“Noh.” Kiwi said, as she stared out the Crystaldome of the Wendigo, watching the endless, dead wasteland pass by at a frankly unsafe speed.

“No?” The man beside her asked, as he stared forward, the length of black steel resting over his lap as he shifted, turning the wheel slightly to keep them on the cracked pavement of the highway.

“No, Noh.” Kiwi said, turning to him. The crop top and short shorts were wildly exposing to her, too used to her netsuit and longcoat, now long gone. Having her long, pale legs and stomach out in the open felt oddly revealing, not that she let it show, and it was better than having her tits out. She could have done with less blood spatter though.

“Yyyyyes?” He said, confused, and Kiwi sighed. Unlike her, he was still in the black slacks and jacket, though she’d managed to convince him to abandon the bloodsoaked white (hah, right) tanktop that he’d had for something less… well, less bloodsoaked. He didn’t seem to care one way or another, but had made the concession to her anyway.

“No, Noh.” She sighed. “Because of the mask.”

He glanced down at the armored ballistic half-mask that looked like something straight out of a Bushido movie. He lifted it, looking at the long, tengu-styled nose and snarling teeth, captured in gold and crimson. He’d pulled it off a dead Arasaka agent before they’d left back in the direction of Cali, along with a bunch of weapons, ammo and some medical supplies that had mostly been used to stop him from bleeding to death from the hole in his stomach.

And wasn’t that just a whole fucking thing, Kiwi thought bitterly. He moved and acted like he didn’t feel the through and through stab wound, but it certainly hadn’t forgotten him. Despite that, he’d managed to kill upwards a dozen of the Raffen, several of which had been trying to run him over. Of course, after opening up the trunk he nearly keeled over, leaving her to frantically run around trying to find Maxdocs and Bouncebacks from the mutilated bodies of the wasteland gangers and shove an unhealthy amount of drugs into his slowly bleeding out carcass.

And that was how their relationship started. Her naked ass pinning his bloody one to the ground while she shoved air hypos into him like they were going out of style. She was sure he had enjoyed the view, if nothing else, assuming that blank, glassy-eyed meant he was checking her out. After that it had just been a case of waiting for him to stop dying while she went hunting for clothes, then a gun, then two guns, then five, and a shitload of ammo, and while she would have liked to take the Arasaka heavy gear, that crap was all tracked and she didn’t have the ability to burn out the chips, what with that fucking jammer plugged into her head. What a fucking tragedy.

“What about it?” He asked, after a pause, and she had to bite back a response. She wasn’t in the best mood, okay? And she wasn’t unaware that if she pissed him off he could dump her ass in the desert and drive away. Still, the guy was showing himself to be surprisingly dense.

“It’s styled after a Noh mask. Still have no idea why you took the damn thing, but there’s some history to the design.” She said, and he hummed at that, doing that thing he did that was also really fucking annoy-

“Noh, from Japanese history. The cultural performance and dance theater.” Yes, that, Kiwi groused to herself. No idea what his name was, no idea where he was, or the date, or anything relevant, but he was able to pull those little fucking factoids out of his ass constantly.

“Yeah. I need something to call you, you gonk. Much as ‘The Man’ sounds all mysterious, it’s fucking annoying.” She huffed, and he laughed, the bastard.

“I like to think of myself as a font of wisdom.” He preened, and she rolled her eyes at him. “And to answer your question? I took it because it’s cool. Cool and functional. What more could a guy want?”

“That sounds so stupid it loops right back around to… no, still stupid.” She sighed, but he just gave a laugh. She slugged him in the shoulder, and he just gave her a grin for her trouble, and she turned away and shook her hand out, because goddamnit that hurt. What was he even fucking made of, corded steel?

“So you picked Noh, because of the mask.” He hummed, amused, as he pulled them back on track. “Well, it seems appropriate enough. Poetic even, if what you think about what happened to me is right.”

And that was the other thing. Well, the other other thing. The jackass had a lot of things, Kiwi was realizing, but if nothing else, she was ninety percent sure he was a burnout, though not the druggie kind. She’d seen something similar to it before, anyone who’d ever used a joytoy or a Doll would recognize it, but this was only superficially the same. The Japanese called it Bunraku, a term she’d picked up from somewhere, and that she’d heard tall tales of, but never seen. A kind of slang for people who had their brains cooked and then reprogrammed to be… something else.

He didn’t seem to care all that much about it, but that was more than likely a holdover from whoever did it to him. Which, don’t get her wrong, it was tragic, but it sucks to suck. She had enough problems without trying to puzzle out a murderblender that lost his bowl. Still, she was glad that it was the personality that had been fucked, as he was more than capable of incredible violence. All in all, if she had to pick between being a real boy and being able to kill the shit out of some gonk, she knew which one she would rather be stuck with.

“Well, it’s a name.” Noh said, shrugging, and went back to staring out the crystaldome along with her. It had been a day since they’d managed to get away from the site where everything went down, and she couldn’t be happier to put that shit behind her. Granted, she was glad they’d taken the time to do some looting, and she had gotten real lucky in finding her cyberdeck amongst the wreckage of one of the cars, but she was still fuck outta luck when it came to using it. Goddamn jammer.

“That it is, Noh.” She said, and turned back to staring out the crystaldome. She knew that maybe she should be a bit more personable with the guy, but she was grumpy, and while the Raffen had some meal bars that were… edible and some water that sure was water, she was peckish, filthy, and her head hurt. Her tits too, and she couldn’t emphasize that enough, given that she had some major rugburn and the crop wasn’t doing much to help that.

“So where are we going, again?” he asked a second later, and Kiwi massaged her head as she turned back. This had been the fourth time he’d asked, and she was beginning to realize that just telling him it was Night City wasn’t doing much to stop him. She was just grateful that her GPS still worked, because he’d been driving towards Nevada of all places before she’d thought to check.

“You keep asking me that. Is there something you’d like to know?” She asked, exasperated. “Something you can’t just pull out of your ass?”

“I know the history of it, about Night corp, buncha trivia. None of it seems… relevant, though. It’s just data.” He said, and gave her a side-smile. “Maybe I just wanna hear about it from your lovely… faceplate?” he said, and deflated a bit.

“Smooth, Casanova.” Kiwi snarked, and then turned away, “It’s nothing special, despite all the bullshit. Murder capitol of the world, three time champ, place people go to get rich or die trying. Mostly die trying. It really kinda sucks.”

“Then… why are we going back there?” He asked, and she laughed at the question. Why indeed?

“I honestly don’t know. It’s home, it’s where my stuff is. It’s where that fuckstick Faraday hangs his hat, and he owes me money for this total clusterscrew.” Kiwi was really not looking forward to that meeting, all things being equal. Faraday had a way about him, nickel and diming shit if things didn’t go perfectly to his plan, and they never did. She was sure he’d have all kinds of complaints, even though nobody could have guessed the Raffen were tracking the same convoy they were.

“Thanks for that, by the way.” He said after a moment. He meant it, too, she had come to realize. She had eventually told him that she was part of the crew that hit the caravan and presumably freed him. He didn’t know, but it sounded right to him. Really, she’d been looking for any way to score some good will with the guy at the time, since she wasn’t sure if she was about to get murderfucked at the time like the rest of the Shiv.

“You’re welcome. Again.” She said, and to a point, she even appreciated it. Getting thanked for anything was rare in this day and age, especially if the thanker meant it. She chalked it up to him being functionally born yesterday, if anything made sense about it at all. People who were more jaded didn’t waste their breath.

“But I still wanna hear about it. Night City, I mean.” Noh said, and Kiwi leaned back, “There’s gotta be more to it than-” His words cut off abruptly.

“What?” Kiwi went from lounging to alert in a millisecond. She had seen him do this before, alerting like a sniffer dog. Last time it had been an AV that had been passing overhead, heading towards the ambush site no doubt, and he’d stashed them both behind a tall dune while it sped past. Both could see the Arasaka logo on the side, and it was loaded down with cannons and missiles.

It had been a good catch, because while she doubted they would give chase if they spotted a lone Raffen vehicle, this piece of shit Mizutano couldn’t survive a strafe from those guns, much less a missile, and ‘Saka wasn’t exactly known for not taking potshots if they could out here. She hoped that whatever it was could be dodged just like last time, but she knew what they said about hoping in one hand and shitting in the other.

“Another AV? Or the one that passed us from before?” She asked, but he shook his head.

“No, look south-southwest. See the clouds?” He pointed, but she didn’t need the assist. It was impossible not to spot the dust plumes in the distance. A lot of them, in fact, and she would bet her last eddy that they were coming right at them.

“Fuck. More Raffen. Fuck fuck fuck…” Kiwi muttered to herself as she leaned over the center console and into the back of the Shion, grabbing at one of the rifles back there and shoveling magazines into her footwell.

“More than likely, yes.” He hummed, seemingly unconcerned. “Hey, Kiwi? Can you grab that shotgun back there? The small one?” “He asked, as he got a faceful of her ass. A second later something heavy dropped into his lap, barely missing the crown jewels in the process.

He would have complained, but half a dozen more magazines rained down on him moments later, and honestly, she hadn’t hit anything important so he forgave her for it as she dropped into the seat next to him again.

“I feel like you aren’t nearly as worried as you should be.” She growled, as she racked the… Ajax, it looked like. “I feel very much like you aren’t giving this the level of concern it requires, Noh!”

As he shoved a couple of the loose magazines into his pockets and another into the gun, a pozhar, he glanced at her. “I think we’ll be okay. We were the last time, weren’t we?”

“The last time there were three cars and maybe a dozen guys!” She snapped. “That dust plume looks like there have to be at least a dozen runners, and maybe a battle wagon or two! Plus who fucking knows what else!”

“Honestly that doesn’t sound too bad. I mean, probably.” Noh shrugged, checking the shotgun with one hand while he balanced the wheel with the other. “Might even be fun!”

There was a quiet, singular pause where Kiwi, having forgotten that the person next to her had zero context for just how bad things could be, considered throwing herself out the door and leaving her fate in God’s hands. Then she remembered that God was dead and even if he wasn’t, he sure wouldn’t give a shit about her.

“We’re both going to die, aren’t we?” She asked in a small voice, as she felt the modified Shion jerk sideways. Noh, for his part, was slamming the pedal to the metal as the V8 engine drank it’s fill of CHOO2 and roared like the monster it was named after, and she slammed hard into the door. Noh snapped the wheel and stabbed the throttle at the same time, throwing the car into a hard lateral drift that carried them parallel to the roaring wave of Fleshrippers as they bayed in the distance.

“We aren’t gonna die, Kiwi!” Noh laughed, as he dragged his mask up and locked it in place. She just stared at him as her mind tabulated all the horrible ways they were both going to get flatlined. “Better get ready, though! Here they come!”

She turned, looking out the back screen of the crystaldome, and true enough, like a tide of locusts, or a horde of old-world mongols, the wave of Raffen Shiv came roaring after them, turing a slow, ponderous turn as theory zeroed in on the dust plume from their little dune racer. She could almost see the psychotic glee in the eyes of the Fleshrippers, the group who’d gotten their name and reputation for their tendency to eat their dead, along with anyone else they found out here in the barren wastes, a band of Raffen that even other Raffen clans tended to steer clear of.

It was the bikes that caught up to them first, seven or eight of them, all decked out in the bright flesh-pink graffiti that announced them as war dogs. They had been the ones to run down the nomad she’d come with, and when they found his burned out wreck, his charred body crucified on the hood, his guts used as ropes to hold him to it as it flared out, she’d decided that maybe a bullet wouldn’t be the worst way to go out.

Now they were behind them, and gaining, screaming and baying as Noh redlined the engine of the Wendigo. It was clear that they wouldn’t manage to outpace them. “They’re gaining, Noh, so if you’ve got ANY IDEAS-!” Her voice hit a fever pitch as he slammed on the breaks, and for a moment, her heart stopped as he spun the wheel, the car lifting off of two wheels as it turned sharply, and in her hindbrain she heard the pneumatic hiss of the driver’s side window hiss open. She tried to shout something, but her voice was drowned out by the ear-shattering crack of two shotshells.

The lead biker’s head vanished as all four wheels hit the ground, and with a crank, the engine roared loud and angry and the second biker went over the front of the hood, leaving a bloody smear on the armored windowpane. The other five ripped past them as Noh slammed on the accelerator, and suddenly they were flying towards the oncoming wave of cannibal raiders.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?” Kiwi screeched as he gunned forward. He had a plan, right, this wasn’t the plan was it!? No, Kiwi realized to her mute horror, this was the plan. This was the whole fucking plan. She ripped the Ajax out of the wheel well just as the mess of Raffen came into view, and she gunned the release of her own window. If he was going to get them both killed, she could at least try to take some of them with her.

“Relax, we got this!” Noh laughed, a hearty, full belly thing that crested over the engine, and even the gunshots as he emptied the mag of the Pozhar into the windshield of an oncoming Galena, the vehicle flipping hard as the driver was perforated by a dozen pellets of double-aught. He dragged the weapon back in just in time for a dozen light machinegun rounds to pepper the front of their vehicle in response as the other Shiv tried to reangle into them.

Noh wove around them like they were standing still, his body jerking with the momentary flashes of his speedware activations, but Kiwi didn’t know how his brain wasn’t dribbling out his ears as he did it. She fired wildly at anything that got close to her side of the car, and was rewarded with the nearest of the bikes flipping over itself as she stitched a line across the rider, but she didn’t get a moment to celebrate it as she was kicked back into her seat, the Wendigo accelerating hard enough to make her vertebrae hurt.

He had managed to reload his weapon in the interim, and the stubby shotgun barked out as he braced it on his other arm, sending precision bursts of shotgun pellets into vehicle after vehicle. It was unreal, watching him work, almost enough that she almost forgot where she was. When the side of the window exploded into sparks half an inch from her head, she let out a squeak. Noh’s head shot around to look at her, and she flushed as she lifted her Ajax back up and got back into the fight.

“See!? We got this!” He quipped, almost gleefully as they passed the convoy again, the Shion swerving wildly as the wildly coiling mix of Raffen vehicles tried to catch up. For a moment, Kiwi believed it, too, she believed they might make it through this, she had a second of hope, and then the clouds of dust split as a shrieking air horn cut through the cacophony, revealing the massive plow bolted to the front of a big rig, spikes of rusted steel the length of a man welded to the front. She felt the impact before she heard it, the edge of the cowcatcher nailing the Shion hard in the back rear panel, sending them spinning and tumbling like a leaf tossed into the wind.

The light bar on the top of the car ripped clean, and for a moment she was upside down, airborne, her stomach flipping as she went into negative gravity for just a moment, then… impact, the car slamming bodily into the ground, the wheels screaming and spinned as Noh fought to regain control. For a second she thought it was all over, but somehow, some way, he managed to get all four wheels down on the ground, the crystaldome a mass of sparks as screen panels failed and the engine itself gave a deathwail that sounded like a dying demon on the wind. Yet still the heels turned, and as long as they turned, Noh just kept grinning.

Kiwi wanted to puke, but she did her best to force it down. Vomiting into her mask cavity was a special kind of hell, she’d found, and for all the bruises and loops her stomach was making, she fought to hold on, even as she felt the car accelerate. Through the open window on Noh’s side, she watched the massive bulk of the big-rig’s armored trailer pass them, the shocked faces of the Fleshrippers inside watching them as they passed through welded-in gun ports, and then, just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

“Still with me Kiwi!?” She heard Noh roar laughingly as he put some distance between them and the Shiv, and she turned to stare wide-eyed at the lunatic behind the wheel. “Yeah!? Good! Cuz we need to do something about that rig!”

“What!?” She screeched, and noticed that they were turning back to the Raffen. “What!? No, Noh! No, no, no, no, no-” She started chanting in rapid fire staccato but he just looked her right in the eye, and crushed her hopes in dreams in two little words.

“Noh, yes~”

“I hate you!” She screamed as she pulled up the Ajax, which had miraculously remained in the car, slamming a fresh magazine home and leaning out the window to shoot, screaming a string of wordless invectives that even Noh felt a bit shocked by.

“Hey Kiwi!” He shouted a moment later, grabbing her by the hem of her pants and dragging her back in. Her head shot around to him, her eyes narrowed into a glare, but he just grabbed her hand and pressed it to the wheel. “Here! Drive!”

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING!?” She screeched as he hoisted himself out of the seat, forcing the woman to scramble into it as he pulled himself onto the roof. “You fucking PSYCHOPATH!” followed him out, but he was already gone, as the car hurtled towards the rapidly reorienting coil of raider vehicles.

“I’M GOING TO CATCH A RIIIIIIIIIDE!” He roared and dived off the front, and Kiwi watched in mute, stunned horror as he slammed into the plow of the rig as it passed, somehow both avoiding being flattened to paste from the impact and not getting skewered on any of the spikes. The rig roared, as if offended by it’s sudden passenger, but Noh didn’t care, as he started climbing the massive metal ram plate, rounds pinging off the metal right next to him as the chase vehicles that had been hunting the Shion pulled up on him instead.

He rolled hard, bringing the Pozhar to bear, and the first of several of the Raffen cars lost their passengers to the power of god and buckshot. The heavy penetrating rounds made short work of the door-hangers and polecats that tried to cut him down as he crested the engine, and with a triumphant roar he fired into the truck’s own crystaldome, the shells leaving thick dents in the canopy. One mag wasn’t enough, though, and he slotted a second, as he let the gun rip in his hands.

The sound of screeching metal tore him from his work, and he glanced up to find a massive, rusted war-borg grinning back at him from the sunroof of the cabin. Or rather, the massive, rippling mass of muscles had peeled open the top of the cab like a can, instead, and Noh found himself staring down the barrel of a massive heavy machine gun. A Militech MK. 31, his mind helpfully supplied from nowhere.

“Fuck.”

He scrambled back as the weapon opened up with a deafening roar. The rounds dug into the armored hood, but the borg didn’t care, as he chased Noh across the panel until he almost went over the edge, and even then, he was forced to drop like a rock to avoid the tracer fire. The borg roared something, but it was lost on the wind as Noh clung onto the spikes, Kiwi driving the Shion close enough for him to make the jump, and with a thump his boots landed on the roof, before he rolled back hard, almost being tossed off as she accelerated suddenly, the ground behind them exploding into dust.

“What the fuck were you THINKING!?” Kiwi screamed through the window as Noh clung on, putting some distance between them and the machine gun wielding FLR. She was forced to swerve hard to avoid a line of 14mm rounds, and Noh glanced back with narrowed eyes. Shoving the shotgun into the car, he reached down and grabbed the handle of his katana, feeling that familiar buzz in his hand, and he looked over at Kiwi.

“Kiwi! Drive me closer! I want to hit him with my sword!”

There was a moment of silence as Kiwi processed those words, and honestly? She could just slam on the breaks. Just for a second. She could toss him off the car and drive away into the sunset free and clear and never look back. It would be so easy. So simple. Nobody could blame her, but as she just started to inch towards the breaks, that was when the other vehicles started to catch up, and she realized, to her silent, terrible dismay, that she couldn’t. Because she still needed him.

“Goddamnit.” She grumbled, as she swerved sharply, the roof creaking as the lunatic on top of it balanced and shifted, her foot hammering the accelerator like it owed her money. The Shion gave a rattling groan as the engine swallowed another gallon of CHOO2 and fired forward, the kickback snapping thorough the air as the pistons fired, sending them careening forward at Mach Jesus. “Hang on, you gonk!”

Noh grinned as his hand wrapped around the twisted lightbar on top of the battered car, and the Shion swerved left, then right, and then drifted into a perfect half circle as the tires screeched. He barely managed to keep his feet under him, but all that did was make his blood pump faster, his heart beat harder, as the Wendigo let out a screech worthy of the name and gunned towards the oncoming horde.

“Don’t fuck this up, Noh!” Kiwi screamed, her voice wavering, but the car charged head-on, and as the front of the war-wagon rumbled closer and closer, the screaming, cackling borg mounted on it’s hood like a demented ornament, and the moments ticked down, the raw adrenaline running through his brain like a wire of electrified murder, he felt his muscles clench, his breathing still, and his vision narrow until there was only him and the chrome dome hollering at him. One second, two seconds, three…

The world seemed to freeze as he flew across the cap, Kiwi swerving hard at the last minute to barely avoid the spine-laden plow, his feet having left the roof with picoseconds to spare. He could almost taste the cordite as the borg slowly, inchingly pulled the Mk. 31 up, the gun already sending its warcry across the field, the rounds passing so close he could feel the heat of them, up and up and up he flew, and he could see the light in the borg’s eyes as it reflected his own with a psychotic glee-

His foot landed on the barrel of the gun, pushing it down, the red-hot metal searing him through his boot, but he didn’t care, barely feeling it, as the Black Unicorn sang it’s siren song, clearing the sheath and flashing just sop perfectly to cleave through the rusted metal skull of the cyberpsycho, only for him to flash in superhuman speed as well, his arm coming up to stop the lunar titanium edge with a raised arm, the blade digging into the steel dermal plating all the same but not enough to carve through. He had to roll with the impact, as the borg’s arm came up in a clawed sweep, two razor-sharp spurs bursting from his knuckles as they barely missed ripping his face off.

He danced around the borg, slashing at his legs, finding nothing but more plating as the massive metal freak screamed an invective, god only knew what, and tried to bash his head off with the heavy machinegun, only for him to slide up low and come in with a stab, stopped cold one more time by the thick underarmour. Spurs flashed again as the full metal bastard tried to pincushion him to the hood, the only thing keeping him ahead of the crushing, slashing blows were his own impossible bursts of speed. Through oit all he grit his teeth, trying and failing to find the chink in his armor, the hole that would let him score a killshot. 

He was never more alive, which was a hell of a thing to say being about a day or so old. He could feel the bloodwire rushing through his brain, the raw burn of riding the lightning over and over again, better than any high, better than being alive, it was the rawest edge and he was reveling in it. The blade flashed, the claws slashed, and the borg smiled like he’d had everything he’d ever wished for coming true all at once as the two tried to kill one another on the extended hood of the truck cab. One inch left, one inch right, and either one would fall to their doom, dragged under the wheels and torn to shreds.

“Come on, little fly!” the Borg screamed as he stitched bullets across the armored cab, chasing him with the HMG as he slid in to leave another set of slashes across the walking humanoid tank. “Come on, come hurt me! Come stab me! COME GIVE ME A HUG!” He screamed, and Noh couldn’t help but oblige as he slid sideways, sliding the blade into the monster’s armpit, finally digging in as blood and oil blasted out and the borg gave a roar of agony. The blade was out in a moment as Noh was forced to dodge a skullcracking hammerblow, but he was laughing all the way, the blood leaving a halo of red in the air as he swung it back, the perfectly balanced weight feeling like a feather in his grip, as the next strike caught the machine man right behind the knee.

“I’m not that easy, little fly!” The borg screamed as he grabbed the HMG with both hands and swung it like a bat, barely missing Noh by the scantest of millimeters, the edge of the blade coming down to find itself lodged in the borg’s elbow, again and again, like hacking a tree, bit by bit he carved the monster to pieces.

Kiwi couldn’t believe what she was seeing, as she slid, swerved and drifted her way, raw panic replacing skill where it was needed, the raw sensation of naked, mind-numbing fear gripping her as she tried to run down, run over, or just straight up run past the circling Raffen who were playing chicken with the eighteen-wheeler from hell. More often than not she saw bikers get dragged under the death plow as she skimmed the metal spikes like they were hot, keeping the front of the war wagon in her rearview the entire time. She had to run it hard and hot, and the engine didn’t like it, not at all. It squealed and shrieked and she could almost feel the gears melting behind her as she redlined it for all it was worth.

Her Ajax had long since been discarded for a more compact machine pistol she’d managed to fish out from the back, spraying down anything that got too close to the sides of the car in chaotic lead that sent them skidding back, out of the line of fire. All the while she kept an eye on the lunatic and the cyberpsycho, because it could be nothing but, fighting it out. They were laughing for fucks sake, like this was the funniest shit they’d ever experienced, all while trying to cleave each other into giblets.

Noh was a dyed-in-the-wool edgerunner, in the most literal sense. She didn’;t know if it was the total lack of life experience from his memory wipe, or the dangerous levels of chrome she was beginning to suspect was wedged into his six foot three frame but he seemed to be powered almost entirely by the need to feel the edge of a gory end. Not a great combination of traits, Kiwi had to admit, and the sort that would have left her running for the hills if she thought she had any other choice, but she couldn’t deny that he was horrifyingly good at what he did.

Watching him dance on top of that four by seven sheet of metal was like watching artwork, and she had to admit, it definitely ticked something in her undercarriage, which, fuck, she knew she had a problem because he was just like her last input and fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck- “FUCK!” She screamed as she side-checked a Galena right into the front of the truck, the vehicle getting pulled straight into the plow, slamming itself sideways as everyone in it were ripped to shit by the long spikes and the truck swerved dangerously, almost sending both Noh and the borg into the dirt at ninety miles an hour.

“GODDAMNIT KIWI!” Noh screamed as he fell forward, the borg finally connected, the blow landing like a piledriver across his face and snapping his head sideways hard enough that the world went white for a fraction of a second. The mask took it, cracked and shrieked under the impact, and without it his jaw would have been somewhere on the hood or bouncing down the Badlands. His boots skidded, heels scraping for traction on slick metal as his balance went ugly and wrong, momentum threatening to pitch him straight off the edge.

He didn’t fall. He snapped back into motion almost instantly, legs coiling and shoulders rolling as the borg threw his head back and crowed in triumph, laughing loud and wet at finally getting a clean hit in. The sound hadn’t even finished echoing before Noh was already moving again, blade flashing up in a vicious, furious arc. Steel bit deep and ugly, chewing through servos and plating as he all but hacked the offending hand apart, the borg’s laughter breaking into a jagged howl as sparks, oil, and blood sprayed across the hood.

That was when someone got the bright idea to bring a gun to the swordfight.

One moment it was just Noh and the borg tearing at each other on the hood, steel on steel, blade and claws flashing inches from the edge, and the next a shape hauled itself up over the trailer lip behind the borg, boots scraping, a light machinegun already coming up. The gonk didn’t hesitate. He planted his feet and opened up with the Defender at near point-blank, stitching the hood around the borg with a vicious burst meant for Noh’s spine. Noh reacted on pure instinct, dropping low and scrambling forward, sliding between the borg’s legs as the cyberpsycho threw his arms up to shield his face. Rounds sparked and screamed overhead, tearing metal to ribbons, and Noh felt a sharp, feral delight as he realized just how much punishment the metal bastard could soak.

"YOU FRAGGIN GONK! THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR!?” he screamed, frothing at the mouth as his dented and pockmarked dermals groaned and yanked the cannon back toward the trailer in pure, incandescent rage. The heavy machinegun roared, chewing into the rig, and that heartbeat of fury was all Noh needed. He came up fast and desperate, boots skidding on slick metal, and when the borg turned back Donkey kicked both heels up and forward with everything he had. The kick landed square in his armored nutsack. The HMG slipped from the borg’s hands as he folded with a shriek like a train whistle as he collapsed in on himself.

Noh didn’t give him a chance to breathe. He came up hard and fast, rearing back and smashing the borg in the side of the head with the pommel, then again with the flat of his blade, the strike ringing like a bat against a metal beam, driving him sideways across the hood. The psycho tried to grab him, tried to hook him and drag him down with him, but his footing was gone, his balance wrecked, and the pain had robbed him of whatever grace he’d had left. Metal skidded against metal. One foot slipped over the edge, leaving the massive man tilting in slow motion. Noh leaned back just far enough to stay clear, lifted a hand in a lazy little wave, and watched as the metal giant tipped, rolled, and finally vanished off the side of the rig, disappearing under the roar of the engine and the scream of the tires at long last.

Turning back to the cab, he slammed his katana back into its sheathe. It had done its job, but he still had one more nut to crack. He bared his teeth and grabbed for the HMG, jerking it hard from where it had caught on the cowcatcher. It didn’t want to come, half its weight still hung on the plow’s jagged teeth, the belt twisted, the feedline whining like a hurt thing. He planted a boot, shoved his weight through it, and tore with a sharp, ugly wrench. Oil and blood slicked the grip, heat biting through his palm as the gun came up, the barrel cherry red and radiating heat.

“Lets try this again, shall we?” The heavy machinegun roared to life as he almost found himself thrown back by the recoil, the rounds digging thick divots in the armored windshield as the belt rattled and the receiver hammered his shoulder. He leaned into it, boots planted and elbows locked, fighting the climb as the muzzle walked and the whole rig shuddered under him, the world reduced to trigger, tracer, and the ugly grind of steel on steel.

The windshield finally gave under the sustained fire, blowing inward in a mess of glass and smoke, and the moment he saw the red splatter across the guts of the cabin he knew the driver was, as the term went, totally fuckin’ flatlined. The truck kept going, though. An autopilot, he cursed the word, frowning. Fine. One solution for that, he grinned as he shifted his stance. Dragging the muzzle back down, bracing it against his shoulder, he pulled the trigger.

The twelve millimeter rounds ripped through the armor, shredding the hood, and the engine all in one, fire belching out of the ravaged mechanicals as he emptied the whole mag into it, the gun steaming and cherry red when the drum was well and truly empty. Fans came apart. Belts snapped and whipped. Coolant and oil geysered, splattering him in chemicals as the molded steel engine block opened up like a metal rose, revealing the shattered pistons and the crankshaft stared back at him like the severed spine of a beast. Fire burst up, flaring around him as he stumbled back, tossing the now-empty heavy weapon aside.

Kiwi had driven up next to the cab in those last moments, giving him a quick escape off the edge as the truck started to veer and list dangerously, the feedline spraying flaming aerosolized CHOO2 like a hose. He stepped to the lip, weight already moving toward the Shion, heat clawing up his legs as the spray lit in sheets along the side of the cab, and he judged the gap by feel alone. White knuckled and roaring, he dived for the Wendigo, landing heavily on it as he almost slid off, fingers wrapping around the twisted metal of the lightbar, the edges digging in and drawing blood.

“Drive!” Was all he could shout before Kiwi swerved hard away from the truck, not a moment too soon as the massive machine ignited in full, the big rig engulfing itself in flame as it’s braked kicked in with a squeal, only to fail on one side, sending it jack knifing hard left, sweeping two of the pursuing vehicles into the flaming ring, both of them bursting into detonations that would have made any Bushido fan proud, the dozen men in the trailer screaming and dying as fire engulfed all of them, turning the machine into a ten ton bomb as the damage finally hit the armored CHOO2 tanks, bursting into the oxygen-rich semi-liquid and sending the whole thing into a titanic pillar of fire.

The Shion groaned and sputtered as Kiwi brought it to a stop, engine ticking under the hood while both of them watched for any movement from the conflagration, ready for the bastards to make a second try. A minute crawled past, then another, the wreck still burning and the road staying empty, and it became pretty clear that whoever had survived had lost their taste for violence. At least for tonight.

“I don’t believe that just happened.” Kiwi said, sounding almost lost as the two watched the flickering flames. Noh just shrugged.

“At least they went out warm and together. That’s touching, right?” He hummed, tilting his head, as Kiwi just stared at him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She asked, finally. He glanced at her before rolling his eyes.

“Fine, remind me not to invite you to my next barbecue.”

“Jesus Noh, that’s even WORSE!”

And so it went.

000

Kiwi had known a lot of people like Noh, though what that said about her was… not up for debate right now. Glancing at the sleeping man in the passenger seat, the nearby fire flickering deep in the night, she couldn’t help but think of just what in the hell had happened to make someone who was so goddamn dangerous that it made her nervous to be around him and yet, at the same time, so fucking chipper. Seriously, he hadn’t stopped making fire puns for two hours after they’d managed to shake their road raider tail.

And she couldn’t even blame it on him being a lunatic. When he wasn’t killing people he was almost normal, if she could excuse the yawning gaps in his memories where a person would normally fit. No, he just… didn’t seem all that concerned about it. Or about dying, because it took a special kind of adrenaline junky to not only jump off a car onto another car, but do it thrice, the third time as the other car summarily engulfed itself in flames. She had made it a life lesson to do things calmly, with minimal risk to herself, yet this jackass had her driving headlong into a Raffen Shiv warmobile so he could, and she quoted, ‘hit them with his sword.’

And still she did it. Christ, what even was her life? Before coming out here things had been… shitty, admittedly. But normal shitty. She had a cramped apartment, her ice bath, her little ARCH Nazare, and all in all, things were passingly peaceful, with just brief moments of intense stress. Now her life had become intense stress with brief moments of vague sociopathy from a guy who’s name she had entirely pulled out of her ass just to see if he would go along with it.

And he did! Who does that? Granted, Kiwi had little room to talk, and everyone running the shadows and playing merc for hire had a callsign, but still. Noh. Dr. Noh. Mr. Noh. Nohbody. Shit wrote itself really. But it was still kinda dumb. But, she had to admit, it was him to a T. No thoughts, empty head, just does whatever pops in there with no regard for anything else, and somehow it had all worked out.

Kiwi didn’t know what to say to that. There was the old adage, never trust anyone in Night City, but this wasn’t Night City, was it? Staring up at the stars and the clear, crisp air made that abundantly clear. And it was exciting. She couldn’t deny that, once she got done having a series of escalating panic attacks over it. She hated exciting, but maybe not so much? Winning definitely took the edge off, and killing those Raffen was, admittedly, very satisfying given what their little clan did to her prior to her dubious rescue.

It’s not like the three other chucklefucks she’d been saddled with did any better. But… she kept coming back to it. To him. There was still a strong part of her that had wanted to cut and run and leave him on the side of the road. He was dangerous, and dangerous meant possibly lethal, to her, specifically, and definitely unstable, given how he just… jumped off the goddamn vehicle after climbing out of it at a hundred miles an hour, leaving her to try and keep it from crashing, the stupid gonk. But if he was as empty as he seemed to be? She could work with that, maybe.

It’s not like she was above grooming her own personal attack dog slash murderhobo, and it would be nice to have someone on her side for a change, so… why not? Never trust anyone from Night City, or in general, yet Noh, despite being a character, among other things, was as close to a perfect option when it came to backup. And if he couldn’t learn? She would dump him somewhere and wish him well, before taking the fuck off and never looking back.

Glancing back at him, she squinted her eyes, and imagined him naked. Probably not bad looking under all that either, she had to admit, and he wasn’t unhandsome. And if there were any other issues? Eh, that’s what a Mr. Studd was for. She might as well get some benefits out of it if she was going to do what she thought she was going to do. She really doubted he’d mind either, given how much he was into her ass when he thought she wasn’t looking.

Weird how that had started after they both almost died, but whatever. Fuck it. If the guy was turned on after a little life and death, then all the better. She liked scratching that itch too, after a good row. But… maybe after she showered, in this case. She smelled like sweat, cigarettes and oil, and not in a sexy way. But after? Fuck yeah. Gonna be a good time to be Kiwi.

When she woke the next morning, he was gone, but the car was still there. She wasn’t overtly worried, it’s not like there was anything for five hundred miles in either direction. Lo and behold, when he walked up five minutes later with two rats, a snake, and some kind of lizard for breakfast. She had dibs on the rats.

“Was wondering what happened to you.” She said, as they watched their luxurious meal cook over the fire. “Thought you’d left.”

“Aww, did you miss me? Kiwi, I’m touched.” He grinned back at her, and she just gave him a flat look. “But nah, you’re stuck with me now. We killed a bunch of gonks together.”

“Oh right, how could I forget. We flatlined some jackasses together and now we’re gonna get married. Silly me. We’re trauma bonded now, like in the trids.” She said, as Noh watched in vague, stone-faced horror as she vacuumed up meat off the rat. Kiwi knew that she would have to wash her faceplate after this, but needs must, and it wasn’t bad. Slightly oily, slightly crispy, no spices, but she was starving and it was alright. No mutations or anything. “But seriously, you should have woken me up. Don’t do that.”

“If you want. You just looked so damn tired last night, staying up staring at me like you did.” He grinned at her, and were she capable of blushing, well, she might. A little. “Gain any deep insights for your trouble?”

“Fuck off, Noh. I was contemplating stabbing your gonk ass and leaving you here. Take the car, get back to Night City and forget this whole thing ever happened.” She snarked, and he had the gall to laugh.

“Oh, what stopped you, besides my ravishing good looks?” He asked, after swallowing his mouthful of lizard. “Come to a decision, did you?”

“I’ll keep you around for now. Who knows, you might prove useful later.” She said imperiously, and that did get a laugh out of him.

“How do you know it’s not me keeping you around, hm?” He asked, giving her a sly side-eye, and she gave him a look.

“Because you want my ass and you won’t get it if I’m dead. At least I hope you won’t, gonk.” She said finally, and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back as Noh just started cackling. “This isn’t reassuring, dipshit.”

“Hey, it’s a nice ass.” He said, between guffaws. Kiwi glared, but there wasn’t any heat in it. For as much of a gonk he was out there, that mix of crazy and raw instinct worked. Granted, that just meant he was lucky, but that could take someone surprisingly far in her line of work. Leaning against the car, Kiwi looked up into the starry sky, and decided that maybe keeping him around for a little while longer couldn’t hurt.