l… l
Chapter Eighteen
July 22nd, 2077
Night City, Northern California
Coral Avenue, The Glen
"You ok, Sergeant?"
"I'm fine, Hamilton. Keep your eyes on the road."
NCPD Sergeant Amanda Graves tried her best to ignore the concerned stare from her partner as she tossed a pair of stimulants down her throat. The acidic flavor promptly trickled down her esophagus; her shaky right hand slowly abated back to regular motions.
The stress of being an NCPD officer was at an all-time high with the current events plaguing the city and its inhabitants. At first, Graves didn't mind the escalation of brutal violence inflicted upon the Maelstrom, but that opinion changed when the NCPD took their destruction personally.
Since then, the NCPD turned from a city police force towards an occupying force with thousands of officers reaching into the apex of overtime. MAXTAC's entire department made the Northside Headhunter capture a higher priority than any Cyberpsycho attack or gang incursion.
The hunter worked at an astonishing rate, massacring an assembly of Tyger Claws one night before stepping out into the badlands and hunting Wraiths. The legend made up nearly forty percent of all known fatalities in Night City since his arrival. The previous Mayor was beside himself when the figures finally reached his office.
The NCPDs opinion on the Headhunter was split right down the middle; half wanted the psychopath dead or tossed into the nearest hole. The other half only wished he wouldn't leave a fucking mess every time he went hunting gangers.
Graves was on a nightly patrol in Kabuki when the Maelstrom were wiped out entirely. Predictably, the NCPD response time to shots fired at the weapons factory the Maelstrom was squatting in. Her car was the closest unit available; as such, she was one of the first patrol officers to discover the grueling massacre inside.
She had to give the man props though, only the most unhinged individual could have enacted the events that took place inside the factory. Graves was not afraid to admit her lunch contaminated the massive crime scene, much like the other first responders.
The entire factory became a mausoleum, the final resting place to one of the most powerful gangs in Night City. In one night, the balance of power was fractured, leaving the gangs and the citizens of Night City wondering what the hell was unleashed upon them.
The inhabitants of Night City could only wait in silent anticipation for what came next, and during that time, the gangs and corporations acted. Corporations began deploying large numbers of contract Mercenaries to the inner city. Simultaneously, the gangs either consolidated their power or waged war on one another in a last bid for territory and eddies.
Fear was the primary culprit that drove these factions to such extreme means, but none were desperate enough to fill the power vacuum inside Watson.
A handful of days passed in morbid anticipation before reports of deceased Tyger Claws started popping up in Kabuki and Japantown.
Since then, Night City has been a nonstop meat grinder with corpses and killings occurring every day. Any hope of containing the violence to save face was quickly dashed as Black Elements PMCs took to the streets. Mayor Rhyne had lost control of his Arasaka partners, and now Yorinobu's private army was mixed in with NCPD and Tyger Claws.
There were already violent confrontations between Night City's finest and the Arasaka mercenaries that were barely quelled by the Police Chief and Deputy Holt's swift action. The PC was able to alleviate his officer, and Holt was likewise able to appease the PMCs with eddies and promises on no interference on behalf of the NCPD.
The city was reaching a boiling point; that would erupt into full-blown catastrophe sooner or later. Mercs were operating in the inner city without a care for the basic principles of law, which vexed the NCPD rank and file more than even Graves would care to admit.
The Black Element Mercenaries were operating without proper jurisdiction and oversight. The NCPD could not touch them so long as Arasaka still had the Police Commissioner and Deputy Mayor by the balls.
Evidently, the Headhunter took notice of the PMC's presence inside Night City. Graves would blow her own head off before she believed the report that Thailand Nationals were responsible for blowing that Mercenary base to kingdom come. She'd seen pictures of the carnage inside, and it stank with the same Modus Operandi fitting the Night City Headhunter.
Graves tried to feel a sense of relief as their vehicle passed a checkpoint of NCPD officers. The increased presence of patrol officers usually instilled a sense of gratification and serenity, however now it only seemed to make her anxiety surge. The best they could do was contain the growing violence, no more, no less.
"Dispatch to any available cars, 10-71 in progress at Tribeca and York avenue."
Graves listlessly overheard a dispatch call to Tribeca and York; every seasoned cop in Night City knew that was newly acquired Animal territory. Only a rookie or a fool would even respond to that dispatcher's call for assistance without heavy backup beforehand.
She should of know; today was a day for fools.
"Echo 219 to Dispatch, show us responding." The cut look she received from Hamilton only confirmed her growing suspicions.
"That's Alonso's car, Sergeant." Graves cursed under her breath, snatching the police radio. "And he has the rookie with him."
"Fucking asshole." The Police Sergeant clicked the handheld radio and began broadcasting on the police net. "Echo 225 to Dispatch, show us assisting 219's call."
"Dispatch copies all, Echo 219 and 225 are en responding. Requesting additional units as they become available."
"Echo 225 copies, any available intel from the emergency calls over?"
"Dispatch to 225; eyewitnesses are reporting a gun battle between animals and an unknown party. Should I have MAXTAC on standby to assist?"
It was a ludicrous question by Graves assessment, but protocol alone is what saved the dispatch officer a sarcastic retort. Hamilton was already gearing their car into overdrive, sirens blaring and tires burning as they sped through the busy streets of Night City.
"Echo 225 to Dispatch, affirm I want another patrol car assigned to our call and MAXTAC units on standby, over."
"Dispatch copies all, Echo 221. I am reassigning you to the 10-71 on Tribeca and York for tertiary assistance."
"Echo 221 copies, out." Graves slammed the radio back into place, fingers curling in on themselves as irritation swelled through her body.
"Alonso, that prick," Hamilton commented softly. "He's on one of his training fiascos that almost got him suspended, isn't he?"
The narrowed look Graves shot him was enough of an answer; Alonso Morris was a rogue officer more often than not. Don't get her wrong, he was a good cop, but he operated far too much on his instincts and possessed an innate distaste for proper protocol. The mere fact he was still allowed to take rookies in for training was an unfortunate outcome determined by the city's current unrest.
"Just get us there in one piece, Hamilton." Their car narrowly avoided a pair of inattentive teenagers who almost got plastered on their hood. "And without spoiling my car."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Graves hoped that the gun battle was resolved before Alonso got there. The last thing she wanted to do was write up a report on why Alonso got another rookie killed again.
God, she hated that man sometimes.
Night City, Northern California
Basilica Bar, The Glen
Patrol Officer Connor Hoyt did not expect his first week as an NCPD patrol officer to be so taxing. The Academy did a helluva job preparing their cadets for the grueling lifestyle they volunteered for, but like all things, training can only get you so far.
Corporal Alonso Morris was unlike any other career police officers that he was accustomed to meeting. He was a twenty-nine-year-old male from Detroit who made a career off patrolling the dangerous streets of Night City. He was often considered an uncontrollable Maverick to his superiors, but his instincts in the field were second to none. His crass and otherwise uncompromising attitude was a glaring distinction from his father's own flexible demeanor.
Hoyt figured he probably shouldn't compare a Precinct Captain with a Street Cop, but it was hard not to make these comparisons. Alonso had gone out of his way to expose the new blood to the horrors plaguing the city; scavengers, rapists, and violent gangers were just the tip of the iceberg. Cops also contended with the overbearing presence of corporate security forces, which often took matters into their own hands.
In his first week alone, he responded to three domestic violence calls, two shootings and prevented a teenaged girl from being assaulted by two drug addicts. Most of the time, Alonso kept their calls inside Vista Del Rey, but the veteran cop was confident in Hoyt's ability to watch his back.
As such, now they were on their way to a shooting in Animal Territory, right along a piece of territory recently acquired by the gangers weeks earlier. Hoyt wasn't sure how ready he was to face down a group of Animals; Valentinos were one thing; these combat junkies were a whole different ball game.
"You sure about this, Sir?" Hoyt asked. "Protocol suggests we wait for backup when heading towards an Animal involved shooting?"
"Don't worry, Rook." The veteran police officer shot him a knowing look as they pulled up to the corner of Tribeca and Yorktown. "Rhodes and his partner are just behind us, and Graves will follow along."
Alonso parked their car directly in front of an alleyway where the shots fired call originated from. The alleyway played host to a known speakeasy called 'Basilica' undercover officers attempted to investigate the location for an illegal fight ring, but they were pulled for more 'lucrative' targets.
"Ok, Rook." Alonso began suddenly. "Tell me what you know of 'Basilica'?"
"It's a bar influenced by early Twentieth Century speakeasy's," Hoyt pointed out, leaning back against his seat. "Subject to investigation by Vice Division, but it was deemed a low priority high-risk assignment."
"Excellent, Mr. Hoyt," Alonso replied mockingly. "You wanna be a cop in Night City; prioritize, prioritize, prioritize. That's the only way to operate in this town without losing your fucking mind. You got that Rook?"
Hoyt nodded in affirmation, eyes scanning the darkened alleyway and focusing on a trio of Animal tagged vehicles with their headlights shining. Their owners were nowhere to be found, and that was a worrying prospect.
A rough shove jolted the rookie courtesy of his training officer, and a pair of headlights shined behind them; a familiar decal of NCPD blue pulled up beside their vehicle. "Rhodes is here, kit up, we're going in heavy tonight."
Both men jumped out of their car and were greeted by their backup almost immediately. Two other patrol officers disembarked alongside them, and Hoyt recognized one as a rookie who graduated alongside him in the Academy.
Patrol Officer Katherine Curtis was a twenty-three-year-old blonde from Heywood, a stark contrast from his own upbringing in North Oak. They got along well enough in the Academy, but he wouldn't consider them the closest friends.
"Alonso," Her training officer, Corporal Jermaine Rhodes, snarked out while retrieving magazines for his AR. "Only you would be stupid enough to respond to an Animal call in the dead of night."
"You know me, Jermaine." The Detroit native replied. "Always love to tangle with the combat junkies; they keep your instincts sharp and trigger finger light."
"They also have a penchant for ripping people's arms off, you moron." Rhodes retorted sharply. "Graves is going to have your ass when she gets here."
"You let me worry about the Sergeant," Alonso stated confidently, but it had little effect on his former partner. "You should be concerned about those smasher tickets you owe me."
The two veteran NCPD officers quickly fell into a banter of sorts as they kitted up, passing civilians who spotted the quartet of officers quickly scampered in the other direction. Curtis brushed up against him, knocking her knuckles against his back as she retrieved four shells from her M2038 Tactician.
"Your TO's a bulldog," Hoyt couldn't disagree with the statement as he attached a flashlight to his M221 Saratoga. "Rough first week?"
"You have no idea," Hoyt replied wearily. "I thought the allegations surrounding Alonso as a hard-nosed TO were bullshit. That will teach me to ignore the rumors surrounding a training officer again."
"Rhodes isn't too bad; sure, he's unbearable sometimes, but he's good at what he does." Curtis peeked past the squad car into the alleyway. "You see the owners?"
"No," Hoyt admitted as he slung the strap of his Saratoga across his chest. "Not a soul has come out of those doors since we arrived."
Their conversation was interrupted by their training officers. Alonso was carrying his own Tactician shotgun, while Rhodes was equipped with an NCPD issued Copperhead. In the past, the gear they were armed with would be considered overkill. Amazing how much things can change over decades.
"You girls ready?" Rhodes inquired pleasantly.
"Yes, sir." Hoyt nodded in affirmation while Curtis cocked her shotgun in response. Rhodes gave her an appreciative smirk as Alonso took charge of leadership without provocation.
"Alright," Alonso began. "Curtis and I are upfront while you two are on the wings, don't cross fields of fire and try not to get yourselves killed. I don't want to be writing up the paperwork all night about how you got your head blown off. Clear."
A round of affirmations satisfied the Corporals demands. "Ok, let's roll."
The officers locked up their vehicles and approached the bar in a modified wedge formation. Alonso and Curtis were in line with each other while Rhodes and Hoyt took up their flanks two paces back.
Hoyt could see his breath linger in the air as the temperature dropped to the low forties. Scraps of paper and cans were cautiously stepped over to avoid unnecessary commotion as the group approached the Animal vehicles.
Hoyt barely noticed the formation break apart when Curtis stopped in her tracks, drawing Alonso's attention.
"What is it, Rook?" Alonso questioned while scanning their surroundings.
"Holy," Curtis swallowed as her gaze trailed a large puddle of red mixed with skin and bones. "Is that a person?"
Her fellow cadet pushed up to her position; curious eyes soon landed upon a large puddle of crimson mixed with bone fragments and cybernetic implants. It took all of Hoyt's willpower not to vomit in front of his compatriots; the odor of human remains assaulted his nose like a freight train.
"Jesus Christ," Rhodes commented. "It's like he exploded all over the place."
Alonso and Rhodes joined them not moments after checking the corpses of two other Animal gangers. A grimacing and somewhat pale expression was etched into both their faces. It wasn't the first time the veterans had ever seen a corpse brutalized, but that didn't mean they enjoyed the sight.
"Alonso, you see what I see?" Rhodes asked.
"Yup." The training officer replied. "Something landed on this poor bastard and then went to town on his chooms."
"Think it's him?"
"I sure hope not."
Hoyt was able to calm his ailing stomach and notice subtle imprints of blood foot tracks meters apart. His eyes furrowed as they followed the tracks towards the dead Animals before finally settling on the front door.
The rest of the officers soon mimicked his train of thought. Hands regripped their weapons, and fingers settled on their triggers softly.
"On me."
Alonso's tone left little argument as he braced against the left side of the club's doorway. Curtis and Hoyt immediately set up directly behind the veteran officers with weapons at the ready; Rhodes brought up the formation's rear.
Alonso gave the bar's security door a firm push, only to meet an equal amount of resistance.
"Rhodes, door kicker now."
"On it."
Hoyt swung his Saratoga to the rear while the Corporal swung around the front of the formation. Rhodes kneeled in front of the security door and planted the breaching charge before moving back to his previous position.
"Set."
"Go."
The charge ignited like a burning flare; thermite and magnesium burned a fist-sized hole through the doors security locks. Alonso was the first to act once the charge petered out, his right foot kicking open the door with incredible force.
"NCPD! Hands up!"
Alonso was the first officer inside, pushing straight to the immediate right, followed by Curtis covering his left. Hoyt was eager to escape the aptly named 'fatal funnel' as he breached, taking an inadvisable extra step and tripping on the corpse of a dead Animal.
Rhodes took his clumsiness in stride, stepping over his compatriot and taking his breaching position to his right. Hoyt recovered and went to the number four spot closest to Curtis.
"Clear right!" Curtis mimicked Alonso's call-out as the quartet of officers did a final sweep of the darkened room with their torches.
"Clear left!" The only sound Hoyt could pick out was his own heart beating erratically from his spiking adrenaline.
The bar was a mess. Tables were overturned, expensive liquor littered the pristine floors, and the bodies only added to the daunting scenery. Hoyt's eyes nearly bugged out as he took in the demolished remains of the establishment's bar top.
The ceramic countertop looked to have been pulverized by a runaway freight train, and its former occupant was no different. Hoyt's sweeping gaze was able to pinpoint at least four bodies spread out evenly amongst one another.
"Hoyt." His TO's voice startled. "Police those bodies, Curtis watch his back. Rhodes, you're with me; we're checking out the manager's office and the restrooms."
"Roger that."
The officers broke off into two groups, ever wary of every stride they took in the Animal bar. Criminals in Night city were not afraid to lace their establishments in a cacophony of booby traps and pressure plates when NCPD officers were called to a scene.
The Animals, in particular, had a penchant for utilizing modified anti-personnel mines laced with compounds of Mercury. Hoyt had already gone through a whole seminar on the methods the gangs of Night City were willing to use in order to keep cops on their toes.
Curtis took point as the pair combed through the remains of recently deceased Animals. Thankfully, there seemed to have been no civilians present during whatever firefight took place here.
The pair came upon the dead ganger sprawled on top of a turned-over bar table; Hoyt placed two fingers to the man's mangled throat, searching for a heartbeat. It was a moot point; the thug's neck was shattered, and his torso was riddled with lethal gunshot wounds.
"He's done."
Hoyt shuffled behind his compatriot, carefully tapping her left shoulder as he passed. Curtis immediately pushed forward with all haste towards the next corpse. This specific ganger had his lower face blown off, with traces of his jaw dangling by a few strings of skin.
"What do you think killed these gonks?" Curtis inquired.
"It could have been a solo."
"Nah," Curtis flashed her torch down the darkened hallway. "I've never heard of a Night City solo that could do any like this."
Hoyt mounted his Saratoga against the doorway, his own torch cascaded with Curtis' as they stood guard over the eerie stairway. "What about the Merc making rounds in Kabuki and Japantown? She's been taking every NCPD contract she could get her hands on for a while. What was her name again?"
"I don't know; it's one of those one-letter names that I can't be bothered to remember."
"How about Corpo Mercs?" Curtis said. "Those Militech goons have been flaunting the Centaur Class Exo-suits, and they are capable of tearing up a bar like this."
Hoyt's mind fell back onto a memory of the Militech Exo suits that were graciously provided to MAXTAC for field testing. The Centaur class was one of many Assisted Combat Personnel Armors (ACPAs) the megacorporation produced.
ACPA suits were top-of-the-line combat hardware. Any gonk could smash through buildings, throw small trucks, and swat aside most full cyborgs like an insect as long as he was rolling in an ACPA suit.
The problem was that Militech wouldn't be deploying their mercs to an out-of-the-way fight club for a simple field test. MAXTAC was more likely to do that, but they were still learning how to operate the new suits.
"Nah," Hoyt began. "Arasaka isn't letting a single Militech gonk anywhere near Heywood or Corporate Plaza. Whatever the case may be, these gangers got killed by something I doubt my Saratoga can do anything against."
Curtis agreed with his assessment; a cursory glance back towards the demolished bar top and the dead Animal only reinforced her anxiety. She was not looking forward to facing down whatever blasted these gangers into an early grave.
"Stow that talk, Rook," Alonso slid behind Hoyt, followed by Rhodes, who joined his rookie to peak down the stairway. "That iron may just save your life today."
"Nice of you to join us, sir," Hoyt remarked. "Find anything useful in the shitter?"
"Nope, just Rhodes' hopes and dreams flushed down a rusty toilet." The twenty-seven-year-old patrol officer shot him a nasty look followed by a middle finger.
He smirked and leaned forward, his gaze turning from his fellow officer towards the decrepit stairway. "Any activity?"
"None so far, Corporal," Hoyt answered. "Not even a speck of noise either; it's as quiet as a graveyard."
"Think I see another body down there." Curtis flashed her torch four times at the base of the stairs, shining a beacon on the ravaged corpse of an Animal Raptor.
Alonso, however, was more interested in the scattered debris at the bottom of the staircase. It was evident in his mind that a fragmentation grenade was tossed down these steps, and it seemed like the Animals had propagated a makeshift barricade that was now a pile of scrap.
"Animal?" Rhodes wondered out loud.
"Honestly, I'd be surprised if it was anyone else at this point," Alonso said wearily, his mind was taking him back to the scenes of carnage inflicted by the Northside Headhunter. He hadn't had the pleasure of happening upon the violent killer as of yet, but he was able to get his hands on a detailed report about his escapades in Northside.
Alonso was hoping that the Headhunter wasn't the perpetrator that massacred these particular Animals. Otherwise, the quartet of NCPD officers were going to be in a world of trouble.
"So," Rhodes started. "Who wants to go down the creepy dark stairway first?"
The silence was the only answer he received from the two rookies.
"Should we head down there?" Curtis hesitated to ask.
The inquiry wasn't taken as a sign of cowardice from her compatriots; it was a legitimate question of how far they were willing to go. NCPD patrol officers were kitted out for heavy engagements, but that didn't mean they willingly went in guns blazing.
The amount of damage inflicted upon the combat gangers indicated a group of individuals who cared little about the violent reprisals the Animals would seek once word of this massacre reached their leadership.
"We should wait for backup; Graves is gonna be pissed when she sees us already inside."
A clutter of noise originated from behind drew their attention; the cause of the commotion was the devil herself, in Alonso's opinion. Sergeant Amanda Graves was standing in the speakeasy doorway flanked by her own partner Officer Sean Hamilton.
The Senior officer's face was set in a piercing look that caused the rookies and Rhodes to turn in on themselves. Alonso was the only one unaffected by his superiors' scrutinizing look, but that was only due to his knack for receiving it daily.
"Too late for that." Rhodes predictably threw the closest victim he could under the bus.
"I plead not guilty; it was all Alonso."
"Can it, Rhodes." Graves ordered before turning her gaze towards the human-sized turd, giving her a shit-eating look. She took her eyes off Alonso and regarded her partner with a calm disposition.
"Hamilton, make sure Benedict Arnold and the rookies are covering the stairway. I need a minute alone with this pain in the ass."
"Yes, Ma'am." Alonso pushed off Hoyt's shoulder and made his way towards the fuming Graves. He exchanged a respectful nod with Hamilton even as Rhodes's irritating personality came to light.
"Busted." Hamilton unleashed retribution upon the talkative officer with a firm smack up the side of his head. Alonso liked Graves' new partner much better than her previous one, sue he could be a little blank at times, but he was a good cop.
Too bad his neutral demeanor didn't rub off on Graves' fiery personality; Alonso had the feeling he was walking into an active volcano.
"One of these days, your antics are going get you and everyone around you killed." Graves' tone was as sharp as nails; she always had a knack for making a grown man feel like a bumbling idiot.
This was the same song and dance he'd been through time and time again. It was a dance he often looked forward to, but today his partner wasn't exactly in the best of moods. Graves was rarely in a good mood when they had conversations of this nature; it's why he preferred her out of uniform.
"Hasn't happened yet, Ma'am," Alonso retorted quietly. "When it does, you can say I told you so. Now, do you want a sitrep, or are we going to keep making eyes at one another?"
The sharp look Graves was giving him turned into straight venom as she regarded his nonchalant approach. Their arguments were numerous as they were tense, and Alonso always took the same straightforward approach to her fire.
"I'd sooner gouge yours out, Alonso," Graves leaned against one of the few upright bar tables and toyed with her Lexington sidearm. Her fury had abated marginally with each passing moment, but she was still close to a silent eruption. "Hit me with the details now."
"All quiet when we rolled up here," Alonso leaned on the table with Graves. "We kicked in the door hard and fast, but there was no one home. We have eight fatalities, three outside, four inside, and number eight is at the bottom of those stairs. All of them are Animals, and whatever tore these guys, a new one might still be here. How long until MAXTAC arrives?"
"There ten minutes out, any movement or noise from the lower level?"
"Not a peep," He gave her a cautionary look that did little to relieve her worries. "But I'd stake my pension on more Animals down below; whether they're dead or alive is one of two issues left."
Graves nodded, unable to deny that she was feeling the same thing her compatriot was. "Think the rooks can handle it?"
"No…" Alonso said with absolute certainty. "What's the call, boss?"
Moment of truth.
Escalate and initiate contact with whatever entity may reside down below or wait for heavy backup to arrive. Looking up to Alonso, she let out a long sigh.
"Wait for MAXTAC, then we head down and see what goes bump in the dark."
*BOOM*
An enormous implosion from the lower level shook the foundations of the bar to its core. A kinetic force traveled up the stairs like an invisible train, knocking over the four cops observing the stairwell.
The two veteran officers were no better; Graves and Alonso both lost their balance and were now picking themselves out of a puddle of liquor.
"Or we can go now." Graves shot him an annoyed look as she fumbled for her radio.
"Dispatch, this is Echo 225; an explosion has occurred at the 10-71 at Tribeca and York avenue. Responding officers are heading in over? "
"Dispatch copies all, MAXTAC Units are five minutes out."
Hopefully, they would get there in time.
Cyrus quietly observed the 'Basilica' stairway for any signs of movement. At first, the officers were content in waiting for more backup. However, the massive hole he blasted in the lower levels west wall had launched them into action. Chamber was able to find a secondary exit via the cities sewer system, but the only way to punch through was using the rest of his C9 explosives.
He would have preferred to use them for a more worthwhile venture, but today beggars could not be choosers.
"How long till MAXTAC arrives?" Cyrus asked.
"Five minutes, and while that's happening, we have six ugh… targets? Anyway, there pushing down the stairs in a staggered formation." Chamber paused for a moment. "What do we designate cops again."
"Don't care." Cyrus retorted. "How long until Cooper and his men make the RV point?"
"Hmmm, at the current pace, I would estimate about ten to fifteen minutes." Chamber supplied. "Remember, some of these guys had their legs broken, so they're not exactly in the best of shape."
"We'll have to distract the cops then. Any ideas?"
"That depends," Chamber replied. "Do you want to be on the nightly news for killing police officers?"
"What do you think, Chamber?"
Cyrus only had one firearm that was non-lethal on him, and for all the training the UNSC instilled into him, non-lethal training was not one of them. Spartan III's were trained killers more so than any human being had a right to be. Every motion they took, every breath they inhaled, every decision they made had one defining purpose.
To kill. No more, no less.
If there was one faction he did not want to add to his body count, it was police officers. It didn't matter the city; it didn't matter the people; killing cops always lingered in people's minds. No one remembers the gangers that died in a side alley, either from a Merc or a rival gang.
Everyone remembers when a cop takes a life or when they lose it.
Cyrus already had a violent reputation inside Night City, but his targets were criminals, rapists, and murderers. The last thing he wanted to do was add a cop's name to his growing list of kills; that was one road he was unwilling to cross.
"Well, that limits our tactical options by…..a lot."
Chamber ran through the calculations faster than the human brain could ever hope to process. It was the pair's first engagement with NCPD personnel since their arrival in Night City. She had run through dozens of simulations regarding a violent encounter with police officers, but they were more theoretical in nature.
No matter how many scenarios she ran, the AI could do little to dictate the environment they would engage the cops in. It was only through her Spartans skill and luck that a clash had not occurred until now.
"Chamber," Cyrus' eyes never left his motion tracker; six contacts were descending the stairway at a steady pace. His right hand fell to the only weapon in his arsenal that wouldn't kill a man outright, a heavily modified Tsunami Nue. This particular pistol brand was a mix between the flexible nature of a Lexington and the firepower of a Unity pistol.
Cyrus replaced the Nue's manufactured barrel with an MK. 6 Bull barrel and a non-lethal PAX modification. Chamber had pushed him to put together a weapon designed to take down targets non lethally, and for once, he was lucky for her persistence.
"Calm down, you monkey," Chamber chastised. "Sending you tactical options now."
The Headhunter could only stare in disbelief as a single, and very public path was given to him by his AI. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if she had fallen into the final stages of rampancy and had finally lost her mind.
"Chamber," he began slowly. "Are you sure about this?"
The slight smile adorned on her holographic features didn't settle his worries. "You want to give Cooper and his boys enough time to get away; it's time to put on a show."
"Is there no other option?" The AI bit out a scathing response that was unlike her usual sarcastic disposition.
"We don't have a ton of alternatives, Cy, considering you won't let me into 'The Net' as much as I want because you are afraid someone will find me snooping."
Chambers' frustrations were understandable; in the beginning, he let her have free reign inside every telecommunications network this planet had to offer. Now their public profile had increased significantly, and he was concerned someone would take notice of an advanced AI snooping around.
"Protocol dictates the safeguarding of a UNSC AI is," Chamber's voice cut him off with an explosion of frustration.
"Damnit, CY! Don't tell me about UNSC protocol!" The Headhunter fell into silence. "I am an entity that has no equal in this world; neither of us does. We have every advantage you could think of, but we are not utilizing ourselves to our potential!"
Cyrus followed every word she spoke robotically; the admonishments and dissatisfaction in her voice was palpable. He had hamstrung her efforts to data collection and security breaches alone as of late. Her very existence in this land was a cultural and technological oddity that would unleash the governments and megacorporation's upon them.
"I'm not asking you to unleash me upon this world. I am asking you to trust we can handle the consequences; we don't have to hide every moment of our lives."
Chamber could destroy everything this world had to offer with barely a second thought, but he was cautious about opening her up to the world outside.
Was this the new way for a Headhunter to operate? To hesitate based on fear and outdated protocols alone. The primary lesson ONI had taught them was to use every asset at their disposal to their full advantage.
No matter the consequences involved.
"Trust me, Cyrus." Chamber insisted softly. "I have never let you down before. I won't start now."
She could practically see the apprehension in his narrowed gaze; Chamber knew precisely what she was doing when she sent him her plan. It went against every bone in his body to expose himself to the outside world so carelessly.
Cyrus exhaled, gaze turning towards the stairway enlightened by the police officer's tactical flashlights. Their voices were getting closer with each passing second; shouts of 'NCPD' could be picked out easily.
"Cy?" Chambers' voice was pleading for a response; she hated it when he fell into his bits of silence. For all her capabilities, Chamber could never breach the shell he retreated into from time to time, and she hated every second of it. "Talk to me."
"I will never stop trusting you, Chamber," Cyrus spoke suddenly. He leaned backward, bracing his weight into the wall he was using as cover. "Maximize power to my shields; if we're putting on a show, it might as well be a good one."
"On it," The AI snapped to her orders immediately, anything to dissolve the tension that had fallen upon them. "Cyrus…. I."
"We'll speak more when we head back to the hideout." The Headhunter said promptly, hand grasping his Nue firmly. "For now, we focus on drawing the NCPDs attention to us."
"Understood." Cyrus primed a flashbang as the lead NCPD officer descended the stairs. He was a man in his mid-twenties named Jermaine Rhodes, equipped with an assault rifle and a trio of his colleagues in tow.
Once all the patrol officers were on the final floor, the Spartan greeted them as any other adversary. The only difference this time around in comparison to most people he shot at.
The cops would survive to tell the tale.
Hoyt was barely stepping over a ravaged Animal corpse when things went south almost instantly. He couldn't place where the group made their first tragic mistake, but something tells him it was the moment they descended to the lower level.
At first glance, it seemed to be where the Animals conducted their illegal fight ring, but that business was done and dusted since he lost count of the number of dead gangers populating the floor. Hoyt lost count somewhere around thirty, and he was fairly certain he saw a flash of recognition cross Alonso's face the moment the pair stepped off the staircase.
"Graves." Alonso's tone was bordering on wonderment. "Does this look familiar to you?"
When Graves fell in behind the spread-out group of officers, her face paled considerably. A dozen different emotions were present before a whisper fell from her lips; Alonso turned back in uncertainty.
"What?" The Sergeant nearly fell into hysterics as her voice finally found some footing.
"Fall back!"
The warning came too late, an object was tossed directly into the center of their formation, and its markings left little doubt in Hoyt's mind what it was.
A blinding flash bounced his head like a pinball, and he was only vaguely aware of an exchange of gunshots between the cops and their adversary. A concussive force slammed into Hoyt's right knee, buckling his balance and sending him crashing to the ground.
"Curtis, grab Hoyt now!" The rookie wrapped her arms around his shoulders and dragged him back to the base of the stairs. His vision finally began to settle when he noticed Alonso unleash a barrage of shells in the direction of a black shadow.
Hoyt didn't need to be a psychic to realize who exactly they were engaging, and his heart had never beaten so severely in his life. Hamilton was lying motionless to Hoyt's left; the steady rise of his chest was the only indication he was still amongst the living.
Rhodes and Graves were taking shelter behind an overturned table, firing blindly at whoever was shooting back at them. Alonso dove behind a stack of Animal Bodies, caring little for the foul smell that would no doubt consume his clothing.
"Dispatch! Heavy contact requesting backup now! OFFICER DOWN!" Graves was practically screaming into the radio; years of training and experience barely kept her composure in check.
"Understood 225, additional units, and MAXTAC are en route. What are you engaging over?"
Hoyt grasped his Saratoga tightly as Curtis braced him against another overturned table a mere five meters from the staircase. She fired two shots from her Tactician in quick succession, and while it didn't inflict any lethal damage, it did force their enemy behind cover.
"Ares! I say again! Ares!"
The callsign was the only thing in the world that could have stopped Hoyt's heart at that moment. Every NCPD officer in the city was given a detailed briefing on the Northside Headhunter; under no circumstances were they to engage without MAXTAC support.
They had kicked the hornet's nest, and now they were paying the price.
"We need to get the fuck out of here!" The intense gun battle barely muffled Alonso's scream, but that didn't stop Rhodes from replying all the same.
"NO FUCKIGN SHIT!" Graves' voice soon joined in reprimanding her two subordinates.
"Both of you less talking more shooting!" A fresh barrage of gunfire tore through the fight club, piercing through wooden tables and Animal corpses alike. The Headhunter was moving in between cover with incredible speed, keeping the officers from pinning him down properly.
The cops were doing everything they could to keep the psychopath back, but it didn't feel like they were doing anything at all.
Hoyt couldn't shake the idea he was playing with his food; the Headhunter wasn't pushing their position violently. He was biding his time like the patient hunter he was known for, and right now, Hoyt felt like prey.
The rookie managed to lean forward, mounting his Saratoga and returning a steady barrage of ballistic shells to suppress the Headhunter. Curtis was reloading her Tactician when a round landed square on her left shoulder, popping the bone out of place and knocking her down violently.
"Curtis is down!" Hoyt grabbed her with his free hand and painfully dragged her back to cover the best he could.
"Shit! Is she ok!" Rhodes' tone was leaking with concern.
"I'm good." Despite herself, Curtis couldn't keep the pain out of her voice. Hoyt took his eye off the shadow for barely a second when the Headhunter decided waiting was no longer an option.
His heart seized up as the shadow rushed towards their position with speed, unlike anything he had ever seen. Two shots from its firearm landed directly on Rhodes' torso, knocking the man off his feet, and dragging Graves to the ground with him.
The Headhunter streaked past Hoyt like a passing comet, but he was still able to observe the frightening black helmet stare right back at him.
"Son of a bitch!" Graves tried to reach for her radio, but Rhodes' unconscious form was weighing her down. Alonso broke from his cover and carefully extracted Rhodes off his superior's irritated body.
Hoyt's training officer helped Graves to her feet as she began barking into the radio without pause. Alonso tended to the injured Hamilton and Rhodes while he did his best to assist Curtis.
The snarling expression on Graves's face did not give way as she stumbled over to Hoyt's position. She kneeled in front of Curtis, who was trying to pop her shoulder back into place as a MAXTAC callsign came over the radio.
" Echo 225 this Vulture Nine, whats the suspect's location over."
Vulture was a MAXTAC callsign, and Hoyt was a little bit annoyed at the lack of urgency in their voice.
"Suspect has broken containment and is exiting 'Basilica' bar now, Vulture Nine."
A moment of silence rang over the net as they awaited a reply back. Curtis shrieked in pain as Graves roughly popped her shoulder back into place. Hoyt injected an auto doc into her left arm that immediately soothed her nerves. Curtis sent him a thankful nod before she passed out from the pain.
" Echo 225, we have eyes on the target. We'll take it from here out." The MAXTAC squad leader jumped off the net and left Graves to stew in her anger.
" Echo 225 to dispatch I've got multiple officers down. Need an RA unit to the 'Basilica' bar now!"
" Dispatch copies, support units are en route eta two minutes." Graves nearly tossed the radio across the room before multiple familiar call signs responded to her call for aid.
Hoyt leaned his head back as relief seeped into his weary bones all in one fell swoop. There will never be another moment in his natural life where his mind and body were frozen in complete terror.
For the rest of his time as an NCPD officer, Hoyt would never fear anything else in the world. He would recall engaging the Night City Headhunter in the darkened rooms of 'Basilica' to rookies who foolishly asked the question.
Was the Headhunter as terrifying as he was made out to be?
His reply would always be the same.
It was worse than anyone could ever imagine.
Another chapter is done and dusted, this would have come out last week but my home was snowed in as was most of my state.
Like always I hope you enjoy this fic and criticism is always welcomed. Please leave a review if you have questions or just wanna say hello.
Hope you have a great rest of your week.
Reviews
Luxo11: Thank you sir!
MEleeSmasher: TC and the other gangs will return shortly for now we focus on the NCPD.
Xavier Walker1: His augmentations and Chambers' own capabilities will most definitely make a difference for this world. Thank you for the reference.
As for pairing questions, kind of just going with the flow and trying not to force anything.
Next Chapter: March 7th