Like Father, Like Daughter

[The next day - Mother Base]

—CRASH—

A shirtless Jackson flew into a small credenza sitting opposite his bed, bearing the brunt of the impact as his back and shoulders slammed into the wall. He wore an aggressive smile as he grunted and recovered, reaching out with a solid hook swing. To his complete lack of surprise, his hand was caught in mid-air and forced down as he found himself face to face with his assailant. Addie closed the gap, mere inches between their lips as she growled and pressed herself into him.

He reached up with his free hand, grabbing firmly around her neck, his thumb tenderly stroking her cheek as they stared into each other's eyes. He pushed forward, planting his feet firmly before freeing his swinging hand as he braced his arm around the small of Addie's back, picking her up and turning around. He placed her on top of the table as she spread her legs wide and pulled him close, longing to feel his body against hers.

Jackson leaned in, pressing his lips against Addie's neck as she wrapped herself around him and moaned loudly, her nails digging into the bare skin of his back. His own hands wandered, pulling at the fabric of her tank top before finding their way underneath as he explored her body. He backed away for a moment, Addie bringing her arms up as he pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it aside. He admired her bountiful breasts bouncing and glowing in the mid-morning sun, her nipples perked from the cold air blowing overhead. She bit her bottom lip and squeezed them together with her arms as she beckoned Jackson with a subtle wag of her finger.

He was happy to oblige, pulling her into him as their lips met, their tongues fighting for room to taste each other. Jackson pulled Addie off the credenza by her legs, turning and throwing her against the bed. She caught herself in a precarious position with her arms against the edge of the frame, her back arched and body on display as she wiggled her hips back and forth. Before she could move, Jackson was on her like a wild animal, pressing into her from behind as he kissed and nibbled at her neck and collarbone. She squealed at his rough handling, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being taken... though it wasn't without her own brand of brash sarcasm as she pushed against him and called back playfully, "You know... once 'pon a time, I outranked you, First Sergeant..."

Jackson already had her pants halfway down, exposing her lightly tanned cheeks as he groped one. He paused his southward march and grabbed a thick handful of hair, pulling her up and back as he snarled in her ear, "Then what're my orders, Ma'am...?"

At the same time, he reached around and between her legs, gently massaging her as he pressed a finger inside and enjoyed the warmth. She was at a loss for words, her breathing shuddered as she moaned louder into the open air. When she could finally catch her breath, she managed to muscle out the words, "A-As... you... w-were... s-soldier boy..."

Jackson let go of Addie's hair, instead pulling her face to his as they shared another kiss. She moaned into his mouth for several seconds, trying to scream for him to take her. He pulled away, pressing her face-first into the mattress by the back of her neck and holding her in place as she slammed her bare ass against his hips and begged... pleaded... to feel him inside.

And he was happy to oblige...

--

[Meanwhile... - Medeski Fuel Station, Red Peaks, the Badlands]

Were there better... and closer... places to stop for CHOOH2 in the Badlands? Probably...

Was anyone going to deprive Jayce Calloway of the chance to look at the neon Hell-scape of Night City from this close? ...not a chance...

That is, if she could stomach the stench wafting from the massive landfill between the Medeski station and Santo Domingo. Piles upon piles and stacks of waste rose up into the sky, man-made mountains of man-made refuse reaching as far as the eye could see. Even a few rusted and rotting carcasses of massive aerozeps littered the landscape, almost serving as monuments to guide one's way if they dared venture inward.

If one could look past it all... and their own watering eyes... the skyscrapers of City Center stood proud and tall in the background, steel and glass silhouettes glistening in the midday sun as the holographic displays beamed upward. All of it together was a sight... and a scent to behold, and now that Jayce had a motorcycle of her own, she intended to experience it for all that it was worth.

As she ventured deeper between the walls of trash, the sign for the station coming into view, she let off the throttle before shifting down, letting the engine bellow in protest as she coasted the remaining few hundred feet. Despite the smell all around, today was a good day. She was able to break free of the usual routine for a bit... and she had the best company she could hope for.

Nel sat behind her on a crudely fashioned back seat... and held on for dear life... her arms and legs wrapped tightly around Jayce's body on account of the saddlebags on either side of the back wheel. In hindsight, Jackson's rover would have made more sense for a supply run, but Jayce was itching like a glitter junkie to take her bike out at every possible opportunity. After all the work she had put in to get the damn thing running, nobody could blame her.

The old building stuck out like a sore thumb of civilization among the surrounding sea of shit all around them, the flickering sign beckoning anyone brave enough to cross the threshold. Jayce gave one last pull of the throttle as she rolled to a gentle stop next to one of the pump stations before killing the ignition. She planted one foot on the ground, carefully leaning the bike and bearing the weight as she kicked down the stand. The squeak and grind of the old metal grated her ears, but she wasn't complaining, a wide smile plastered on her face as she let the bike settle on its own and pulled her sunglasses down on the bridge of her nose.

She had to hold in a laugh as she noticed Nel's face still buried between her shoulder blades, the poor girl holding on with everything she had. Jayce blushed, not really minding the close touch, but she nudged the girl anyway, "Hey Peaches... we're parked."

Nel's brain was rattling around inside her skull, and she struggled to focus her eyes as she cautiously loosened her grip around Jayce's torso. When she had convinced herself she wouldn't fall flat on her ass on the side of the road, she looked up, pulling her goggles down around her neck and surveying the landscape... or lack thereof. She was almost immediately overwhelmed by the stink of the adjacent landfills, having much preferred the lightly sweet and salty scent of the perspiration rolling down Jayce's back from the sweltering heat.

She let go of Jayce, scooting back just enough to swing one leg over and hop off the back of the motorcycle to the broken concrete. She struggled to find her balance at first, holding both arms out to her side as she staggered back and forth for several seconds. Once she had a stable footing, she evened herself out and stood up straight, watching with just a hint of envy as Jayce dismounted the bike like it was nothing, standing tall and proud as she looked out over the midday horizon.

Though Nel had no context for Jackson's comments about how much Jayce looked like her mother, it was hard in this moment not to see a little bit of the old man in her as well. She had the same semi-permanent smirk painted on her face and a charming twinkle in her eyes, as if the world were hers for the taking if she so chose. Here and now, she was confident and happy, and Nel smiled, her heart fluttering for them both.

Neither of them had an easy go of things since the Battle in the Badlands... Nel having to face and fight her own demons, and Jayce having to come to terms with the fresh blood on her hands. And then there was the collective stumbling and feeling their way through young love. Neither of them had much experience on that front, but they were trying. And for the moment, they were happy.

Jayce breathed in deep, realizing her sudden mistake as the stink nearly overtook her and her eyes watered. Still, she put on a brave face as she turned to Nel and said, "You know what we need, yeah?"

Nel nodded as Jayce smiled, "A'ight... I'll fill 'er up and meet you inside. Only be a minute..."

The little albatross refused to leave, looking up at Jayce as she crossed the bike and leaned in close. Jayce took the hint, leaning down to catch Nel's face as they shared a brief but deep kiss. As their lips parted, Nel's entire body lit up, her spirits lifted as she bit her bottom lip and bounced on the balls of her feet toward the decrepit storefront.

Jayce watched the entire way, giggling to herself before she turned to the pump. She waved her hand over the dingy pad, waiting a few seconds for the raspy and distorted ding before pulling the hose loose. She unscrewed the cap on the gas tank, gently setting the nozzle inside and pulling the trigger, enjoying the slosh and scent of grain ethanol pouring in and wafting up.

Today, life was good... and yet all it took was the bellow of an approaching vehicle downshifting to ruin the mood. Jayce's face twisted as she watched a stripped and tuned four-door rover pull into the lot, parking at the next pump over. All signs pointed to Raffen, and she instinctively checked for her iron tucked into the small of her back, carefully concealed in the waist of her pants. Sure enough, a group of four gangoons in matching leather jackets exited the vehicle, taking in their surroundings with watchful eyes darting in every direction. Save for Jayce, there was only one other vehicle in the lot, parked directly in front of the building.

Three of the gangers made their way toward the shop, Jayce's eyes following them carefully as she tried to swallow the knot forming in her throat. Except for maybe one other shopper and the clerk, Nel was all alone inside. Not that she couldn't handle herself with three gonks, but the worry was there all the same.

Jayce's attention was drawn to the fourth ganger slowly approaching, looking over the bridge of his sunglasses as he smiled with a mouth full of rotted teeth and spoke with a raspy voice, "That's a lot of bike for a little girl..."

She was disgusted already, her face not hiding it well as she tried to look anywhere else. She gave no response, but that didn't stop the ganger from pushing his luck as he took another step forward and motioned with his hands and gyrating hips, "...bet I could give ya a few lessons on how to ride..."

Jayce tried not to vomit, instead giving a half-hearted chuckle and rolling her eyes as she looked the ganger up and down and returned fire, "If your cock's half as rotted 's your teeth, ain't much to work wit' anyways..."

"Hey, fuck you, bitch!", the ganger raised his voice as he grabbed for his crotch, "This chrome cost more than that whole fuckin' motorcycle!"

Jayce returned the nozzle to the pump, screwing the lid back on the gas tank before she wiped her hands, placed them on her hips, and locked eyes, "...an'at's the best you can come up wit'...?"

The ganger was visibly irate, preparing to move in before his eyes flashed orange; someone was trying to raise him on the holo. He gnashed his teeth and vented his frustration, taking a step back as he pointed at Jayce and yelled, "You don't know who you're fuckin' with, cunt!"

He turned and walked back to his vehicle, leaving Jayce beside herself as she held her breath and waited a few moments, expecting his chooms to come to his defense. When she was confident that she wasn't about to get her teeth kicked in, she exhaled, turning to walk towards the storefront.

Inside the shop, Nel moseyed down the narrow aisles, eyes darting up and down over the stocked shelves in all colors of the rainbow. Never once did she pay any heed to the general disrepair of the interior, chipped paint peeling off the walls or entire pieces of wall missing altogether and exposing the building's innards.

There was a low rumble of music playing over the speakers, Nel recognizing a few of the songs from Jayce's radio back home, but it was otherwise quiet. She felt the shopkeeper's eyes following her, not really caring for being watched... but she couldn't blame him. As foreign as all of this was to her, she understood how her outward appearance might put others off. On a good day, she was a solid five and a half feet tall. Combine her svelte and muscular build with a freshly shaved head and a body full of scars and shitty tribal tattoos... it wasn't a mystery that a first glance spelled trouble.

She chanced looking back at the shopkeeper again, unsurprised to find him still staring as she turned to another aisle. Before she could look ahead, she felt the crack of something hard and heavy across her face. Like a bolt of lightning blinding her, she was flat on her back, her legs having given out as she collapsed to the filthy floor. It took a few seconds for her vision to return, the ringing in her ears persisting, but as she tried to move, she felt the press of a boot on her chest. She looked up at the fuzzy and shadowy figure standing over her, an evil smile stretching from ear to ear as he leaned in and readied a metal bat for another strike. She was out cold before she could get a good look at his face...

Jayce walked briskly across the threshold, making way for an older woman leaving as the sliding double doors closed behind her and offered some reprieve from the pungent funk polluting the outside air. She tipped her head to the shopkeeper before turning away to the aisles, her eyes scanning for her little choomba as she placed a fresh cigarette in her mouth. Before she had the chance to light the tip, she noticed the building appeared empty... but how?

She knew she had seen at least three other gangoons walk in only a few minutes prior, and it wasn't likely they were all holding each other's dicks in the washroom... and where the fuck was Nel?!

She panicked, cutting back to the clerk manning the register as she stood on the tips of her toes and angled her head all around. There was no one else in the building, and her heart skipped a beat as a door kicking open caught her attention. She looked past the aisles to a dark hallway at the back of the shop, a flash of light receding as a swinging door slammed shut against its spring-loaded hinges.

Jayce ran through the store to the hallway, stopping short as a single scream pierced her ears from outside. Time stopped as she swung around, looking out the front of the shop as the three gangoons from earlier struggled to shuffle a body with a black-bagged head toward their vehicle. Nel was fighting for her life before one of the goons took another swing with the bat. Her body went limp, the screams ceasing as the other two Raffen took her by the arms and legs, running to the rover.

Within a split second, Jayce had her handgun out and at the ready as she sprinted for the double doors. She stopped short, eyes wide as she saw the rotten-mouthed ganger step into view, shouldering a submachine gun as he opened fire. Jayce dove for cover behind a section of concrete wall, making herself as small as possible while the incoming fire punched through the glass and tore through magazine racks and shelves alike.

After only a few seconds of sustained fire, the onslaught ceased, the screeching of tires sounding as Jayce jumped to her feet and through the ruined storefront, paying no heed to the tiny shards of glass embedded and cutting into the palms of her hands. She took several open shots, the small caliber bouncing harmlessly off the car's body as it sped out of the parking lot.

She ran to her motorcycle, finding it kicked over on its side and screaming profanity as she lifted it up with all of her might. She mounted it, trying to kickstart the engine before she felt something wet spraying against her pants leg. The wiring harness was ripped clean and the fuel lines were cut, the CHOOH2 pouring out and on the ground. Jayce yelled in frustration, eyes burning and choking on her own screams as she jumped off the bike and left it on its side with a scraping crash. She sprinted for the only other vehicle in the parking lot, shoving the otherwise innocent older woman from before out of the way. The woman protested before Jayce turned, iron pointed squarely at her head.

She gasped in fear, dropped her groceries, and carefully raised her hands, stepping back from all of it as Jayce's eyes softened and she realized what she'd done. As her trembling hands lowered the gun, she gasped for air and said, "I'm sorry, but I need your car..."

The woman didn't know how to respond, trying in that moment to keep from pissing her own pants as she fell to the ground. Jayce had no time to spare, turning and barreling into the driver's seat as she hot-wired the vehicle in only a few seconds. The engine screamed to life as Jayce shifted into gear, punching the gas and fishtailing the surprisingly rugged hatchback out of the parking lot. She banked the turn to the main road to follow the gangers, redlining every gear and pushing the car to its limits... and the whole time, entirely unaware of the camo-painted Militech SUV catching up to her from behind. This far out in the Badlands, NCPD had no jurisdiction, and so the rule of law fell to the same megacorporation responsible for securing the Border. Out here, it was frontier justice, and God help anyone caught on the wrong end of it...

Jayce could just barely make out the silhouette of the shitty rover on the horizon, hoping like Hell she could catch up. Her eyes were drawn to the rearview mirror, finally realizing she wasn't alone. She was already pushing it in top gear, and the SUV tailing her had no trouble keeping pace. The emergency lights flashed to life, a steady barrage of red and blue flickering in the mirror as Jayce tried to ignore it. There was no chance she was getting away, but she couldn't just give up either... Nel's life depended on it.

She heard a burly voice from the loudspeaker of the pursuing vehicle ordering her to pull over, and for a brief moment, she considered grabbing her iron sitting in the passenger seat and trying her luck.

A cooler head ultimately prevailed, her eyes narrowing as she focused instead on the road in front of her... and the absolute lack of any other vehicles in sight. The Raffen rover was gone, causing Jayce to beat the steering wheel and scream at the top of her lungs. To add insult to injury, the pursuit vehicle had her dead to rights, the large front-mounted bull bars taking up the entire mirror view as it charged forward. Jayce felt the heavy impact to the rear end of her commandeered hatchback, correcting her steering to keep traction and stay on the road.

The panic was settling in, her nerves on the ragged edge as she tried to figure out her next move, her eyes darting back and forth between the mirror and the road as the SUV charged forward again. If the first hit was just love tap, the second hit was anything but, the entire rear axle of the hatchback lifting off the ground as the pursuit vehicle kept pushing. Jayce shouted, her back locking up from the impact as her head hit the steering wheel. Through the haze of an oncoming concussion, she felt the front bumper of the car scraping against the broken asphalt as sparks flew in every direction, realizing all too late that she was seconds away from a crash. She almost wished she had bothered to buckle her seatbelt as she stared down the rapidly diminishing blacktop while a single word ran through her mind, ...shit...

The hatchback left the road altogether, its nose catching a berm of compacted sand as it flipped end over end, ultimately crash-landing onto its roof amid a spread of cacti and dead bushes withering away in the desert heat. The crash echoed all around, the sounds carrying off into the far reaches until all was silent. The churned dust formed a cloud as crumpled steel and shattered glass settled in the sand, the creaks and whines drowned out by a persistent ringing in Jayce's ears as she regained consciousness.

She was doubled over, folded into an unnatural position as she lay against the crushed roof of the car. Everything hurt, and yet she was unable to move to a more 'comfortable' position. She had no idea how much damage was done... to her or the car... but the pain was excruciating... and yet she had no voice to cry out, the loose sand choking her and digging into every pore. She tried to open her eyes, only able to see the alternating red and blue lights flashing as several pairs of boots appeared all around her. As her eyes forced themselves shut, she felt the tears falling as the last thought through her mind was of Nel all alone, helpless and afraid. She had no one to protect her... because Jayce had failed her. She had failed all of them...

--

[Some time later... - Mother Base]

Despite the shit-eating grin plastered on Bison's face since Jackson and Addie had victoriously emerged from their now shared room... entirely awash in post-coital bliss... both he and Doc Strong were polite enough to keep their mouths shut, instead letting their significant glances to one another do the talking.

Jackson was wise, but he wasn't going to give them the opening, and so he ashed the spent butt of his cigarette before stamping it under his boot. He turned and walked back inside the hangar, making a turn toward the infirmary. There was still no word from the Afterlife... or Dakota... but that also didn't deter the crew from doing their own digging.

What he didn't expect was to see Addie standing by Strong's desk, her face still flushed from their prior extracurricular activities as she turned and said, "...'ey Jax, come and take a look!"

He was curious, and he stepped into the infirmary as Strong collected all of his evidence onto one screen for everyone's viewing pleasure. There were two holographic headshots displayed; one was Serena Bishop from the dossier Dakota had provided. The other was Strong's own handiwork, a full three-dimensional workup of Nel's face. His eyes widened as the pieces fell into place... the resemblance was striking.

"Little lassie said her handlers referred to Charles as Father...", Addie explained, "...that theory's bunk, almost no resemblance at all, but it got me thinkin'..."

Jackson took another step forward, putting his personal epiphany into words, "H-How didn't I see this before...?"

"To be fair, brother, you and me were mostly focused on Charles...", Strong reassured him, "Bison got the better look at 'is wife..."

He articulated both headshots around at once as Jackson tried not to laugh. With another few key presses, Nel's headshot was superimposed over Serena's with various similarities detailed and pointed out. There was no mistaking it...

"We'd have to confirm with a blood test, but...", Strong stated the obvious for everyone's benefit, "...it's a better working theory than anything else we have, even if it gets us nowhere with actually finding them."

"Nah, 'at's good work, Joshua...", Jackson reassured his old choom with hands on both shoulders, "The big picture's all comin' together now. I'm jus' really wishin' I'd have shot the bastard when I had the chance..."

"You might get the chance yet...", Bison called out as he entered the room, his eyes solid orange, "...Old Lady's looking for ya."

Resourceful as Dakota Smith was, there was no way she had beaten the Living Legend to the punch with the Bishops' whereabouts, leaving Jackson entirely confused and curious as he nodded, "A'ight, pass 'er over..."

There was still the question of Charles' involvement. If Nel was Serena's daughter, what was the husband's play in all of it? A humorous thought flashed through Jackson's mind for a split second regarding the wife's promiscuity, but he quickly shook it away as the incoming call rang in his head for a few seconds before he answered, "Don't tell me it's Christmas already..."

"Are you alone...?", the older woman asked, her tone solemn and defeated. The question caught Jackson off guard as he waved everyone off and stepped out into the main area of the hangar before answering, "Am now... what's up?"

Dakota gave a deep sigh, "Jax, I'm sorry... I just heard over the air... Militech highway patrol picked up Jayce a few miles past Medeski."

Jackson's heart skipped a beat, a cold sweat forming as he struggled for his words, "I-I... fuck... is she okay?! What for?!"

"Report says she was pretty tuned up...", Dakota explained, "...sounds like she jacked a civvie's car at gunpoint and tore off into the desert before they caught up with her. Hell of a lot of gunfire took place prior... the station's all shot to shit, owner's probably not going to make it."

There was no reason or logic to what Jackson was hearing at this point. Jayce could be a rebellious little shit when she wanted to, but there was no way she'd threaten another person like that without provocation. He tried to work through any possibility he could fabricate in his own mind before it dawned on him, "They picked up Jayce... what 'bout Nel...?"

"Sending you over the report, intake only lists one detainee...", Dakota stated almost a little too casually for Jackson's liking, although she redeemed herself, "...no fatalities either. Jayce was alone when they arrested her. Sounds like they ran her off the road."

Jackson's blood boiled as his hands unconsciously curled into fists, a righteous fury welling up inside while Dakota offered what she could, "Look... nobody but Jayce can explain what happened... I've already got you clearance to visit, and I'm working on getting her released... just..."

"Jus' what...?", Jackson pressed her, in no mood to be lectured as she advised him, "We all know your history, Jax... this isn't the War. Go in there calm and collected, and you have a good chance at getting her out... I know you can be a charming gonk when you want to."

He lit a fresh cigarette, summoning all his restraint to not fly off the handle as he said sincerely, "...'Kota... thank you..."

"Thank me when she's safe...", the old lady chided him before the call dropped.

--

[Location unknown...]

A distant and low rumble faded into the foreground, mechanical in nature. Some type of machinery was running, but for what purpose?

Nel's eyes slowly opened, her vision clouded and unfocused. All around her was dark, cold, and damp. She felt the dirt beneath her, the individual grains of sand scratching against her skin. Her wrists felt heavy... and all too soon, she felt the throbbing ache all over as she recalled the several strikes against her skull with a metal bat.

She tried to reach up and hold her head, hoping some light pressure against her temples would help. Her eyes shot wide open at a familiar sound... chains. The individual metal links rattled against one another as they came into focus. Her wrists were bound with heavy metal cuffs, the leads of chain running somewhere out of sight... out of mind. She focused past her arms to look at the wrought-iron bars all around. She was back in a cage...

Though she already knew the answer, she chanced bringing her hand to her neck, finding an all-too-familiar collar clasped a little too tight and restricting her breathing, a dull red glow pulsing in her peripheral view. She stuck to short and shallow breaths, trying to calm herself as she started to shiver. All of her felt cold, and she could only assume she had been stripped of any clothing, though she dared not look.

As her senses returned, one by one, she heard the cries of other girls from other cells in the distance, juxtaposed with laughing and grunting noises, definitively masculine. She tasted the dirt finding its way in her mouth when she was unconscious, her teeth full of grit. And she smelled... death... the stink of putrefaction and the blood, sweat, and tears left behind.

She curled into herself, praying to anyone listening that this was all a bad dream... that she would wake up at any moment and find herself in the warm embrace of Jayce's strong arms. That was, until she heard the heavy falls of boots approaching, and with it an animalistic breathing. She recognized the scent, trying to hide her face from view as heavy hands wrapped around the bars. A nose poked through, sniffing up and exhaling with a low growl and a chuckle.

The grinding squeak of rusted metal pierced Nel's ears as the cell door opened, the large creature stepping inside. She tried to stifle her whimpers as tears formed in her eyes, her entire body covered in a cold sweat and trembling at the presence of the massive 'man' standing over as the last voice she ever wanted to hear... ever again... uttered haunting words, "Welcome home, child... we missed you..."

--

[Militech Post, Rocky Ridge, the Badlands]

For the absolute clusterfuck failure that was Rocky Ridge as a planned community ten years ago, there was a silver lining to be found... depending on your point of view. For Militech, it was prime pickings for an encampment in the northeastern sector of Night City's Badlands; for everyone else... there was a new sheriff in town.

Meet the new boss... same as the old boss; it really was nothing new. Militech had always maintained law enforcement jurisdiction outside of the City proper, but after the shakedown of their City Center corporate headquarters in 2082... courtesy of one very ballsy mercenary crew... the megacorp was brought to its knees in a single day. After nearly five years as the de facto power broker in Night City following the fold of Arasaka operations in 2078, Militech wasn't about to give up their hold... especially with Dogtown boiling over into what remained of Pacifica. The NUSA-affiliated megacorp sought to bolster their position by any means necessary.

Jackson swore to himself as he pulled off the I-9 bypass to a side road and slowed to a roll, the twelve-foot security fences topped with concertina wire towering over him. He was met with a four-man fire team standing guard, their rifles at the ready as they barked at him to stop.

One of the four operators stepped up to the driver-side window, leaning down and looking in through wrap-around sunglasses. He was a beefy motherfucker, musclebound with no brains to match as he gave a dismissive grunt and asked, "What's your business here?"

"Ask Dakota Smith...", Jackson said flatly as he pulled down the shemagh around his face, keeping his eyes forward and both hands visible. Even from the side, he saw the operator's eyebrows raise as the big bastard stumbled back before calling for the gate to open. The reinforced chain-link barrier slid across its guide rails, kicking up sand and squealing as the other three operators cleared the path, motioning the vehicle forward. The first of the team leaned down again, "Take your first left past the gate... you're looking for the end of the row dead-ahead. And don't fuck around."

The older cowboy gave no response, shifting the rover into gear as he crawled forward cautiously. This was no place he ever wanted to be, in the belly of the beast... but especially caught with his pants down. From all around, he felt all eyes watching his every move. He felt naked and vulnerable, and he didn't hide it well.

There was nothing left of the ghost town he remembered once upon a time. Every building behind the fences had been fortified with armor plating, sandbags, and breach-resistant doors and windows. Any rustic charm the town may have once had was since replaced, everything now cold and calloused despite the triple-digit heat this far out in the desert.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled to a stop in front of a relatively ramshackle building with bars over the windows and two guards posted on either side of heavy double doors. He couldn't tell if the building was outfitted to keep people in or out, but he wasn't taking any chances to find out.

He killed the rover's ignition as he looked down, his breathing uneven. He afforded himself a moment to close his eyes, trying at the same time to calm his mind as a rush of memories came back all at once. He was afraid in that moment that if he opened his eyes again, he would find himself in Ridgecrest. He couldn't bear the sight of bodies lining the trenches, the smell of blood and shit everywhere. He tried to hold it together, his hands shaking and gripping the wheel tightly as he grit his teeth...

And then he remembered why he was here. The one person who had always kept him grounded... always pulled him out of that dark place... needed her father, not the soldier. He slowly opened his eyes, still wary, but a hesitant calm washed over him as he remembered that Jayce was in that building, probably a wreck and needing someone to lean on now more than ever. She had always been her own spirit, always able to stand on her own two feet ever since she was a kid. Jackson was forced to raise her that way. Not that he ever wanted to, but he had to prepare her for a day that he might not come back.

Here and now, he would never take for granted getting to be there for her... to be who she needed him to be. He kicked the door open, forcing himself up and out of the vehicle as he pulled his sunglasses down and took stock of every detail. Despite his objective, he was in enemy territory, and he knew himself well enough to know it would take every ounce of restraint to keep from burning the entire camp to the ground, especially once his child was free and clear. At the same time, he didn't trust any corp as far as he could throw them, and it behooved him to make a mental note of everything he saw in case shit hit the fan.

To his surprise, both posted guards stepped back and away, motioning for him to enter as the double doors opened. He wasn't buying it, but he stepped forward all the same, pulling the sunglasses from his face and stashing them in his shirt pocket before pulling the shemagh away and shaking loose the excess sand from the drive in. He threw the scarf over his shoulder as he cautiously stepped across the threshold, both guards nodding to him. He nodded back, confused. The only thing that made any sense in all of this was his connection to Dakota Smith; he knew she had pull, but just how high that influence went never ceased to amaze. It was also entirely possible that the old lady had called in a favor to the Afterlife, which left Jackson feeling uneasy. He didn't need to be in anyone else's pocket...

Either way, he wasn't complaining for now... especially as he found on the other side of the double doors closing behind him that what he had assumed were holding cells was actually an infirmary. The lights overhead were in poor repair, but the interior was certainly cleaner than the exterior, floors swept and clear of trash. Nurses in gray scrubs bearing Militech branding were chasing one another back and forth, clacking away on computers or filing records. He was genuinely caught off-guard as a voice sweet as silk beckoned him forward, "...sir...?"

He tried not to smirk at all of it, shaking his head as he approached the desk and said sheepishly, "I-I'm uh... h-here 'bout a girl... J-Jayce Calloway..."

The young woman's eyes gave enough of a reaction, her mood shifting before she nodded and turned, her voice muted, "Wait one moment, please..."

Jackson leaned against the counter, suddenly fidgety as he looked behind and all around the cramped space. Off in a corner, there was a small terminal with multiple smaller screens showing... cameras. For obvious reasons, he had no vantage into any of the rooms, but his eyes were affixed all the same. People were coming and going, among them an older man with salt and pepper hair and a beard to match wearing a pristine white coat over his matching scrubs. Jackson tracked him from camera to camera, impressed at his gait. The man walked with purpose, as if something were driving him. The purpose became all too clear when the double doors across the lobby slid open, the man appearing with eyes locked on Jackson as he asked firmly, "Are you him... Dakota's man?"

The older cowboy nodded as he looked the doctor up and down. The man carried himself with pride and a sense of regimented precision, not unlike Doc Strong... he was a military man, through and through. His commanding presence and air of authority seemed to put Jackson at ease, and yet the question remained of how a company man such as this was in any way associated with Dakota Smith...?

The doctor nodded to the nurse manning the front desk as he said, "Drop your iron and check in with her, then follow me."

Jackson turned, met with a cyberdeck mounted on a swivel arm and a stylus attached. The deck was held in place by the nurse as she dropped a plastic bin on the counter with a blank stare. Her sudden shift in attitude left Jackson wanting as he indulged himself while carefully unholstering his revolver, "Somethin' th'matter...?"

The nurse's disaffected expression was matched only by the disdain in her voice, "It's hard enough to look after our own people out here without you wild animals tearing everything up..."

"Second largest megacorp on the whole damned planet, bankrollin' the most powerful military on the whole damned planet...", Jackson mused without missing a beat, his patented smirk returning as he scribbled the stylus across the holographic screen before carelessly dropping it on the desk, "And you're worried 'bout countin' some fuckin' bandages?"

He scoffed, the nurse suddenly visibly offended at his sudden change in demeanor as he slammed his revolver down in the bin and continued, "People like you are why the world's in the state 's in. 'Stead o' helpin' each other, all we can do is fight o'er what's left..."

He turned to leave before the nurse took her final shot, "If you spent less time lecturing and more time looking after your kid, maybe she'd make better decisions..."

Game on, bitch...

Jackson stopped dead in his tracks, pivoting on his heel as he turned and calmly walked back to the counter. The nurse didn't once look away, fearless and steadfast in her convictions that all nomads were cockroaches in one form or another. The cowboy stared her down, rearing up for some kind of a response before the doctor interjected with an exaggerated clearing of his throat. His eyes held no secrets... he wasn't thrilled with the present circumstances, yet his oath as a medical professional required him to be the voice of reason in this unpleasant pissing match.

Jackson turned his head just enough to see the doctor motioning him to follow, and he flashed his teeth before he reached for the mounted deck. With a swift jerk from his chromed hand, he ripped the device free of the arm affixing it to the counter before turning and tossing it toward the exit. The doors opened, the broken deck shattering on the sand-washed concrete as Jackson summoned his smoothest voice, "...go fetch...", before finally turning to follow the doctor. The nurse sat in stunned silence as the rugged son of a bitch disappeared behind closed doors, leaving the empty lobby of the building in tense silence.

Back in the main hallway, the doctor chose his words carefully, intentionally electing to not allow his personal politics to color the situation any further in light of a father under duress as he said matter-of-fact, "Your daughter's stable... but she's out cold and will be for a while."

"What's the damage...?", Jackson asked plainly, silently appreciating the man's stoic demeanor at his little outburst. The doctor exhaled sharply, "...dislocated shoulder and broken wrist are really the worst of it. Everything else is minor in comparison... a few stitches and strips... but it's all consistent with upending a compact car in the middle of the desert."

Jackson had to laugh at the doctor's candid delivery, but he still had a burning question pushing forward in his mind, "She say anythin' 'bout why... any of it...?"

"Nothing yet...", the doctor shook his head, "...she was unconscious when they admitted her, and we kept her under to avoid any complications."

That wasn't the answer a father wanted to hear, and the doctor tried to assuage his anxieties, "She'll wake up... soon... and you ought to be there when she does. So no more outbursts, okay?"

They shared a brief moment of mutual respect and camaraderie before the doctor warned him as they stopped outside a single door at the end of the hall, armed operators posted on either side, "We had to cuff her to the bed... standard procedure for detainees. It's nothing personal..."

Jackson nodded. As much as he hated the entire situation, he understood it; there were questions that needed answering on both sides. He took a deep breath in, releasing it slowly as he carefully opened the door. Although he had already been assured that Jayce was okay, nothing could steady him quite like seeing her alive and well with his own eyes as she lay neatly tucked in the bed situated against the far wall, the sheets covering her body slowly raising and lowering with every breath aided by a mask affixed to her bruised face. Her arms were exposed, one with several IVs running to a tapped vein in her forearm, seeing as her hand wast in a cast... the other securely cuffed to the bed frame. There were leads running from beneath the sheets to several small machines by the bed, a steady rhythmic beeping fading into the background.

Jayce looked like she'd been through hell, but here and now, she was the most beautiful that Jackson had ever seen her, and he gasped as he ran to her side, fighting back tears from the sheer relief. He stood over her, inspecting the work already done as he ran his fingers through her hair and whispered, "It's okay, baby... I'm here now..."

The doctor looked on from afar, a gentle fondness in his eyes as he pulled the door and spoke softly, "I'll leave you alone for now... let these two know if you need anything."

As the latch for the door clicked shut, Jackson collapsed back in a chair with a deep sigh, staring for a moment at the ceiling before he collected himself and sniffed up. He leaned forward, moving the chair closer to the bed as he reached for Jayce's hand, holding it in his own. It felt so small, so frail... and he felt so small, so insignificant in all of it as he fought to hold it together for both their sakes, begging Aiyana for her forgiveness that any of this came to pass...

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