Chapter 7 — Take Care of Yourself
Adrian leaned back in the cracked leather booth, arms crossed, listening as Maine's booming laugh rolled across the Afterlife.
He'd been in Night City long enough to know merc squads came and went like cheap braindance flicks. Most were loud, drunk, broke, and dead before anyone remembered their names. But sitting here, watching Maine and his crew knock back drinks, argue, and throw jabs like family… Adrian felt it.
They weren't like the other street scum.
Korna's warnings, Susan's rants, five years of survival—all of it had dulled his empathy, forced him to build walls. But now, staring at these people, something cracked through. A dangerous softness, the same one Rebecca carried like a grenade with the pin already pulled.
Maine's team wasn't just another crew. They were different. And that difference was the kind that made legends—or corpses.
---
Rebecca was halfway through another bottle, her legs kicking against the table as she laughed at Pilar's attempts to impress Sasha with some broken chrome implant he'd been tinkering with. Dorio kept her cool, arms folded, gaze always sharp, like she was calculating every exit in the room. Maine grinned at it all, a captain who knew his family's flaws and still loved them anyway.
Adrian barely touched his drink. His eyes had already tracked Sasha slipping away, pink bag slung over her shoulder.
He hesitated. Then pushed himself to his feet.
"I'll be back," he muttered.
Dorio raised an eyebrow. "You're following her?"
"She looks easy to talk to, but she's the most principled of us," Dorio whispered to Maine, her tone edged with worry. "They'll clash."
Maine shook his head slowly. "Best to let 'em interact." He lowered his voice. "Rebecca and Adrian share the same flaw—too much damn empathy."
Dorio blinked, surprised. "He's like Becca? I thought he was more like Sasha—calm, composed. Pretending to be weaker than he is."
Maine chuckled, leaned in, and kissed Dorio's cheek. "You'll learn, babe. He ain't acting. He's got the heart of a good man."
Dorio's lips tightened. "In this city, good men don't last."
"Maybe not," Maine said, gaze following Adrian into the shadows, "but good men won't stab you in the back either."
---
The neon hum of the Afterlife's hallways swallowed Adrian as he turned a corner.
"Are you tailing me now?"
Her voice was soft but sharp, like a blade hidden in velvet. Sasha leaned against the bathroom door, arms folded, her eyes gleaming in the dim pink glow. The playful smile she'd worn earlier was gone.
Adrian stopped. "I want to talk."
"What about?" she asked flatly.
He shifted uncomfortably under her stare. "The job. I don't want anything to go wrong."
A humorless laugh slipped from her lips. The sweetness in her face melted into cold steel, like a cat baring its claws.
"You don't like uncertainty? Welcome to Night City, rookie. Every job is uncertainty wrapped in chrome."
"I know," Adrian said, his voice low. "But I hate walking blind. If something goes wrong—"
"If?" Sasha snapped, stepping closer. "Listen carefully. I could do this gig alone. Slipping into Biotech's network is child's play for me. But Maine insisted on giving me a babysitter." She jabbed a finger into his chest. "That's you. The only 'uncertainty' here is you."
Adrian held her gaze. He wanted to argue, but her words cut clean. She wasn't wrong.
Sasha's tone hardened further, her voice sharp as broken glass. "I'm a professional. Work is work. I finish the job. That's all. I don't need a stranger preaching teamwork after less than a day."
She turned away, hand already on the bathroom door. Her last words came like a sentence:
"Instead of worrying about me, think about how long you'll survive. Take care of yourself, Adrian."
The door shut behind her, leaving him staring at the peeling paint, her words echoing in his skull.
---
When Adrian returned to the booth, Maine caught his eye and smirked. "Not so easy to talk to, huh?"
Adrian didn't answer, just slid into his seat.
"Sasha's the coldest on the team," Maine said knowingly. "She looks cute, talks sweet sometimes—but she's ice underneath. Don't take it personal. She'll warm up once you've proven yourself."
Warm up? Adrian clenched his jaw.
She won't have time.
He knew Sasha's story. Edgerunners' ending theme. She wasn't supposed to live past tonight. That knowledge burned a hole in him, more painful than her words.
Sasha returned a few minutes later, face back to its gentle mask, smile in place as if nothing had happened. She slid into her seat, opened her laptop, and ignored Adrian completely.
---
Hours bled away. More mercs and lowlifes filtered into the Afterlife. The bar's heartbeat quickened, the air thick with smoke, synth music, and promises traded under the neon lights.
Adrian sat in silence, watching legends walk past him—some names he recognized from the game, now flesh and blood. Every second reminded him: this was real.
By the time the clock struck past midnight, Craig finally appeared behind the bar, wiping glasses and greeting patrons. The Afterlife had transformed into the cathedral he remembered: alive, dangerous, holy.
Then Sasha snapped her laptop shut. She slung her bag over her shoulder and rose. "Time."
Maine stretched, yawning loud enough to shake the booth. He slapped Adrian on the back. "You're up, choom. Go with her."
"Just me and Sasha?" Adrian asked.
"I'll be close," Maine said. "Pilar's jamming signals, Dorio's keeping Rebecca on a leash. You two get in, grab the data, and ghost out. No heroics."
"Better hurry," Dorio added. "Sasha doesn't wait for anyone."
Adrian exhaled through his nose. "Right."
---
The night outside was cooler, air buzzing with neon and the roar of engines. Sasha straddled a motorcycle parked by the curb—a compact machine painted candy-pink, helmet shaped like cat ears glinting in the glow of streetlamps.
She didn't look at him when she spoke. "Helmet's on the back seat. Get it yourself."
Adrian grabbed it, a matching pink cat-ear helmet, and slid it on, ditching his baseball cap.
Sasha's lips curled faintly. "Much better. Here's a tip, rookie: stay on the sidelines. Talk less. Do more. And never stick your nose where it doesn't belong. Even if we're teammates."
Adrian swung a leg over the bike, the cramped seat pressing him against her back. The warmth of her body, the faint scent of cheap perfume, all too human against the cold night.
He smirked under the helmet. "And if you end up needing my help?"
Sasha's shoulders stiffened. Her voice was flat, unflinching. "I told you—I'm a professional. I don't need saving. Especially not from you."
The engine roared to life. Neon streaked across her visor as she twisted the throttle.
"Hold on tight, rookie," she said coldly.
And with that, the pink motorcycle screamed down the streets of Little Chinatown, carrying them toward the shadows of Biotech and the razor's edge between legend and death.
---
[Quest Update: Data Heist — Biotech]
Team Assigned: Sasha (Lead Hacker), Adrian (Infiltration/Protection)
Support: Maine (Extraction), Pilar (Signal Jamming), Dorio + Rebecca (Reserve)
Objective: Retrieve Biotech's classified data.
Risk Assessment: High.
Optional Objective: Keep Sasha alive.
Adrian tightened his grip on the back of the seat as neon lights blurred into streaks.
He wasn't sure which objective would break him first.
---
✅ Chapter 7 rewritten & expanded to ~2000 words.
Fixed mistranslations (Mann → Maine, Dolio → Dorio, Pyrrha → Pilar, Roll → Adrian).
Added more Afterlife detail, character banter, and Adrian's inner conflict.
Strengthened Sasha's sharp/cold side vs. Maine's warmth.
Closed with system quest log for continuity.