The neon lights of Night City, like the city's never-sleeping pulse, wove into a dazzling and complex web of light in the humid air. As the Edgerunners team's reputation, specifically Maine's Crew, grew, discussions about them began to circulate quietly in specific circles, spreading through network nodes and hidden corners offline.
The corner of the Afterlife bar was always occupied by a textured din. Heavy metal music, like an invisible barrier, separated the booths into relatively independent domains. The air was perennially mixed with synthetic alcohol, the heat emanating from active individuals, and the faint scent of coolant escaping from high-performance cyberware, forming an atmosphere unique to this place.
"Damn it, has Maine and his crew been on a lucky streak lately? The jobs they're taking are on a whole different level, man." A hoarse-voiced mercenary whispered to his companion, downing a mouthful of synthetic whiskey.
"More than just lucky, it's downright spooky!" His companion, a burly man with a fresh scar on his face, leaned in closer, his eyes a mix of envy and wariness. "Last week's Biotechnica job, a tough one, I heard the security level wasn't low. Guess what? Maine and his crew used some kind of damn thing to melt a hole straight through that armored vehicle! A blue beam of light hit it, and the composite armor was like paper!"
"It's not a common piece of gear... that sound, it's a bit like the plasma stuff that old legends say company labs cooked up..." The first mercenary mused, his fingers unconsciously tapping the table.
"And Dorio, she was tough enough before, but now she's just... damn it, inhuman! I feel like she could tear off an armored vehicle door with her bare hands and use it as a shield! That's not the kind of strength you get from popping some meds or installing a couple of cyberware."
"There must be someone skilled behind them. They probably hooked up with some rogue black market doctor or weaponsmith who dares to play hardball." The scarred strongman asserted. "We need to find a way to figure it out. Either get a piece of the pie, or... we'll have to be careful if we run into them in the future."
These discussions quietly spread through the streets and alleys of Night City, mercenary gathering spots, and black market networks. Several influential Fixers, small gang leaders, and even some independent top "Solo" Edgerunners began to cast scrutinizing glances.
Maine Team's recent surge in mission completion and significant changes in equipment were undeniable signals. Some wanted to cooperate, some wanted to investigate the source, and many more were calmly assessing the potential impact of this rising new force.
In contrast to the street's acute awareness, the corporate response was slow and bureaucratic.
In a bright and clean office on a high floor of Arasaka Tower, a section chief quickly scanned an attachment to a brief submitted by a subordinate analysis department, detailing unusual energy weapon characteristics recorded during a street skirmish.
The report's conclusion briefly stated: "Related characteristics do not match any known standard weapons in the database. Presumed to be non-standard modifications from a small workshop or unknown source. Current threat level assessment is low."
The section chief casually marked the report as "low priority" and added a note: "Non-standardized technology, suspected of having higher risk. Maintain regular monitoring, no additional resources allocated for now."
Within his framework of understanding, the daily emergence of novel weapons in Night City was endless, and a few mercenaries using unconventional equipment was a common phenomenon in the urban ecosystem. As long as it didn't touch the company's core interests or cause regional problems, it wasn't worth mobilizing precious departmental budgets.
The situation within Militech was quite similar. A report on minor anomalous energy fluctuations detected in the Flint Hill area was sent to the terminal of a supervisor in the Ruins Clearance Department. He still remembered that area, related to a terminated "Little Dipper Project" from the company's early years, long since archived and sealed.
"The signal source is weak, and there are many possibilities: perhaps scavenger activity, geological phenomena, or even periodic errors in the sensor itself." He murmured to himself, casually filing the report into the "To be followed up (low priority)" electronic archive.
"Seventh Outpost? That's a historical issue. Maybe we'll consider it when there's an extra budget in the next fiscal year." In Militech's complex list of priorities, this faint anomalous signal was far from a top concern.
Despite the corporate indifference, the Maine Team genuinely felt the increasing attention from the streets. The prying eyes of their peers became more direct, sometimes with probing intentions.
They occasionally detected hidden investigative motives in the commissions they accepted; when moving through the city, they also had to constantly watch out for unprofessional or more seasoned eyes tracking them.
There were even a few radical street gangs that attempted to ambush them on routes where they were transporting equipment, aiming to acquire the rumored incredibly powerful weapons.
On one occasion, the team was returning after completing a supply collection mission, passing through a narrow passage on the edge of an abandoned industrial zone. The night was deep, with only the distant afterglow of neon illuminating rusted pipes and broken pavement.
"Damn it, something doesn't feel right." Maine whispered inside the vehicle, his finger already quietly on the weapon activation button.
Before he finished speaking, several sharp whooshes cut through the silence!
Several armor-piercing rounds accurately struck the vehicle's temporarily deployed energy shield, creating sharp ripples of distortion.
"Shit! Ambush! Three o'clock, rooftop!" Maine's low growl echoed through the in-car comms channel.
Almost simultaneously, Dorio darted out of the side door like a leopard. She cursed under her breath, choosing not to seek cover but instead charging directly towards the gunfire. Her enhanced muscles unleashed astonishing strength, allowing her to vertically scale a platform several meters high using the wall in just a few steps.
Immediately, shouts, chaotic gunfire, and the grating noise of metal being forcibly twisted erupted from the rooftop. A moment later, Dorio's figure reappeared at the edge of the rooftop, holding the wreckage of a now-defunct auto-turret, which she casually tossed down, making a heavy thud.
"Cleared." Her voice came through the comms, steady with a hint of coldness.
At the same time, several attackers, haphazardly equipped but wielding heavy firepower, darted out of the shadows on the other side. Rebecca directly raised the rumored blue-glowing plasma pistol.
A solidified high-energy plasma orb instantly shot out. It didn't cause an explosion but rather instantly melted through the thick steel plate the attackers used as cover with extreme efficiency, and instantly destroyed the weapons point behind it.
The battle ended within minutes. The team's seamless coordination and the overwhelming performance of their new equipment turned this encounter into an efficient practical test. They quickly cleared the scene of any evidence that could point to their identities, then drove into the deeper night.
These continuous harassments, while not posing a fatal threat, undoubtedly increased the cost and complexity of their operations. The team therefore became more vigilant, and their operational strategy leaned towards a lower profile.