"Sir, Five has been engaged again"
"Status?"
"Arasaka specialist team has him surrounded. His ally is down, seemingly unconsious"
"...I see..."
"Your orders, Sir?"
"...give him a way out. Stall the Arasaka Team"
"Roger that"
"For fuck's sake Smasher, MOVE!" Mike roared, rifle braced against his shoulder, searching for an opportunity.
Vi was down for the moment, treating herself in the stairwell as myself and Mike had charged through the lobby.
We'd gotten radio confirmation of Smasher engaging the target, and out in the alleyway we were witnessing the duel.
David versus Goliath was the first comparison that shot through my mind.
I had my gun raised at the spectacle, half-heartedly though. The swipes and dodges, the punches and counters, the fighting blurred before my eyes.
The subject was faster than Smasher, but he failed to have the mass to absorb any of the Borg's blows. This meant he was constantly on the back step, always aiming to avoid the more powerful swings.
Just like the security footage at Arasaka Tower.
This extremely close distance meant he was reacting with only a milliseconds worth of failure. Any slower, and he'd be torn apart. It also meant a problem for both myself and Mike.
The two were so close that Mike couldn't just snap a shot off into the Gonk's head without zinging Smasher.
But maybe…
The thief's eyes snapped to me for a moment.
No way.
He seemed to be aware that his proximity to Smasher was preventing us from firing… that or he really didn't see any feasible way of dealing with the Night City legend at range.
The Target's biological arm moved.
Something flashed against the light.
Mike flung me to the side as the knife passed over my head.
My heart was pounding when I hit the ground. The grizzled sharp shooter was already on his feet, weapon once again aimed toward the two fighters
"Kill him or move!" Mike yelled.
Final warning. Mike was at the end of his rope and was going to start shooting.
And it didn't seem like one was going to keel over anytime soon, so maybe one was going to-
A bunch of somethings fell through the air, clattering and rolling across the ground.
The soft sound of metal clinking against the ground echoed out from all around us. Canisters…. A bunch of-
A grayish white smoke erupted into my vision, completely surrounding me. My hand tightened around my weapon as I settled into a crouch, trying to spot something in the sudden eruption of fog.
My optics flared, but failed to pierce the fog.
A roar drew my eyes to where Adam Smasher had been fighting.
"MEAT! Come back here!"
"Smasher" Mike's voice sounded over comms.
"He rabbited! Last seen moving 045 degrees from my position"
The flash of mikes rifle blossomed out from the smoke before vanishing, the crack of the gun preceding the sight by just a moment.
"Anything?"
"Damn Smoke's fucking with my eyes" the Borg grunted back, "I'm persu- wait…"
There was a moment of silence, before a tense second of fear managed to frostily creep up my spine.
"CONTACTS!" Smasher roared, before fifteen feet from me, a heavy assault weapon starting spitting bullets in 15 different directions.
A shuffle of a step sounded behind me.
From the Smoke, a figure emerged…
It was humanoid, sleek and black. The armor was segmented and seemingly modular, each immaculate detail crafted for some unknown purpose. Nodes poked out from its right shoulder, while its left possessed some kind of… launcher? Gun?
Couldn't really tell.
I was however focused on its stance, and the very, very nasty looking blade in hand.
"Oh shit" I squeaked.
It leapt at me.
The bullet slammed right into my back, shattering the armor plate and knocking me off my feet. Only a stumble. I instinctively clutched at my ribcage, the space where the bullet had passed through.
Fuck.
When the smoke erupted I took my chance. Immediately disengaging from Smasher I allowed myself to be swept up by the smoke.
I knew what this stuff was, having a few canisters of it in my car. Military Grade stuff, thick with chemicals designed to block out optics.
Expensive stuff, not something you find in any old Gonk's back pocket.
Regardless.
I had my opportunity, and taking it, managed to slink away from the deathtrap of a situation. I began moving to where Goro had been laying.
Didn't expect a bullet in my back… not one bit.
Nor did I expect the sudden explosion of gunfire from behind me, but ignoring it I trudged on, eventually coming to the feet of the Arasaka ex-bodyguard. I had remembered where he had fallen, alongside the general layout of the area. The smoke failed to disorient and actually played into my advantage.
Rather than question the turn of events, I embraced it.
If life gives you lemons.
I inspect my fallen comrade.
Goro is out cold.
"Takemura" I kneel down and shake the body roughly. Johnny's familiar form fizzles into existence opposite me, mirroring my stance.
"Should probably bail" he glances back to the loud noises of gunfire.
"So you've said" I growl, not getting a response out of the corpo, and settling for the physical solution.
"And so you continue to ignore me" Johnny tisked as I hauled Takemura onto my shoulder. A mental command allowed me to set my metal arm to clamp, keeping the body in place.
He weighed less than I imagined, but far more than just a pound of flesh. Takemura had extensive cyberwork afterall.
"Now what?" Johnny hummed, lighting up a cigarette as he peered through the smoke.
"We get to the edge of town…. And hope we'll have a place to crash"
Johnny obviously had questions, but thankfully he refrained from bothering me with them.
Instead he allowed me to silently locate the nearest manhole.
...using the sewers to get around was beginning to get disheartening, but sometimes there is no other solution.
Didn't want to find out who dropped all that smoke after all.
"He's clear"
"Confirmed. We're pulling back"
"I want a tail on him… I believe he's been shot, and I'd be very disappointed if he expired before obtaining medical attention"
"Yes Professor"
The figure in the strange combat suit melted back into the smoke, vanishing from my sight in a mere moment.
My handgun clicked empty again, reminding me that I'd failed to land a single shot on the blade wielder.
The smoke was beginning to clear.
"Fuck" I hissed, letting the weapon clatter to the ground as I gripped my arm. There was a long cut that trailed up the length of it. Fucker had nicked me with the sword, an attempt to disarm me.
One of the many neat things about military prosthetics would be their distinct lack of human reaction.
A cut like the one I had received would have instinctively forced me to drop the weapon, but the servos in my hand weren't tendons or connected to my nerves.
Meaning I'd kept the gun.
For whatever use that had been.
The figure had darted in and out of the smoke with light strikes and sharp cuts launched at me in quick succession.
All I'd been able to do was get cut and back peddle, firing blindly at the empty space my attacker had just occupied.
And then it just disappeared.
It didn't resurface again. The obstruction of my vision was dissipating naturally, and as the world around me finally came back into view I allowed myself the time to assess.
Surface injuries, meant to hamper and disarm…
Whatever I had just faced could have certainly killed me. They moved quickly, and they had the advantage within the smoke.
...so why didn't they?
"John?"
I turned on the voice.
Mike's figure glided through the smoke, and it wasn't until he was beside me could I clearly see his face.
"Jesus boss" I couldn't help but whistle.
He had a large cut up the side of his face, leaking blood down his grim features. I trailed over his form, trying to spot any other-
"You alright?"
I blinked stupidly at his question, before standing up straight and facing him.
The smoke had almost cleared.
"Nothing a few staples couldn't fix"
He grunted slinging his rifle over his back.
"Good. Kincaid's getting us to pull back… NCPD is on the way"
"Right" I said lamely, looking around the now visible connection of alleyways, "what about the target?"
Mike didn't answer for a moment, nor did he look at me. His eyes were set on the space around him, mainly the rooftops and balcony areas of the buildings that blocked in the area we stood in.
Eventually, and quite grumpily he spoke.
"He's gone. Wolf says he didn't show on any street cameras, which-"
I pieced together where he was going.
"-Means he's probably in the sewers again. Fucking rat" I grumble, reaching down to pick up my pistol.
As I drop the magazine and reload, Mike is appraising me. In that time, I do notice the absence of one very bad tempered mother fucker.
"Where's Super Borg?"
"Already on his way back to HQ. Want's new chrome"
"Right" I mumble.
He says nothing, but for once I don't feel like I've fucked up.
"What about…" I gesture around the space, referring to the very sudden attack we had just been subjected to, "where the fuck did that come from?"
Mike shrugged, taking his time to sigh before speaking.
"Backup, reinforcements, well funded good samaritans? I don't know. But I suppose that's why Kincaid is calling us back"
I couldn't help but sneak another question in.
"Never been up against something like that? Whatever the hell that was?"
Mike turned contemplative, his brow furrowing as he considered my question. He looked back to me, over my shoulder, and then down the nearest alley.
"...maybe"
And then he walked off.
My eye twitched a second before I stomped after him.
"Oi! What do you mean maybe?!"
Panam Palmer was enjoying a cold beer and a good view.
Her family, the Nomad clan she belonged to, were stretched out before her in the little outcropping they were calling home for now.
A small ridge blocked off the view from the north, and a few small roads led to the south and the highway toward Night City.
Large trailer trucks and even a building or two had been erected by the time she had returned to the camp.
People of the clan were out and about as well.
The Aledcaldo's were bustling and moving beneath her vantage point. While not far enough away to be called ants, from the ridge she sat on, it all seemed like nondescript menial labor.
People were unpacking tents, equipment, carrying boxes and machinery… Panam didn't think they'd be digging in this deep so soon, but Saul seemed to have something up his sleeve.
Saul Bright, the leader of the Aldecaldo's was the reason she found herself up in her own spot, trying to enjoy a bit of peace while she could.
He'd chewed her out, as he always did, for whatever work she had chosen.
Their spats had gotten so bad she'd found work in the city, and having been away for so long had only seemed to make Saul seem more irritating.
She took a sip of her beer, letting her leg swing over the ledge in the idle breeze.
Panam wanted to enjoy this moment, try to take some time to recuperate and breathe. But try as she might, she couldn't help but shake the thoughts of Night City. The smell, the people, the cold reality of it all.
Each of these things weighed upon her, and try as she might, alcohol and a view just didn't seem to-
"Eddie for your thoughts?"
The slight nasally voice that cautiously approached her belonged to Mitch. A dear friend of hers. A war vet with enough nightmares for a few life times, the balding man had been as thick as thieves with Panam for a long time.
"Heh" Panam chuckled, scooching to the left to make space for the Panzer-boy, "doubt you have enough"
Mitch just smiled, coming to sit down next to her in a hunch, his eyes on the camp below them.
He took the offered beer with a 'thanks'.
The silence was friendly, and peaceful. Panam didn't know how, but his presence alone was enough to push her worries to the side.
However, he had come here for a reason it seemed, even if he wasn't going to ask her directly.
"Thought we'd seen the last of you" he mumbled honestly.
"What? You're disappointed I'm back so soon?"
Mitch rolled his eyes, looking at her over his shoulder, "unlike you, I don't enjoy messing with Saul's blood pressure"
"Someone's gotta do it," Panam shrugged.
Mitch took a heavy swig before he replied, "I suppose"
"Please, Saul appreciates it when someone can tell him he's got his head up his ass"
Mitch snorted at that, but didn't reply.
"So" Panam said, turning to face Mitch completely, her focus shifting away from the Aledalco camp.
"So?" Mitch parroted, not looking at her.
"What did you come up here to lecture me about?" Panam sighed, glaring slightly at the Vet beside her.
She never did like it when Mitch needed to talk her into something. It was usually safe. Or boring.
Mitch sighed, deeply, and he rubbed his eyes with his prosthetic implant, the one he'd earned in the war.
"Raffen have been skittish the last few days. Patrols have caught sightings of them, but no engagements so far" he drank from the bottle again, heavily.
Putting it down, he also angled himself toward the conversation, turning to face Panam with his signature frown.
"Won't be long before they either try something, or get wind of our location" he scratched the back of his head, "we've been thinking-"
"You and Saul" Panam interjected with a fair amount of venom.
"We've been thinking" Mitch repeated, cutting across a potential tirade with an ease born from experience, "that it would be better if everyone stayed a bit closer to home. There's no telling when the Raffen will decide to do something, and having a few extra guns close to home-"
Panam chugged her bottle and stood up, ready to march away and drive off.
"Panam!" Mitch shot to his feet, already following after her.
"No Mitch, no" she hissed back at him, "Hunker down? Border up? Have all of us in one sweet spot so when the Raffen comes knocking we'll be all penned up and waiting for them? I can already guess who's genius idea this was"
"It was mine, actually" Mitch replied, following a few steps behind Panam as she marched to her truck through the sand and rocky ground of the badlands.
"Look, we don't have the numbers like we used to, let alone-"
She made to open the door to her Warhorse before Mitch slammed it shut with his hand.
"Panam" she met his gaze as he said her name, and the severity of his look cooled her temper somewhat.
"I know you don't want to be back here, especially with how things have been recently. But if we get hit, you'll be back only to bury what's left of us" Mitch gestured to the camp behind him, "if the Raffens hit us, everyone back there will be a lot happier if you and your rifle are within running distance. Let alone the patrols going out to see where those fuckers are"
Panam took a moment, processing what he had said.
It was true. If she was in Night City and an attack occurred, by the time she made it back to camp the battle would have been over.
But she couldn't stick around. Even if they were low on guns and people to use said weapons, she didn't want to-
INCOMING CALL:
V
The holo notification buzzed in the top left of her vision.
"Panam?" Mitch wondered, unsure of how quiet the fiery woman had become and what that meant for his immediate health.
Panam's brain connected a few dots as she studied the call.
This… this could work.
"I have an idea" was all she said to Mitch just before she accepted the call.
We'd been in the sewers for about an hour before I hauled Takemura back up to the streets. Being mindful to stay on the path less traveled, so to speak, I carried the unconscious man into the depths of a somewhat used carpark.
Parked neatly in the corner of the second floor of the basement was one of many back up plans and contingencies.
A Hella EC-D, mat black, with an assortment of equipment and weapons in the trunk. A medical kit too.
Within the ten or so feet between myself and my emergency vehicle, the familiar static buzz made itself visible.
Johnny had his back to me, studying the vehicle with crossed arms. I was a bit surprised he hadn't reached for a cigarette yet.
"You have no sense of style"
It was flatly delivered, and because it was arguably true, I didn't fight his assertion. Instead I just hobbled my way to the car, fatigue finding its way into my bones.
Johnny must have sensed something, because he turned quite abruptly to look at me. His shades seemed unnecessary in the dimly lit parking lot, but I really couldn't care less.
My ribcage throbbed with pain, and blood had started to seep through my clothing.
"Is it just me, or do you get shot a lot?" he asked sardonically.
I grunt back at him, letting Takemura down and resting him against the side of the car.
"Comes with the profession" I bark back, slipping around to the trunk and resting my human hand on it.
A soft beep, and the rear of the car opens up.
"Biometric locks" Johnny nods his head, a certain stick of tobacco finding its way between his lips, "kinda expensive, no?"
I roll my eyes for my benefit alone, "this is Night City Grandpa, you expected me to leave the keys behind the wheels or something?"
Johnny took in and then exhaled a breath of smoke as I pulled out the medical supplies and a few MaxDoc's.
"I didn't expect the car to be here at all, so color me impressed that one of your hairbrained schemes actually worked out"
That sounded like somewhat of a compliment.
The car was scratched up a bit. A few of the windows had taken a hit, but the bulletproof glass and thick chassy was enough to dissuade any curious hoodlums from fucking with it too extensively.
Car thieves would be dissuaded by the locking system.
Expensive things usually had touchy owners, and pissing off the wrong people in Night City was an easy death sentence.
"I execute my plans perfectly"
I start to peel off my broken armor plates... Fat lot of use they had been.
Johnny waved his cigarette in protest to my statement, "never said you couldn't get it done, just saying your plans could do with a bit of fine tuning"
I scowl at him as I roll up my shirt, revealing the bleeding bullet hole.
Johnny whistles at the sight of the wound but says nothing. I let my metal limb handle the tools. It'll be more accurate.
"You don't exactly have the best track record either" I settle on, hissing as I poke around in the hole with a magnetic prong. The bullet may have passed clean through, but I was worried about shrapnel or pieces of the armor plate imbedded within me.
Something tugged in my body and I grunted savagely. It hurt, but not enough to prevent me from biting back at Johnny.
"Yet which one of us is a Night City Legend?" he leaned on the edge of the trunk, confident smirk across his features again, "and which one of us is the personal bootlicker of my ex-output?"
I pull the magnetised prong out, along with a pinky sized piece of material. Armor piece.
The shooter was using some specialised ammunition, or a power weapon of some kind… Yao's goods weren't to be blamed for this injury. No matter how much it hurts.
"And which one of us is living as a rent free parasite in the other's brain hmm?" I drop the prong back in the kit, and collect some gauze and bandages. I'd still need to see a Ripperdoc, but it'll hold for now.
Johnny flips me off and I can't help but let out a snort.
A part of me is starting to enjoy these little conversations.
After the wound is somewhat treated, I pull the top off and switch it out for the spare Jacket and shirt from the very back of the boot.
Still fits.
"What do you think this 'Panam' meant about 'helping out'?"
I cock an eyebrow at Johnny as I close the trunk.
"Does it matter?"
Johnny shook his head as I hoisted Takemura up once more, opening the back seat door and letting him rest across the seats.
"You didn't even ask for details"
"Whatever it is, I can deal with it"
Johnny concedes the comment with a nod, before flickering out as I walk to the drivers side.
Because I suppose if anyone truly knows what I'm capable of, it would be him. That in mind, I slide into the driver's seat, and reach for the keys under the seat.
The car starts, and a minute later I'm pulling out of the carpark and onto the roads of Night City.
Next stop, Nomad central.
Takemura awoke to the growl of an engine. As his eyes snapped open, he bolted upright, reaching for a weapon that he could-
"Easy Goro"
The Thief's voice calmed him. Takemura blinked.
"Smasher knocked you on your ass for a bit"
The bodyguard was in the back seat of the vehicle, four seater, with V driving it. Looking out the window he saw… nothing.
The desert and plains, dust, dirt and dried up plants and trees. A few vehicles zoomed passed them each moment.
They were driving away from the city.
Shifting to sit in the seat properly, Takemura suppressed the groan that threatened to escape his lips.
Getting hit by nearly seven to eight feet worth of steel jarred the body more than a little bit.
"What happened?" he asked, taking a mental and physical stock of himself.
"'Saka had us trapped… until someone decided to give us a way out"
Takemura cocked an eyebrow at this.
"Someone?"
V met his gaze through the rearview mirror.
"Not sure who it was yet, but they got our asses out the frying pan"
Takemura nodded with a grunt, looking out into the empty desert that surrounded Night City.
"And where are we going now?"
The car pulled off the highway abruptly, but V didn't miss a beat in answering.
"I managed to organise a safe place to recuperate at, before we plan our next move..." V threw a strange glare at the passenger seat.
He continued a second later, "The city's too hot for us right now. I figured being a bit off the beaten path might do us some good"
Takemura nodded his agreement, "a good idea. I can only hope this 'safe place' is better than your previous suggestion"
The Thief said nothing as the solid road disappeared beneath them.
Off the beaten path indeed.
AN: Hey everyone, sorry this took so long. Been sidetracked about some life stuff, moving, my future and my career. You know, simple things. Anywho, I've been doing lots of planning and work for Fury, and am currently at a kind of crossroads for a decision, so hopefully I can leave it to y'all to help me make up my mind. A character is going to be brought in within a few chapters, and I need help deciding who that will be.
So.
Would you all prefer someone established from the Cyberpunk Universe, or would you like another entirely new OC character? This person is going to be an antagonist, one that will be a major issue for V to be dealing with when the appropriate time comes.
If y'all could let me know in a review, that would be very appreciated.
Regards,
Freedom.