Vibranium has range. As one of Marvel's signature metals, it covers armor, frames, plates, and anything that needs to eat kinetic shock for breakfast. Adamantium goes the other way: once set, it barely yields, ideal for weapons that refuse to bend. With both on hand, anything Rocky builds jumps a weight class.
He set a vibranium ingot on the bench, selected a recipe, and let the workbench do its thing. The ingot broke down into nine portions of vibranium grain. High-strength metals are nightmares to process by hand, especially adamantium, which cannot be reshaped once it cures. The bench solved that: decompose, synthesize, then upgrade or fabricate parts as needed. He fed fresh vibranium to the furnace, added supporting alloys, and started an adamantium melt on the recipe profile.
One metal should have been enough. The catch: vibranium is a meteoric material with a twenty-percent world-correction price penalty in the module shop. Adamantium avoids that penalty, but its bill of materials still calls for vibranium. Rather than fight the math, Rocky just bought the bundle. One leans defense. One leans offense. Nothing wasted. Top-grade alloys do not pour fast; waiting on an adamantium melt takes time.
"Where's Vik?" Lucy looked around the lab once the controls settled into a long hold.
"Vik doesn't do late nights," Rocky said, smiling.
"Fair," she said, looping her hands around his neck. No interruptions tonight, so she took the initiative. Since Ascension Technology spun up, Rocky, Lucy, and Rebecca had lived on shifts. You take the gaps when they open. Rocky did not turn her away. Their private time had found a sharper edge with Soldier Serum and Compound V in Lucy's system and telekinesis awake.
…
Santo Domingo.
David stood at the window, staring past his reflection at the threadbare skyline. Moonlight spread across his shoulders, cutting a clean definition along muscles he did not have two months ago.
A prompt bloomed in his vision.
[ Rescue Mission: Recover Ascension employees seized by Scavengers ]
[ Location: Santo Domingo ]
[ Target Intel: … ]
His comm chimed. Jackie.
"David, you get the mission? Scavs snatched our people just now. It's in Santo Domingo, close to you. Can you move?" Jackie said.
Lissandra monitors every employee. It is not just counter-intel. When someone's in trouble, she knows in seconds. Touching Ascension's people is a slap to Ascension's face. Rocky will not let Scavengers walk off with company staff. One punch now saves a hundred later. If a gang or a Scav crew tags an Ascension badge, Lissandra pings Special Operations at once. If they are tied up, she pushes the contract through a fixer and pays independent mercs to handle it.
Why not just buy Trauma Team memberships for everyone? Ascension cannot afford that yet, and even if they could, Rocky would rather not feed Trauma Team's margins.
"Got it," David said. "Heading out now."
"Can you handle it solo?"
"No problem. Scavs only."
"Then it's yours."
The call cut. David smiled despite himself. He was not the same kid he had been two months ago. Rocky had read him right. Gifted. Under Jacky's coaching, he leveled fast and earned Rocky's nod. Soldier Serum strengthened him—new cyberware filled in the rest. In Night City terms, he had pushed into the front of the pack. Jacky handing him this op proved it, which is why the green in David's smile felt good. Recognition lands differently.
"Scavs again," he muttered. "When do these guys disappear from Night City?"
Rescuing people from Scavs is not hard for him now; his hate for them is personal. They almost cost him his mother. The thought sharpened his focus. He popped Sandevistan, geared up in one clean sequence, eased the door without waking Gloria, and slipped into the night toward the ping.
…
Santo Domingo, an old apartment block.
David sized the nest from the entrance and nodded once. It fit the Scav profile in his head: no tactics, no discipline, meat, and bad choices. He quickhacked the door control with a data knife and stepped into the usual filth. Trash underfoot. Spent syringes in the corners with a smear of green still clinging to the inner walls.
He did not linger. He lit the Sandevistan and began the work. Months ago, this kind of den had soaked him in sweat and nearly killed him. Tonight, they were lambs. He cleared the building fast, then found the target: an Ascension employee taped to a chair, a Braindance recorder still running.
"Special Operations," he said. "David Martinez. You're safe. Let's move."
He cut the tape, killed the BD feed, and pulled the chair back. The employee stared, stunned, then managed, "Thank you, thank you…"