Castle-Punk: A Legacy Remembered

A City With No Care

A Year Later

No matter how big or how small an event happens, the city continues on. Crimes continue, back stabbings occur, Corpos do as they please.

To put it quite simply... The City doesn't care about you. Not unless you force it to look at you. That's what being a legend is. When you're in a city that doesn't care about you, you do something so bat shit insane, the city treats you with respect.

That is the hope of those who grow up on the streets, the 'street kids' as they are called, people who grew up on the streets of Night City. These are the ones whose dreams want to be a part of the legends such as James ''Rockerboy'' Manson, Morgan Blackhand, and finally the biggest legend of Night City, Johnny Silverhand.

Of course for those who don't wish to deal with any of the Corpos, the politics, wars, even just the madness that comes with the walled off cities. There are those who chose to be Nomads, tribes of people who depend on each other as family, just like the native American tribes before the collapse. These tribes roam the wastelands of the old world to cut out a slice for themselves, among them is the largest clan of the Nomads. The Aldecaldos of the Seven Nations Nomads with their strong leader and her wife who leads their clan like a large family of blackballed, unemployed, disenfranchised, runaways, and those who have no other path in life but that of a Nomad.

The said leader was watching the sunset on the desert land. She had a large and muscled frame with pale skin and raven black hair that reached the middle of her back. She took a deep breath before a shout reached her elf like ears.

Next to her, a woman with long blonde hair, almost like a mane, lavender eyes, and a muscular build was working on her motorcycle. She had a yellow robotic arm on her right side that made tightening screws easier. "Hey boss?" She called out.

"Yes, Yang?" Striga asked, looking at the young Aldecaldo.

"When do you think we'll move camp again? Being this close to that cesspool of a city has me on edge." Yang asked, wiping some oil off of her arms.

Striga looked back to the horizon while answering her. "When I deem it necessary, Yang. Until then, unless we are in danger, this is our home for now."

Before Yang could say anymore, one of the Aldecaldos called out.

"Striga! We've got a Corpo here looking for you!" A guy with a beard and long black hair said, holding a cybernetic double barrel shotgun, while the Corpo walked behind him.

Striga growled slightly as unlike her wife, she hated Corpos because of how they treated people like cogs in a machine, reaching to her holster she pulled out her revolver, a custom Malorian Overture Revolver, and was ready to display that she wasnt a woman to be fucked with or her clan.

Looking at the masked figure, the person was small, wore what looked to be a breathing mask and blacked out goggles, and a hood. "Alright, who are you and why shouldn't I shoot you for having the balls to walk into my clan's territory?" She demanded in a stern voice while leveling the hand cannon at the person's head which resulted in other Nomads around her leveling their weapons as well.

The masked figure slowly pulled down the hood to reveal red hair that seemed very familiar to the two. She pulled the goggles and breathing apparatus off to reveal it to be Lenore. "Are you really willing to kill your sister, Striga?"

Morana gasped at the sight with her eyes widening. "Lenore…"

Striga's eyes slowly widened as she removed the revolver from Lenore's head before she chuckled then broke out into a laugh. "PUT AWAY THE GUNS AND BREAK OUT THE GOOD STUFF! Tonight we celebrate the return of a long lost sister!" That got the response you'd expect from a family as they cheer, moving around to prepare a feast. "You're a corpo trash, honestly not surprised." Striga comments in good jest towards Lenore.