Chapter Text
Panam strode purposefully through the Aldecaldos camp, the early morning sun casting long shadows from the towering nomad vehicles. Dust motes danced in the air, swirling around her as she navigated the bustling scene. Children shrieked with laughter as they chased each other between tents, their joyful energy a stark contrast to the furrow in Panam's brow. Despite the outward chaos, her movements were practiced, a leader surveying her domain.
She reached into a pocket on her worn jeans and pulled out a battered but functional phone. Pausing by a weathered truck, she leaned against its warm hood and dialed a number. As the call connected, a familiar voice filled the air.
"Hey there, Panam." the voice boomed, a touch of amusement underlying the warmth.
"What's got you glued to a phone again?"
Panam chuckled, a rare sound that crinkled the corners of her eyes.
"Just checking in on you, Cassidy."
"I've just left Albuquerque. In few hours I'll be in Amarillo."
"Albuquerque, huh? Be careful, those city bikers will steal the chrome off your wheels if you let them."
Panam's voice held a hint of concern.
A beat of silence followed, then a hearty laugh filled the speaker.
"Always lookin' out for your people, aren't you, kiddo? Been doing this longer than you've been alive. But hey, thanks for the heads-up."
"But listen, I managed to get some contacts in New Mexico. If you run into any trouble, a few eddies will get you some fast assistance. Don't hesitate to reach out to me, old timer."
Panam said, her voice softening.
Just then, a burst of static filled the line, followed by a frustrated sigh from the other end.
"Ugh, looks like we're losing signal again. Tell you what, I'll try calling back when I reach Amarillo."
"Sounds good." Panam said, a hint of concern flickering across her face. "Just... be careful."
The line went dead with a click. Panam sighed, pocketing the phone with a thoughtful frown. Cassidy was a seasoned nomad, but the desert could be unforgiving. Still, Panam knew she couldn't dwell on it. There was a camp to run, and Cassidy would be fine.
Straightening her shoulders, Panam pushed the concern aside. A smile ghosted across her lips as she rejoined the flow of camp life, the familiar sights and sounds grounding her once more.
Panam continued her trek through the camp, the weight of the dropped call with Cassidy fading with each step. Reaching a weathered canvas tent, she spotted a familiar figure hunched over a car with its hood gaping open. Julia, a young nomad with grease-stained overalls and a determined glint in her eyes, was battling a mechanical gremlin.
Panam approached the car, the scent of hot engine oil and burning gasoline filling her nostrils. Leaning against the fender, she cast a practiced eye over the exposed engine.
"Hey there, Julia," Panam greeted, her voice laced with a teasing lilt. "Those spark plugs look like they've seen better days. Sand gets into anything out here."
Julia straightened up, wiping a smudge of grease across her cheek. A wry smile played on her lips. "Always lookin' out for my Buggy, Panam. You're right, those plugs are probably causing half my troubles. Just trying to squeeze a few more miles out of them before I have to cough up the eddies for replacements."
Panam chuckled, her smile genuine. "No shame in that, Julia. We all make do with what we have out here. Speaking of which..." she added, peering deeper into the engine bay. "I see your coolant's running a bit low. You might wanna top it up before you head out again."
Julia glanced at the coolant container, her brow furrowing slightly. "Yeah, it's on the list. Thanks for the heads-up, Panam."
"Anytime, Julia. You know I'm always happy to lend a hand if you need it with these repairs."
Appreciation flickered in Julia's eyes before a mischievous glint took its place.
"Haven't seen you with a greasy wrench in hand in a while. Does The Aldecaldo leader still know her stuff?"
Panam's grin widened.
"Don't underestimate me, slick. I can still handle myself under a hood just fine."
Just then, a thought struck Julia.
"Speaking of leaders, Mitch was looking for you. Said he had some news from Bill, if I remember right."
The playful banter evaporated. A flicker of concern crossed Panam's face at the mention of William Carson. He was a ghost from the past, a nomad who had left the Aldecaldos before Panam rose to leadership. Back then, tensions between Saul, and Bill, who disagreed with Saul's methods, ran high. Bill's recent attempt to contact Mitch, along with news of a potential buyer for the Arasaka tech they possessed, had stirred a pot of unease within Panam. William seemed genuine, but trust didn't come easy, especially when it involved a valuable asset and a turbulent past.
The rhythmic clang of metal clanged against metal echoed across the camp as Panam approached the largest tent in the Aldecaldos' territory. Inside, bathed in the dim glow of a hanging lantern, loomed the imposing form of the Basilisk. Its once gleaming armored hull bore the scars of countless battles, a reminder of the time spend outside Night City. On top of the turret, a figure clad in welding gear wrestled with a hefty machine gun, sparks flying with each clang. Panam recognized the silhouette instantly.
"Hey, Mitch!"
She boomed, her voice cutting through the rhythmic pounding.
Mitch spun around, his goggles flipping onto the top of his head. A shock of surprise momentarily etched across his oil-smudged face, quickly replaced by a broad grin. He jumped down to the side of The Basilisk.
"Panam! Good timing. I was just putting the finishing touches on this beauty." He chuckled, gesturing towards the freshly welded machine gun.
Panam nodded, her gaze lingering on the weapon for a moment.
"Impressive work." she conceded.
"But more importantly, I heard you have news from Bill."
Mitch's grin faltered slightly.
"Right." He said, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. "He says he's in the area. He knows a potential buyer for the Arasaka tech. Wants to meet us."
A wave of unease washed over Panam. The tech they salvaged from the Arasaka Tower was their biggest bargaining chip, a double-edged sword offering both opportunity and danger.
"Alright, let's hear him out. Where is he?" She said, her voice firm.
"He's outside Vicksburg right now. Taking on some jobs for the local sheriff. Said he could meet us in Phoenix tonight." Mitch explained.
Panam tapped her foot impatiently.
"Tonight? I can't wait that long. There's too much riding on this."
She glanced at the Basilisk, a spark of determination hardening her features.
"What do you say, Mitch? Feel like taking a little trip?"
Mitch raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
"You itching for some action, sister?"
"Maybe..." Panam admitted, a hint of a smirk gracing her lips. "But mostly, I just want some answers. You in?"
"Always."
Mitch replied, clapping her on the shoulder.
"Just let me grab my gear. This little sheriff's business might prove more... interesting than we expect."
The afternoon sun beat down on the desolate landscape as Panam and Mitch pulled Panam's pickup truck to a halt beside an abandoned gas station on the outskirts of Vicksburg. The rusty pumps stood like skeletal sentinels, remnants of a bygone era. In the distance, the dusty silhouette of the town shimmered in the heat haze.
Parked in the shade of a skeletal gas station awning sat another pickup, its paint faded and its chrome dulled. A figure seen in the driver's seat, the side window rolled down, a cigarette dangling from his lips. As Panam and Mitch approached, the figure straightened, revealing a weathered face framed by a long, dark brown beard. A backward baseball cap and aviator sunglasses masked his eyes, but a familiar face shone through.
"Panam." The man greeted, his voice low and gravelly. "Good to see you. You haven't changed a bit."
Panam stopped a few feet away, her gaze scrutinizing the man.
"William." She replied, a hint of formality in her voice.
"Good to see you too. You look just like I remembered. How long has it been? 7? 8 years?"
A flicker of sadness crossed William's features before he offered a humorless smile.
"It's been a while. I just want you to know..." He paused, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "I don't hold a grudge against the clan. What happened between me and Saul was personal. I respect you as the leader now."
Panam nodded curtly, her emotions carefully guarded. She had her fair share of arguments with Saul too. But Bill's been away for very long, and trust wasn't easily regained.
"Thank you, Bill." She said finally.
"I hope our partnership to be fruitful. Now, tell me what is it that we're doing out here?"
Bill stubbed out his cigarette on the dusty ground
"Nothing major, Panam. Just a little security detail. The local sheriff seems he can handle keeping the bikers outside Vicksburg at bay, but he lacks the manpower to patrol the rest of the county. So, he hired me."
Panam raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in her voice.
"Security detail for a sheriff? Seems like a waste of your... expertise."
A wry smile tugged at the corner of William's lips.
"Maybe. But there's more to it. A truck loaded with medical supplies is leaving Vicksburg soon, heading east to Prescott. Looks like a routine delivery, but my intel suggests The Blue Drakes might have their sights set on it."
Panam's posture stiffened. The Blue Drakes were trouble she didn't want to tangle with.
"Are you sure about this intel?"
She pressed, her voice tight.
William didn't meet her gaze directly. Getting off his truck, his movements spoke of a man accustomed to danger. As he stood to his full height, Panam got a good look at him. He wore a well-worn olive green NUSA Army jacket, the faded fabric a testament to its long history and countless deployments. Beneath it peeked a pair of patched jeans, their rips and stains hinting at past scrapes and close calls. These were tucked into a sturdy pair of army boots, their laces looped with a practiced precision that spoke of a man who knew the value of preparedness. The overall impression was one of a soldier, a man who carried the weight of the past on his shoulders. This was no ordinary hired gun; this was a man who had stared into the abyss and come out the other side, a man whose calm demeanor belied a wellspring of deadly experience.
"Not entirely." William admitted, his voice low and serious.
"My contacts say The Drakes are planning something, the intel is incomplete, but it says they won't waste much of their resources on a simple medical supply convoy. We can't be too careful though. A good soldier knows that at the end of the day, he can rely only on himself."
Escorting a medical convoy seemed straightforward, but with The Blue Drakes potentially lurking in the shadows, the desert journey was about to become far more perilous.
The relentless desert sun beat down on the metallic skin of Bill's pickup as he followed Panam's lead, the medical supply truck lumbering behind them. A tense silence hung in the air, punctuated only by the rhythmic rumble of engines.
Panam's eyes narrowed.
"Looks like The Blue Drakes might be early. Get ready, both of you."
The adrenaline surged through Panam's veins, replacing the simmering unease. She gripped the steering wheel tighter, her gaze scanning the desolate landscape for any sign of an ambush. A flicker of movement caught her eye in the distance.
"Roadblock ahead! Convoy, stop!"
Panam barked into her radio.
The truck carrying the medical supplies screeched to a halt, a plume of dust billowing behind it. Panam glanced at Mitch, a silent communication passing between them. They both knew what needed to be done.
"Hold here with the convoy. We'll clear this up."
Panam instructed Mitch, her voice firm.
With a swift nod, Mitch grabbed his rifle and dismounted, taking a defensive position beside the vulnerable truck. Panam and Bill peeled out in their respective vehicles, flanking the roadblock. Five figures clad in leathers, their faces obscured by bandanas, materialized from behind a makeshift barricade of scrap metal and tires.
The Blue Drakes roared a challenge, brandishing their weapons. Panam wasted no time. The desert echoed with the sharp crack of gunfire as she and Bill opened fire. Their movements were practiced, efficient, years of experience distilled into deadly precision.
The poorly organized ambush crumbled under the hail of bullets. Three bikers went down instantly, the others scattering in a desperate attempt to escape. Panam and Bill pressed their advantage, flanking them with ruthless efficiency. Two more figures crumpled to the dusty ground, their threats silenced.
Within a matter of seconds, the skirmish was over. Panam stood panting, the smell of gunpowder acrid in her nostrils. Bill walked over to the fallen bikers, his expression grim but his movements professional. With a swift check, he confirmed they were all down for the count.
"Five tangos down. Good shootin', Panam." Bill said, his voice gruff.
Panam nodded curtly, her gaze lingering on the scene before her. It was a brutal reminder of the harsh realities of the badlands, a contrast to the life-saving supplies they were protecting.
"Let's get the convoy moving."
She said finally.
"And let's hope the rest of the journey is a little smoother."
The late afternoon sun started dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues as the convoy pulled into the dusty outskirts of Prescott. The medical supplies had been delivered without further incident, a feat that left Panam with a mixture of relief and surprise.
Panam, Mitch, and Bill climbed out of their vehicles, the silence broken only by the chirping of desert crickets. Panam stretched, rolling her shoulders to ease the tension that had built up during the journey.
"That was smoother than I expected. The Blue Drakes can be relentless when they set their sights on something."
Panam admitted, a hint of amusement in her voice.
Bill chuckled, a dry but genuine sound.
"Like I said before, my intel suggested they wouldn't waste their resources on a small-time convoy. They probably figured it wasn't worth the risk."
Panam raised an eyebrow.
"You also said a good soldier doesn't rely solely on his intel."
She countered, a playful glint in her eyes.
Bill grinned. "Touché." He conceded. "Now, about that buyer..." He leaned against his truck, his gaze turning serious.
"You know the town of Haynes, right? Nuclane Corp used to have a tight grip on the mine there. But lately, they've lost a lot of influence, creating a bit of a power vacuum. A guy I served with back in Costa Rica - reliable source - mentioned they might be interested in this Arasaka tech of yours."
Panam's posture stiffened. The possibility of a buyer was enticing, but dealing with a corporation like Nuclane - especially one with a shady reputation - was a risky proposition.
"What kind of offer are we talking about?"
"That's the tricky part. This guy wouldn't give details to anyone but the leader. Wants to talk to you directly, Panam." Bill shrugged.
Mitch scoffed, placing hand on his chin.
"Sounds hella dangerous. You trust this guy, Bill?"
Bill's expression remained unreadable.
"In this line of work, trust is a luxury most can't afford. But I can set up a meeting on neutral ground. You get to see what they have to offer before making any decisions."
Panam nodded slowly, her brow furrowed in thought. The potential benefits were undeniable, but the risks were equally clear.
"We need to discuss this amongst ourselves." She finally said.
The desert wind whipped her hair around her face as she glanced at the darkening sky.
"It's getting late. We should be heading back to the camp. You coming with us Bill?"
Bill looked from Panam to Mitch, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes.
"Thanks for the offer, Panam. But I think I'll hold off on returning just yet. Got some loose ends to tie up here."
Panam offered him a curt nod.
"We'll stay in touch, William. Stay safe out there."
Bill flashed a smile.
"You too, Panam. And you Mitch. It was good seeing you guys."
Panam and Mitch pulled into the familiar dusty clearing of the Aldecaldo camp, the late evening air thick with the comforting scent of woodsmoke and roasting meat. Exhaustion gnawed at Panam, but a sliver of worry wormed its way into her gut. A single light flickered from the medical tent, a beacon cutting through the darkness. She dismounted from the truck, her boots crunching on the gravel path, and hurried towards the tent. Mitch followed close behind.
Pushing aside the canvas flap, Panam was greeted by the sterile smell of disinfectant and a soft, warm glow emanating from a lamp on the bedside table. Julia lay propped up in the cot, a bandage wrapped around her head, her usually fiery eyes dimmed but with a spark of defiance still burning within. Carol sat beside her, a book open in her lap but her gaze fixed on Julia.
"Julia!" Panam exclaimed, rushing to the bedside. Concern etched lines on her face. "Are you okay?"
Julia offered a weak smile. "I'm good, Panam. Just a few bruises. More scared than hurt, honestly."
Panic subsided, replaced by a wave of relief so intense it almost knocked the wind out of Panam. "What happened?" she pressed, her voice tight with fear.
Carol, ever the calm presence, placed a hand on Panam's shoulder. "Raffens." She explained. "We went to Phoenix to get filters for the water purifiers, routine stuff. But they ambushed us on the way back. Seems they're getting bolder."
Panam's gaze flickered back to Julia, her concern renewed. "How are you feeling?"
"Honestly, it's nothing major." Julia reassured her. "They rammed my Buggy, sent me flipping. Could be a cracked rib or two, but nothing life-threatening. Me and Carol managed to fight them off." Pride flickered in her eyes despite the obvious pain.
Panam let out a shaky breath, relief washing over her again. "Thank God you're okay." She whispered, squeezing Julia's hand gently. "Why didn't you call me? I would have..."
Carol cut her off gently. "We had our hands full with those Raffens, Panam. And then getting to safety. By the time we settled, we didn't want to worry you. Wouldn't have changed anything anyway."
Panam sank into a chair beside the bed, guilt gnawing at her. "If only I hadn't taken that stupid sheriff's errand..." she muttered, her voice laced with regret. "I could have been there with you."
"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it, Panam." Carol interjected firmly. "You can't be everywhere at once. You already have so much on you."
Mitch, leaning against the tent entrance, added his voice.
"Besides, we did good. Those medical supplies we escorted will save lives, including ours maybe, sometime down the road."
Panam sighed, her heart still heavy but the immediate worry receding.
"You're right. Just glad you two are okay."
The notification sound of her phone cut through the somber mood in the tent. Panam fished it out of her pocket. It was a message from V.
"Hey Panam, me and Judy are getting ready to leave to The Riot. Where are you?"
Dread pooled in Panam's stomach. The message jogged her memory - a half-made promise to V and Judy for drinks in Night City. The guilt she'd been trying to suppress flared anew.
She tapped out a quick reply. "Got distracted by something. I'll join you a bit later."
V's response was immediate. "You didn't forget, didn't you?"
Panam grimaced. Another message flew back: "No way, I'll join you soon. I promise."
Carol, ever observant, had been watching the exchange over Panam's shoulder. A knowing smile played on her lips.
"Go, Panam." She said gently.
"It's not too late. It's been a long day for you. Me and Mitch can handle things here."
Panam hesitated, torn between responsibility and a sliver of longing for a night away from the constant tension of the badlands.
"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice laced with uncertainty.
Mitch, leaning against the entrance flap, chuckled.
"Yes, go! You need to chill. We'll hold down the fort."
Panam raised an eyebrow. "But if anything happens you will give me a call?"
Mitch grinned, his eyes twinkling. "We will absolutely not." He declared, his voice thick with mock seriousness. "Now shoo! Get out of here before we change our minds."
Panam couldn't help but let out a small laugh, the tension finally starting to ease.
"Alright, alright." She conceded, standing up.
"Thanks, you two. Get well soon, Julia. See you guys after a while."
With a final wave goodbye, Panam exited the medical tent, the weight of responsibility momentarily lifted. A sliver of excitement bubbled within her - a night of drinks with friends, a chance to forget the harsh realities, even for a short while. She sent a quick message to V, letting her know she was on her way, and with a deep breath, turned towards her bike. Night City beckoned, and for the first time in a while, Panam allowed herself to look forward to something other than survival.