15/10/2077
The Pacifica, Night City
The Afterlifers
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As soon as the first person broke through the smokescreen, the bullets had started flying. The Voodoo Boys had a reputation for a reason, they were capable of horrific things, things that kept people well away from the abandoned district. Bullets ripped through flesh, as more and more bodies crashed through the smoke before two objects clanked to the floor, a series of loud bangs splitting the two factions away from each other as the sounds deafened the crowd and the mercenary strike force.
V had held out his rifle, firing out round after round before he felt a set of hands on his shoulders. He'd tried to force them off, thinking that he'd been taken by the crowd before he realised it was only a single pair of hands. He went numb, his legs turning off as he felt a jack-wire jammed right into his neural slot as he was dragged out of the alleyway. The smoke, the bangs, the loud flash, it all collapsed on top of him before he felt his legs return to normal. A splash of cold water across the face, a rough cloth slapped and dragged across his skin to dry him off before he realised where he was.
A small room, damp and crushing the group before the figure that rescued them appeared. A man in a suit (with no jacket), pale skin, neuro-skin coating his neck and chin. His hair was a dirty blonde, matted with sweat which ruined the quiff it was intended to be. His own combat vest was torn, the white font of 'NETWATCH' clear on the plate holder, was coated in blood and covered by a bandolier of grenades.
He seemed to shake his head before he dragged V to his feet. "You, you shouldn't have come here. Shit."
V was still dumbfounded. The crowds roaring and chanting was still present, sounded like it was just outside. "You… Who are you?"
"NetWatch Agent Bryce Mosley, I've been undercover here for the past three months, monitoring the Voodoo Boys activity on the Net." Bryce gasped, catching his breath before he looked at the rest of the group. "Look, I know this might seem desperate, but we can stop them dead in their tracks right now. But we have to do it my way, it's the only way to stop them from breaking through into the Blackwall."
Shaitan was the first to push himself to his feet, knocking the side of his head. "Don't listen to him, V. Guy's a corpo-rat, he'll do anything to cover his back."
Bryce sighed, before taking a chip from his chest, shoving it in V's hand. "That's a Naga Neuro-Dataworm. You can use it to take down the Voodoo net-runners. I scratched your backs by saving your asses, now you scratch mine. The Hotel Miro, just by the beach next to the abandoned mall, that's their lair."
Morgan grumbled as he pulled his six-shooter from it's sling. "Bullshit, we didn't ask to be saved by you. We'll take them out in our way."
"I don't give a shit, old man. This is the only way to destroy their little self-reviving network." Bryce grunted. "Take the chip, put in their private Net, watch it crash and burn and that's it. Now go, get the fuck out of here so I can lead the crowd away. That should get you some time in the base before more reinforcements arrive. Go!"
The NetWatch agent rushed away, his pistol in his hand as he opened the door. Five shots echoed out, before V pulled Squama from the ground as he rushed away from the gunshots. Rogue and Spider led the men through and away through the squalid apartment complex, clearing the lobby promptly before they rushed out onto the street. Pushing down the pathway and down the back alley to the left. There was a series of engines, cackling and sputtering to life as they strolled down the road.
V lurked in the shadows, Morgan behind him as they observed. Voodoo Boys held onto the handles on the roof, rifles and machine guns held in their hands as they patrolled their territory. The trio of trucks stopped, turning around and returning the way they came, the pair of mercenaries rushing further into the alley away from the light, regrouping with the rest of the squad. The engines rumbled past, leaving the group in silence before Rogue's hand outstretched towards V.
He handed her the chip from Mosley, the small imprint of a green snake on black and silver plastic. She'd eyed it cautiously, handing it off to Spider who slid it into her wrist computer. After taking a few minutes, she'd extracted it and threw the chip away, Morgan stomping and crushing it into tiny bits. The group remained for a moment, catching their breath again as the old veterans revised their plan of attack.
Spider was the first to speak, her mobile platform having run a diagnostic on their virus chip. "Well, the guy wasn't wrong. The way that the Netrunners here work, they sort of just jump in and out of the net like jumpin' from life and death. The chip stops that."
"Is there a way that they might fuck us over if we use the chip?" Rogue asked.
"No, well, possibly. It's NetWatch, I'm gonna need to clean out this wrist-com as soon as this is done." Spider replied. "The sooner we end it, the sooner we get out and forget about this. NetWatch will absolutely fuck us over if it helps them."
Morgan turned to Spider. "Is there any way of sending them that virus over the net, and then just walking in to get the chip?"
Shaitan laughed. "It doesn't work like that, Morgan. Not anymore."
"He is right, fre. We have to walk in and infect them. Preferably as soon as possible. Placide, he likes to chase the ranyon around here like prey."
V stood up, pushing past as Shaitan followed him, the rest of the crew following the two heavies as they rushed forward. The engines trundled past, before a loud roar thundered around the corner. Rogue had called her truck, the paint smothered in blood, black liquid and bullet holes. The trampy-looking cars of the Voodoo Boys struggled to stop, one of them being crushed under the weight of the truck and tipped onto it's side.
The eight Voodoo Boys in the two cars behind jumped out, weapons ready as V and Shaitan rushed into the street. Crushed by the heat and humidity, V used Shaitan as a walking piece of cover (and shade) as bullets pinged and ricocheted off the silver plating. The small off-route that took the cars down the beach was only a few metres away, and as the ambushed Voodoo Boys took fire from the two heavies as well as the four shooters in the corner, they were soon run off or shot dead.
"You guys, take the truck. I'll take the buggy. Squama, the explosives in the trunk. Hand them over."
Rogue approached V. "What the hell are you planning?"
"Car bomb, roll it into the lobby of the hotel," V grunted, reloading the MDX rifle with more hollow points. "Gives us enough time to rush in, destroy their networks and then look for the chip before Placide tries to run us down again."
V had never seen as much C2 and C4 plastic explosive until he had witnessed how much Squama had handed over. The majority of the explosives had been planted on the underside of V's temporary buggy. With Rogue in hot pursuit, V had thundered down the off-ramp to the hotel. The Hotel Miro was a terrifying, half-built monstrosity of a building, the lower half turned into a VeeBee military stronghold, the unfinished upper half left alone to stand as a monument to the many abandoned projects that remained in the outskirts of the corporate-owned city.
Even so, the rest of the explosives had been slapped under the passenger-side seat. The truck behind had remained a few lengths behind, and as V kicked the buggy into gear, he steered it loosely towards the lobby of the hotel. Just as the road down ended, V leapt out, slamming and spinning in the concrete as the buggy was launched as if it were a cannonball. Thrusting through the support columns, ramshackle defences and scores of Voodoo guardsmen, Rogue's truck braking just in front of him. Shaitan rushed out, picking V up from the tarmac as Rogue pushed the trigger for the explosives.
A burst of heat, a cloud of black smoke ripping through the open air of the hotel lobby. Glass, stone, concrete and stained marble mixed with burning wood and fabric as the Afterlifers strolled right through the front door of the Voodoo Boys' hideout. Bodies of the security detail were splayed out, blood staining the ground as Morgan and Rogue eliminated those who remained in the chaotic aftermath of the explosion. V headed the group as they scoured through the wreckage, before Spider soon pulled up the blueprints to the old hotel, navigating them through the rubble and ruins until they came across a utility hallway.
The group cleared their way through, coming to an old shutter that was forced closed. Shaitan ripped it open, V holding it open as the rest of the group moved through before the two heavily-armed mercenaries forced it closed once more. The path turned into old tunnels, pathways ripped and torn apart by age, old foundations holding up an entire hotel that would never be finished. V made sure his rifle was tuned to a semi-automatic setting, rounding off the back of the group before they were soon confronted once more. Three Voodoo Boys, forcing them back into the corner of the hallway.
Morgan turned to Spider. "You still got that Blindside quick-hack?"
"Yeah, give me a sec."
It only took three, but as soon as the gunfire stopped and the shouting about not being able to see began, Morgan had already ran out. He'd planted two in the chest of the closest guard, turning them and kicking the carcass into the next one. As the second was distracted, he eliminated the third with one of the cleanest headshots that V had ever seen. As soon as the third had shrugged the body of his friend to the floor, he was kneecapped, his neck snapped as Morgan continued on a warpath. The group followed behind, watching on as they walked the same path that the old Morgan Blackhand wreaked havoc upon.
Bodies with broken bones, necks snapped, bones tore through the skin, blood splattered on the floor. Shell and bullet casings were littered on the ground, surrounding the bodies, rolling through the blood, trailing it along with the old flooring. They'd even caught sight of the old man running through the army of Haitian militia before they came to the main sub-basement. Chairs were everywhere, each one filled with a person that was wired into the net, forged specifically for the use of the Voodoo Boys. More than twenty net-runners, each one trying to hack into the cyberware of the infiltrators, failing horribly only to start again as the legendary Spider Murphy countered every hack, every network infiltration, as they reached the main chamber.
Twenty-four screens were bolted to the wall, each one of them connected to the other as a small altar had been installed in front of it. The prototype Relic chip, connected to the multiple server towers below the screen. Datastreams ran across the screens, numbers, letters, different types of code running at a speed that V could not even begin to be able to perceive. Spider had readied the Naga as she approached the tower, only to be caught from the side. Squama rushed to her side, only to be slammed aside by the towering figure that dragged the both of them to the rest of the group.
As soon as Spider had been caught off-guard, they'd already lost. The net-runners hacked into their systems, bio-augmentations and cyberware, bringing every member of the squad to their knees. Even Morgan, who had barely any cyberware, was forced to his knees by the pure numbers of the Voodoo Boys that had arrived on their six. The familiar face of Placide revealed itself, soon followed by a woman, much smaller than her enforcer but much gaunter, with much less cyberware.
"I told you, Crispin. You and the ranyon didn't listen. It's a shame it cost you your lives and the lives of my men. Nobody wished you here, all of you."
The woman was soft-spoke, but there was a deadness in her eyes. "Placide, please. There is no need to be illusory with them. They know what will happen. Besides, I know why he is here."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Morgan questioned.
"My name is Bridgitte." The female replied, her nails dragging across Morgan's wrinkled skin. "You, are not important. Old, rotten, malo. The man who stole it from Konpeki, now he is important. He carries Silverhand in his brain, his own little guardian angel. He will help us."
"Like hell, I will!" V spat, earning a hard right hook from Placide, splitting his lip. "Fuck you, you big Voodoo-loving bastard, I'd kick the shit out of you, seven days a week if you didn't have your neeks in the chairs."
The room lit up, generators whirring to life as mag lights turned on, illuminating the masses of tech and wiring throughout the room. Net-runners sat on their networks, brains connected to the cyberspace, technicians altering their code and plans, the datastream continuing to the flow before Placide hauled V to the nearby ice bath. V tried to use his weight, to leverage the man, but it was to no avail. He was stripped of his clothing, his arms and equipment. He tried once again to leverage the weight against Placide, but he was soon forced under the water.
Freezing water, it sapped him of his strength and will, the icy nature of the water sticking in the metal and his bones. As soon as he felt his head ripped up from the water, he took gasping breaths, free from the water before Placide went and picked him up, placing him in the water. Bridgitte smiled, as she restrained the group in front before she ordered two other guards to connect V to the network.
"Now, with the data from our friend, we will breach the Blackwall. My brothers and sisters, everything we have worked for starts now." Bridgitte continued. "For the brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters that we have lost, we honour their memory with what we do today."
V was freezing, and every second that he sat in the bath, was one second more than necessary. He could feel the frost in the water, the ice cubes and chilling water smothering his skin, his breath hitching as he tried to catch his breath. Before he could collect himself, he felt the final input cable slam into his neural slot, and once more, he lost himself into the net.