Innocence Lost

[2059; outside Tucson]

The low hum of an oversized overhead central-air fan radiated throughout the dimly lit room, the blades warping and bending the light from the LED lamp hanging further up the ventilation shaft. Directly below the vent was a small round eat-in table with four wooden chairs situated around it. All four chairs were occupied.

A pair of sharp, greyish-blue eyes were fixed on their prey sitting across the table, no more than 3 feet away. A pair of deep brown eyes were staring back. Both pairs of eyes were narrowed, each trying their damndest to keep perfectly still. Not even a twitch, barely a blink. The tension in the air rose to such a point that even the fan couldn't keep the two men from perspiring as they stared each other down. The other two men sitting perpendicular from the duelists were darting their eyes back and forth, praying for a quick end. Any minute now, that end would come, but it could spell certain doom for any one of them.

After an eternity of silence, the man with the brown eyes finally blinked and said a single word with utter disgust in his voice, "Fold."

A hand of cards found their way face-down onto the table, the other two men breaking into hearty laughter as the man with the blue eyes smiled. After several seconds, the man with the brown eyes smirked and said to the man with the blue eyes, "One day, Phoenix, you're going to meet your match."

A much younger Phoenix returned the smile as he lit a cigarette, leaned back and said, "Maybe, but it sure as hell ain't today, and it sure as hell ain't you, Jethro."

All four men shared a laugh as they swigged from their beers before Phoenix stood up and stretched, "Ah! I need some air."

As he turned toward the door, Jethro called out to him, "Hey, when do we get paid again?"

Phoenix's voice trailed off as he answered, "Goin' to see to that right now. Don't you fellas worry."

He pushed the door open, the heat from outside pouring in along with blinding sunlight. The sun was beginning to set, but the heat hadn't yet let up, scorching the earth with a furious vexation. Phoenix could feel himself perspiring immediately as he walked from the small building past a row of somewhat ramshackle houses. People were either toiling away in small "gardens", working on their cars, or otherwise trying to stay out of the heat, but everyone was sweating. Nobody seemed to complain; it was just life in a desert. As far as Phoenix was concerned, it was the only life he'd ever known.

It wasn't easy growing up on the San Xavier Reservation. Tucson was one of two major cities capable of maintaining large crop farms in the relative wasteland that was the state of Arizona during the Time of the Red, so of course that made the city a prime target for corpos to swoop in and buy it all up. The reservations were an afterthought, if they were thought of at all. Their only saving grace was the added protection and muscle they had as members of the larger Snake Nation nomad clan. This at the very least kept the corpos from completely overrunning them.

The Snake Nation also provided plenty of work for its families, legitimate or otherwise. In San Xavier's case, they had a fairly lucrative gunrunning business. Shipments of Militech and Techtronika hardware regularly found their way through San Xavier on the route down to Mexico. Somebody had to escort and protect the equipment, and nobody knew the Sonoran Desert better than the Tohono O'odham. Phoenix had set himself apart from the rest as one of the reservation's best "gunslingers". He was quick to draw, deadly accurate, and strong as a bear if he got close enough to put his hands on you. As a child, he was often cast out on account of his half-white lineage, so he took to honing his skills from a young age. It didn't matter if people liked him, as long as they respected him.

As an adult, such petty differences didn't matter. He was competent and capable, and that's all anyone cared about. If you came to Phoenix for a job, you'd get solid results. For that, he commanded respect of most of his San Xavier colleagues in the Snake Nation. And if that weren't enough, he was a true gentleman; charming, kind and courteous to the last, but firm in his principles.

As Phoenix made his way between the rows of houses, he sucked his teeth in disgust at how overbuilt Tucson had become. From where he was standing, the city was so tall and sprawled out, you could no longer see the Catalina Mountains to the north and northeast. He had watched with his own two eyes from a young age as the corpo-driven growth and greed consumed the city. It wouldn't be long before the pollution ruined the crop farms. Of course, the corpos had an answer for it; they had an answer for everything. More growth, more synthetic protein farms, more money, more pollution, more greed. More and more abandoning of their own collective humanity at the expense of actual humans around them. As long as their pockets were lined, everything else be damned.

Phoenix spotted a pair of children playing in front of one of the houses; he couldn't help but smile, silently wishing for them to hang onto their youthful innocence as long as possible. One of the children turned to face him, and made a finger gun with a closed eye. Phoenix played along, pretending to draw his own finger gun as he took a stance. The child grabbed his heart and called out, falling to the ground as Phoenix smiled wide and laughed. The children's mother was smiling as she swept off her front porch, and Phoenix gave her a wave as he kept walking. For all of their difficulties in the face of corpo greed, they were a notoriously tight-knit community. They were all family in one way or another. The bonds of brotherhood were strong in the reservation. If you were one of them, you were looked after, no questions asked.

At last, Phoenix reached a large older building, wood and stucco, reminiscent of an old Spanish mission. Out of place for the building was a series of poles and thick cables jutting out from the roof, each holding its own array of dishes pointed in every direction. He reached for the door, but hesitated before grabbing hold of it. After several seconds, and with a heavy sigh, he grabbed the handle and swung the door open, careful to pull it shut behind him quickly so as not to allow any cool air to escape.

Inside the building was a hive of activity. People crossing aisles between desks from one side of the building to the other, all talking over each other. The desks were lined with all sorts of equipment. Some had terminals and keyboards, some had radio equipment; a few desks off to the side had field-stripped rifles just sitting out in the open. Phoenix had to admire the brass of that. He was careful to stay out of anyone's way as he walked down the middle of the building in a straight line to the back offices.

He breathed a sigh of relief at the open door in front of him. It meant he could actually talk to someone, say what he had to say. As he entered the room, he gave a casual wave as he said, "Afternoon, fellas."

An older man with a medium-dark complexion stood against a large table, pouring over a map spread out. His face wore the marks of a lifetime of hard work in the desert. He appeared strong, but well-fed, carrying his weight in his midsection. His long salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He had sideburns extending down the side of his face, but was otherwise clean-shaven. One of the most striking features about the man was his left eye; a robotic-looking implant with an unsettling red glow. He answered without looking up, "Not now, Phoenix."

"Then when, Rafe?", Phoenix fired back without missing a beat, his hands on his hips as he continued, "Time's I remember, when ya contract with someone for work, ya pay them for the work."

Rafe continued staring at the map as he said nonchalantly, "Eddies haven't cleared from the Council yet. As soon as I get them, you'll get paid."

The one downside of nomad clan bureaucracy, especially in a group as large as the Snake Nation, was the time it took to get anything done through "proper" channels. Many smaller groups had been rolled up in recent years. It was the only way to guarantee protection, but a lot of the smaller groups' leadership still wanted to keep independent control of their own jurisdictions. This led to a lot of corruption at the lower levels. However, in the case of Rafe Youngblood, he used the infamous reputation of clan bureaucracy to simply make life difficult for those he didn't like. Regardless of their allegiance to the Snake Nation, many people in San Xavier still looked to Rafe to lead them.

Phoenix furrowed his brow as he stepped over to the table. He placed his hands against the edge, leaning in as he said, "You may report to the Council, but my jobs come from you, so as far as I'm concerned, you're responsible for payin' us, regardless of whether they forward you the scratch or not."

Rafe's eyes finally broke from the map as he looked up to meet Phoenix's stare, his red eye zeroing in to focus. There was no tenderness left in Phoenix's face as he cautioned Rafe, "Now, break open that safe and pay me and my boys what we're due, or find someone else willing to work for empty promises."

The other men standing around the table all backed away and cleared the room, leaving Rafe to fend for himself. With a scoff, he stood up and turned to walk over to the safe. As he punched in the combination and turned the handle, he said to Phoenix, "You know you're taking food out of our children's mouths by doing this."

Phoenix barked, "If the reservation's in the red that deep, I'll work for less; and you know that. So cut the shit, Rafe. I know the Council keeps you flush, fat and happy."

Rafe shot up from the safe and turned to glare at Phoenix, his foot kicking the door shut. He shook his head as he approached the table and said, "I will never understand what the fuck my daughter sees in you, half-breed. But then again, I guess I'll just never understand my daughter."

So much for bonds of brotherhood, Phoenix thought. It was no mystery that Rafe harbored a resentment towards him, for no other reason than the fact that his father was white. It was an antiquated prejudice, as petty and childish as "Cowboys and Indians" (or maybe "Corpos and Nomads"?). Rafe would have run him off the reservation a long time ago were it not for the favor Phoenix had curried among the community and the Snake Nation. As Phoenix himself maintained, his actions spoke louder than his words; again, as long as he was respected, that was worth its weight in gold more than whether or not people liked him.

As Rafe dropped a stack of cash on the table, Phoenix chuckled, taking a drag of his cigarette as he said, "Tallulah's a beautiful and complicated woman, Rafe. But she's also old enough to make her own choices, with or without your blessin'."

There was a sneer on Rafe's face as he stared at Phoenix counting the money. After several seconds, he said, "Are you done rubbing it in my face? I'm kind of busy."

Phoenix answered without looking up, cigarette hanging from his mouth, "Y'know somethin', Rafe... if you spent as much effort lookin' after your own people as you did tryin' to get in my way, can you even imagine how far we could go? Or are you too short-sighted for that?"

The sneer turned into sheer contempt as Rafe said, "Get the fuck out of my office."

Confirming the cash was all there, Phoenix shrugged his eyebrows and took the stack in one hand. As he turned to leave he said, "Ain't got to tell me twice. I'll tell Tallulah you say 'hello'."

That nearly sent Rafe flying across the table, but he managed to restrain himself. Phoenix smiled as he continued walking out of the building and back into the receding heat. The night sky was now creeping up from the east. It was time to get his boys taken care of and get home to his girl.

--

[2064; outside Yuma]

One could argue that Phoenix had his greatest wish granted. In 2060, the Snake Nation sought to solidify their allegiances and consolidate their leadership at the lower levels by taking a more proactive role in overseeing the communities under their protection. As a result, Rafe Youngblood was unceremoniously replaced as the head of the San Xavier Reservation. He was still a tribal chieftain, so he retained the respect of the community, but it meant Phoenix no longer had to answer to him on "business matters"; he dealt directly with the Council from that point forward. Rafe of course was bitter over the whole matter, which only deepened his resentment of Phoenix. To make matters worse, Tallulah had recently announced during one of the rare times she and Rafe spoke to one another that she was pregnant with Phoenix's child; a girl. That alone may have driven Rafe over the edge. His daughter bearing a half-breed's child; the thought made him physically ill...

It was pitch black outside, the dead of night, and yet somehow the stretching expanses of sand found a way to glow, the sea of salt marred only by occasional cacti or shrubs dotting the landscape. Phoenix sat in the passenger seat of an old military cargo truck. He had the window rolled down, arm hanging out with a lit cigarette in his hand. In the driver seat was his new best friend; an Aldecaldo wheelman with a cybernetic right arm and a glorious mustache. Phoenix needed someone who knew the area for this job, and the Snake Nation provided. Through their extensive network of contacts throughout the Badlands, they were able to source a competent wheelman intimately familiar with the Arizona / South California / Mexico border. Even if he was from a rival nomad clan, they were able to conduct business amicably when it suited both parties. He had done protection jobs for Aldecaldos a few times before, and always found them pleasant to work with, present company included.

He took a drag of his cigarette as he checked his revolver and said, "So let me get this straight, Falco. We're in the middle of a giant sand dune, the Mexico border's less than a kilometer to our backs, and your plan if shit hits the fan is to run and hope they don't chase us?"

Falco scoffed as he took a drag on his own cigarette and answered, "You're forgettin' the part where I have two other 'Caldos vehicles ready to cover us, and several marked spots where we can cross back into California under the radar once things settle down. But, y'know, it's all very much if it goes to shit."

Phoenix chuckled, admiring Falco's calm demeanor about it all as he said, "Well, it does tend to go to shit with these smaller unaffiliated clans..."

Falco brandished a Techtronika Metel from his shoulder holster with a smirk, "More than one way to skin a cat, par'ner..."

Phoenix's eyes narrowed and focused as a pair of headlights crept over the dune. A vehicle approached slowly, churning through the sand. Phoenix noticed their escorts on either side checking weapons and readying themselves. He signaled to them to stay put as he opened his door and stepped out of the truck.

The approaching vehicle was a veritable rust-bucket, an older SUV with bald offroad tires and crudely affixed sheet-metal plating where body panels had likely fallen off altogether. It was a miracle in Phoenix's mind that the headlights were even working.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the driver cut the lights as they rolled to a stop twenty feet away. Immediately, their contact jumped out of the passenger side of the SUV, waving around his iron and yelling in broken Spanish mixed with something else entirely. Phoenix stood at the ready, hand on his holster. With his free hand, he reached out with a wave, motioning for their contact to keep his voice down. His caution fell on deaf ears, as the contact only began to yell louder, pointing a sawed-off pump shotgun erratically in his general direction.

Phoenix pulled open the door of the truck to shield his body as he called out, "Somebody get a muzzle on that animal or we're goin' to have problems!"

Two other men exited the SUV from the back row, one approaching the wildman and speaking to him in a language Phoenix couldn't make out. The wildman protested before the second man raised a hand to him. The wildman flinched and cowered away. The second man turned toward Phoenix as he called out in a heavy accent, "I'm sorry, my men get excitable sometimes."

Phoenix's eyes narrowed as he cautiously stepped away from the door and answered, "That's a colorful bunch of boys you have, there."

The man took his position in front of the SUV, careful to keep his distance. Phoenix followed suit as they stared each other down and sized each other up in silence for almost a minute. The man had a long and dark ponytail reaching down to his waist. His face was aged beyond his years, and he had a naturally dark complexion. He was dressed like a desert dune-jockey, as Phoenix would refer to them; predators that liked to run down and pillage innocent travelers passing through. No more than simple highway bandits, but they'd garnered a reputation this close to the Border. His clothing was equally purposed to protect him from a life on the road with ample padding and leathers, but also to shock and scare his intended targets with the multitudes of spikes, chains, and studs. Finally, the man broke the silence as he brought his hand up over his chest and said, "I am Baptiste."

Phoenix's eyebrow twitched as he answered, "...Catholic."

Baptiste's weathered eyes narrowed as his hand fell down by his holster. Phoenix watched him closely as he said, "We goin' to stand around and flirt, or are we goin' to get down to business?"

Baptiste answered, "Why don't you show me your hardware?"

"Just as soon as you show me your scratch, holy man", Phoenix fired back as he smirked.

Almost in sync, both men signaled to their respective escorts, not taking their eyes off each other. As Phoenix's man reappeared from behind the truck with a single rifle, so did Baptiste's man with a stack of cash. Flash-transfers didn't matter much out here. Physical scratch was still currency of the kingdom. Both men approached each other cautiously, trying to keep their distance as they exchanged goods with one another. Keeping to their stare-down, Phoenix lit a cigarette and took a long drag, inhaling deep before exhaling smoke into the cool night sky. His man returned, counting the physical scratch before giving a nod of approval.

Baptiste asked of his man, "What do we have?"

Before the man could answer, Phoenix cut him off, "Militech Ajax. Custom-milled receivers, shortened cold hammer forged barrels, laser-sightin' integrated into the grips, and red-dots. No serial numbers."

"Hm, they been filed off?", Baptiste asked, skeptical of the product.

Phoenix smirked as he answered, "Never stamped to begin with. Clean as they come."

Baptiste's man inspected the rifle, shouldering it and testing the sights and laser before he said, "Is clean, boss."

Phoenix continued, "Got ten crates weighin' me down, amigo. Can all be yours once I feel the fiber o' your fabric."

Baptiste smiled wide as he brought a pinch of something to his nose, sniffing up sharply before his eyes flashed blue.

Bastard's chipped, Phoenix thought to himself as his jaw clenched. He carefully kicked the front bumper of the truck with his boot, signaling to Falco the shit was likely about to hit the fan.

Sure enough, a convoy of trucks and SUVs in equal amounts of disrepair to the lead vehicle appeared over the dune, headed straight for them with a fierceness, causing Phoenix to mutter to himself, "And away we go."

Baptiste's hand went for iron strapped to his thigh, but Phoenix beat him to the punch as he quick-drew his Malorian Overture and fired a single shot from his hip. As Baptiste grabbed his throat, blood spewing from the fresh wound through his fingers, Phoenix brought the Malorian to the ready and planted another shot, vaporizing Baptiste's head in a mist of blood and skull fragments. Next, he put a single round through both the second man and the lead vehicle's driver. From the rear of the SUV, the wildman reappeared, screaming incoherently as he let off rounds from his shotgun. Phoenix was lining up his shot when the wildman's right arm blew off of his body, leaving a gaping hole of singed flesh and shattered bones in its wake. A second shot tore the body clean in half. Phoenix turned to find Falco's arm out the driver side window, smoke rising from the barrel of his Metel as he gave a wink and a nod. Phoenix smirked as he turned to run across to the lead vehicle. He had to take the chance that the rest of their money was actually there.

As he ran, he loaded fresh rounds into the empty chambers of his revolver. Upon reaching the vehicle, he was met with a hail of gunfire from the other side, forcing him to take cover and hunker down. As he waited for the burst of fire to stop, he tried to peek inside the car. There were two identical heavy duffel bags, one unzipped. Maybe it was their lucky day after all.

As the rumbling of the approaching engines grew louder, Phoenix quickly realized he would soon be surrounded. He counted his options; there were none. Trying to mad dash with both bags back to the truck was suicide. Trying to squeeze into the car for cover was suicide. Staying out in the open was suicide. He closed his eyes to concentrate, his mind flashing for a brief moment to Tallulah and his unborn daughter. At last, his eyes opened, and he cocked the hammer or his revolver as he stood up to make his stand. As he pointed his revolver to the first car, one of his escort vehicles fishtailed in the sand, coming to a stop in front of him. To Phoenix's surprise, Falco was at the wheel. The cargo truck was nowhere in sight.

He watched as Falco put a round through the engine block of each approaching vehicle, stopping them dead in their tracks. Finally, Falco turned to him and yelled, "Grab the cash and the other rifle, and get your ass in the car!"

Phoenix smiled as he fired a few rounds in the other direction for cover before grabbing the bags of cash from the lead vehicle, throwing them into the back seat of his escort vehicle. When he was clear, he moved around to the body of Baptiste's second man. Sure enough, the rifle they'd handed over for inspection was next to his body, ripe for the taking. Phoenix emptied another 3 rounds at approaching vehicles before grabbing the rifle and shifting back around. He ran as quickly as he could, barreling into the already-open passenger side of the car as Falco wasted no time. Their car fishtailed again in the sand, fighting to gain traction before stabilizing on a straight line. By this point, Phoenix had situated himself, holding the rifle at the ready as Falco holstered his own revolver and handed over a few Ajax magazines as he said, "Lock 'n load. They're likely to give chase."

Trying to catch his breath, Phoenix loaded the rifle as he asked, "Where in all o' creation did you get that hand-cannon?!"

Falco smirked, "Door prize from a dead scav tried to get a drop on us in Night City. Russian made, fires explosive rounds that detonate on impact."

Phoenix cranked down the car's passenger window as he said, "That's mighty handy", and leaned out to cover their rear. There were only two vehicles left from the convoy, and each were following closely as he fired a few rounds, trying to keep himself from bouncing too much as he dodged gunfire in his direction. He found a stable point after a few seconds, adjusting his aim to compensate as he opened fire on the nearest vehicle in short and controlled bursts. He caught a break, managing to tag the driver and paint the windows inside the vehicle red as he turned to the second vehicle. He elected on a more practical tactic this time as he aimed for the tires, popping off a few rounds at each. Finally, he caught the front passenger tire, causing the vehicle to wobble as it struggled to keep up. Phoenix continued firing until he caught the rear tire as well, sending the vehicle to a hard stop in the sand as he and Falco pulled away.

As he pulled himself back into the car and cranked up the window, Falco was smiling and beating the steering wheel as he exclaimed, "Damn good shootin', cowboy! We just might make it out of this one!"

Phoenix furrowed his brow in concern as he looked at Falco and said, "What, you had doubts about that?"

Falco casually shrugged, "Shit's gone way worse for reasons of which I can't make heads or tails to this very day, so consider me always skeptical... man, you were ice cold with that guy!"

Phoenix smirked and looked down as Falco continued, "I mean, two fellas starin' each other down, sizin' each other up, hands on their holsters at a moment's notice, the tension buildin'... like somethin' right out of an old cowboy movie.

"Yeah, an' all's I'm missin' is your mustache", said Phoenix with a chuckle. Falco pursed his lips as he stroked his mustache and said, "Tell you what, we get clear of this, I'll loan you mine until you can grow your own..."

Phoenix laughed out loud as he fired back, "Lord only knows where and what you've been and done with that thing, brother."

Falco punched his arm and joined him in laughing as they continued down the road. After a few minutes, the CB radio sounded with a voice indicating the cargo truck was clear across the border and safe, to which Phoenix and Falco responded they were well on their way to rendezvous.

--

[2069, San Xavier]

There was an immediate camaraderie between Phoenix and Falco, and they became fast friends after their first job together. Thanks to Falco's "roaming" status among the Aldecaldos, he often found himself passing through Tucson, and always tried to stop in and say hello at the very least. From time to time, Phoenix would even cut him in on jobs to put a little extra scratch in his pocket. Tallulah was fond of him, and had even tried to set him up with a few of her friends, but he politely declined. By his own admission, he wasn't the settle-down type.

Rafe and Tallulah weren't speaking at all at this point. His resentment for his station in life had utterly consumed him. Over ten years, he had become a shell of the proud leader everyone once knew him to be. Phoenix tried his best to stay out of the way. Despite Rafe's hostility towards him, Phoenix never held any animosity towards the man. Once he was no longer taking jobs from Rafe, he just wanted to be left alone, to live in peace with his new family. Their daughter, Lily, was approaching five years old, and was already a chip off the old block. Overall, life was good. But like all things, there is a season and a time for which it must end.

The full moon had risen, bidding farewell to the unforgiving summer heat as the evening chill set in. A distant howl of wild gray wolves was enough to send a chill down anyone's spine. There was a light breeze carrying grains of sand and brush. An elder might have told you the spirits of their ancestors were moving fervently on this night. Something was amiss, but no one could quite place a finger on what.

There was a desperate dialing of numbers on a phone's keypad. The line rang, Rafe praying the other end answered. A raspy voice finally picked up and chided him, "Still can't believe you're this desperate, Youngblood."

Rafe asked dryly, "Is everything ready, and are you clear on what's to be done?"

The voice answered dismissively, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, we got it. Sneak onto the reservation from the northeast and raise some hell. You come out and drive us off, lookin' like a big damn hero when it's all done."

"And what else?", Rafe pressed him.

The voice sighed and answered, "Anything south of the Mission is off-limits. We got it."

The call dropped, and Rafe placed his phone back in his pocket as he walked over and pulled the doors to the Mission open. He joined a group of at least a dozen other men, some as old or older than him, some even younger than Phoenix (now in his late 30s). They were standing around, agitated and restless, as several other men were rambling on to them. Phoenix kept his cool, leaning against a desk out of the way. His presence actually served two purposes. He was there both as a representative of San Xavier, but also as protection for the Snake Nation representatives addressing the Reservation.

And for good reason; nobody, Phoenix included, liked what they were hearing. The Council was handing down orders that corpo convoys were henceforth off-limits as discussions were being had to farm out protection for said convoys in the Badlands exclusively to the Snake Nation. In short, the Snake Nation in San Xavier was doing a complete about-face. It spelled doom for their reputation if it actually went through. The nomad clans were founded to stand against corpo rule; what would it spell for others if a nomad clan heeled to a corpo for table scraps?

Phoenix had already made his protests against this decision known, sparking a debate that had carried on for over an hour so far. To his surprise, he and Rafe actually agreed on something for once. Rafe took a position in the center of the group as he called out to the Council representatives, "What you are asking of us to surrender our pride, our identity, to the very thing we swore to stand against!"

As one of the representatives stood and parroted a statement already said a dozen times over about "survival" and the "greater good", Rafe dismissed him entirely as he continued, "This isn't just about Nomad pride! This is about our tribe's pride. What if the unaffiliated reservations or clans hear of this? They'll perceive it as weakness!"

There it was, Phoenix thought as he rolled his eyes. Rafe was appealing to ancient history, specifically the Tohono O'odham's bitter rivalry with the Apache. That war had been over for 150 years, but some still held animosity, foolish as it was.

It didn't matter, they were just going around in circles at this point, wasting time and breath. Phoenix had already considered an offer Falco gave him before; join up with the Aldecaldos. He had always wanted Lily to be close to her heritage, but not if this was how it would be remembered going forward. He was now seriously considering making the call. Tallulah had already agreed it might be best for their family to get away from Tucson altogether. It clearly wasn't getting any better as the corpos exerted more and more influence.

Phoenix was pulled out of his own mind by a light tremble in the ground. He could feel it through the old floorboards of the Mission. He looked to a coffee cup, finding the liquid inside trembling as well. Every hair on his arms and neck stood up as he walked to a window and looked out. By now the rumbles were audible, closer, heard by everyone in the mission. There were plumes of light going off in the distance; explosions.

Whatever petty arguments they were having didn't matter anymore. Phoenix called out to all of them as he made his way to the doors, "We're under attack!"

Everyone scrambled to follow, except for Rafe. He stood his ground, deciding how best to make his appearance. There was almost a twinkle in his eye as he looked at the Council members hunkering down.

Outside, Phoenix and a few others made their way around the exterior of the Mission, following the explosions with weapons drawn. After a hundred yards, the sounds of motorcycles and yells became clear. Phoenix signaled to everyone to get ready as they approached closer, crouching to try and catch the attackers off guard.

He took aim with his revolver, trying to find a suitable target. Among the chaos, there was a single rider not moving. He was waving a torch back and forth as he called out to the others. Phoenix trained his sights on the man for several seconds before firing a single shot.

Against the burning fires, he could see the rider's head explode as the body and bike fell over together. The rest of the riders all yelled to one another and immediately dispersed, retreating to the north. Phoenix signaled to the others with him to move forward carefully. As they approached the dying fires, they couldn't quite make sense of it. It looked as though the attackers had just haphazardly thrown molotovs or home-made grenades into the sand. There was no damage to anything, as there was really nothing this far north; just sand, shrubs, cacti, and more sand. Phoenix stood confused for a few seconds as he looked at the body of the single rider. Half of his head was missing, but his body told a more interesting tale. His arms were adorned in ink with an indigenous motif. The most telling thing about the body was the leather jacket bearing patches and rockers belonging to an unaffiliated Apache nomad clan.

Phoenix's face went stone-cold, remembering Rafe's words only a few minutes before. As he stood up and looked back towards the mission, a large explosion lit up the sky from the south. Everyone around him began to panic; south of the Mission were the residential areas. This was a diversion. Phoenix wasted no time as he sprinted as fast as he could back towards the Mission as more explosions lit up and sounded off in the distance.

Back inside the Mission, Rafe's face took on a look of horror as he watched homes burning before his eyes. Those lucky enough to escape from their homes were quickly cut down. There were screams and cries of women and children mixed with motorcycles revving, gunfire, and merciless cheering and whooping. He had to do something. He had to help. He caused this, but how the fuck was he going to fix it. In his hubris and clouded judgment, he had given a rival clan carte blanche to openly attack them, to destroy their homes, to murder their families. How do you rectify that?

As quickly as everything had gone to utter shit, it was already over. Before the Tohono could even mount a counterattack, the Apache had all retreated off into the night. The damage was done. They didn't care about Rafe's plan. They had destroyed as much as possible and then ran at the first sight of trouble. There would be no heroes in this story.

As the other men created a perimeter around the Mission, still trying to make sense of it all, Phoenix ran completely past all of them as he made his way into the residential areas. There was only one thing on his mind right now. He was driven by fear and pure adrenaline as his lungs burned and he poured sweat amid the raging fires and billowing smoke. He quietly prayed to whoever was listening; it fell on deaf ears, as he finally turned the corner of a dirt road and almost immediately fell to his knees. His eyes were stuck on his house, or what was left of it. The flames had completely overtaken it from the inside out, feeding off the wood, trying to find a way to breach the stucco.

Between the heat and sweat and utter shock of everything going on around him, Phoenix didn't even recognize the tears rolling down his face. It was getting harder to breathe, not just because of the fire around him, but because of the pain and rage welling up inside him. His heart was pounding, his mouth was dry, his eyes burned. All he wanted was to scream, but he had no voice. In this moment, everything had been taken from him...

Phoenix's hands curled into fists around handfuls of sand. He brought his arms up to his face, the sand pouring through his fingers as he fought some power trying to escape from him. He felt like whatever it was would tear him apart as his entire body trembled and shook. Finally, in a single moment of clarity, his eyes narrowed and he felt an overwhelming calm amid the chaos. He wasn't at peace, but he was clear and present, the rage fueling him. He mustered his strength and stood up. There was nothing for him now, not here. He closed his eyes and wept silently for a minute as he committed Tallulah's and Lily's spirits to Mother Earth.

As his eyes opened, he turned and made his way back to the Mission. He knew what had to be done. He knew it would be the end of him, and he welcomed it.

Rafe was standing outside the mission in the middle of a large group of survivors. Even though he was to blame for all of this, he was genuinely horrified at what it had all come to. This wasn't what he wanted. It didn't matter now. This is the hand he was dealt, and he had to lead his people with the weight of all of this on his conscience. This was his penance for the pursuit of power.

Suddenly and without warning, he felt a quick jerk at the back of his collar as he was brought to his knees. A deafening yell sounded in his ears as Phoenix unleashed everything pent up inside of him, "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO, OLD MAN?!"

Phoenix planted strike after strike against Rafe's head and body. Rafe's willingness to accept this fate told Phoenix all that he needed to know. A few others tried to pull them apart, but Phoenix shook all of them off with little effort before drawing his revolver and planting it firmly against the crown of Rafe's head as he locked eyes with everyone standing around them. Nobody present even recognized Phoenix in this moment. In his place, there was a feral beast of a man before them, eyes burning, breathing ragged; a man who had everything stripped away and nothing left to lose. Once he was sure they took his meaning, he dragged Rafe through the sand as they headed back into streets between the burning homes. Rafe's faces was bloodied and bruised by this point, but he was still conscious and aware of his surroundings. As Phoenix carried him through the streets, he looked up before realizing where he was being taken. He already felt the tears coming as they turned the corner and stood in the middle of the street.

With no effort at all, Phoenix threw Rafe face down in front of him and said for all the survivors that had followed them to hear, "Look at your work! Look. At. What. You've. Done!"

Rafe pushed himself up, coughing from smoke and dust as he kneeled and looked at the remains of a burning house where his daughter and grandchild had been. He kept silent, but the tears were shed. Phoenix approached him, once again planting the revolver's barrel against his head as he said, "You will confess before me and everyone here to what you did!"

Rafe broke his silence as he said, defeated, "...the fuck does it matter anymore, half-breed?! Everything is gone!"

One of the Council members that had followed them called out to Phoenix, "You can't do this! He must be held accountable for his actions, but not like this!"

Phoenix turned to the Council member and said nothing. His eyes said it all. The Council member pleaded, "Please, Phoenix, you will be excommunicated from the Snake Nation and your tribe if you do this!"

Phoenix's eyes narrowed as he locked eyes with the man and said, "All of it be damned."

A single gunshot rang out, and it was done. Rafe's body fell limp, Phoenix still holding him by the collar, as blood and brains spilled onto the sand. Phoenix pointed the revolver at the Council member, then to the others that had followed. As he let go and Rafe's corpse fell, he holstered his revolver and began to walk towards them all. When he was close enough, he said calmly, "Look around and see what power does to a man."

They all turned and watched as Phoenix continued to walk, alone. He walked past the other homes, past the Mission. He kept walking until he disappeared into the darkness.

--

Phoenix walked for three days without stopping. Falco had been on his way back from one of his regular runs in Texas when he stopped in at the Reservation to say hello. It didn't take him long to figure out which way Phoenix was headed. Falco found him walking alongside the 10 outside of the city of Phoenix, ironically enough. He was half-dead from heat and dehydration, but he was driven by some otherworldly force. Falco had to drug him to get him in the car. With nothing left and nowhere to go, Falco made the choice for him; they were headed to Night City. While not a member of the NC Aldecaldos family itself, he was welcome there; he chose instead to make his home on the outskirts of the city as opposed to the Badlands. He had no proper Nomad family to call his own; instead, he was a "roamer" between different families throughout, offering his services wherever needed. He preferred it that way. There was less emotion involved.

It was another three days before Phoenix actually spoke. By this point he was sleeping on Falco's couch. He was a mere shell of a man, subsisting in a cloud of cigarette smoke and whiskey. Falco knew this couldn't last, but what could he do? The man was in mourning for his partner of ten years and their five-year-old daughter. They were his entire world.

This went on for a month, until it all finally came to a head. Falco walked in on Phoenix trying to eat the business end of his own revolver. That was the last straw; something had to give. Falco snapped on Phoenix and admonished him for his behavior, reminding him that Tallulah would have wanted him to live his life to the fullest, with or without her. It was rough and unpleasant for a while, but Phoenix was finally able to dry himself out and pull himself out of the hole he was in. It hurt like hell, but Falco was right; he needed to move forward.

When he was finally able to hold his revolver at the ready without his hands trembling, he tagged along as "protection" on smuggling gigs with Falco's Aldecaldos contacts before branching out on his own. They stayed close, and regularly tossed each other work or took jobs together, but Phoenix didn't want to be a burden on Falco any longer. Falco never took it that way, just looking out for a friend, but he understood where Phoenix was coming from; a man had to stand on his own two feet.

Phoenix quickly found his footing and established himself as a reputed enforcer and gunslinger out of Watson. His name even crossed Rogue Amendiares' table, bringing him work from the Afterlife for a period of time. By 2072, he had a successful Solo operation, steady money, and a shot at a new life; it was around this time he met Mei Hasegawa and her daughter Mizuki, falling madly in love with them almost immediately. One might say he was just looking to replace what he had lost, and maybe there was some truth to that, but he loved Mei more than life itself, and he came to love Mizuki as if she were his own blood.

Finally, in 2072, he and Falco both were offered a fateful job by Rogue. This was Phoenix's proper introduction to Saul Bright, a young and eager Family leader with his own grand visions. A convoy of Biotechnica goods had been hijacked by Raffen Shiv, and they were willing to pay top-eddie to retrieve it. Unbeknownst to anyone, Saul had his own agenda with Biotechnica on the back channels...

--

[2072, Badlands outside Night City]

As had become the custom between them over the last two years, Falco and Phoenix sat in the front row of the vehicle they were tasked with driving and escorting, both smoking cigarettes to the chagrin of their passengers. Their target was a Raffen camp half a kilometer away. Saul was in the back of the van, reiterating the plan to 3 other Aldecaldos. Phoenix spoke up, offering his opinion and expertise on the matter, "Y'know, instead of a mad rush to the front gate as a show of force and stupidity, you might consider splittin' up and taking each flank; work your way to the middle."

Saul fired back with utter disregard, "And you might consider keeping your nose out of this, Outsider. Just stick to the job we're paying you for and watch our backs."

Phoenix looked at Falco before he said, "Yeah, 'cept you're not payin' us. Rogue's payin' us."

Falco smirked, giving Phoenix the validation he wanted. Saul furrowed his brow in frustration, dropping the matter entirely. He'd heard the stories about San Xavier and Phoenix's unceremonious departure. He didn't trust the man, and he thought it beneath Falco as an Aldecaldo to continue associating with him. But, he also didn't trust Falco as a man who refused to give loyalty to a particular Family. Boil down the bullshit, he didn't like that he couldn't give orders to Falco on a whim.

Phoenix threw Saul a bone as he continued, "Look, you do whatever you want, and we'll back you, because that's what we're bein' paid to do; but as part of havin' your back, I'd feel remiss in my contractual obligations if I didn't at least warn y'all that stormin' the front gate of a Raffen camp is about as stupid as tryin' to pull the horns off a steer in a red shirt."

Falco bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling. Whether it just came with the territory of hitting 40 years old, or if it was leaning into the cowboy antics for dramatic effect, Phoenix had picked up a particularly hilarious habit of dropping pearls of wisdom using stereotypical analogies of life on the frontier, especially when he was being condescending. Falco never got tired of hearing what he could come up with on the fly. At the same time, he could see a spark of life in Phoenix's eyes that he hadn't seen for a long time. Mei had Mizuki had been good for him. They had given him purpose, a reason to keep going. It was good to see his old friend doing well.

At last, Saul confirmed his guys were clear on the plan, and they all began to pile out of the van's back doors. Phoenix opened his door and stepped out, much to Saul's confusion. Phoenix spoke dryly, "I'm bein' to paid to keep y'all alive. If you think I'm goin' to sit on my ass and let you have all the fun, you got another thing comin', amigo."

With that, Phoenix checked his revolver and slid it into his shoulder holster with a cool and calm precision that even Saul had to admire. He could tell there was no arguing with a man twice his size, so he said with defeat in his voice, "Fine, but you follow my lead. Is that clear?"

"Loud and", Phoenix answered with a smirk as he signaled something to Falco. To Saul's shock, the van's engine turned over and it moved slowly. Phoenix quelled his curiosity and said, "Never leave a vehicle sittin' in one spot. If they have a perimeter up with roamin' patrols, this van sticks out like a sore thumb."

Saul shrugged his eyebrows as he said, "Well, looks like we're on foot from here."

They all nodded to one another as they checked their weapons and moved forward. The downside about working in the Badlands at night is if there was any bit of the moon shining in the sky, the sand would almost glow, making it very hard to stay hidden. The small outcroppings of rocks dotting the landscape were their saving grace as they carefully approached, the camp getting bigger in the distance.

To their benefit, the camp actually sat down in the ground by several feet, a natural defilade of stone forming around it, except what had been cleared for the front entrance. This gave them the advantage of natural cover as they approached. There was still a matter of the last 30 feet to the front entrance with no cover at all, and three men keeping watch. It was just enough distance to alert the entire camp, and the crew weren't carrying suppressed weapons. Saul looked to Phoenix with a subtle nod and whispered, "Guess we're doing this your way, cowboy."

Phoenix answered, not taking his eyes off the situation, "Ain't my way. Just the way that makes the most sense."

Saul wanted to smack Phoenix in that moment. Always some remark, some quip, some comment. It was infuriating. He stowed that thought as Phoenix continued, explaining to them the plan. He would take the rear, and two each of Saul and his men would take either side. They would stick to knives or nonlethal only unless they had no other choice. No firearms unless an alarm was raised.

From the few minutes they had spent observing the camp, they couldn't make out more than 10 unique hostiles. Not to say a crew of 5 couldn't handle them; Phoenix could empty the camp on his own if he really put his back into it. But there was no guarantee they didn't have help nearby, only a holocall away.

As they made their way around the camp to their respective positions, the sounds of laughter, strumming guitars, and a roaring bonfire filled the air; they were having a jolly old time. Shame it's 'bout to go to shit, Phoenix thought to himself as he dropped down from the outcropping behind cover and made his approach. The first obstacle was a single body, his back to Phoenix, keeping watch over the campfire and leaning against a waist-high stack of crates. There was no one else in proximity, at least that Phoenix could see, as he carefully stepped forward. His target was now only a few feet in front of him. He gave a steady count, one, two, three!

Phoenix stood up and reached out, grabbing his target and pulling him up and over the crates without making a sound as he crouched back down. He had the Raffen's mouth covered, masking any screams as he shoved a sharpened blade between the man's ribs. The screams subsided before ceasing completely as the man's eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp. Phoenix carefully released, pushing the man's body aside as he peeked over the crates. Nobody noticed.

He was gearing up to continue forward before he saw a lit Molotov flying through the air towards the bonfire. His jaw clenched as he said to himself, "Fuckin' amateurs", and drew his revolver. As he might have expected, the Molotov exploded with a wide radius, igniting several Raffen as they panicked and screamed to put the flames out. There was no hiding now. Phoenix stood up and took aim.

Saul and his men were closing in from either side, firing indiscriminately at everything and yet hitting nothing. Phoenix could only roll his eyes as he let off shot after shot, each finding its mark. The fires were spreading as one of the tents went up in flames from the Molotov. As Saul made short work of any Raffen left over, Phoenix joined them in the middle of the camp and said, "What the fuck was that?!"

Saul stood up proudly and said, "This is Aldecaldos giving Raffen their due and proper!"

Phoenix shook his head as a holocall pinged in his head. One of the upsides of coming to Night City was Falco had convinced him to get chipped. Nothing major, just a regular neural interface port, integrated comms, a HUD, and a few other quality-of-life improvements. Phoenix had to admit it was easier to maintain a private conversation when the words never had to leave your mouth. As he answered, he was met with Falco's voice, "Guessin' they didn't like your plan?"

Pops chuckled and answered, "Why, whatever gave it away?"

"Oh you know, a giant fuckin' fireball lightin' up the sky like a Matsuri parade through Japantown...", Falco fired back before continuing, "Anyhow, you got major hate inbound, looks to be at least twenty vehicles from what the drone's thermals are kickin' back. Got maybe 3 minutes. I'm out front and ready."

Phoenix smiled as he said, "Copy that, brother, thanks for the heads-up."

He whistled to the rest of the crew, signaling it was time to bail. Saul was already at the front of the camp, loading crates and arguing with Falco about something. As Phoenix approached, the conversation became clear. Saul was inisting they leave now and that he be the one behind the wheel, to which Falco was vehemently protesting.

Finally, Saul turned to Phoenix and pled his case, "Look, fuck Rogue and fuck the Afterlife, right? Nomads can only trust nomads at the end of the day."

Falco leaned against the van, blocking the driver's door as he said, "Well, actually... Phoenix here already fucked Rogue a while back."

Phoenix smirked as Saul continued, "I have a direct line to the people looking for this gear. Fuck paying a middleman when you can just go to the source. Plus they can guarantee us more work if we prove our mettle with this job. But we have to leave now. The others can cover our escape. They know their way home..."

Falco narrowed his eyes, "Sounds a lot like takin' a knee for a corpo..."

Phoenix sidestepped that altogether and said, "We're not fucking over Rogue; Afterlife has been good to us. And you know three men stand no chance against 20 vehicles. Now go round them up, and we'll leave."

Saul began to panic as he said, "I'm the one paying the eddies for this gig, so I set the conditions. We leave now!"

They both tensed up at the tone of his voice. Phoenix stared Saul down as he said, "Then pay us our five G's apiece now, and we'll be gone."

They both knew Saul didn't have the scratch, nor would he cough it up here and now even if he did, so egging him on was just meant to frustrate him further. It worked, as Saul's eyes began to burn. Phoenix took the liberty of throwing every single crate out of the van as he said, "This shit goes nowhere while your boys are still in that camp."

He was met with the sound of a racking slide as he turned to find Saul pointing a gun directly at him. He signaled to Falco to hold off, preferring to handle this one himself. He stepped forward, pressing his chest against the barrel as he stared Saul in the eyes. He could feel the tremble in Saul's hands as he said calmly, "Rethink that move, son."

Saul's conviction began to waver, and before he could react, Phoenix stripped him of his iron in one move before pushing him back with a heavy hand. He spat in anger as he said, "Outsiders, both of you! If you abandon us here, you are unwelcome in my Family!"

"Hey Falco, that sound a bit ironic to you?", Phoenix asked as he readied his arm before tossing Saul's iron back into the camp and continued, "Corpo pet know how to play fetch?"

Saul stumbled backwards, beginning to sweat as he turned away and ran back into the camp. Phoenix looked to Falco for a second before they both climbed into the van and took off. This wasn't their fight; it wasn't their problem. Saul had made sure of that. They had both agreed as soon as they began working together in Night City that they would walk away if a contract hung them out to dry. The time had come.

A kilometer down the road, Falco finally spoke, "Rogue's goin' to lose her shit."

Phoenix scoffed as he answered, "You let me handle Rogue. What about you?"

Falco chuckled and said, "He has no authority to excommunicate me. Though I probably won't stop by the camp any time soon."

"Damn shame", Phoenix remarked, sadness in his voice, "There's good people there."

"Ah, we're a resilient bunch", Falco said reassuringly, "He's a thorn in our side for the moment, but he'll cross the wrong people soon enough, then he won't be a problem anymore."

Phoenix shrugged his eyebrows. Falco had a point. Ambition like that usually burned out quicker than most. He'd seen that firsthand back in San Xavier. Either way, it wasn't their problem. He just wanted to get home to his girls...

--

Falco was right; Rogue lost her shit on Phoenix. Once she was cooled off, he explained the circumstances. She understood their end of it, but it didn't help matters. A fixer that fails to deliver is a reputation that can kill in Night City. Rogue had a soft spot for Phoenix, but she had to stand her ground here. They were in the shit-house, and it would be a long time before they got out.

Word on the street said that Saul was the only survivor from their run-in with the Raffen war party. Phoenix could only assume he found some way out of it, leaving the rest to die covering his escape. Saul was furious, cutting off all contact and refusing to work with the Afterlife ever again.

Falco also wasn't wrong. He had too many connections and too much history in the Aldecaldos for Saul Bright to be any real threat. But this job was a wake-up call for him. Saul should have been shot for what he tried to pull, putting himself in a corpo's pocket and placing that above his Family. But the clan leadership did nothing. It was disheartening. but Falco decided that was the last straw for him.

As for Phoenix, he knew he'd find work elsewhere, if not the Afterlife. He had built too many connections in Night City otherwise. It was strangely fortuitous timing considering while he was in the Badlands, Mei and Mizuki had been kidnapped by the Kabuki faction of the Tyger Claws. He didn't find this out until after the job, and from what the neighbors in the apartment building said, they'd already been gone for over 12 hours...

--