Starr gripped the wheel tighter, feeling the cold sting of the rain-soaked night as it mixed with the warmth of the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. The city lights blurred as she weaved through the backstreets, trying to outrun the tension wrapping itself around her chest. The kill had been clean, but there was something about it that didn't sit right.
"Yeah," Starr finally responded, her voice low. "Just… thinking."
The truth was, she hadn't felt this on edge in a long time. Rafa had been marked for death, sure, but the way his eyes had gleamed before she pulled the trigger—it was almost like he knew something she didn't. Militech wasn't just going to let this slide, and Rafa's grin had told her that much. He'd been too calm, too assured for a man about to die. It made her wonder what kind of leverage he had, or what kind of trap she might have just walked into.
"Thinking about what?" Byte pressed gently, her voice echoing through the comms. "You sounded off before the job. Are you sure this was the right call?"
Starr leaned back in the seat, letting out a sigh. The question lingered longer than it should have. Was it the right call? She wasn't sure anymore. She felt herself being pulled in so many directions—jobs like this kept her alive, kept her relevant in the underworld of Night City, but they also kept her chained to its chaos.
The thought of Byte—of what she offered her—felt like a lifeline. A way out. But Starr wasn't sure she was ready to grab hold of it.
"It doesn't matter," Starr finally said, her voice steady. "The job's done. Rafa's out of the game, and Blackclaw will pay up."
Byte hesitated, then sighed. "Alright. I'm sending you the route to lay low for the night. You've stirred up enough dust with Militech. Stay off the grid for a bit."
Starr nodded even though Byte couldn't see her. "Thanks, Byte. I'll check in later."
"Be careful, Starr," Byte said, her voice soft. "I mean it."
The comms went silent, leaving Starr alone with her thoughts and the thrum of the Quadra's engine. The rain continued to hammer down, the city around her a blur of neon lights, graffiti, and shadows that seemed to stretch into eternity.
Scene: A Moment of Respite
Starr pulled into the underground garage of an old megabuilding, long abandoned by the corpos who once used it as a storage facility. It was a ghost of the past, a relic in the heart of the city's ruins where only the truly desperate came. Which made it the perfect place to lie low.
She killed the engine, the silence settling in like an old friend. She stepped out, the cool, damp air hitting her skin as she walked deeper into the shadows of the garage. Her fingers unconsciously grazed the hilt of her Kenshin blade, the metal cold and familiar beneath her touch.
Her mind wandered back to the events of the night. The way Rafa had looked at her, the speed with which the job had gone down—too fast, too smooth. Jobs in Night City never went that smoothly. Something was coming. She could feel it.
Starr found her way to a quiet corner, leaning against the old, rusted metal beams that supported the building. She closed her eyes, letting the rainwater dripping through the cracks above soothe the tension in her muscles.
Moments like these were rare. Moments where she could stop, breathe, and exist outside of the violence. But they never lasted.
As if on cue, the sound of footsteps echoed through the garage. Starr's eyes snapped open, her hand already gripping the hilt of her blade as she melted into the shadows. The footsteps grew louder, deliberate, and familiar.
Reaver.
He stepped into the dim light, his figure cutting a sharp silhouette against the fading glow of the streetlamps. He had that same brooding intensity he always carried, his eyes dark and unreadable. Starr relaxed, but only slightly.
"What are you doing here?" Starr asked, her voice low but steady. Reaver wasn't someone you turned your back on, no matter how many jobs you'd run together.
Reaver gave her that half-smirk she'd seen a hundred times before, the one that always told her he knew more than he was letting on. "Nice to see you too, Layne," he said, leaning against the same metal beam, his posture casual but his gaze sharp.
She sighed, folding her arms over her chest. "If you're here to lecture me, don't bother. The job went fine."
"That why you're holed up in this dump?" Reaver raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with that familiar edge of sarcasm. "Could've fooled me."
Starr clenched her jaw. She wasn't in the mood for Reaver's games. "What do you want?"
Reaver's smirk faded, his expression growing more serious as he studied her. "You're slipping, Starr."
The words stung more than they should have. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I saw what happened back at the club," Reaver said, his tone darkening. "You didn't see it, did you? Rafa wasn't alone in that deal. Militech was watching, and now they're watching you."
Starr's mind raced, her pulse quickening. "What do you mean?"
"They've been tailing you since you left the club," Reaver replied. "And they're not happy about you taking out Rafa. They wanted that deal to go through, and you just blew it all to hell."
"Why didn't you say something earlier?" Starr snapped, her eyes narrowing.
Reaver shrugged, his expression unreadable. "Wanted to see how you'd handle it. Looks like you've lost your edge."
Anger flared in Starr's chest, but she kept it in check. "I'm doing just fine, Reaver."
"Are you?" He pushed off the beam, stepping closer to her, his eyes locking onto hers. "Because it looks to me like you're just running on fumes, chasing whatever job comes your way without thinking about what it'll cost you in the end."
Starr's heart pounded, but she didn't let him see the impact his words had. She straightened, her chin lifted defiantly. "What the hell do you know about it?"
Reaver's eyes flickered with something—pity, regret, anger. It was hard to tell with him. "I know you, Starr. I know you better than anyone else in this city. And I can see what this life is doing to you. You're burning out."
The words cut deep, but Starr refused to let them sink in. She wasn't burning out. She was surviving. She had to.
"I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth. "And I don't need you telling me otherwise."
Reaver's gaze lingered on her for a long moment, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, he shook his head, stepping back. "Whatever you say, Layne. Just don't be surprised when Militech comes knocking."
He turned to leave, but before he could walk away, Starr reached out, grabbing his arm. "Reaver."
He stopped, his eyes meeting hers once more, and for a second, something flickered between them—something unspoken, something that had always been there beneath the surface.
"Thanks," she muttered, her voice softer than before.
Reaver's expression softened just a fraction. "Yeah. Just don't get yourself killed."
He pulled away from her grasp, disappearing into the shadows of the garage, leaving Starr alone once more.
Emotional Reflection
Starr stood there in the silence, her thoughts swirling as the rain continued to drip down through the cracks in the ceiling. She hated how Reaver's words got to her, hated how he could see through the walls she had built around herself. He was right, in a way—she had been running on fumes, taking whatever job came her way without thinking about the bigger picture.
But what was the alternative? Walk away from it all? Leave behind the life she had built, the reputation she had carved out in the city's underworld?
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. The weight of the night settled on her shoulders, heavier than ever.
She needed a break. She needed to clear her head.
Pulling out her comms, she dialed Byte.
Scene: Connecting with Byte
Byte's voice came through almost instantly, soft and filled with relief. "Starr? Everything okay?"
"Yeah," Starr said, her voice quieter than usual. "I just… needed to hear your voice."
There was a pause on the other end, and then Byte's tone softened. "I'm glad you called. I've been worried."
"About what?" Starr asked, leaning back against the beam again, letting the sound of Byte's voice wash over her.
"You, mostly," Byte admitted. "You're pushing yourself too hard. This life… it's not sustainable."
Starr let out a soft, bitter laugh. "That's Night City, Byte. It burns you out if you let it."
"Then don't let it," Byte said, her voice firm but gentle. "You don't have to go through this alone, Starr. I'm here, if you'll let me be here for you."