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"Channel 54 brings you the news—"
"Breaking update!"
"The convoy dispatched by Dog Town to transport high-grade weapons has been ambushed by unidentified assailants in the Badlands."
"Casualty reports are still incoming. The surrounding area has now been locked down by Colonel Kurt Hansen's forces. Unfortunately, our reporters have been unable to get a statement from the elusive colonel himself."
"For more—"
Click.
Jack reached out and switched off the radio. His face twisted with frustration.
Logan, however, didn't share that reaction. Compared to Jack's tension, he felt more… curious.
> Why am I even part of Dog Town?
He wasn't a street rat. He didn't wear a suit. But now, somehow, he was a soldier of Dog Town.
Still, maybe that wasn't so bad.
If he hadn't been part of Dog Town during that earlier battle, he'd probably be dead.
It was 2075.
The ashes of the Fourth Corporate War still choked the air.
Night City—once a prize, now a battlefield—sat cradled in the dust of a broken America.
And within that firestorm, legends—real, living legends—walked their paths under neon skies.
---
Logan glanced at his personal attribute panel. His expression dimmed.
> Weak.
That was the word that echoed in his mind.
His cyberware was trash—assembled from second-hand scrap. His stats were barely average. And his wallet? As empty as the ammo box after a street brawl.
Most of his old self's salary had gone into cheap flash mixed with paracetamol… or card games with half-drunk grunts.
He sat still, thoughts spiraling.
> Where do I go? How do I even start?
The chaos of Night City had hit him like a brick wall the moment he arrived.
At this point, the only move he could make… was to report back to Dog Town.
He couldn't just start roaming around, knocking on doors:
"Hey Rebecca, hey Panam—can I join your legendary crew?"
Ridiculous.
Still, that last life-or-death fight had shaken something loose.
Instinctively, he'd ordered Jack to recover the cargo—likely out of the buried fear of Colonel Hansen.
A man infamous for his iron will, sharp judgment, and brutal punishments.
---
[The character "Rebecca"'s favorability has been updated]
[Favorability: 0 — "You've sparked her curiosity. Good luck."]
[Reward: Reaction +2]
---
Logan blinked, still dazed from the firefight. He didn't feel different… but his head felt clearer, and his grip on the rifle felt tighter.
> Finally. A path forward.
---
Screeeeech!
The tires screamed across the cracked road. Logan nearly flew into the dash.
"Shit! We can't go back!" Jack growled. "I don't even wanna imagine what Hansen's gonna do to us."
Jack looked shaken. His pale face and trembling hands gave it away.
Logan narrowed his eyes.
> Is Hansen even worse than I remember?
Jack lit a cigarette with a shaky hand.
"Let's bail, man. Just… go."
Logan spoke calmly. "That's not a smart play. Hansen's influence stretches all across Night City. Even the NCPD works with him. Where can you run? Unless you're aiming for New America."
Truthfully, running now would just make things worse.
And Hansen? He might see Jack as the leak who fed info to the Cyberpunk team.
"Pfft. NCPD?" Jack scoffed, puffing smoke. "I know. I just… I'm not going back. What about you, brother?"
Logan noticed Jack's fingers inching toward the pistol at his waist.
He subtly tightened his grip around his rifle.
The air turned still. Even the smoke from Jack's cigarette stopped swirling.
Then Logan said, quietly:
"Alright, man. You go. I'll say I never saw you."
A thin, uneasy smile stretched across his face.
He owed Jack his life. That mattered more than any title or uniform.
As for Logan?
He had to go back.
---
[Character: Kurt Hansen]
[Faction: Dog Town]
[Favorability: 0 — "You do not want this to stay low."]
[Development Value: Very High]
[Stage Reward: Return to Dog Town. Meet Hansen. Gain access to legends. All attributes +1]
---
Jack exhaled deeply. Tension melted from his shoulders.
He stepped out of the vehicle, turning one last time.
"Wherever we go, it ain't here."
He tossed something over.
"A gift. Corp-grade gloves. Durable, reliable, grip like hell."
Logan caught them—still damp with blood and sweat. He watched Jack disappear into the corner of a graffiti-splattered alley.
> Two paths. Neither easy.
But Logan… still believed Hansen wouldn't gut him—if he could prove he wasn't the one who screwed up.
---
The vehicle rumbled through Taipingzhou, past burning trash piles and rusting paint drums, until it neared the Dog Town checkpoint.
"Stop for inspection."
A soldier in a full exo-mech suit raised a hand. Behind him, the security gate shimmered with crisscrossing infrared beams—sharp enough to map the hair on your arms.
Logan exposed the port on his neck.
The soldier plugged in, data streaming from the neural jack.
"Hah! You one of those poor bastards from this morning?"
The guard laughed. "Colonel Hansen's waiting. You're number three—the third rat who crawled back alive."
Logan forced a tight-lipped grin as scanners hummed around him.
"Move it! What is this, a damn car wash?"
Apparently, soldiers here weren't too gentle with their own kind.
---
"Sapphire Blue"—Dog Town's crown jewel.
A shining tower of authority planted like a dagger into Night City.
Inside? Hansen's war throne.
Once a soldier of New America—now a nightmare wrapped in chain-of-command protocol.
Logan was pulled from his car, disarmed, and pressed down by an armored hand on his shoulder.
"Logan! Show your eyes!"
A soldier with coded tattoos leaned in, clearly someone Logan's old self had once known.
He whispered something quick, then nodded.
Moments later, Logan was being escorted into the elevator of Bao Shiqing.
---
Meanwhile — Twisting Street, Night City
"Mann, did you hear me?"
Rebecca was curled up on a torn leather couch, boots on the table, swinging her legs with annoyed energy.
Mann rubbed his temples. "You're saying… a Nether Dog knew your name?"
"Exactly!" Rebecca snapped. "This was supposed to be a top-secret gig—straight from that shady middleman."
She rolled her eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And now I've got Hellhounds screaming my name and calling me a dumbass. Wonderful."
Pyrrha—her overly enthusiastic brother—flung his arms around like a street performer.
"I thought this was a simple grenade-and-run job!"
He paused, staring at Rebecca. "Wait… didn't I meet you at that dive bar last week?"
Mann groaned. His headache was only growing.
The middleman who set this all up? Gone. Poof.
Cleanup now fell on them. Lucky them.
He turned to the corner, where Sasha stood—arms crossed, shades glowing with pink-coded data.
"What about you, Sasha?"
Sasha Yakovleva closed her interface with a tiny heart animation.
It fit her aesthetic—pink, black, hacker-cute, lethal.
She tucked her bangs behind one ear.
"Dog Town's disgusting," she said bluntly. "But leave it to me. I'll dig up whoever that big-shot 'Nether Dog' was."
---
(Bobby Shields awaits…)