We are Infinite - The Lighthouse and the Whaler
Chapter Twenty-Seven
July 27th, 2077
Night City, Northern California
Wellsprings, Cannery Plaza
Liana Sharp had long since left Coyote Cujo behind, but her heart rate was skyrocketing into the stratosphere. Her thick-skinned nature was a product of rubbing shoulders with some of the most vicious and brutal mercenaries in Night City.
In Night City, weakness was not tolerated by anyone, and those that exhibited it found their reputations to be destroyed. Fear was a sentiment that her comrades in the Afterlife could sniff like lions hunting their prey.
And a reputation was everything to a Night City Mercenary.
The Afterlife's status was under fire after the Night City Headhunter practically stormed the building, roughed up one of Rogue's lieutenants, and embarrassed the entire guild in little more than an hour.
The details behind the sudden blitzkrieg attack were lost to rumor, and Rogue kept all the info behind a curtain of confidentiality.
The shitshow occurred as Liana was returning from an assignment in Coastview. She didn't envy how hard it must have been for Rogue to handle the political storm that dragged her reputation through the mud.
After the incident, Rogue sent her on a score of gigs to revitalize the Afterlife reputation. Her standout assignment involved killing a Valentino lieutenant who bit off more than he could chew. The moron's desire for eddies crossed one too many lines, and his own boss wanted him out of the picture.
Liana did not give a damn about the details and gutted the moron all the same. It was by far the best gig in the world, considering the amount of eddies she won by slicing up his corpse and sending them to his home.
With the job done and Rogue cutting Liana loose for the night, she had an abundance of free time before she needed to contact her…..caretaker. Being an Afterlife Merc had its perks, but someone else out in the periphery earned her allegiance more than Rogue ever could.
Her favorite bar dive in Night City just so happened to the Coyote Cujo.
Its matriarch welcomed her with open arms despite her continued conflicts with V. Their relationship was still a sore subject for Liana, and it was clear her former paramour felt the same exact way.
Her departure from the Bakker clan was a little more than seven years ago, and it still left a bitter taste in her mouth. Their fall from grace was always an inevitability, and nothing could be done to save that sinking ship.
Liana tried her damndest to convince V to leave with her to Night City, but loyalty meant everything to nomads, and she refused to abandon the clan just yet.
Therefore, when V arrived in Night City with Jackie Welles of all people in tow, Liana felt some degree of satisfaction.
She had long since established a good rapport with the Welles family through her working relationship with Jackie, and it was mere happenstance that he was contracting V for the 'iguana' gig.
Fast forward a year, and their relationship hadn't improved at all, but Jackie was willing to keep her in the loop regarding V's safety.
However relentlessly antagonistic Liana Sharp might be, there was always a soft spot in her heart for Valerie Vargas. When Jackie passed away, she tried opening a dialogue with her, but the conversations were routinely cut short.
Earlier that month, V came strolling into the Coyote with a new choomba in tow. Lianainstantly recognized the Aldecaldo as Rogue's next problem child from the Afterlife. Don't get her wrong, Panam Palmer was an outstanding smuggler, but on top of that, she had a mean streak to rival Night City.
It considerably vexed Liana that V was willing to make new chooms but continue to give her the cold shoulder. She was even more resentful when the Merc came strolling into with an eye-catching youth that acted more like a shadow than a run-of-the-mill mercenary.
He exuded a dominating presence with little more than a simple glance, curtailing the beta males trying to meet his crimson gaze. For a guy that young to make these hardened killers shy away required a tremendous amount of gravitas.
Liana wanted to meet him, mostly out of pure curiosity.
From her observations, V and her choomba were as thick as thieves. Even when Mama Welles took the tower of muscle to Jackie's ofrenda, V never took her eyes off him.
Sure she may have turned away to speak with Pepe about some meaningless subject, but V always watched him out the corner of her eye.
And that got Liana's mind turning.
In her quest to know the ins and outs of this kid's life, her only obstacle was to get him alone. A barrier that was easily removed when V went off to drink at the bar and left him alone for Liana to eat up.
For whatever foolish reason, Liana believed she could take advantage of his youth for her own means.
No matter the experiences and age, generally speaking, males in their early twenties were easily seduced by the wiles of the fair gender. It was pure biology, and she was willing to take full advantage of her the gifts god himself bestowed her.
The web of seduction Liana was trying to weave around him was stonewalled at every attempt, and even close proximity didn't waver the man. Then just as she was about to try a last-ditch effort, something inside him changed on a dime.
His crimson eyes that were dull came to life, and every fiber of her soul was caught in a red haze of fear.
Liana had never felt so terrified in her life.
The pure potency in his gaze was a thing of beauty and horror to behold, and at that very moment, she understood why a bar full of killers withered under his watch.
That kid was dangerous, and Liana didn't use that word lightly.
In a city filled with psychopathic killers, ruthless mercenaries, and deadly Cyberpsychos, Liana found the one person in the world that could make her bow.
It was a terrifying prospect.
She was grateful that V came storming in a moment later, drawing those crimson orbs away from her.
Despite heavily broadcasting a relaxed attitude, on the inside, she was utterly frightened.
There wasn't a doubt in her mind that V didn't take notice of her withering resolve after she dragged her choomba upstairs. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say the Afterlife Lieutenant ran from the Coyote with her tail between her legs.
Luckily for her, she had a task to occupy her thoughts away from V and the tower of muscle she was no doubt running around with.
Liana practically sprinted towards her premium apartment, rushing by a few beachgoers who tried in vain to get her attention, but they went pointedly ignored.
She didn't have time to indulge in the curiosities of drunken morons.
Establishing connection…..
The words scrolled across the front of her brain, and for the barest of moments, Liana forgot all about her recent troubles.
There was only one person in the world that Liana would acknowledge as her superior.
And that was her mother.
Connection established…..
[Mother]-Mercury?
Even years later, the family still used codenames when chatting about one another over a telecommunications network. Their mother's paranoia was one of the many ticks that rubbed off on her children, especially her full-blooded children.
[Mercury]-Hey Ma, got time to talk?
[Mother]-Always child. Give me a moment.
Video call transfer…..
Transfer complete…..
It always amazed Liana that her mother aged like fine wine.
Rogue Amendiares may have looked good at the age of 80, but her mother was nearly 50 years old and yet still maintained looks that were to die for.
Golden, short hair wound up into a tight bun revealed a face with perfectly arched brows, dusted high cheekbones, and full natural lips. The pair of pure blue eyes was a prominent feature that settled the nerves of any who gazed into them. Her mother was an exotic splendor that always radiated an aura of pure comfort.
Liana wished she was the biological child, but unfortunately, she was little more than an adopted daughter, much like most of her sisters.
"Mercury?" Her mother's voice cut through her milling thoughts. "Are you ok?"
"Yes, Ma," Liana replied swiftly. "I'm just shaken up, is all. How are the girls?"
She tried to put on a face of pure confidence, but it withered under her guardian's narrowed gaze.
The woman's intuition was just as deadly as she was.
"They could be better. Your sister Venus is having some trouble with her supervisors, something about regaining their trust after the most recent inventory fiasco."
"What about Saturn and Mars." Liana inquired innocently as she leaned against the kiosk, arms crossed.
"Saturn's home, been spending time with her favorite pair of adolescent children after that bought in the hospital." Her mother replied amiably before it turned sour. "As for Mars, she's been quiet. I haven't heard a word from her in weeks, and I am starting to worry."
Mars was a corpo bigshot that was having a busy couple of months, much like the rest of the corporate sector. It was no surprise when she would go weeks without so much as a word to the family, but they'd gotten used to it by now.
"You know how she is Ma," Liana tried her best to appease the woman's worries. "Mars will come around when she's good and ready. The girl enjoys her peace and quiet like the rest of us."
"She takes to it more than any of you ever could."
The pair entered a near-practiced routine. Liana would inquire about the kids, and her mother would indicate for her to come home and find out.
It was a long played-out song and dance that settled Liana's nerves accordingly, but her mother never forgot the paleness of her face. She always knew when her kids needed her attention, it didn't matter the distance or the circumstances.
"Tell me what's bothering you." Liana's eyes turned away from her shrewd gaze.
"I ran into V again." Her mother's eyes flashed in recognition.
"That girl doesn't cause you this much grief, but you wouldn't bring her up if she wasn't involved." Her guardian remarked. "So tell me what really happened."
The story spilled from her lips, and her mother patiently heeded to every tiny detail handed to her. This wasn't the first time Liana called up her mother after a rough day in the office.
Her mother always seemed to know exactly what to say and when to say it, but this time was different. She wasn't focused on the story itself, but she was enthralled by the man who caused Liana such trauma with little more than a glance.
"Describe him." The words that fell from her mother's lips made Liana pause in confusion.
"Ma?" She asked hesitantly.
"Describe him." Her mother's tone was stern, and Liana could feel the commanding presence overtaking her.
"He was…..intense. I've never seen someone curtail a room full of killers with nothing more than a glance." Liana's breath caught as she recalled his frightening gaze. "His eyes were a deep dark crimson for most of the time I was there, and even when I approached him, it never shifted. He indulged in my advances for a time, but then everything changed when his patience ran out. I've never felt so terrified in my life."
Silence persisted, and Liana had to open her eyes to see the pensive look crossing her mother's face. Then as fast as it came, her tight expression fell away like water on rock, and she regarded her adopted daughter with an understanding expression.
"Ma," Liana queried. "Why did you ask about him?"
"I was curious, is all." A beaming smile crossed her mother's face. "You should go home and get some rest. You look tired."
She was right. Even now, Liana could feel the exhaustion chipping away at her eyes.
"Ok," Liana yawned, arms stretching out towards the heavens to further prove her mother's point. "I'll talk to you later, Ma."
"Goodnight, sweet peat.."
"You too, Ma."
The connection cut out, and Liana was left alone in the darkness. She crawled into bed minutes later, hoping in vain that those crimson orbs didn't follow her into her sleep.
Mercifully, they didn't.
July 28th, 2077
Night City, Northern California
Little China, Megabuilding H10
Silence.
That is the sound Cyrus was accustomed to hearing, followed by the grating surface of his flat mattress after menial hours of rest.
Cyrus was not used to resting on a foamy bed, with equally fluffy fabric rubbing against his bare skin. Ultimately, the most significant outlier was the quiet breathing tickling his right ear and the warm body practically molded into his side.
A bare leg was coiled around his own, and a single-arm wrapped itself around his torso, trapping Cyrus in a cascade of limbs. Any questions were halted when he glanced at V's peaceful expression, she was in the final throes of a pleasant dream by his assumptions.
V's comforter was curled up at the bottom of their bed, smushed up against the far wall leaving Cyrus and her utterly vulnerable to the apartment's cool air. That was more than likely the reason she was practically fusing into him, and soon their moderate stare of undress crossed his vision.
Cyrus's cargo pants, while somewhat loose, were still held firmly in place, and only his upper body was devoid of clothing. As for V, a tank top and undergarment barely covered her modesty, allowing most of her stunning body to rub against his augmented body.
In the past, such a spectacle would never even cross his mind, but now his reaction was vastly different.
Most individuals in Night City held an assortment of cyberware scattered throughout their bodies, and he found some applications worthwhile and other instances completely meaningless.
But V was different.
Her cyberware was minimal and not nearly as invasive, invoking a series of unfamiliar emotions inside him.
She was a physically intoxicating specimen, and Cyrus was unaccustomed to admitting it. V's very presence invoked inside him a sentiment that bordered on desire.
Redirecting emotions became as effortless as breathing for Cyrus, and in time disregarding them was child's play. But the yearning he felt for V was a foreign concept that he had never felt in his life.
Much like their forebears in ancient Greece, Spartans were trained to show no fear, no grief, no weakness, and perceived emotions as sentiments of the weak-willed. They were conditioned to be resilient, put their feelings aside, and focus more on the salvation and protection of humanity.
Cyrus didn't know how to redirect these emotions he felt for V.
Trust only in your team, no one else, and nothing else.
The gravel voice from his Headhunting days echoed through his mind. After being reassigned to the program, Colonel Ackerson took control of their extended training.
Training that contrasted Chief Mendez's tenants.
Emotion is weakness.
He was lost in a haze of complicated emotions that he had no resistance against.
And that frightened Cyrus.
Anger is your only companion in the night.
The sudden knock at V's front door immediately dashed any overwhelming thoughts in his mind.
"Cyrus?" He heard the familiar voice of Panam calling out to him. "V? You love birds awake?"
The worst possible outcome had occurred because the last thing Cyrus needed was for Panam's vexing personality to start grating on him.
"Cyrus, I know your in there! Now open the door! I look like a fucking idiot lugging around our breakfast."
Cyrus leaned to his left and gently removed himself from V's vice-like grip, ignoring her throat grumbling and her murmured requests for him to stay. Snatching his long sleeve shirt scattered amongst the rest of his clothes and gear on the carpeted floor, Cyrus ducked into the apparel and covered his bare torso.
He was not surprised Panam's face was plastered with a canary smile even as she pushed his presumed breakfast straight in his grasp. What he didn't expect her to do was roughly grab his chin and angle away from her.
"Jesus, V worked you good," Panam stated as her fingers traced a portion of his neck with a sizeable purple blemish. "You must have had a reasonably entertaining night, assuming you remember it?"
Cyrus shook off her hand and turned his attention toward the coffee table across from V's slumbering form. The lack of response on his part left Panam frazzled, and she watched him deposit the food and went about retrieving his scattered gear.
"If it makes you feel better," she began nervously. "I was in the same position as you last time V and I went out."
He glanced at Panam out of his corner of the eye for a moment, freezing the Nomad in place. Despite her near-constant headstrong personality, she fidgeted under his frozen gaze.
When Cyrus said nothing, Panam pressed on, glancing over at their passed-out comrade. "I was pissed at her at first, but it takes two to tango, and I was still of sound mind when things escalated."
It wasn't her proudest moment after a girls night out, but V was a seductress in human form, and it helped that Panam was absolutely plastered to some degree.
His following words shook her composure.
"I'm not you."
Cyrus didn't hear V's breath catch itself, nor did he see Panam wince at his albeit crass declaration.
With his desire to leave increasing with every passing second, Cyrus threw on his coat and made for the exit when Panam snatched his arm.
"Stay for breakfast?" She asked voice strained.
V was wide awake now, the covers pulled up over her shoulders, and her amber gaze filled with uncertainty looking straight through him.
"Not hungry." Panam's grasp whithered, and it didn't take long for Cyrus to make his exit.
The silence was all that remained.
Night City, Northern California
Rancho Coronado, Viking Station
It was a welcome change for Cyrus to be back in his MJOLNIR hunting his usual prey following the previous day's events.
In the hours following his incursion with V, Cyrus fully devoted himself to his responsibilities. He tried to convince himself that the decision was made out of a desire to return to his work, but in reality, it was just a means of distracting himself from what happened the previous day.
There was far too much to be done, and he simply wasn't eager to address his conflicting emotions with V anytime soon.
A Purist Captain was hampering Decker's efforts to reestablish the Patriots, and Cyrus needed to focus all of his attention on eliminating him.
Captain Nathaniel Green was his target, and he was in charge of the Sixth Street gang's Viking Station. A centralized barracks on the eastern fringes of Rancho Coronado that housed an entire company of infantry.
Viking Station was filled with Patriot sympathizers that Will Gunner didn't want but couldn't kill. Green was responsible for maintaining the eastern perimeter against any raffen attacks and serve as the primary dumping point for the political prisoner's Gunner was holding inside.
Unfortunately for the Patriot Sympathizers, Cyrus wasn't tasked with breaking them out. His only objective was to eliminate Nathaniel Green. The prisoners inside would have to endure their captivity a while longer.
At this current moment, Cyrus was scouting out the exterior and interior structure, looking for a weakness he could exploit in the station's defenses.
Viking Station was formerly called Megabuilding H12. However, a severe lack of funds and the city council's decreasing aspiration to build a superstructure so close to the Badlands killed the project before it could be finalized.
As a result, it became nothing more than a mausoleum to a civil engineer's hopes and dreams. Its towering structure a rotting carcass that was ripe for the pickings, and of course, the Wraiths came calling.
Its unfinished structure was a perfect outpost for the Raffen Horde to send out raiding parties into Rancho Coronado. This eventually led to a bloody clash between the Wraith Clan and the 6th Street gang.
That conflict came to an end a year ago after the 6th Street gang launched a counter-offensive that permanently removed the Wraiths presence from Rancho Coronado.
However, the threat of another raffen incursion remained likely.
Under the advice of his senior officers, Scott Graham assigned a full company to the eastern perimeter to clean up and fortify Megabuilding H12. Their primary function is to prevent the Wraiths from ever setting foot in Rancho Coronado again.
Gypsy company was the force utilized to defend the perimeter of Rancho Coronado. It was one of four infantry companies with a significant affiliation with the Purist Faction.
So there were no friends here today.
In total, Gypsy company possessed over one hundred standard infantry separated into ten squads. Those squads were supported by a logistics detachment and were assigned one of the most potent units in the 6th Street Gangs arsenal called the Bassilicks.
They relied entirely on maneuver tactics backed up by heavy weaponry and acted as the 6th Street Gang rapid assault force. The Special Operations group garnered a fierce reputation amongst some of the best killers in Night City, and Cyrus was eager to test that standing.
The approach to the station was guarded by dozens of security turrets and h-barriers serving as cover for the squad of soldiers guarding the main entrance. The perimeter was protected by a twelve-foot concrete barrier, and a guard tower kept vigilant eyes on the wall every hundred meters.
Several crows nests littered the upper rafters; each was occupied by a well-trained sniper equipped with an SPT32 Grad. Those assigned to the nests kept a constant vigil on the eastern perimeter, eyes always careful to spot the familiar black smoke from a Wraith vehicle's intake.
At the direct center of Viking Station laid a newly constructed two-story building that served as Gypsy Company's primary command and control center. Green and his command staff always coordinated their forces from inside, never once departing unless a high-ranking officer arrived to inspect the site.
Its secondary purpose was to serve as a holding center for the Patriot sympathizers imprisoned in its lower level.
Chamber designated the structure as Alpha on his HUD and began the process of splicing into the station's defense network. The assault on Viking Station needed to be subtle; a heavy-handed attack may draw too much attention upon Decker and the Patriots.
She was on thin ice as it was and her position inside the command structure needed to be maintained if there was any hope of revitalizing the 6th Street gang.
When it came to the mission parameters, his first instinct was to infiltrate the site and slit Greens throat, but that would require dropping too many bodies, and the Raffen weren't capable of such maneuvers.
Then he got an idea from an old mission five years back.
ONI deployed Cyrus and Eliza to the planet Heian to eliminate a Covenant Prophet named Bias. Initially, an ODST strike team accompanied by a Spartan-II was assigned to the operation, but they were replaced by Reaper Team once their prior mission was complete.
Therefore, Operation Grey Veil was initiated by a Headhunter team and not a poorly put-together strike team.
The details of how the operation needed to be executed were reasonably straightforward. Cyrus and Eliza were required to eliminate the Prophet of Bias without placing themselves at risk.
There were far too many Covenant forces in the area to initiate a standard strike maneuver. The assassination needed to be carried out efficiently and at a considerable distance so a QRF force would not acquire them.
When they were deployed to the planet's surface, Eliza acted as the spotter, and Cyrus was stuck hauling around a modified SRS99-AM Sniper rifle. Although the gun was heavier than it had any right to be, its modified barrel and ammunition enabled it to reach a 2500 meter target.
Unsurprisingly the SR performed its duty to perfection.
Unfortunately, Cyrus didn't have a rifle anywhere close to that beauty's specifications. He did possess a firearm capable of reaching a target at 2000 meters in the Techtronika Grad he'd been modifying.
The Spartan was perched on a hillside two kilometers south of Viking Station and was in prime position to wreak havoc on the poor fools below.
Now there were only two problems he needed to solve.
The first was getting Green to poke his head out long enough for Cyrus to take it clean off. Chamber had a solution, but she needed time to flesh out the calculations required to make such a shot possible.
The second was finding a distraction good enough for the Purists not to go knocking on Decker's front doot. In essence, Cyrus needed a false flag attack of some sort, but that wasn't likely to happen any time soon.
Then again, he was due some form of luck.
Chamber was combing through a few ideas when a piece of intelligence crossed her path.
When Cyrus and his crew attacked the concrete factory a few days ago, he installed a backdoor into their communication network for Chamber to access. This allowed the AI to eavesdrop on any transmissions sent in and out of the factory.
While Dogkiller did move his operations center further south, Chamber was still receiving sporadic information.
It was pure luck that the Wraith leader wanted to expand their holdings to the west and regain a foothold in Rancho Coronado while the 6th Street Gang was at war with the Animals.
The raffen attack was due to begin at any moment, but the attack was doomed to fail because Gypsy Company was aware of a possible incursion in advance by their scout teams.
Green ordered his men to set land mines in the junkyard and the main approach. He also assigned two squads of infantry to hide amongst the junkyard ruins and wait for the raffen horde to approach on foot.
The Purist Captain was setting a trap for the Wraiths, and the morons were about to walk straight into it.
This would be the first and only time Cyrus was willing to lend the Raffen Horde any assistance.
Cyrus couldn't do anything to help the Wraiths fend off the ambush in the junkyard, but he was in a position to kill the snipers overwatching the station from their crow's nest. If need be, he could also thin out the perimeter guards and a few patrol squads outside the compound to lessen the trap's lethality.
It was a gamble, but he was willing to bet the house on this strategy. All he needed to do was wait patiently for the Wraith to come stumbling towards Viking Station.
This resulted in a silent, peaceful downtime, but Chamber hated the silence.
"So you haven't told me how your night with V went."
Cyrus could exhale in pure exhaustion.
"It was," he spoke tentatively. "Enjoyable."
Cyrus was at a complete loss for what exactly transpired, but throughout that night, he remembered a feeling of carnal desire overtaking him, and when that need was satiated, he was left at complete ease.
He hadn't felt that way in years.
"Enjoyable." Chamber's brow crinkled in amusement. "Is that really the word you're going to go for?"
She clearly didn't know him very well. Downplaying everything was practically his first instinct.
"Yes."
"Cyrus," she began gently. "I know you need someone to talk to, and I'm right here, so talk to me."
These type of conversations rarely reached an apex and seldom gained traction. Chamber always needled Cyrus after a grueling mission back home, but he kept her at arm's length. Talking about his feelings was a topic he avoided more often than not because he didn't understand them himself.
This time was different. After a few moments of silence, he answered.
"After our run-in with MAXTAC, we visited a local bar. I interacted with a few close friends of hers, and we talked about our shared memories."
Cyrus glared at the AI as she pointedly looked away. "I'm still not happy about you not informing me of such a development, by the way."
By not happy, he meant fucking livid.
He was completely caught off guard by that subject V wanted/needed to broach, and Chamber was a shitty partner yesterday.
"Eh, you'll get over it," her nonchalance only irritated him more. "Now quit stalling and get back to the story, you monkey."
Cryus growled under his breath. "After our discussion, we had drinks, far too many by my estimation because even my metabolism couldn't keep up."
"That or you're a lightweight by Spartan standards."
"Would you like me to continue?"
"Yes, yes, keep going. Just trying to lighten the mood is all." Chamber waved him on.
Cyrus leaned against his Grad's stock, eyes focused as he recalled the previous night's events.
"I enjoyed myself immensely despite the bad taste in music and otherwise forgettable drinks. I remember V being closer than I am used to even allowing; I was content." Cyrus paused in thought. "It's a feeling I can recollect vividly, and despite my lack of memory, I can remember one lucid detail."
"She kissed me, and then it escalated."
Cyrus could easily recall the sweet smell of fragrance overwhelming his senses and the taste of strawberry on his lips. Despite the length of time between now and then, he still felt those intense sensations lingering inside him.
It was an addiction he was having trouble curtailing.
Chamber was a novice when it came to human intimacy, but even she knew her boy was entering a plane of emotion that he was unprepared for.
For all his capabilities, Cyrus was still emotionally stunted, and he was not responsible for those shortcomings. He was educated in warfare, hardened by the horrors of combat, and conditioned to endure any suffering without complaint—all of these replaced basic teachings of human emotion.
Every Spartan-III underwent these developments, and it left them vulnerable to those same emotions when their mental conditioning utterly failed them.
Cyrus's mental fortitude was as strong as titanium, but V found a chink in that armor and unknowingly exploited it.
Now he was left confused on how to process these feelings and what to do next.
It was no wonder why Cyrus was ignoring V's calls.
The Merc was worried she'd done something egregious last night and was begging him to call her back. When he refused, Chamber reached out to V herself to get a modest understanding of what happened.
Chamber had given V the privacy she desired and only monitored their location, not their actions. As a result, she was left out of the loop on a few key details.
V explained everything to the AI and was utterly beside herself on what to do next.
Chamber assured her that Cyrus was busy with an assignment and would get back to her shortly. The Merc had no choice but to trust in the AI's words and acquiesced to the excuse handed to her.
Chamber knew her Spartan better than anyone else on the planet.
"Cyrus," she said slowly. "Are you afraid?"
His reply was a near muted whisper. "Yes."
"That means you're human, Cyrus," Chamber's voice was a soothing symphony. "Isolating your emotions doesn't make you strong. It makes you angry and fearful, and it's time you realized you are human. Strength doesn't come from physical or mental fortitude. It comes from the people you care about." She sympathized. "Panam, V, they can't do what you can, but that doesn't make you any less human."
"It's just you being human." Crimson orbs now stared glanced towards her, and Chamber knew she had his full attention.
"I know what your thinking Cyrus. Caring about someone isn't new to you, and that's not what you're frightened of. With V, it's a different feeling, an emotion that you've never felt before. Not for me, not for Eliza, and not for Casey."
Embrace it.
"Don't ignore it, don't bottle it in, come to terms with what it means to feel affection, and for once in your life embrace it."
Be Human.
Two simple words, and yet they echoed through his head all the same.
"Cyrus?" Chamber's voice startled him out of his thoughts. "Are you ok?"
"Yes." He replied; the tension and confusion in his voice lessened considerably. "Thank you, Chamber."
"You don't have to thank me for anything. Ever." Cyrus only nodded marginally, eyes refocusing down his sights.
The conversation he had been fighting to avoid did more good for him than letting it persist.
Chamber needed to speak to V and Panam in private. Neither of them had any idea of the land mine they had unknowingly set off with yesterday's events, and she needed to make a few things abundantly clear.
If this was a direction both of them wanted to take with Cyrus, they needed to be prepared accordingly.
In the far distance, Cyrus's audio receptors were picking up the familiar growl of Wraith Quadras.
The party was going to start soon.
"Chamber, start the clock."
"With pleasure." Chamber hacked into Gypsy Company's comms network and started filtering their transmission into his helmet. Simultaneously, she began marking critical elements that needed to be taken care of when the Wraiths started their assault.
Snipers, AT Troopers, Squad Leaders, explosives, and defense turrets lit up Cyrus's HUD. The entire station contained a large assortment of neatly organized outlines and colors, just how he liked it.
"Go ahead, Gypsy One." Gypsy Company's command element came over the net.
"Mines in place ready to commence, Romeo." Cyrus trailed his Grad toward Gypsy One. The squad of 6th Street soldiers was camouflaged in the junkyard scraps, patiently awaiting their adversary.
"Gypsy Two?"
"Sandstorm played hell with our detonators. Myers is settling the problem now, two mikes to completion." The secondary squad was position fifty meters south of their sister unit, establishing a kill zone east of Viking station.
"You have one mike. Gypsy Three?"
"Uhhhh, we're set up for a pincer maneuver two hundred meters southeast of Gypsy Two. We have eyes on four times troop carriers and sixteen light armored vehicles. Estimated troop strength at 200 hostiles max." Cyrus spent a few moments searching for Gypsy Three and soon found them huddled behind an overturned transit bus.
"Romeo copies all. Gypsy Four, Five, and Six are in reserve, and Paragon is available for rapid action assault."
"Roger, Gypsy Three out."
Cyrus was scanning the station's perimeter when a massive inquiry crossed to the front of his mind. All Gypsy infantry squads were present and accounted for on his HUD, including the snipers and miscellaneous support teams.
So where the hell were the Basilisks at?
"Chamber," he bit out. "Where are the priorities?"
"Scanning…." Cyrus adjusted his stock, firmly bracing it against his shoulder. "I'm not picking up any additional thermal signatures…..one moment."
Seconds ticked by gradually, and Chamber's sudden silence left him in a bind. Cyrus scoped in on the numerous 6th Street Rangers nestled in their crow's nest. He would have to eliminate them during the assault.
Acting too soon would tip off Green to a second party, and too late will ensure that the Wraith assault falls apart before he could act. At the same time, Cyrus needed to prevent the raffen from gaining a foothold in Rancho Coronado.
The last thing he needed was these morons complicating matters.
This entire operation was Cyrus threading the needle.
The throttling of Wraith vehicles was inching closer and closer, the clock was ticking, and he needed to know where the Basilisks were located.
But like always, Chamber came through in the end.
"I got 'em," she exclaimed. "The Basilisks are located in an AV parked at the top of the station. There using the unfinished rooftop as a makeshift landing pad to conceal their position. My guess is there performing a standard hammer and anvil maneuver, Gypsy's the anvil, and Paragons the hammer."
Hammer and anvil was a principle-level warfare tactic that was demonstrated to most military officers during their training. Its execution and planning were simple by nature, but combat had a way of turning the uncomplicated into catastrophe.
"Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" Chamber pronounced suddenly.
"About?"
"If these gangers are capable of executing these types of tactics, then they also possess a basic grasp of military strategy. Correct?"
"Yes," Cyrus responded, eyes focusing on a snip perched on the station's southeast corner. "What are you getting at?"
"Then why are they having so much trouble with the Animals?"
"The Animals are similar to their surname. It's hard to predict the movements of a wild beast, especially in a choked-out urban environment." Chamber shrugged in acceptance, but her following words gave even him pause.
"Maybe," she began. "But aren't the Wraiths Animals too?"
That was a good point.
The Raffen Horde exalted the same ideals as the Animals in almost every way. The only difference between the two factions was their environment and differing opinions on vehicles.
So that begged the question.
Why were the 6th Street gang losing their war against the Animals?
It is a query that needed to be tabled for a different day, but its significance could not be understated. The possibility that Will Gunner was purposely mothballing his own conflict with the Animals was an intriguing prospect.
They would need to put the 6th Street Leader under a thorough microscope as soon as they returned to the hideout.
For now, their focus was on the removal of Nathaniel Green from the chessboard.
"Romeo, this is Gypsy One. Targets are in the net, permission to engage?"
"Permission granted. Kick us off Gypsy."
Time to get evil.
When the Wraiths attacked, it always started with a turbocharged roar from their engines. Frontier towns were so accustomed to the noise that they didn't even need to raise the alarm, the raffen loved to announce themselves for the whole country to hear.
The fools believed the roar of their souped joyrides was a decent tactic to terrify their targets, but against trained killers, all it did was paint a target on their back.
It also gave Gypsy One an effortless job of blowing them to hell when the morons rolled up on the preplaced anti-tank mines. The explosive show would have been a magnificent view to witness if he wasn't busy trying to keep the raffen from killing themselves so early.
"Romeo, to Gypsy One detonate on your go."
"Roger that."
The Raffen Assault party was being led by a nasty piece of shit named Jackhammer, and he led his bandits from the front. This, in turn, would put him and his convoy on a direct path with the minefield, and Cyrus needed to prevent the entire assault force from killing itself this early on.
If Jackhammer died in the opening salvo, then the raffen horde would scatter like cockroaches, and Cyrus would be out of a modest distraction.
Taking out the minefield was out of the question, and he had no decent sightlines on the 6th Street soldier equipped with the detonator.
What Cyrus did have was a clear line of sight on the convoy, and he possessed one of the few weapons in the world that could penetrate the engine block of a Wraith Quadra.
For most hitting a moving target at nearly two kilometers while battling the Coriolis effect and heavy winds was impossible.
But most people weren't Spartan, and they also didn't have an advanced artificial intelligence acting as a near-perfect spotter.
"Add, 50, shift 20." Chamber supplied Cyrus with the adjustments needed to make the unfeasible shot. "Winds dying down, you'll have a two-second window on my go."
"Understood." Cyrus steadied his heartbeat and controlled his breathing. Casey was the team sniper back then, and she always ragged on him for his erratic breathing techniques.
It was time to make her proud.
A blink later, and the raffen Quadra carrying its bloodthirsty leader sputtered out. Black smoke shot out of its exhaust, and the engine gave out its last dying breath.
Simultaneously, the 6th Street soldier in charge of the minefield detonated the explosive too early. The convoy's sudden loss in momentum through his timing off-kilter and a resounding explosion reverberated throughout the valley.
*BOOM!*
Fire and smoke shot in all directions forcing the raffen convoy to a screeching halt. The trap utterly failed, and now two hundred Wraiths were dismounting their vehicles with a vengeance.
Gunfire echoed across the valley, and Cyrus watched the raffen throw themselves into the 6th Street gunfire. The soldiers were not expecting such a brutal response, nor were they prepared for their carefully spun trap to go sideways so quickly.
"Goddamnit! Romeo to Gypsy One and Two push back to the station. Gypsy Three lay down, covering fire immediately!"
"Gypsy One copies, pushing back now."
"Two copies all, out."
"Gypsy Three here, popping HE grenades. Requesting Paragon deployment to our hillside."
"Negative! Maintain position; Trident wants Paragon to deploy to the North. We're going to box in these fucks east of the perimeter wall. Understood."
"Roger that, Gypsy Three out."
"Beautiful shot," Chamber stated with a beaming smile.
"I had a good spotter," Cyrus countered. He pulled back the oversized bolt action, and the .50 BMG round shot out of the chamber like a cannon. "Now, let's hope it means something in the long run."
The intense gun battle reached a crescendo as Raffen vehicles stormed towards the perimeter wall. The 6th Street Rangers were having a tough time picking out the Wraith leadership from the storm of bodies coming straight at them.
That didn't stop Cyrus from taking them out of the game, courtesy of a .50 BMG round straight through their temple. Their demise went utterly ignored as a platoon size element of raffen stormed the Viking Station perimeter wall.
Its security turrets were effective, but the horde's sheer size was too much for their targeting systems to handle. The machines were only able to eliminate a handful before the Wraiths finally destroyed them.
"This is Trident to all Gypsy Elements," Green's voice finally registered over the net. "I want squads to reinforce the western wall. Gypsy Three move west and flank the horde from the southwest. Paragon deploy to Point Echo and start moping up their rearguard."
"Paragon copies all out." The 6th street AV took off for the sky and suddenly dipped towards the ground. Its pilot pulled back on the flight stick at the last possible moment, and the aerodyne scraped against the junkyard floor.
Once the hovercraft reached an altitude of fifty meters, the Basilisks made their presence known. The AV's cargo doors slid open, and ten heavily armored figures equipped in finely crafted gear leaped out weapons at the ready.
Cyrus felt like he watched a prima donna squad enter the battlefield with an overdramatized flair the entire time.
"They certainly enter like ODSTs," Chamber commented off-handedly. "But they have none of their elegance."
Elegance is not a word that should ever be used to describe an Orbital Drop Shock Trooper.
"Let's focus on our target. The gangers have their hands full of raffen." Cyrus reloaded his Grad, switching out the spent magazine for a fresh one. "You inside the station's network?"
Viking Stations Alpha structure contained windows installed around the command center on the second floor. Green had them personally installed so he can oversee operations from relative safety.
Each window was protected by a six-inch armored flap that could be lowered and raised independently. Chamber had complete control of the armored protectors. All Cyrus needed to do was time his shot, and then their job was done.
"Affirmative," the AI responded. "We just need to pick the right moment."
Pick your moment.
Casey's voice echoed through his head. She made it her personal mission to impart upon Cyrus the lessons of long-range sniping. He could still recall her admonishing tone every single time he missed a headshot by mere inches.
Don't hesitate.
Even if Cyrus managed to score a clean headshot, Casey scolded him on his erratic breathing. It took him years to fine-tune his aiming to even meet her lowest standards, and even then, he felt like an amateur.
Imagine the target, visualize the shot.
Inhale.
Exhale.
"Trident to all Gypsy elements, rearm and push these fuckers back!"
Cyrus ignored the transmissions. His focus was centered entirely around the end of his barrel. Chamber didn't say a word to him, instead posting a countdown at the top right of his HUD.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Don't disappoint me, Cyrus.
He never did and wouldn't start now.
*BANG*
Cyrus visualized the subtle contours of his ballistic round traveling through the air at nearly 900 meters per second. Nature affected the bullet's trajectory exactly to Chamber's prediction, and the high-velocity projectile tore through the heavy winds with purpose and barely missed chipping the armored flap by centimeters.
"Trident to Paragon, I want-"
Green's transmission was cut short as his head exploded in an orgy of blood and brain matter; his body hit the command center floor with a dull thud.
The 6th street comms went up in a blaze of confusion and fury.
"Fuck! Romeo to all Gypsy elements Trident is down. I repeat, Trident is down! I need a medic up here now!"
Chamber cut the radio transmission out of his helmet; they didn't need to hear anything else. The 6th street gang maintained a well-disciplined command structure, and Green's second in command, Jacoby Hall, took the reigns of Gypsy Company within seconds.
Jackhammer was reported dead over the Wraith comm channel moments before Nathaniel Green's body hit the floor.
The raffen horde was disorganized and leaderless.
The rank and file fled like cockroaches from a flame, but only a few managed to evade the wrath of an irate Gypsy Company. Chamber marked the Basilisk's combat performance as….adequate.
They were nothing to scoff at, but their hard-nosed style of engagement left them vulnerable to irregular tactics. Should Cyrus come across them in the future, Chamber was confident that he could handle them without significant issue.
The Spartan packed up his equipment without basking in the glory of a nearly impossible shot. There was no celebration or exchange in pleasantries with his brilliant spotter, the job was done, and that's all he cared about.
It was time to head home.
Tomorrow they hunted Tyger Claws.
But first, Cyrus had a call to make.
"Hello?" His heart skipped a beat.
"V." It was impossible to pick up her relieved sigh.
"I didn't think you'd call back so soon." Cyrus jumped into the Phantom, carefully storing his GRAD on the AV's weapon rack.
"I had some…issues to work out." The line went silent for a time; both were unsure of where to go next until V took the reigns.
"I don't suppose you have time for dinner?"
Be Human.
"I can make the time, but no alcohol."
Chamber excused herself from the conversation as soon as she heard V's barely concealed jump of excitement. Her bumbling monkey had his work cut out for him, but she was confident he'd pull through nonetheless.
And if he didn't, she'd be there to pick him up.
That's what friends are for.
Welp hope everyone enjoyed that chapter, everything wasn't smooth sailing for the VxCyrus ship out of the gates and I added a bit of PanamxV into the mix to spice things up. Now we return our attention to the TC who have been neglected a bit but not to worry they will get a full two chapters minimum for their continued eradication.
On a side note, I was wondering if my writing style has improved since this Fic's foundation, this started in December and there were a ton of grammatical errors in the first three chapters.
If you're an OG you know exactly what I'm talking about.
So let me know in the reviews if I need to improve a few more things or you can send me a DM whatever works best.
As always I hope you enjoyed this iteration, and remember to review to your heart's content even one is a good boost for me to see this story to the end.
Holy shit there were a lot of reviews from the previous chapter, and I thank every single one of you for making your voice heard. I'm keeping the results to myself in the meantime and the poll itself will be up for two more weeks to give new readers some time to decide.
Reviews:
MEleeSmasher: He has no clue what he is getting himself into.
BrotherCaptainSheperd: Believe me it is messed up to some degree I can see that just like you but I will make it work somehow.
MarauderPrime12: You sir are a sociopath.
dekuton: I read somewhere the S-III's do not have the thyroid implants that inflicted a side effect of sexual repression on S-II's. As a result, I'm saying his sex drive is suppressed to a degree but not completely repressed.
death444: Thanks, more is always on the horizon.
CandyBaron: It warms my cold heart knowing this story is binge-worthy.
Sciny: Influencing was probably the wrong terminology for me to use, more getting a feel for what people thought should happen.
As for the many reviewers wanting a full reunion of Reaper team, you have no mercy for this would and I find that funny as fuck.
Those of you who are saying no more Spartans are much nicer on the poor denizens of Night City compared to the people above.
For those reviews that I did not answer my apologies, didn't want to inflate this chapter too much but thank you nonetheless for posting it warms my heart tremendously.
Next Chapter: May 10th