Chapter 10 — Subtle Ties
The container smelled like leftover oil, instant noodles, and old adrenaline. A strip of bare bulb hung from the corrugated ceiling, splashing the crowded interior with harsh, yellow light. Gear was propped against the walls; spare cables and bike helmets sat like sentries. It was small, messy, and honest—Team Maine's world-turned-basecamp, a place where wounds were sewn and plans were born.
Adrian sat on the frayed sofa, still tasting hot metal at the back of his throat, Sasha pressed close to him with one arm across her ribs. The bullet had been shallow enough to avoid the surgical suite, but it had taken a chunk of her shoulder and her breath with it. Korna's bandage work had been clinical and fast; Susan's eye had been a hawk's—cold, assessing, then quiet. Now here, in the container's private aftercare, the crew settled into the thin relief that follows violence.
Maine sat with the weight of a man used to carrying other people's consequences. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, jaw carved in the faint shadow of regret the night left behind. Beside him, Pilar's fingers jittered occasionally over a tool-laden pack, checking connections even while he watched. Dorio sat like a barbed sentinel, arms folded, gaze missing nothing. Rebecca, in contrast, paced and preened, using motion to make herself less worried. The team looked like a family that had learned to be blunt with love.
"You two tell me exactly what happened," Maine said finally, voice deep and even. "Start to finish. No heroics—in detail."
Sasha shifted, face pale but stubborn. She cleared her throat. "I found Securicine files I couldn't ignore. I uploaded internal reports to 54News. The jammer window closed right after. Bots came. I fought. I got shot. Adrian didn't leave me."
Maine's mouth twitched. "You should have told us. You were reckless."
Sasha's eyes dropped. "I know. I—"
"And you tried to buy the corp's conscience with sabotage," Pilar added, more irritation than accusation in his tone. "A time charge on the data node? That could have taken the evidence with you. Dumb."
Sasha's hand pressed the bandage over the wound like an apology. Her catlike grin faltered under the gravity of the moment. "I didn't want the data buried. I'd rather it go out and make them sweat. I… I made a call."
Maine's voice softened, but the sharpness didn't leave. "You saved truth at the risk of the team. You know how this game goes. Corps don't forget. They come with teeth."
Adrian spoke then, small and deliberate. "She did more than that. She got it out. I didn't let her die. That matters."
Maine's eyes tracked Adrian like a weighing scale. "You jumped fourteen floors, choom. That's not a stunt. That's a claim on a life insurance policy." He slid a look toward Pilar. "What do you think?"
Pilar didn't smile. "Trace logs show a leak. They'll trace it back. Securicine's security stack flagged an outbound. They'll get vectors."
Dorio's answer was practical and immediate. "We blow the trace, buy time, move the funds, get out of this heat. We keep Sasha alive. That's priority one."
Rebecca, who hadn't stopped fidgeting, suddenly chimed in with an irreverent laugh. "And then we throw a party at the Afterlife and tell the world we were totally calm the whole time—" she began, then cut herself off, the laugh breaking into a bark.
Maine fixed her with a look that quieted her. "We split the money equally. Standard. No debates."
Sasha's hand rose, hesitant and small. "About my share… I want to give it to Adrian."
Time held. The room took in the offer like a small, fragile oxygen mask.
"That's against rules, Sasha." Maine's voice was mild but firm. "This was Adrian's job—he accepted the risk. Pay structure's fixed. You don't get to redistribute because you felt guilty."
Sasha's eyes flashed. "No. I caused the heat. If I hadn't gone digging—"
"You would have left it buried," Adrian said softly. No shame in his voice; only a quiet fact.
Sasha looked at him, something private moving across her features. "You saved me. I'd rather you take it. I'll take less. Promise."
Adrian felt the old tug in his chest—empathy's quiet, sometimes ruinous pull. He gave her a small thumbs-up, the motion half embarrassment and half gratitude. He needed funds—gear, rent, something that didn't smell of metal or engine oil. But the offer was more than money. It was a contract of trust.
Maine sighed, the air leaving him like a negotiated truce. "Fine. She gives you her share." He made it sound like a concession to the universe's messy arithmetic. "But don't make this a habit."
"Does that mean you're rich now?" Rebecca crowed, half teasing, half calculating.
Adrian let the question hang. He'd been living in containers and cots; rent and new lungs had been a distant luxury. He thought of a small room with a window and a curtain that didn't rattle. For a moment the idea was almost obscene—comfort in a city that counted suffering like interest.
The container flap lifted. Dorio's silhouette filled the frame: Rebecca on her heels, complaining and holding a thermos like a talisman. They'd been to the Afterlife to stir a diversion and keep attention away from the corporate trace. Maine had needed the theater of noise to buy them the seconds that made survival possible.
Pilar's shoulders went rigid when Dorio crossed the threshold. "We had interference on the second ping. Corp traced six hops back through an internal relay. Not yet on us directly, but someone's sniffing."
Maine's jaw tightened. "They'll trace faster. We need a plan. Clean rooms. Offshore accounts. False leads."
Sasha, wincing as she shifted, laughed a little through the pain. "I gave the data to 54News. It's out. They'll at least have some people asking questions. Maybe someone will care."
Maine's lips thinned. "People asking questions are a good start. But asking for justice in Night City is like begging a chrome god for mercy. It might get headlines. It might get us marked."
Pilar's eyes were sharp. "If the corp decides to pull contractors—those are expensive teams. We can't match Militech. But we can make ourselves messy, hard to track. We can move. We can vanish."
Adrian watched them with something like awe. They were a ragtag band of people who'd learned politics from the bottom: how to bend noise around truth, how to create smokescreens out of life and charisma. To them, everything was resources—allegiances, favors, grudges. They turned emotions into leverage without losing their humanity.
Later, when the adrenaline thinned and the glow of the lamps softened, Maine leaned forward, voice gentler than it had been earlier. "Six months. That's how long you've been rolling with us, Sasha. Six months is long enough to know whether someone's family or a ghost passing by. Don't forget that."
Sasha's eyes clouded for a single beat, and then she nodded. "I know. I'll do better."
Maine threw a hand up in a brief laugh, the sound a wordless relief. "Enough of the sermon. We divvy up, we lay low, we move funds, and we plan for retribution if necessary. But tonight—tonight you live."
Adrian nodded. He had a small fistful of new eddies burning a hole in his thoughts and a wound to watch. He also had a thing heavier than coin: he had altered a story that people in a different world had already told him. The universe had a way of noticing those changes.
When Sasha stood and brushed at her shirt, she looked over at Adrian and blurted, "Come with me. I want to tell you something."
The container seemed to sputter with static energy. Pilar started to rise—mechanic hands doing what mechanic minds do. Rebecca half-ran, half-glided out, eyes bright with the kind of curiosity that often meant danger in human form.
Maine's grin was quick. "You two—don't take forever. We're not old men; we get hungry."
They walked out into the humid Santo Domingo night together. The quiet between them was not empty; it hummed with confession and obligation. They passed rows of other containers, neon from market stalls spilling across puddles. Night City had returned to its habitual breath: neon, noise, and the smell of fried food that never cared whether you'd just died or just made it out.
Outside, Sasha stopped and faced Adrian. There was a flicker of ridiculousness in her voice. "So… how much did you expect? I already told you—it depends on whether I make it."
Adrian laughed, a soft, surprised sound. "I expected nothing. That's the most honest answer you'll ever get."
Sasha looked at him, eyes searching. For a heartbeat she seemed older than her years, then younger again. "Then promise me you won't die because of me."
He looked at the bright, absurd skyline and thought of people whose names were carved into his conscience. "No promises," he said, then added, "But I'll try."
She smiled then, small and real, and punched him lightly in the arm. "Good. Now go get patched properly. Dorio's got herbs and stitches and a look that will shame you into humility."
They walked back in—the container filled, for a second, with the hum of an odd, volatile peace. Out in the city the trace protocols started blinking on corporate dashboards like hungry eyes; someone, somewhere, had a fresh line to follow. The chill of consequence moved outward in a tide.
Maine sat back, the weight in his chest easing a little, but never going away. "You two," he said, voice both a warning and a benediction, "you're tied now. That's how it goes. Subtle relationships—bind you in little ways until one day you owe everything."
Adrian didn't flinch. He already felt the bind, a quiet rope he'd tied himself to when he chose to catch a falling person instead of running. Night City would make them pay for their choices. Sometimes the payment was blood. Sometimes it was loyalty. Sometimes it was both.
He considered the money, the skill points that would flash on his HUD later, and the odd, warm shape of a new bond forming. He'd altered a path, and the detours were already forming. The night outside the container hummed, and for once, the hum felt like a challenge rather than a threat.
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System Log — Aftermath Snapshot
Mission: Data Heist (Biotech) — Completed (Primary + Bonus: Rescue Sasha)
Rewards Distributed: Sasha → Adrian (Sasha's share)
Stat Gains: Reflexes +0.10 (Adrian), Composure +0.05 (Adrian)
Hidden: Bond Strengthened (Adrian ↔ Sasha)
Immediate Status: Corporate trace active — Medium→High escalation possible.
Recommended Action: Relocate, launder funds, counter-trace via Pilar; postpone large transactions.