Take a Bow

[DaKota's Garage, Rocky Ridge Plains, the Badlands]

A collection of voices faded in and out... at one moment sharp and clear, and at another moment little more than a low rumble in the background. The sharp rattle of chain links cut through the fog, echoing in an enclosed space as they were manipulated and maneuvered across a pulley overhead. A soft and pained groan slipped from the body hung by his arms, his eyes slowly opening as he stared at the bloodstained concrete below. He didn't know where he was, but he felt the pull in his shoulders as his body raised further, inch by inch, his feet barely touching the ground.

He heard a distantly familiar voice giving the order to hold the chains as his ascent slowed. He watched groggily as a rough and calloused hand found its way to his nose, something vile held between the fingers... and then it hit him all at once. The distinct reek of ammonia vapors wafted into his nostrils, burning every hair on its way to lighting up his brain as he reflexively inhaled. His eyes opened with a stream of tears as he let loose a raspy cry, fighting against his restraints. He was wide awake now, his senses returning sharply as he looked up and saw none other than Jackson Calloway standing squarely in front. They were in some kind of a recessed pit... likely in a garage, judging by the oil-stained faces standing at the edges and looking down.

Jackson held the smelling salts up, taking a small whiff of his own with an amusingly visceral and exaggerated reaction before tossing them aside. He cleared his throat, leaning down just enough to catch the man's line of sight as he spoke, "Sorry 'bout the rude awakenin', Chuck... but I'm on the clock."

"W-Where's... where's my wife...?", the ever-dutiful husband asked weakly, his whole body sagging as the effects of the salts wore off and he struggled to keep his head up. Jackson flashed a full smile with a chuckle before grabbing Charles firmly by a handful of hair and craning his face up, "Oh don't you worry... Bison's takin' real good care o' her."

There was a pale blue glow in Charles' eyes as his face turned to anger before an audible zap sounded at the base of his skull, followed by another pained cry. His entire body protested against it, writhing back and forth as Jackson laughed out loud and berated him, "Ah c'mon, Chuck! I know you're smarter 'an 'at!"

Charles' entire brain felt like it was on fire with an itch that just wouldn't leave, and he shook his head vigorously from side to side, his breathing shallow and grunted. Jackson took advantage of the moment to hold a small lead of cable between two fingers, pulling enough slack around for his captive to see as he explained, "Cyberware inhibitor... really nasty shit. You seem like a smart fella, so maybe think twice 'fore you try an' pull a stunt like 'at again... now, where was we?"

To Jackson's point, Charles felt a light tugging sensation from the end of the cable jacked into the neural port behind his ear, and he resigned himself as he looked down with a sigh, weighing the rapidly diminishing options he had left as he pressed his earlier question, "Where. Is. My. Wife?"

Jackson's eyes narrowed, another devious chuckle escaping as he stared, letting the man's anxiety eat at him like a cancer...

--

In a dark and dimly lit back room of Dakota's humble abode far and away from the festivities taking place in the garage, Serena sat back against the wall on a barren and soiled mattress, her hands shackled as she stared with dead eyes through the old cage bars running from wall to wall. Her face was sullied with dirt and runny makeup from the tears already shed. For all intents and purposes, she was far better off than her husband, no one having laid a hand on her that she could tell. She faintly remembered Bison holding her down on the hotel bed and shoving something into her neck... and then she remembered waking up in this dingy cell. Everything in between was just a blur of bad dreams.

The walls and floor were cracked, a few rays of sunshine peeking through with the heated desert winds carrying loose sand. The entire space smelled of something foul, but Serena couldn't quite place a finger on it... and the week-long persisting churn in her gut wasn't helping. There was a flickering overhead lamp providing piss-poor lighting just outside the cell, a faint buzz of the bulb filling the air.

And then there was a cry in the distance, definitively masculine and intimately familiar. Serena buried her head in her hands and wept again, her entire body trembling as she feared for herself and her husband at the hands of these animals. Through the storm raging in her mind, the sound of falling boots grew louder as a dark and shady figure appeared outside the cell and barked, "Hey you! On your feet!"

--

Bison stumbled, eyes wide and mouth agape as he crashed back against the wall lined with server cages and other equipment humming throughout the space. He was at a loss for words as Strong looked up at him from a chair parked in front of a desk lined with terminal screens, thick trunks of cables strewn all over and pulsing with passing data. He tried to catch his breath, swallowing the heavy knot in his throat as he finally muscled out the words, "A-Are you sure...?"

"Blood don't lie, brother...", Strong lectured the big beefcake as he leaned back in the chair, the metal squeaking and groaning under his size as he continued, "It's way too early to know for sure... we'd need another few weeks at least, but—"

They were both interrupted and lightly startled by a heavy knock against a hollow metal door. Strong looked to Bison first before he took the lead, "Enter."

The door pushed open, squeaking against the hinges as a tanned and tattooed enforcer in nomad gear poked his head inside, "She's here..."

Strong said nothing, but nodded his head in affirmation as the enforcer stepped out the way, leaving Serena beside herself as she folded her arms in against her slender body. She looked terrified as her eyes darted all around before settling on the doctor's hardened face as he motioned her forward. She took a careful step across the threshold of the door as it closed behind her, the passing gust of stale air blowing through her thick and beautiful mane.

Scared as she was, there was a glow about her presence... until she turned and caught sight of Bison leaning against the wall only a few feet away. He still had a blank and bewildered look on his face as they locked eyes, only for a moment, before she recoiled in fear. A gasping cry escaped as she fell back against one of the sturdy cages, bringing her arms up to try and shield herself as she pleaded. Bison took a step forward, his hands held out in front as he tried to calm her, but she wasn't having it.

Serena lost her footing, crashing against the cold concrete and scrambling backwards to get as far away from the beast as possible. He stopped dead in his tracks, realizing he was probably doing more harm than good, but the blank stare never left his face. Strong stood from his chair, placing a firm but gentle hand on Bison's chest and nodding his head as if to say, "Back up."

He turned, taking a cautious step toward the whimpering woman with his hand held out as he spoke as softly as his naturally booming and baritone voice would allow, "It's okay... we're not going to hurt you."

Serena didn't want to believe him, but something in the doctor's calm demeanor put her mind at ease. She looked to Bison still trying to pull himself together, and then back to Strong as she slowly reached out. Bit by bit, she closed the distance until she found her much smaller hand resting against his open palm. He closed his grip, bracing himself as he pulled her to her feet. He kept his hold as he presented a key in his other hand and asked, "You'll behave if I take these off...?"

There was a light tremble in her hands, but she nodded with a sniff, watching as Strong placed the key into the shackles. The mechanism clicked, each cuff snapping open as an overwhelming sense of freedom washed over her. She was still jumpy, shifting and jerking away from Strong as he reached down to grab an overturned chair. He placed the chair on its feet without so much as a word before turning and walking back to the desk as he sat down. After a few moments, he motioned to the chair and said, "Have a seat... we got some questions need answering."

Serena's jaw was clenched as she blew a long lock of hair out of her face before sitting down, still massaging her chafed wrists. Even scared shitless at finding herself captive at the ass-end of the world, she still held herself with tremendous poise and grace, her back straight and shoulders arched back proudly. Her designer pencil skirt and pressed white blouse were all but ruined from the grime of this place, her pinstriped stockings torn in several places. And yet she held her head high and asked shakily, but with purpose, "W-Where is my husband...?"

Bison's heart skipped a beat at hearing her natural voice again... he had honestly forgotten just how hypnotizing she could be, even in dire straits such as these. Strong sidestepped the question altogether, posing one of his own, "How much do you know about your husband's affairs?"

The way her eyes cut away in shame said it all. She either knew too much... or she resented how little she actually knew. Either option gave Strong something to work with as he asked another question, "How many encounters have you had since..."

His eyes cut to Bison before looking back to the woman, her eyes following the same path as she crossed her arms and held her tongue. Frightened as she was, she took them at their word at their word that no harm would come to her. She needed to be strong for Charles' sake, and was perfectly content letting them work for any answers they hoped to find.

In a twisted sense of humorous timing, another scream echoed from far away, Serena's eyes welling up as she looked at the door and fought to keep her composure. Strong's eyes narrowed as he took a deep breath before exhaling sharply. They didn't have time for games. He knew Jackson well enough to know Charles didn't have time, and he looked down for a moment before speaking again, "If you want out of here, you need to tell us what we want to know... I already gave you my wor—"

"You're pregnant...", Bison cut in with all the grace of a stampeding creature befitting his namesake as he stepped forward. Strong looked up with genuine surprise, suddenly slightly intimidated at the large man's overall presence. Serena's eyes gave enough of a reaction, a subtle quiver in her lips as she stared daggers in Bison's direction. Strong leaned in again, gauging her reaction as he mused, "Guessing this isn't the first time you've heard that..."

He leaned back, turning toward the desk as he pressed a few keys. The largest of the mounted screens against the wall flashed with a picture of a young girl's bruised and beaten face... one that Serena couldn't have possibly known... and yet the way her face twisted with a distantly familiar curiosity only confirmed what they already knew from a blood test. Sitting before them was Nel's mother... and she held her hand out in disbelief as if trying to touch the girl's cheek like they were in the same room together as she whispered, "N-No... c-could it be...?

Strong and Bison both stayed quiet, giving her time to work through it all in her own mind. Unless she'd never looked in a mirror... not likely... there was no way she didn't see the resemblance. After almost a full minute of staring blankly at the screen, she found her voice again and asked, "H-How did you... w-who is sh—"

"A few months ago, we found a girl not far from here, left for dead out by the highway...", Bison explained matter-of-factly, "...she was shot, cut up, and beaten to within an inch of her life, but the Doc here managed to bring her back."

Strong continued on Bison's behalf, "It took a while for her to open up, but from what we could tell, she spent most of her life in chains as someone else's attack dog... living under a boot out in the Wastes."

"She was abused night and day...", Bison picked back up, as if they had rehearsed this entire conversation a hundred times over, "...she never knew love or a family until she came to us."

There was something in his tone that lit a fire in Serena as she locked eyes and spat, "And you think I had something to do with it...?"

"We know she's your daughter...", said Strong, bringing up another window with a DNA match result, "...took a blood sample while you were under... but what we can't figure out is your husband's connection to it."

Serena gasped, a single tear running down her cheek as she asked, "E-Eighteen years... s-she's eighteen, right?"

Strong nodded, "Near as we can tell from a clinical standpoint. She's not registered in any databases... here or anywhere... girl's a ghost."

"...a-a long time ago, b-before we were married...", Serena recalled unusually matter-of-factly as she looked up to the ceiling with a deep sigh, "...Charles and I were always very open in our relationship. We had only been together six months before I found out I was pregnant... Charles knew it wasn't his..."

"How'd he take it?", Strong asked, to which Serena scoffed and looked away, "As open as we are, he is still a very jealous man...

"There were... complications... in the early stages...", she kept going, "...I got very sick, and he used his connections to get me treatment. They had to put me under to work through the worst of it, but when I awoke, everyone said that they had to terminate the pregnancy... that it was my life or my child's."

Bison spat, "They didn't give you a choice...?"

Serena shook her head, "It was all very rushed... Charles always maintained that he did what he had to... bu—"

"But you didn't believe him...", Bison finished her sentence, "...hell of a fella you got there, toots."

Serena looked at Bison with indignation before her face softened and she nodded, "At first, yes... but he was there for me. I didn't have much, growing up in Night City, and Charles was always so selfless in our relationship. He gave me a life of which I could only dream, otherwise."

"And so you became the dutiful wife at his right hand...", Strong remarked, almost feeling somewhat sorry for the woman as he echoed himself from earlier, "...so how much do you really know about what he does?"

She smirked despite the tears building as she shrugged her eyebrows and admonished herself, "It would appear... less than I thought. He has always been a powerful man. When other powerful people need product moved... discreetly... he is their first call."

Something wasn't adding up for all of them, and none of their faces hid it well. If the man was really just a facilitator, what reason would he have to personally visit the Outlanders? Why lie about Serena's pregnancy?

Another pained shout echoed in, and despite the doubt running rampant in Serena's mind, she retracted inward and asked, "W-Why are you doing this? We gave you what you wanted at the motel..."

Strong sat in contemplative silence for several seconds, debating in his own mind what to divulge before Bison urged him, "Just tell her, man... we know it's her daughter, and we owe her that much."

The doctor had a perturbed look on his face as Serena's eyes lit up with curiosity. He grumbled to himself with another sharp exhale before he laid it all out...

--

Another wad of blood-laden spit flew from Charles' mouth amid a pained cry as Jackson's fists crashed against his bruised ribs, the latter man laughing the whole way as he taunted, "This can all be over at any time, friend... jus' tell me what I wan'a know."

Charles' breathing was labored and stunted as he held his tongue. He wasn't giving any of them an inch, until a far-off scream grabbed his attention. It was his wife's voice, and his face changed from a look of defiance to genuine concern.

"See... now you done went an' pissed my boys off...", Jackson laughed again, prompting Charles to thrash against the chains as he shouted, "YOU LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

Jackson took a knee, staring deep into the man's eyes with smirk. He grabbed Charles by the scalp and craned his head back. While he was never one for theatrics, he was always willing and able to worm his way into the minds of his enemies; much to Charles' detriment, Jackson presently counted the once-meticulously manicured man at the top of a very long list as he closed the distance to mere inches between their faces and whispered, "Y'already saw wit' your own eyes the damage Bison's capable of... and that's when he's in a good mood. Perish'a thought what might 'appen if he gets angry..."

"W-Why... why are you doing this...?", Charles asked, his voice weakened, "W-What the f-fuck do you w-want from us...?"

"I wan'a know where you get off feeding experimental drugs to kids...", Jackson explained bluntly, "One in particular who was taken from my crew a few days ago... after we spent months putting her back together."

The sudden shift in the man's face gave him away. So this was where his little Shrapnel had been all this time... seemingly right under his nose in the care of a cowboy sent to shake him down once already. At the end of the day, it really was a small world, and were it not for his present circumstances, he might have laughed at the irony of it all.

As it was, Jackson had him by the balls as he stood and continued, "Yeah, 'at's what I thought... your wild men leave a poor girl half-dead on the side of the road... ain't ever known anythin' but pain and sufferin'."

He followed up with a solid strike to Charles' exposed stomach, wishing he could inflict even an ounce of what Nel had felt all of her life before they found her. Charles had no more to give, simply taking the hits in stride and letting his anger boil over as the whimpering cries from his beloved bride echoed in. When Jackson had claimed his pound of flesh... and then some... he let the body sway from side to side while he took a greedy swig of RealWater. Charles was on the ragged edge of passing out again before a splash hit his face, the water collecting with sweat and blood and running down his body.

Jackson took a deep breath and posed his question calmly, "We already know you ferry chems 'cross the Border... but what's your play wit'ese animals? Why get involved wit' Wastelanders...?"

Charles sniffed up, feeling the rush of blood and mucus building in the back of his throat before he spat the viscous wad on the already soiled ground and laughed with a grimace, "W-What the fuck m-makes you think these are j-just some inbred sand monkeys...? You think you're the only one who suffered in the War?!"

That comment caught Jackson's attention, his face twisting with curiosity as he turned and stood squarely in front of the man staring back with a cheeky smile as he eyed the implanted left arm of his host, "...you didn't have to fight the voices screaming in your head every minute of every day as your own body betrayed you and tried to tear itself apart... your body didn't reject the very thing trying to keep it alive."

...cyberpsychosis...

The word flashed across Jackson's mind as he froze in place, the hair standing up on the back of his neck while Charles filled in the blanks, "Every one of them... served and sacrificed... and they were all left with their backs against the wall to face a firing squad because the powers-that-be deemed it less expensive than getting them the care they so desperately needed."

The man's bullshit was already wearing thin as Jackson interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Nah, don't feed me no mercy mission horseshit... motherfuckers like you always have an angle."

"Society had no place for them, so they were exiled... excised like a cancer...", Charles confessed, "...I offered them the chance to be kings... masters and commanders of their own destinies."

"Now 'at's a high an' mighty callin', Chuck...", the old cowboy poked, "So you banished 'ese poor bastards to live on the ragged edge... and for what?"

Charles clenched his jaw with a deep sigh, looking down at the ground before Jackson raised his face up by the chin and cautioned him, "Don't hold out on me, now..."

As another cry sounded from the hallway, the man defiantly jerked himself away from Jackson's hand with a grunt, "The company had plans for a new hybrid chemical compound... a highly potent blend of psychoactives and stimulants that could drastically increase focus and performance while... removing inhibitions... but everything comes at a cost."

"Turn 'ese boys into highly efficient killin' machines at the risk of runnin' 'em right off the deep end...", Jackson finished the sentence as Charles nodded, "We had developed a secondary delivery system of smart bots... nanites... that would carry the baloperidol in stasis until it was needed."

Embedded nanites suspended in isomers... from a technological standpoint, it was impressive, but Jackson kept himself focused as he pressed further, "You already had your own tribe of 'psychos... minds gone and runnin' rampant all o'er the desert... why waste the chems?"

"It wasn't for them!", Charles shouted between strained breaths, "They were already a lost cause... but cyberpsychosis has its own merits. We needed a control group for 'clinical' trials... and we needed someone in control to supervise."

Jackson turned away, his hands curling to fists as his own fire raged while the company man put it all together in simple terms, "Children have untapped potential in their formative years... and I already had the perfect test subject."

"An' you had the perfect caretakers...", Jackson growled through gritted teeth, "...unburdened by any notions o' humanity... who saw fit to beat an' rape a poor defenseless child every day."

And there it was... the weak link in the cowboy's armor... the loving father. Charles had already resigned himself to a grim and gruesome fate, all but certain his wife would suffer the same... and so he sought to twist the knife as much as he could, "Short of dropping the girl... and her 'sisters'... into a war zone, find me a more suitable environment to trial the drug's efficacy... one has to wonder the fun they had with her... will have with her now that she's back home."

The man forced a devilish laugh as the fire burned brighter and hotter inside of Jackson, the flames rising and sparks flying out as he lost all control and turned in an instant. His chromed fist met the side of Charles' face with a sickening crunch as he released all of his angst in a single Rebel yell echoing into the rafters of the garage. The body raised from the impact before going limp, the not-yet-dead weight pulling at the chains. Jackson placed two fingers against the man's neck, entirely disgusted to find a pulse... albeit weak.

He took a deep breath, trying to find some calm between all of it as he heard another cry from far away. It was time to get Serena's side of the story, and his jaw clenched as he pulled his hand away from Charles' neck and turned to climb out of the pit. Every rung felt heavier than the one before, like the weight of the world was pulling him down. He knew in the back of his mind that if anyone could pull it off... get Nel out of there... it was his crew... his family. And yet the lingering thought in the front of his mind left him terrified and grieving for her present circumstances. The girl had hurt enough in her lifetime, and he prayed to himself that they wouldn't be too late to save her.

He pushed all of these thoughts out as he lit a fresh cigarette, enjoying a small moment of peace and the cool menthol burn in his lungs as he walked down a seemingly endless hallway toward a back room. The audible sobbing had mostly subsided, and a dark part of his mind wondered why as he opened the door and spat loudly, "I swear to the Almighty, Bison, if I have to clean up a—"

He stopped and stood wide-eyed and dumbfounded in the doorway with nothing more to say. Outside of what he could only surmise was a mountain of emotional distress, Serena was otherwise quite literally physically untouched. She sat doubled over in a chair, holding a hand over her heart with her mouth locked open as if to silently scream, a small pool of tears having collected on the concrete floor. After a long and awkward silence, Jackson lowered his voice almost to a whisper, "Guessin' we was right...?"

Bison looked up at the boss from a chair against the far wall, his eyes clouded over as he nodded, "Nel's her kid... product of a swing way back when with some nameless nomad, before they were married."

Another gasping cry escaped from the woman as she covered her mouth before Bison continued, "She never knew... said there were complications during the pregnancy."

He looked down at the ground, his hands trembling as Strong took over, "Seems our fella out there rushed her to the altar so he could get her the best care that Biotechnica had to offer..."

"Nothin' quite like a shotgun weddin'...", Jackson joked as he pieced the rest together himself, "...so you never knew that they took your baby girl away...?"

Serena's face twisted as she fervently shook her head, unable to form words in her present condition while Bison ran a gentle hand up and down her back. It was an uncharacteristic show of affection, especially under these circumstances, but Jackson put it out of his mind as Strong kept going, "Charles told her they had to terminate the pregnancy while she was under... that it was her life or the baby's."

"And you believe her...?", Jackson asked with ardent skepticism, his eyes finally cutting away from Serena as Strong motioned to a string of sensors and cameras all around the room, "Been monitoring every twitch and tell... she ain't faking this..."

Jackson exhaled sharply, smoke rising from his nostrils as he tried to break the tension in the worst way possible, "Well... she put on a hell of a show for her husband... had him believin' Bison was back here doin' his worst... again."

All at once, Serena's entire body went rigid, her eyes narrowed as she cut to the cowboy with fire in her eyes and asked, "My husband... i-is he...?"

All eyes cut to Jackson as he shook his head and poked the proverbial angry mama bear, "Nah, we ain't that lucky... yet."

Serena's face hardened as she likely had a few choice words, but Jackson never gave her the opportunity as he kept going, "Look... I get it. You love your husband, faults an' all... but he's a downright bastard for doin' what he's done..."

Her eyes fell to the floor as Jackson explained, "These wild men wreakin' havoc out there? He gave your daughter to 'em when she was jus' an infant. All she's ever known her whole life is pain an' sufferin' while they juiced her up against her will 'fore turnin' her loose. He has to answer for that... they all do. Only question left for the moment is... what part are you goin'a play in all of it?"

The tense and silent air hung heavy in the room, casting a pall over everything as Serena weighed her few options. The cowboy was right... she loved her husband, and she had no illusions before now about the kind of man he was. His treachery ran deep, but even she was blinded at just how deep... and here and now, she was lost, seemingly adrift in the sea of her own grief.

Finally, after far too long, she pulled herself together with several loud sniffles and exhales as she sat upright in the chair, recomposing her near-perfect posture as she locked eyes with Jackson and crossed her arms. This wasn't over yet...

With whimsical timing, the door crashed open, nearly hitting Jackson from behind as he jumped out of the way. To everyone's surprise, Dakota showed her face for the first time since they had arrived. She had no stomach for torture, especially Jackson's brand, and her face didn't hide it well as she asked blankly, "...you boys need anything?"

No words were said, but all three of the crew shook their heads, feeling like they were about to receive a very motherly lecture about all of it. Instead, the old lady's eyes drifted to Serena sitting in the chair, "...what about her...?"

"Water probably couldn't hurt...", Strong answered for all of them on Serena's behalf. Dakota nodded in response, "You got it... oh, and Jax...?"

The cowboy turned to the older fixer as she continued, "They can't stay here... half-dead dick hanging in my oil pits is bad for business. I know you know that..."

Jackson's jaw clenched. He couldn't disagree with her, but he also didn't yet know how to handle their two guests. Thus far, his best laid plans since Nel was taken had amounted to flying by the seat of his pants. And as if to shine like another ray of serendipity through the dirty window at the far end of the room, his eyes narrowed and a smile cracked as he caught the silhouette of Rocky Ridge in the distance.

Before he could offer up the suggestion, Bison rebuked their beloved fixer, "Well we can't take 'em back to Base... way too risky..."

The tone of his voice caused Dakota to purse her lips as she stared him down... until Jackson took control of the situation and stepped between them, "Drop it, both o' ya... 's been a tryin' couple o' days, yeah?"

Despite Dakota's seniority... in more ways one... even she felt a shiver at the change in Jackson's demeanor, taking a small step back as if to silently say, "...it's your rodeo, cowboy..."

Bison went back to staring between his own two feet, his mind a muddled mess as he navigated the swarm of emotions while trying to maintain some reason about all of it. No matter which way he thought about it, he was sitting next to a woman carrying his child. There was no way he could remain detached or impartial. Slowly, his eyes raised as he met Jackson's, and though no words were said, the subtle cut to Serena and back sent a clear enough message as Jackson cleared his throat, "I made a... friend, for lack o' a better term... when Jayce got picked up by Militech."

Save for Serena, who didn't know any better, everyone's eyes widened at that comment while Jackson scratched the side of his head and considered his words very carefully., "He's a... uh... he's a veteran o' the War jus' like Joshua an' me. We found some common ground on 'at. Found s'more when he mentioned 'ese outlanders 'ave been hittin' his patrols all along the southern reaches. They's ain't jus' goin' after civvies anymore..."

Dakota held a scoff as a smirk crept in, remembering her small part in all of that, "He wants answers for the loss of his men... and who could blame 'im?"

"What d'ya reckon he's got a few questions for our friend out there?", Strong asked, to which Jackson shrugged his shoulders, "A li'l good will goes a long way... might be he gets some face-time wit' the mastermind behind all 's shit and a few more puzzle pieces fall into place."

"Do you trust him...?", Dakota asked as she crossed her arms, "...he is one of them, after all."

Jackson nodded and stared hard at the concrete floor as he mulled over the options in his head before answering, "Well... whether I do or don't... he was good to my kid, and 'at says a lot. But he's also got skin in 'is game..."

Strong smiled with a twinkle in his eye, "Enemy o' my enemy...?"

"Somethin' like 'at... anyhow, I'll make the call...", Jackson assured them all as he turned to leave the room, Dakota stepping out of his way as the door slammed shut behind him. With a sudden uncomfortable silence befalling the room, all eyes looked to Serena, entirely unsure of what lay in store for her or her husband.

--

[Some time later... - Militech Outpost, Rocky Ridge, the Badlands]

A low groan emanated from Charles as he woke up, once again finding himself hanging by his arms, but this time in a different location. Everything hurt, from balls to bones, and he barely even had the strength to open his eyes, much less try and look around. He relied on pushing past a persistent ringing in his ears to listen for any movement around him. He still had one card left to play, unbeknownst to anyone, even if it spelled a certain doom for him. As long as this place and everyone in it burned...

While he was no fan of the rotting-onion smell of stale motor oil and spent CHOOH2 in the garage from earlier, there was something altogether more putrid about this dark and dank basement in which he now found himself. The air was humid, a poorly maintained air conditioning system fighting a losing battle against the desert heat creeping in. Everything smelled of sweat and stink... unwashed assholes and armpits. The unfinished dirt floor was unsettled from Charles' presence as he tried to balance on his knees, a small cloud of dust choking his lungs as he tried in vain to draw a deep breath.

From his left side, he heard a surprisingly disgruntled feminine sneer, turning his head to look through wrought-iron cage bars as he saw his wife staring back. Despite the disappointed look in her eyes, a wave of relief washed over him as he released a sharp exhale, "Oh thank Christ, you're alive... a-are you okay...?"

Serena's eyes were narrowed, staring daggers as she crossed her arms and clenched her jaw. Charles picked up on her overall mood as his head dropped, spitting a wad of blood from his mouth as he asked, "...how much do you know...?"

His wife's eyes welled up as she forced the words, "I know you took my child from me... I know what you did to her..."

Charles scoffed in resignation and shook his head, the pain from his jaw fully set as he tried to muscle out, "I... did... what I had to do. For us..."

"You lied to me!", Serena cried out, grabbing the cage bars as if she were trying to force herself into his cell like a wild animal, "For eighteen years, you lied! I stood by you through all of it!"

The man shut his eyes, trying to stretch his jaw as he considered how best to answer. When he found the right words, his eyes opened, staring dead-ahead at nothing in particular as he lowered his voice to a discontented grumble, "The life of luxury that we have is not without its costs. Need I remind you... my love... if it weren't for my good graces in raising you up from that pit of Hell in which I first found you..."

A shuttered gasp escaped Serena's mouth as she stepped back, her hand subconsciously reaching down, slender fingers brushing over the soft syn-cotton fabric covering her buttock... where rested her paw print tattoo. A flood of unpleasant memories rushed back as she found herself in a time from her past... a time she had tried to forget. She once again felt the heavy choke-chain around her neck, the lead held by some rich motherfucker in a mask parading her on display among a crowd encircling her. She remembered the way they barked orders at her, forcing her to her hands and knees with her entire body on display as the cold and stale air sent shivers up and down her spine. And most of all, she remembered the growling snarls and slobber dripping from jowls as bio-engineered beasts lined up to mount her... one after another... wild animals forcing themselves inside and howling to the cycles of the moon overhead as they filled her for the amusement and pleasure of the utterly depraved upper echelons of Night City's rich and famous. This was where the movers and shakers came to get their rocks off... and at the center of it all was a young teenage orphan begging for scraps... begging for just enough to feed herself from the same bowls of kibble her masters left for their dogs.

A single tear fell, running down her cheek as she stared in disbelief while her husband continued, "She has that same wild animal inside of her that I came to love in you... she's quite the specimen."

His face carried a misplaced sense of pride despite the pain as he forced himself to face Serena, the chains rattling overhead as he rattled on indignantly, "If it helps you to hate me for not wanting to raise someone else's child as my own, I can live with that in light of the strides we've made."

"SHE WASN'T YOURS TO GIVE AWAY!!!", Serena screamed as yet more tears were shed for the daughter she never knew while she crashed her hands on the cage bars again, "...s-she's not a lab rat... s-she's a human being... h-how could yo—"

"All progress comes with a price, Serena...", Charles confessed as his eyes fell to the floor in a moment of genuine regret, "...we needed to know just how effective the compounds were that we created... can't do this kind of work in a lab."

He could feel his wife's eyes burning a hole through him, the rage irradiating outward from her as she shook from head to toe while he made his peace with all of it, "It matters not... not now, anyway."

Serena stood, still staring and confused as Charles carefully maneuvered his tongue around inside his mouth, fighting the swelling and pain from a likely dislocated jaw as he tried with all his might to not cry out. He worked his tongue back, pressing firmly against one of his molars until he felt it move. He dislodged it as much as he could manage in his current condition, waiting for a few passing footsteps to fade into the background. Despite their heated argument and raised voices, they weren't alone, Militech security guards passing by every few minutes and keeping watch.

Once they were alone again, Charles shifted the false tooth between the rest as he crunched down, silently wincing at the pressure and the ivory shards cutting the inside of his mouth. Amid the pain, he felt an overwhelming relief at the sensation of something artificial coming to life. He could almost see the dull and pulsing red flashing inside his own skull, and a devious smile crossed his face as he opened his eyes, a live tracking beacon held between his teeth...

--