Chapter 4
Chapter Four
June 23rd, 2077
Night City, Northern California
Northside, Abandoned Warehouse
Since Cyrus escaped from Arasaka Tower, a week had passed without catastrophe.
The Spartan did everything he could to remain hidden while collecting necessary information about the local government and factions. On the surface, Night City did not appear to be all that different from a UNSC megacity, but nothing is as it seems.
He spent the first few days of his expedition investigating the megacity's nightlife and gleaning as much information as possible from the city's public servers. Chamber used these systems as a launchpad for brute-forcing her way into the NCPD's restricted server rooms.
After the Arasaka Tower incident, activity around Night City was at an all-time high, restricting Cyrus's maneuvering options.
The total weight of the NCPD, Militech, and Arasaka was used to guard the streets against the wrath of an irate populace who finally hit their breaking point.
This amount of activity was too much for even him to bypass willingly.
All these factions enforced Night City's martial law, which had been implemented following Saburo Arasaka's unexpected death.
After six days of city-wide curfew, the lockdown was rescinded, and life in Night City returned to normal.
Well, mostly normal.
There was still an underlying tension in the air, something he noticed as people went about their daily lives.
Cyrus took refuge in the rafters of an abandoned warehouse, calmly watching the residents go about their daily lives below.
It was hard to find peace in a crowded city like this.
Every abandoned building usually had occupants of some kind, forcing him to share until Chamber figured something out.
It was only through sheer luck that he entered the tattered warehouse without the occupants noticing, and Cyrus was content to spend the night there and catch up on some much-needed rest.
Spartans were augmented to peak human capability, but even they had to sleep occasionally. MJOLNIR, for all its capabilities, couldn't be a replacement for natural slumber.
Thirty homeless people were housed in the warehouse, all crammed in as tightly as possible to stay warm. Night City became a frozen landscape of spires when the sun began to set, a consequence born from decades of nuclear warfare.
When the Headhunter arrived, he noticed at least six youngsters among the populace who passed the time through endless hours of mindless entertainment.
A Chieftain, who radiates gravitas and command, was generally in charge of such camps.
They were the people you went to if you disagreed with another camper.
Chieftains could be easily distinguished from a gathering of misfits because they stood taller than the rest.
They possessed a knack for solving issues inside and outside the encampment.
If the issue couldn't be solved through brute strength or threat of violence, it was a thorough, calculated approach that either placated or appealed to the wounded party.
Most of the time, a Chieftain came from an influential part of society, and they were only down here through their actions or someone else's.
The Chieftain running this camp was a woman named Dana Parker.
She wasn't an old-timer like those Cyrus encountered on Ferax. An educated guess put her age around her mid-thirties. Parker's straight blonde hair partially covered the cyberware etched on her face. Hazel blue eyes regularly scanned her encampment for any potential problems.
A scar reached from the top of her left eyebrow, curving towards her left ear. Her clothing was a patchwork of old jackets and worn-out shoes.
The only real difference between her and the rest of her kin was the cyberware across her face.
It clearly indicated that she used to be someone of note in Night City, but something knocked her down the social ladder. From what he gathered, she possessed a dominating presence curtailing defiance from the other outcasts. A dispute between two outcasts was quickly resolved with little more than a few words.
She reminded him of a hard-nosed woman named Tara, a Chieftain from Ferax.
On the other hand, Parker utilized her words rather than her actions to reduce the tension.
Tara would have just smashed their heads together.
'Admiring the view.' Chambers' chipper tone broke him from his thoughts.
'No, just reminiscing,' Cyrus admitted.
'Spartans do that. I thought all of you were brooders at heart.'
Cyrus let out a barely contained laugh. 'No, Casey had that trait locked down for the both of us.'
Casey was the brooding one of their trio, always sitting in silence, fretting over some menial issue. Eliza tried to break her from the lone wolf shell she encased herself in on occasion, but it never worked.
If Casey was the brooder and Eliza was expressive, then Cyrus was somewhere in between.
'You ok?'
He adjusted his placement on the rafter. 'I'll manage.'
Spartan IIIs rarely worked alone in the field, preferring to work in pairs or six-man teams. Since his enrollment in the Spartan III Program, Cyrus had never been alone.
He could always count on Eliza or Casey to watch his back, but that was no longer true.
Spartan teams understood each other better than siblings, more intimately than lovers.
It's a bond that runs deeper than even the most close-knit family bond.
When Casey was reassigned, a piece of himself departed with her, and now with Eliza missing in action, he felt incomplete. Cyrus relished every moment in their company and had every reason to believe they did as well.
Chamber quietly sifted through the data she retrieved from Arasaka Tower. She was progressing, but defragging and analyzing the files would be difficult without a quality workstation.
MJOLNIR could only provide so much power for the job.
'We'll find her.'
The silence was the only answer she received.
Cyrus was lost.
No orders, no team, no direction.
A Headhunter without a purpose, loitering in the darkness of Night City.
Time passed in a slow, agonizing crawl.
The rattle of soup kitchens and the pattering of children echoed throughout the warehouse.
It was a familiar noise for the native of Ferax, and he felt at peace amongst this clattering mix of voices and metal.
Peace?
In a city like this, the word had no business being uttered.
This place eerily reminded him of home.
The golfing difference between each class of citizenry was just as bad, if not worse, back home.
Lower-class citizenry made up damn near most of the city's growing population. These poor souls would always be trampled on, taken advantage of, and treated worse than the dirt even they walked on.
The middle-class citizen was a rare find in a place like this. If only because they were too poor to be considered worthwhile and too rich to be considered useless. Cyrus had a particular animosity for a select few middle-class citizens, specifically those who acted high and mighty when they were one bad month away from being out on the street.
Then there was the cream of the crop, a high-class citizen in an urban hellhole. They weren't that irritating in his mind, effortlessly manipulated, and easy to deal with. Very rarely will this type of person be willing to get their hands dirty. Most of the time, they'd pay someone else to care of the problem, and Mercenaries were their favorite problem solvers.
Their only interest was in the payment alone. If the Mercs in this city were anything like the ones in Ferax, they'd kill a baby for the right price.
Then there was the forgotten class of citizenry that always went ignored and forgotten.
They didn't belong to anyone.
It did not matter who they were before because, at the end of the day, they all came from every level of society.
For every urban Metropolis inhabited by humans, there are people who live in the dark, the outcasts of every city.
They were street urchins, war veterans, squatters, bums, the people you walk by without a word. The souls you actively avoid looking at as you walk down the street out of shame or embarrassment. The person begging on the streets for food even as the more fortunate drove by, trying their best to ignore them.
At the same time, those more privileged asked, 'Why won't they get a job?'
Those were his people.
They were the ones to take him in when he had nothing to his name.
They were the ones to teach him how to survive in an unforgiving city.
They were the ones he owed his life to.
Cyrus learned how to shoot a magnum from a disabled war veteran just trying to make ends meet.
He understood how to pick a pocket from a bum who lost everything when his business fell.
He experienced what it was like to go hungry with a street urchin trying to provide for his sister.
Every aspect of Cyrus's life was marked by the outcasts living in the shadows of an urban Metropolis, and they'd always be there.
And no matter where he went, someone always made it their life's purpose to take everything from those who had nothing left.
'GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND!'
The peace was torn down in a symphony of terror.
Tents were pulled down, soup pans were tossed over, and the shrieking of children mixed in with the screams of adults.
*BANG! BANG! BANG!*
Warning shots were fired into the air, herding the outcasts into a massive group surrounded by gangers.
The Headhunter adjusted his stance carefully, sliding down the rafter to his left, hooking his body through an opening in the roof, and landing silently on a walkway just below the rafters.
His training kicked in on instinct, listlessly marking the violent individuals tearing through the camp.
There were eight of them in total, all scavenging the encampment looking for valuables or people. He couldn't see what they were searching for. Too many bodies were moving around with no prior intelligence.
'Chamber, identify.' Cyrus used his HUD to enhance the imagery below.
These gangers on visuals alone were souped-up in more cybernetics than he had ever seen. Most had their eyes replaced with optical sensors covering their entire face.
'Maelstrom. Booster gang local to North Side, member count close to 1,300 active personnel.' Chamber mapped out a quick layout of the warehouse. Most of the outcasts were gathered at the center of the camp in a mosh pit of bodies.
Four Maelstrom gangers guarded the outcasts while the others scavenged the camp. One thug was having a heated debate with Parker, exchanging expletives and threatening Parker with violence.
'Drown out the noise. I want to hear that conversation.' The sound of shouting and clattering was drowned out promptly.
'I want my eddies, Parker. You're two weeks late on your tribute, and if you don't start paying up, I'll start dropping bodies.'
The Maelstrom leader was performing a routine shakedown.
Something Cyrus was all too used to witnessing.
'I already told you we need more time, damn it! If you haven't noticed, this is a homeless camp. We're not exactly swimming in eddies here!'
'I don't care about your excuses, woman! I want my money!' His point was further propagated when the back of his hand impacted Parker's cheek, sending her sprawling into the ground.
'If you can't pay up in eddies, you can pay up in bodies!' Cyrus adjusted his position to just above one of the Maelstroms.
The only way to do this efficiently was quick and clean. There were too many civilians around for a stray shot.
The leader's main armament was a Constitutional Arms Unity. The rest of his gang packed a mixture of D5 Copperhead's and M112 Saratoga's.
With the amount of technology spliced into their bodies, Cyrus assumed that some of these bandits had an extra tool he couldn't yet identify.
'Grab the kids! They'll fetch a good price on the market.'
The Headhunter's face turned into granite behind the visor. Cyrus could put up with gangsters to a point, but he had no tolerance for slavers.
'Wait, please!'
A frightened mother tried to reason with a ganger, but all she received was a punch to the gut. As two thugs rushed for the closest kids, cries for aid and children's weeping permeated the warehouse.
The Maelstrom gangers immediately set upon two children, one a twelve-year-old girl and the other a boy that may have been around ten years old.
'Come here, brats!'
The Headhunter slid down the walkway, feet first, aiming for the Maelstrom ganger advancing on the kids.
Gravity pulled over a thousand pounds of armor atop the ganger's head, smashing his upper torso in an orgy of synthetic blood.
*BOOM!*
A thunderclap reverberated through the warehouse, stunning all occupants except one. Cyrus drew his Lexingtons and discharged a barrage of rounds into the two nearest Maelstroms.
One bandit had their chest perforated with slugs forcing him back five feet while his buddy took three full rounds beneath his lower left cheek.
Both were dead or dying when they hit the floor.
'WHAT THE FUCK!' The Ganger leader drew his Unity in one motion and fired three shots toward the Spartan III.
Cyrus avoided all three gunshots faster than the ganger could have anticipated. He holstered one of his Lexingtons while slamming his hand against the ganger's Unity slider.
He shoved his remaining Lexington underneath the Maelstrom's chin and fired three close-range shots, shattering the ganger's jaw and exploding brain matter into the air.
'Four more Six o'clock, Cyrus!'
The remaining four gangers finally responded to their comrade's violent ending. Expletives and threats rang as Cyrus kept up the onslaught and blitzed for the closest adversary.
'I'll slaughter you like a pig.' The Maelstrom ganger threatened even as she stumbled backward on her ass, firing off as many shots as she could at the Spartan's chest. Many bullets exceeded their intended target, indicating a novice's lack of discipline.
Cyrus's energy shield only had to bounce one or two shots when he fell upon her. Kicking out his left leg sent her firearm skidding across the concrete floor, leaving her defenseless and frightened.
'WAIT, PLEASE!' Her cry for mercy was silenced when his right foot impacted her forehead and pasted her skull across the concrete floor below. The last three gangers attempted to engage him all at once in one final futile attempt at killing him.
One pushed his front with an aggressive charge while equipped with a Carnage, firing off two shots in quick succession.
Cyrus tanked both rounds, holstering his remaining Lexington and grappling with the ganger in close range.
The Maelstrom thug attempted to flex his cybernetic strength and pull the Carnage back towards him, but it was useless against the Spartan's superior might. Cyrus yanked the ganger's momentum, sending his head straight toward the Spartan.
He drew his head back and slammed his fist into the Maelstrom's brow, causing the bandit's face to cave in and his body to go limp.
He snatched the Carnage from the dead man's grip and shot a shell into the stumbling Maelstrom, scrambling to reload their Copperhead. The shotgun shell burst through her sternum, spraying synthetic blood through the air.
The final Maelstrom thug screeched in what he assumed was supposed to be an intimidating shout and charged straight at him.
Chamber was just as dumbfounded as he was. 'Is this guy serious?'
Incredulously the Spartan and his AI watched as the Maelstrom ganger stabbed at his chest. The ganger fell into complete delirium, failing to realize his attacks did nothing more than tickle a feral wolf.
'DIE, DIE, DIE, DIE, DIE!'
Cyrus dropped the Carnage and wrapped both hands around the gangster's head. He snapped the ganger's neck with a flick of his wrist, breaking his vertebrae in two. The Spartan watched as the man's body seized up and fell face-first into the blood-soaked ground.
A silence fell across the encampment as the outcasts inside came to terms with what just happened. Cyrus wasn't expecting exaltation or people to drop to their knees in admiration.
'CLEAR!' It was pure instinct when he responded.
'All clear.' A response from one of the Outcasts shook the rest of the vagrants from their stupor.
Cyrus watched the outcasts disperse, slowly picking apart whatever was left of the Maelstroms to scavenge. Parker and two others emerged from the crowd with weapons in hand.
They didn't belong to the Maelstroms, so they were packing firearms long before he arrived.
'Thanks for the help. I haven't seen Maelstrom get flatlined that quickly before.' Cyrus nodded as she signaled the other two vagrants to scavenge the Maelstrom vehicles.
'You got a name?' Parker asked.
Cyrus hesitated.
This might be the first time someone had asked his name in years.
He wasn't sure what to think of that.
'Cyrus.'
'Who do you work for? Militech? Arasaka?' The silence was all that greeted her. 'You're not a cop, are you?'
'Do I look like a cop?' Parker appraised his gear and menacing appearance.
'Eh.' Parker scratched her cheek in response. 'You could be MAXTAC for all I know.'
Cyrus rolled his eyes behind his helmet. 'I'm not a cop.'
Parker grinned in response, her eyes glazing over into a red tint as she examined his frame from head to toe. 'She's scanning you, Cyrus. It seems our little minx has some tricks on her sleeve.'
A minute passed without ceremony.
The rest of the camp did their best to act busy, but their eyes and curiosity couldn't help but trail over to the conversation between Cyrus and Parker.
One intriguing pair of eyes peeked out from his mother's jacket, even as she tried to usher him back to their tent. Ducking underneath his mother's arms, the outcast boy ran towards the Spartan III.
'Adam!'
The Headhunter felt a presence to his right, looking over. He didn't see anyone close by until he looked down. Barely a foot away from him was the ten-year-old boy from earlier, eyes as wide as saucers and a toothy grin.
'Hello!'
Cyrus could only stare in bewilderment.
All his Spartan training failed him as he faced down his biggest challenge yet.
Talking to children.
Backup was required.
'Uh…. Hello?' Was that a question!?
'My mom told me you're a big fucking death bot. Is that true?' His mother went white as a sheet as a social train wreck occurred before her.
'I….I am not a big fucking death bot.' The child only seemed to smile wider, ignoring his family's snickering in favor of the death bot conversing with him.
'OH.' The child adopted what he assumed was a thinking face. 'If you're not a death bot, you won't hurt us if we play a game, right?'
Cyrus was sure that only the logic of a human child could see things this black and white. Chamber hadn't spoken a word the entire time. She instead chose to express her amusement through an image of her avatar rolling on the floor.
Silently growling in annoyance, Cyrus returned his attention to the strange child. 'Um. Yes, wait, no, I will not harm you if we were-.'
'Great! Come on. I need a partner for 'Big Trouble in Heywood.' Amanda sucks at the game, and I'm tired of losing to the others.' His sister chose that moment to announce her presence.
'I do not, Adam!' The child again ignored his sister and started dragging Cyrus towards a table, holding a pair of VR goggles.
Unfortunately for Adam, he wasn't strong enough to pull the Spartan.
'Go with him.' Cyrus's head shot up in confusion. Chamber's avatar ceased her cackling and gave him a hardened look.
'What?'
'GO with him.' Cyrus attempted to explain the ridiculousness of such an order, but Chamber cut him off. 'If you don't go with him, I will make you regret the decision.'
'But-.'
'Go.' Cyrus took in his surroundings carefully. The camp was still tense, and all eyes were practically glued to his massive frame.
Parker hadn't said a word since their previous exchange, but Adam's action reflected with amusement. Cyrus breathed deeply to calm his nerves, but Adam incessantly pulled on his arm.
'Fuck it.'
The Spartan III indulged the wild imagination of a ten-year-old boy.
ONI would have hung him by his entrails if they could see him now.
l==l
Dana Parker was having an exciting day, to say the least.
Maelstrom showed up for their annual shakedown attempt, but they were far more desperate this time than she was used to handling.
Rumors were going around the various vagrant camps that the Maelstrom got hit hard at their base camp in the All Foods Plant ten kilometers north of their camp.
She didn't put too much stock in rumors, but it seemed they had some viability by the looks of it.
Dum Dum was usually the thug she dealt with, but he had been missing for two weeks. In a desperate attempt to save face with the other gangs in Night City, Maelstrom was now sending out men and equipment in a show of force.
They were still a sizeable force and maintained one of the city's largest gangs, but reputation was everything to the criminal elements in Night City. That reputation is why the Maelstrom thugs were adamant about collecting their tribute.
Dana should have seen this coming because it wasn't about getting what they were owed. These raids by the Maelstrom were about setting an example for the rest of the Vagrant camps.
They were fortunate that someone had opted to save their skins.
It was hard for Dana to describe their savior as anything but a giant killer death bot. His height and posture alone had her nerves always running. She didn't get an authentic look at him until it was over. He moved deceitfully fast for someone his size, which threw her for a loop.
Dana tried to utilize her Kiroshi Optics to get details on their mysterious android, but all that came back was static. She wanted to pry more with the good old Parker charm, but Adam, the little crackhead, had other ideas.
She did not expect the youngsters to warm up to him as quickly as they did. Cyrus had the patience of a saint, a trait she didn't think someone like him could possess.
No matter what they did, he never seemed annoyed by their actions, even when they started using his armor like a jungle gym.
'Are you sure about this?' A rough voice broke her from her thoughts.
Turning to her left, Dana observed her closest aide scrutinize the scene before them. Clint was considerably more pessimistic than she was, and any newcomers who wanted to stay at camp had to go through him first. He was a former Militech Panzer Operator who never had time for bullshit.
'Not really, but I think children are a good judge of character, Clint.' Even he had to concede that point.
Aside from Clint, the kids were the last group to trust in fresh blood. Outsiders had a tough time finding their place amongst their group of outcasts, but vigilance was always needed in their livelihoods.
'Just keep an eye on them.' Clint nodded in agreement before wandering off to find something else to do in the camp.
Turning her attention back to Cyrus and the kids was an endearing moment of serenity.
A moment that was ruined when she stepped into a puddle of synthetic blood. A disgusted expression crossed her face as she dragged her boot along the concrete floor; green fluid marked her trail.
'At least the kids are distracted. Lord knows the bodies will take a while to clean up.'
It was a miracle Cyrus hadn't traumatized any of the youngsters in the camp.
l==l
'Thank god that's over.'
The Spartan III had his patience regularly tested by Adam and his misfits. When he refused to remove his helmet to put the VR headset on, he was beset on all sides by a mob of angry children.
Before he knew what was happening, they used his armor like a damnded jungle gym.
One almost pulled Chamber's chip when he wasn't paying attention.
Considering the amount of time and money humanity placed in his MJOLNIR armor alone, it was somewhat humiliating, but what they didn't know couldn't hurt them.
Eventually, the kids exhausted themselves, and their parents pulled them off his armor with all the finesse of a stumbling drunk.
The parents muttered their apologies and went back to their tents for a good night's rest. The only other person who got a kick out of the whole thing was Chamber for apparent reasons.
'Cyrus,' The Spartan's attention was drawn to the Chieftain, waving him over to a burn barrel. 'Come over here.'
The Headhunter walked over to Parker's side, discreetly observing his surroundings. Most of the Adults had gone to sleep, but a decent number kept watch outside the warehouse.
Parker was still spooked, and her guarded personality was reflected in the rest of the outcasts. They were waiting for something to happen, like a death row inmate awaiting their day of execution.
'What is it?' Cyrus asked.
'If you haven't noticed already, the camp isn't filled with jubilation.' Parker motioned to her people, her left arm flexing before bracing against her hip.
'You're worried about retaliation, aren't you?'
'Right on point.' Parker rubbed her hands together, trying her best to keep warm. 'You ever lived on the streets before? Something like this ain't going to stand.'
'Yes.' The woman gave him a once-over. 'I was a child at one point in my life, Parker.'
Parker took a deep breath before rubbing her hands together once again. The frosty nights of Night City were infamous as they always were, and today was no exception.
'The moment these guys don't report in, they'll send more to find out why and I don't need to tell you what will happen next.'
She didn't need to; he understood what would happen to these people if he did nothing. Turning his attention to the burn barrel before him, he could visibly see Parker's relief at his following question.
'Where do I need to go?'