He was tall and lean, his face partially obscured by a surgical mask and goggles that reflected the cold white lights overhead. His hands moved methodically over a set of tools, cleaning them with practiced precision. The smell of antiseptic filled the air, sterile and sharp, a constant reminder that wherever Starr had woken up, it wasn't a place for recovery — it was a place for control. Her heart pounded, fear sharpening her senses as she tugged at the restraints once more, testing them.
"Relax," the man said, his voice too calm for the situation. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be here."
Starr's throat was dry, her mouth tasted like metal. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse croak. She swallowed, trying again. "Where… am I?"
The man glanced at her briefly, then went back to his tools. "Someplace safe. For now." He paused for a moment, as if considering something. "You overloaded your system back there. You're lucky I got to you when I did. Half of your augmentations were fried. Took me a while to fix the damage."
Memories of the fight with Raze came rushing back—the blinding EMP, the searing pain as her body shut down, and the suffocating blackness that followed. She could still feel the ghost of that pain, like a dull ache deep within her circuits. Starr shifted slightly on the table, feeling the restraints press against her skin, realizing she was completely naked beneath the thin sheet that covered her.
"Raze," she rasped, her voice still weak. "Did he—"
"Dead," the man cut her off. "The EMP took him out, just like you planned. But it nearly took you with him." His tone was clipped, almost irritated. "You're running a lot of custom hardware in there, but even that couldn't take the blast without serious damage. Whoever designed you—well, they built you to last, but you're not invincible."
Starr forced herself to relax slightly, taking in her surroundings. The room was stark—minimalist, cold steel walls lined with shelves of surgical tools and equipment. No windows. No way of knowing where she was. Her eyes flicked to the man again, trying to read him, but his expression remained hidden behind the mask.
"Who are you?" Starr asked, her voice gaining a little more strength.
"Call me Doc." He didn't look up. "I run a chop shop for people like you—mercs, edgerunners, people who take too many risks and end up paying for it." He finally turned to face her, his eyes still hidden behind the goggles. "I usually don't do charity work, but you've got someone looking out for you. Lucky break."
"Who?" Starr's brow furrowed. She didn't trust easily, and she especially didn't trust people who said they were helping her out of kindness.
Doc sighed, as if he didn't particularly care whether or not she liked the answer. "You're in deep with some powerful people, Layne. A fixer named Chimera sent word to pull you out of the fire. Paid good money for me to patch you up."
Chimera. That name sent a jolt through Starr's chest. The elusive, high-ranking fixer who operated out of the shadows, pulling strings all over Night City. She had only worked with Chimera once before—just long enough to know that when Chimera had her sights set on you, it was never by accident.
"What does Chimera want?" Starr asked, feeling the cold grip of uncertainty settle in her stomach.
Doc shrugged. "Hell if I know. I just fix bodies. If you want to know why someone's keeping you alive, you'll have to ask them yourself."
Starr was silent for a moment, her mind racing. She hated being indebted to anyone, let alone someone like Chimera. That kind of favor could be more dangerous than any bullet or blade. But for now, she had no choice. She had to play along, at least until she figured out what Chimera's angle was.
"Let me up," Starr demanded, her voice hardening.
Doc raised an eyebrow behind his goggles but didn't argue. He tapped a control pad on the side of the table, and with a soft hiss, the restraints unlocked. Starr sat up slowly, her body protesting with each movement. She pulled the sheet tighter around herself, her eyes still watching Doc closely. He seemed unfazed by her wariness.
"Your clothes are in the locker," he said, nodding toward the far corner of the room. "And I took the liberty of making a few upgrades to your augmentations while you were out. Consider it a gift—from Chimera, not from me."
Starr slid off the table, her bare feet hitting the cold floor. Her body felt different—heavier, more responsive. The upgrades, whatever they were, hummed beneath her skin, subtle but noticeable. She walked over to the locker and opened it, finding her gear neatly folded inside: black combat pants, a mesh top, her utility belt, and her boots. Everything was in place, though her weapons were conspicuously missing.
"Where are my blades?" she asked, turning back to Doc.
"Damaged beyond repair in the fight," he replied without looking up. "I can get you replacements, but they'll cost you."
Starr scowled but didn't argue. She could source new gear later. For now, she had more pressing matters to deal with. She dressed quickly, the familiar weight of her gear bringing some semblance of normalcy back to her disoriented mind. As she tightened the straps on her boots, she glanced over at Doc again.
"What's Chimera's message?" she asked.
Doc hesitated for a moment, then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small data chip. "She said to give this to you when you woke up. Whatever's on it is for your eyes only."
Starr took the chip, her fingers brushing against its smooth surface. She could feel the weight of it, not physically but in the implication of what it meant. Chimera didn't send messages unless they were important. And if she was involved, then Starr was in for more than just a casual gig.
Without another word, she inserted the chip into her cyberdeck, her vision flickering as the data streamed into her HUD. A file appeared in her interface, encrypted but not beyond her skill to crack. Within seconds, she had it open.
The file was a mission briefing, and it was big. Bigger than anything Starr had ever been hired for. Chimera was sending her after a target deep within the Arasaka Corporation, the most dangerous and powerful megacorp in Night City. And not just any target—this was someone high up, someone with access to the kind of information that could shift the balance of power in the city.
But there was more. The file also contained schematics of a location known only as "The Mind Maze"—a rumored black site where Arasaka conducted its most secretive and unethical experiments. Genetic modification, mind control, illegal AI development. It was a place shrouded in mystery and conspiracy, and if Chimera wanted Starr to infiltrate it, it could only mean one thing: Chimera was planning a move that would shake the foundations of the city.
As she scanned the briefing, Starr's heartbeat quickened. The pay for the job was astronomical, enough to retire ten times over. But the risks… The risks were equally high. No one had ever made it out of The Mind Maze alive. It was a suicide mission.
Yet here Chimera was, placing this impossible task in her hands. Starr clenched her fists, her mind racing through the possibilities. Was this Chimera's way of eliminating her, or did the fixer see something in Starr that others didn't? Either way, there was no turning back now. Not if she wanted to survive.
The final line of the briefing sent a shiver down her spine:
"Meet me at the edge of the city, near the old Corpo Highway. Midnight. Don't be late."
Starr closed the file, her thoughts churning. Midnight was only a few hours away, and she still needed to prepare. Whatever Chimera had planned, it was bigger than anything Starr had faced before. But she didn't shy away from danger. She thrived in it.
"I'll need a ride," Starr said, turning back to Doc.
He looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. "Take the bike in the garage. It's not much, but it'll get you where you need to go."
She nodded her thanks and made her way toward the door, her mind already shifting into mission mode. There was no room for hesitation, no room for doubt. Whatever lay ahead, she would face it head-on. Because that was who she was—a survivor, a fighter, and now, a player in a game far bigger than she had ever imagined.
As she stepped out of the clinic and into the cold night air, the neon glow of the city reflected in her eyes. The rain had started to fall again, light at first but steadily growing stronger, the droplets hissing against the pavement.
Starr tightened the collar of her jacket, her mind set on the task ahead. She didn't know what Chimera's endgame was, but one thing was certain:
Night City was about to burn, and Starr Layne would be right in the middle of it.