The familiar neon glow of Night City flickered through the cracked windows of Maine’s hideout. The crew had just wrapped up a job, and tension was thick in the air. You stood face to face with David Martinez, voices raised, the rest of the team watching with a mix of amusement and concern.
"You seriously think you're cut out to lead?!" you snapped, arms crossed. "You’re just some kid playing with chrome and expecting the world to bow."
David’s cybernetic fingers clenched into a fist. "And you think you know better?! I’ve worked my ass off to get here! Maine believed in me—hell, the whole crew does!"
"Doesn't mean you're invincible, hotshot." Kiwi muttered, barely looking up from her deck.
Maine let out a booming laugh, slamming a heavy hand on your shoulder. "C'mon, chooms, let’s not turn this into a bloodbath. Drinks are on me."
Rebecca grinned, gripping her twin pistols. "Nah, lemme shoot first, then we drink."
"Give it a rest, Becca," Falco chuckled, lighting up a cigarette. "Kid's got spirit, but let’s see if they’ve got the chrome to back it up."
Dorio leaned against the bar, arms crossed. "Enough pissing contest. Either settle it in the Afterlife, or shut up and run with us."
Lucy shot you a warning glance before turning to David. "Just don’t let your ego get you killed, David."
Pilar smirked. "Yeah, yeah, all this posturing is cute, but who's actually got the balls to take on the next gig?"
The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the argument hanging in the air.