"Just as I suspected," Faelan crouched next to the junkie who'd survived the first shot, picking up a small straw doll with a bullet hole between the eyes. "Looks like it's not just me. Others can use the dolls too."
The experiment was simple: he made two straw dolls, each linked to one junkie's life, and then swapped their connections to the opposite body.
In other words, whoever shot first would be the first to die—by their own hand.
As sixteen-year-old Faelan drew conclusions about SAV's loosely defined trap restrictions with growing suspicion, Dorio glanced from her gun barrel to the body on the ground.
"So… does that mean you can give people a second life?" she asked, not even bothering to question the bizarre thing that had just happened.
After so long working with Kiwi and the others, Dorio's tolerance for Faelan's "mystic bullshit" had evolved into full emotional numbness. Even if it didn't make any sense, she wouldn't be surprised at this point if he told her he could bring back the dead.
She had asked once, out of curiosity—and Faelan looked at her like she was insane!
Frankly, she found the look kind of offensive. She thought it was a perfectly reasonable question.
The guy could create owls, silkworms, dogs, salmon, bees, and more creatures, like life and extinction were mere suggestions he could ignore.
He could even regenerate full limbs!
Was it really that weird to ask if he could revive people?
Curiously, Faelan had been very clear on that point: he couldn't create new humans… aside from, well, the ahem traditional method of the human species.
That didn't change the fact that Faelan was a damn immortal. Over the past four years, Dorio had seen him struck by stray bullets in vital areas, stabbed during a surprise robbery, slashed by a cyberpsycho in an alley, burned by a car explosion… and aside from a grimace of pain or annoyance, he always came out alive and unharmed.
Dorio had long since stopped being effectively Faelan's bodyguard.
These days, she only played bodyguard for people like Kiwi or Sasha—who, despite getting real weapons training from Galina, still preferred the netrunner route.
With Faelan, she was more like the extra pair of hands he needed for his ideas.
"Apparently, yes," Faelan replied, tossing the straw doll aside. "But I need to run more tests," he added, rubbing his chin.
There was crucial data he needed to confirm before trying anything with the people he actually cared about—like whether the life bonus was stackable, or if he could replenish the dolls once used.
Of course, even if he could only give one extra life per person, that would already be a massive secret advantage.
Coincidentally, scavenger activity had picked up after a stretch where Faelan was too busy with his ideas to make his usual visits. So, he wouldn't be short on materials for testing.
Once he confirmed the limit—grab a handful of junk, put it in cryo, and you've got a guaranteed +1 backup.
"Heading back?" Dorio asked as she wiped sweat from her brow. "It's hot as hell, and I need a cold shower. Dust is getting everywhere," she added, pulling at her shirt collar, which clung to her muscular frame from the sweat.
Since Faelan had reversed the desertification of his property, Dorio felt more uncomfortable in the drier, deader parts of the Badlands.
"Alright," Faelan took care of degrading the junkies' implants and got in the car with Dorio. He hated driving—she liked it. "Once we're back, take the rest of the day off. Tomorrow we'll need more people for the tests. Go grab a drink at Rebirth or something if you want," he glanced at her, "just don't go buying a round for the whole bar again."
"Haha, yeah, sorry about that. Won't happen again," Dorio scratched her cheek, embarrassed by that particular drunk episode.
Rebirth had become a sensation among mercs and fixers. The taste of real alcohol had them hooked, and they couldn't go back to drinking the swill at Afterlife.
It had definitely been a good idea to prioritize the distillery after acquiring Gloria's land.
Although the additional requirement of amber-inlaid implants confused everyone at first, it was just a handful of extra cash that the capable could afford—and it had already started to take root as a high-tier status symbol.
Plus, the air of prestige it gave off was truly attractive.
Even fixers and mercs who still preferred Afterlife over Rebirth were seen sporting subtle amber inlays to maintain their status.
Hell, Rogue herself had an arm inlaid with amber up to the elbow!
She hated the competition that had come out of nowhere—especially after she found out Rebirth was run by Natural&Co, the same company that ended up refusing to supply Afterlife with drinks after its second rebuild.
"Why would we give our competitor the very product they'd use to compete against us?" they asked her with baffled faces.
Rogue couldn't argue—not when Rebirth had such a steady stream of clients.
But although she was bitter about the drinks issue, Rogue was more troubled by the fact that she hadn't found a single clue, in all this time, about who had destroyed Afterlife.
Not even a lead or a trace to follow.
That had truly dented her reputation. She couldn't even name a scapegoat, afraid the real culprit—or culprits—might come forward and drag her name through the mud even more.
Speaking of drinks, the Moxes also tried to get in on it, but the price list...
Their customers couldn't even afford a decent bottle of vodka. That put them in the red immediately, so they had to give up for the time being.
Though occasionally, one of them would stop by and pick up a bottle—probably for a special occasion or a client who could actually pay.
The point is: Dorio had VVIP status at Rebirth for obvious reasons, and all her drinks were free.
So when she decided to invite everyone for a night out, it was the first and only time the bar ever closed in the red.
"We've got company," Dorio snapped him out of his thoughts while glancing at the rearview mirror.
Clouds of dust and the clatter of badly welded metal reached their ears.
"Nomads?" Faelan shifted his eyes to identify the newcomers. "I don't recognize that mark. Just passing through or are they new?"
"They don't look friendly," Dorio noted as she spotted the drawn weapons in the nomads' hands.
About five vehicles—each with at least two armed passengers leaning out the windows, and a driver in each.
"What a bunch of junkers," Dorio sneered at the "vehicles" behind them. "Those look like they could blow up any second. I bet if I speed up and they try to keep pace—boom!"
Even Faelan could tell she had a point, despite not knowing much about vehicles.
Some of them were literally using traffic signs as wheels instead of actual tires!
"Well, no speed limits out here," he muttered, glancing at the desolate surroundings.
They had taken a wide detour to avoid trouble, which left them with a long, straight path back.
"Oh hell yes." Dorio shifted gears and slammed the pedal with a grin full of teeth. "Let me show you what this baby can do!"
A panel flipped open, revealing a red button.
"Wait—not the red button!" Faelan tried to stop her, genuinely alarmed. "Don't press the—!"
ZIIIUUUNG~!
To the raiders' astonishment, the car ahead of them transformed mid-drive.
The tires flattened against the road, glowing with a blue light as the car began to hover on a cushion of air.
Then, two thrusters deployed from the trunk, blasting blue flames in wide cones.
Barely ten seconds passed—and the nomads could no longer see their target.
But their thoughts were unanimous.
I want one of those.
Later...
Blerg! Faelan was vomiting at the roadside, while Dorio had a cartoonishly large bump sticking out of her head.
"I told you not to hit the red button!"
"But we had to test it sometime!" Dorio crossed her arms, still unconvinced. "We had pursuers, a straight track, and time. What better moment?"
How was she supposed to know Faelan couldn't handle a tiny little speed boost?
[Incoming call.]
"Well, any excuse is good enough right now," Dorio thought as she took the call—Sasha's urgent voice filled her ears.
[Dorio! Are you with Faelan? Are you two okay?]
[Sasha? Yeah, of course. We just went out to the badlands for one of those experiments.]
[Whew, good. Okay, okay.]
[What did I miss? You sound stressed.]
[Short version? Naturtal&Co just got rammed by a truck full of explosives, there's a massive fire spreading, and someone's broken into Faelan's workshop—they're gearing up to steal a whole bunch of stuff.]
[What about the workers and guards?]
A third voice joined the call.
[The workers fled in panic and the guards are dead. If you're anywhere near the company, tell Fae to do whatever it takes to make sure this operation fails—otherwise, in three years we lose the organic food monopoly, among other things.]
[Kiwi, and what about me?]
[I'm calling in a favor from the Valentinos to block the roads back to Night City. You take command of whoever's available and make sure that if anyone escapes the compound, they do not reach the city alive. Doesn't matter if what they're carrying gets destroyed in the process.]
[Got it. I'll let him know.]
[Good. Sasha and I are already digging through the net for intel—explosive signature, truck origin, everything. And Dorio—tell Fae the hiding is over. This needs a show of force.]
Dorio went quiet, stunned.
[You mean…?]
[Don't hold him back.]
Sasha laughed hard, but even Dorio could tell there was a nervous edge in her voice.
["The Great Druid Faelan, fully unleashed!" Scary~]
[Are we sure about this?]
Dorio still had her doubts. This was going to be a huge shift in how they handled things—and people were in for a hell of a surprise.
[Fluffy died in the explosion.]
Dorio's breath caught like she'd been hit by a truck.
The six-month-old Maltese pup they'd been raising together… gone?
The veins in her neck and forehead bulged as rage boiled inside her.
[Those bastards are dead.]
[Yeah—now imagine how "dad" is going to react.]
Dorio slowly turned her head toward Faelan, who looked at her in confusion.
"...What?"