The agave in Adam's glass burned his throat as he silently tasted the harsh drink. It wasn't the first time he'd endured such an awful concoction in Night City, but the bitter taste seemed to match the atmosphere of the place. The Afterlife was always crawling with mercenaries, bounty hunters, and hustlers. Some of them, like him, were outsiders, standing out like a sore thumb in this city of chrome and chaos.
Across the room, a group of six had caught his attention. They were speaking in hushed tones, their eyes flicking in his direction now and then. His acute spatial awareness sharpened his senses, picking up snippets of their conversation. Their curiosity was palpable. No surprise—they had seen him walk in earlier, no implants, no flashy prosthetics, just a man with a cold aura and a serious demeanor.
It wasn't long before the chatter stopped. Adam could feel the gaze of the group focused on him, and he turned his head slightly. His golden eyes locked with theirs for a moment. The group froze.
Then the shortest of the group, a young woman with double ponytails and a mischievous glint in her prosthetic eyes, spoke up. "He's looking at us!"
Adam's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his minding his next move. They weren't dangerous, but their interest might be. He didn't trust many people in this city, but curiosity had always been a weapon of its own.
Without breaking his gaze, Adam stood and walked over to them. His stride was casual, his expression unchanging. As he approached the table, he sensed their tense postures—Maine, the leader, stood to block the path, his towering frame intimidating. But Adam wasn't here to fight.
"Do you have any work?" Adam asked simply, his voice calm but firm.
Maine's brows furrowed. The man had walked into the den of mercenaries without flinching, speaking like he was asking for directions. His sudden approach caught the group off-guard, but Adam showed no signs of hesitation. Despite his quiet and cold nature, he was as direct as ever.
"We don't do work with strangers," Maine replied, still sizing him up.
Adam's golden eyes flickered, and he gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. "Pity. Then how about a drink instead? A friend of mine here," he gestured at the bartender, "introduced me to a 'Johnny Silver Hand.' It's probably worse than water, but I'll take it."
Maine, sensing no immediate threat, let out a deep, gruff laugh. The group exchanged looks before they invited him to sit. Adam wasn't the type to mingle, but it was clear these people could be useful to him. And even in a city like Night City, making a few acquaintances could provide opportunities.
The chatter continued, introductions made—Maine, Dorio, Falco, Pilar, Rebecca, and Kiwi. Yet it was Kiwi's reaction that caught Adam's attention. The woman's prosthetic eyes flickered, scanning him, analyzing him. But she came up empty. There was nothing in her scans—no implants, no prosthetic enhancements.
The realization hit her like a cold slap. "No way," she murmured, her voice laced with disbelief. She leaned forward, looking at Adam with even more intensity.
Adam didn't react to her probing. Instead, he merely leaned back in his chair, sipping the awful drink with a neutral expression. "Is something wrong?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion.
Kiwi couldn't hide her shock, her mind racing. There were no records of anyone operating in Night City with no implants and surviving this long, let alone succeeding at missions like Adam. His strength, speed, and precision couldn't be explained by regular human means. It was a puzzle—one she couldn't figure out.
"I'll pass," Adam muttered after a few moments, his voice breaking the silence. "I'm not interested in games."
Kiwi hesitated before replying . "No, you're not. But maybe you can teach us something about how you operate."
Adam ignored her, his focus shifting to the rest of the group. They might not be useful right now, but they were definitely worth keeping an eye on. For someone like him, caution was everything.
He didn't know how long he would stay in this city, but one thing was for sure—he would keep moving forward. And the more people in Night City knew his name, the more dangerous his life would become. For now, he'd stay in the shadows, calculating his next step, as always.
The team wasn't the target. But the city? It always was.