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Chapter Twenty One
July 25 th , 2077
Night City, Northern California
Afterlife, Little China
In order to conduct a proper interrogation, an interrogator required a tremendous amount of patience. Act too early, the prisoner's resolve will strengthen, too late, and the information the interrogator seeks will become out of date.
It was a song and dance Cyrus had performed a hundred times, and he still lacked the patience all the same. Interrogations were not his forte; he often failed to acquire the motivation to inflict agony for the prize of critical intelligence.
Tonight, he was properly motivated.
Conducting interrogations was one of the few subjects ONI instilled in the Headhunter program that Cyrus didn't commit to with the same zeal as his Spartan training.
Spartans were made to be the perfect soldiers, granted details on an opposing force, and ordered to execute their assigned objectives.
They were never crucial to a standard deployment. All insurgent, rebel, or Covenant captured on assignments were immediately handed off to the ONI PSYOPS for questioning.
However, the Headhunter program was a different animal; field interrogations were a necessary evil to their operational integrity.
Cyrus personally interrogated dozens of insurgent and covenant officers without hesitation, but the methods were always different.
Insurrectionists were an odd bunch; some officers took a heavy degree of physical torture to break. While most fell under the mere notion of torture.
The most stubborn individuals were easily motivated when Cyrus threatened the lives of those they held close.
When these methods took an unacceptable length of time, the Headhunters applied a psychedelic drug into their system, triggering a mental state that rendered them docile and subservient.
Interrogating humans was far different than handling a covenant fanatic.
The Covenant are religious zealots who required a degree of physical and mental torture to break their spirits and shatter their resolve.
Grunts and Jackals were the easiest to break, they were vicious in packs, but alone they were cowards. Buggers and Hunters were useless as they often operated on instinct rather than any tactical acumen.
Brutes and Elites were different from their erstwhile subordinates; he couldn't use the fundamental threat of pain to fracture their resolve.
It took a lengthy amount of time and applying the correct amount of… motivation to loosen their lips, and that was an endeavor that rarely paid off.
Cyrus was more than willing to admit that he admired the stubborn spirit each Sangheili and Jiralhanae possessed. It would take days for the Headhunters to break down their mental barriers, but in the end, they achieved success.
The Afterlife Queen was no exception to the rule.
Rogue ruthlessly cut loose one of her best means of profit without hesitation.
Practically delivering the startled Brooks on a silver platter. She even went so far as to provide him a side room to conduct his interrogation, but this did not absolve her of her guilt.
Rogue was either complicit in Brook's crimes, or she was incompetent. There was no reasoning he was willing to yield to that would change his first impressions.
If she was hoping her cooperation would ensure a more lenient Cyrus, then she was grossly mistaken.
Luckily for her, however, his attention was on the former Afterlife Mercenary who had made the grave mistake of crossing Cyrus.
A mistake he would pay for dearly.
A single overhead light shined from above, basking Brooks in the light of god and concealing the Spartan behind a wall of black. The Merc was wrapped in cords of barbed wire; each sharpened edge dug into exposed flesh. His limbs were adequately secured, his right arm was corded against his torso, while the opposite limb was securely wrapped against the bathtub edge.
The rest of Brooks' frame was sunk chest-deep in ice-cold water, lowering his body temperature and numbing his body. While the barbed wire alone could be considered a helpful interrogation tool, it was merely there to keep the fool in place.
Electrical wires surrounded Brooks' prison and led to a generator that acted as the Afterlife's backup power supply. Usually, the threat of an instantaneous death did little to motivate a prisoner; it was the slow torture that led to a true breakthrough.
However, Brooks had the proper motivation to keep himself among the living. All Cyrus had to do was remind him of that motivation.
The mercenary's dossier contains a litany of information that Cyrus required answers to. The document was drummed up by Chamber when Sterling Shaw revealed his boss's identity.
Gideon Brooks was a former Black Element mercenary who was 'released' from his contract five years ago. A rare circumstance considering most contractors Black Element employed were forced to retire after their contract expired. Even rarer was to have one of their former mercenaries shack up with another crew without repercussions.
Cyrus wasn't surprised when Chamber dug up the details on his release. Brooks wanted to be closer to home, and Black Element wanted an insider in the Afterlife crew. Whether or not Rogue knew about his continued allegiance was of little concern to him.
Brooks established connections with dozens of mercenary and Scaver crews during his time as an Afterlife Merc.
One of those connections was with the Tyger Claws. Brooks was running security for their human trafficking ring out of Cherry Blossom Market, which relied on couriers baiting people with premium brain dances.
When V was poking around for the trafficking ring, she drew the Merc's attention, and it didn't take long for him to realize the potential for disaster. Shaw explained the details of V's capture thoroughly to the Spartan and his companions.
Brooks contracted a group of Afterlife Mercs to track V's movements throughout the market. Shaw was strong-armed into acting as bait for the trap while the Mercs team waited in a separate location, and Brooks observed the meeting from an elevated position.
Once she walked into the trap, Gideon hit her with a modified SOR-22, knocking her out and leaving her vulnerable to the snatch team he had in place. He realized too late that the woman sniffing around in his backyard was Rogue's newest intrigue.
That alone sent alarms up his spine; Brooks had managed to hide his illicit from the Queen of the Afterlife through his reputation and because he hadn't drawn her ire. Now he needed to tie up loose ends before Rogue found out about the woman's disappearance.
Shaw was one of those loose ends.
Brooks had his merc team take the courier back to his apartment and make his death look like a suicide. Their timely arrival was the only reason Shaw was on a one-way ticket out of night city without a hole through his head.
His next step was to head back to the Afterlife and feign ignorance to V's disappearance by finishing a gig in Heywood Rogue had assigned him earlier. It was unfortunate for the Merc that V possessed friends that were willing to go to hell to find her.
Chamber had already pieced together the puzzle, and it was too late for Brooks to hide from the Headhunter's wrath. The Fixer recalled him back to the Afterlife for a high-end job and hoping to keep his head down; he answered the call without hesitation.
Brooks could not predict that his actions drew the ire of the one entity in Night City he hoped never to cross. When he arrived at the Afterlife, he was set upon by a dozen of his former compatriots, knocked out, and tossed into a side room without mercy.
And now, all Cyrus had to do was wait patiently for Brooks to awaken from his slumber.
Minutes passed by in a slow craw before the Merc came too; it started with a subtle fluttering of his eyelids and ended with a shriek of pain as he attempted to flex his muscles.
Eventually, Brooks' eyes fell upon his captor; the room's darkness obscured the Spartan's frame leaving only a silhouette for him to distinguish. Chamber was tracking the man's vitals, giving Cyrus the appropriate amount of forewarning into how far he could push this fool.
"Who the fuck are you?" The Merc's demands were amusing; even in a compromising position, he still acted as if he was in charge.
" Who I am is of no concern, Mr. Brooks; tonight, it's about whether you live or die." The Spartan's headlamp shined on the generator, drawing his attention. "Do you recognize this?"
Brooks nodded slowly, his mind finally coming to a standstill as he regarded his situation through clear eyes.
" This generator produces over 5,000 amps, enough to power the entirety of this club for days on end." The Mercs expression turned a shade lighter as he registered the wires connecting his tomb to the generator. "It's much more than what is needed to kill a human being, but… I want you to understand the gravity of your situation."
" I am looking for a simple, honest answer. Where is the woman you kidnapped at Cherry Blossom Market a little more than six hours ago? Tell me what I want to know, and I will set you free."
Cyrus leaned forward, visor exposed under the pale light. "If you don't, I will activate this generator, your skin will melt to the bone, your blood will evaporate into particles, and there won't be enough to identify your wretched corpse."
"I c-cannot help you," Brooks stuttered out, gathering what little willpower remained in his body. "I know nothing of her current location."
" I disagree. My demand is not a request, nor is it a bargain. There are only two outcomes to your circumstance now, Mr. Brooks."
" Live… or die. The choice is yours," Cyrus produced the primary reason for his reassignment back to Night City. "Here… something to give you perspective."
The Spartan slowly deposited an item into the frigid water that Brooks resided in. The object was simple in nature, but it often encompassed a Night City child's hopes and innocence.
Floating not mere feet away from his legs was an action figure Brooks had gotten his six-year-old son. The scuff marks across the detailed figurine of the infamous Morgan Blackhand were easily recognizable. Fear flowed like a virus through his veins, leaving him a husk of raw human emotion.
" I picked it up an hour ago while looking for you," Cyrus spoke as if invading a man's home was second nature to him. "You have a beautiful family, Mr. Brooks, something I thought only the best of men could ever obtain. Clearly, that is not the case anymore, for even people like you can earn an invaluable possession."
Fury quickly replaced with fear, a reaction that Cyrus was looking to instigate. The best way to break a man was to make him emotionally unstable, and referring to their family always ensured the necessary response.
"You….you MOTHERFUCKER!" Brooks's indignation was quickly silenced by the rattle of barbed wire digging into his skin.
" Threaten, yell, curse my very existence. It won't matter how you spend your last moments because it's up to you in the end. The decision you make now will decide if your wife lives the rest of her life widowed and your children grow up without a father."
The Headhunter took a step back, darkness shrouding him in a black cloud, "Make your choice Mr. Brooks."
No matter the circumstance, no matter the adversary, the results of his interrogations always ended the same way.
Everyone broke.
Cyrus left Brooks to his own fate with the desired information obtained, shouldering past several Mercs. Few even attempted to stop his advance on the Afterlife Queen. He shoved aside her bodyguard, Weyland, with such ease it left him sprawled on the floor.
Rogue instinctively flinched when Cyrus's right hand suddenly grasped her shoulder. The weight and power in the palm of his hand almost collapsed her collarbone as he leaned forward. His towering frame nearly consumed the smaller woman when his visor stopped mere inches from her paling face.
The Headhunter was not threatening her life; he delivered a warning that Rogue would not soon forget.
" I do not want to come back here again."
With his objectives completed, the Spartan turned on his heels and disappeared into the howling dark. He left behind fear-racked mercenaries and a Queen who had nearly been dethroned on a whim.
Night City was no longer the city of dreams.
It was the Headhunters playground.
Cyrus was changing, and Chamber didn't know if it was for the better.
He still maintained the same collected and uncompromising persona to any who observed him on the outside. The impenetrable shield Spartans projected guarded them against the moral complexities of being a highly trained assassin.
Whatever single-minded opinions outsiders viewed them as, Spartans were not mindless killers. They were independent thinkers, capable of adapting to any situation presented to them without relying on a stringent tactical doctrine.
Their Spartan-II cousins were molded into effective soldiers through persuasion and acclimation-all to create the perfect soldiers to combat insurrection and prevent the onset of a bloody civil war.
Halsey believed that an effective Spartan must be able to comprehend and embrace the significance of their mission. No matter the consequences or the undeniable casualties, each action they took led to.
This indoctrination method rationalized the hazardous and often suicidal duties they carried out, no matter the consequences behind each mission-Spartan II's became focused and unflinching in all manners of warfare, both physical and mental.
Spartan III's were different. They were not made to be protectors; they weren't produced to be silent guardians.
They were cannon fodder-nothing more, nothing less.
The Spartan-IIIs were conceived to be expendable. Trained in companies of over three hundred cadets, they were the catalyst to a short-term strategy that Colonel Ackerson and ONI established in the throes of a genocidal war.
To trade lives for time.
Such a tactic required the complete devotion of their cadets without hesitation, and the war with the Covenant gave ONI an enormous pool of naive children to utilize. All of them were orphaned by the genocidal campaign unleashed upon their families and worlds, leaving nothing but a burning hatred.
ONI took advantage of these children, giving them every gift at their disposal and then tossing them to the wolves. The cadet's motivations were an unrefined rage, all directed towards the Covenant, and eventually, that rage would burn out or be refocused.
In her Spartan's case, he never allowed his internal hatred for the Covenant to affect his judgment. He compartmentalized the adversary at hand and respected their capabilities without losing sight of himself.
With their war with the Covenant little more than a passing memory and no leadership to direct his motivations, Cyrus was left directionless and confused.
It was only because of the Maelstrom raid on Dana's camp that his duty to humanity was rekindled.
Now his attention was on the heart of humanity. The Spartan was unleashing a crusade that affected thousands of lives in a city that was the apex of human depravity.
But that was a duty he latched onto because he was a child lost in the boroughs of Ferax, but he still had a purpose. During his time on Onyx, he discovered what he alone was willing to fight and die for, and it laid within Casey and Eliza.
Those two were his family, and it was ripped away through the anvils of war.
Casey was torn from their team by Ackerson, and Eliza was still missing in action but presumed dead. His family was gone, and Cyrus was left wandering the city with only Chamber as his companion.
And she wouldn't be here forever; her lifespan could only last another six years before she fell into the jaws of rampancy. That's why Chamber was so determined to give Cyrus people that would keep his wellbeing in mind.
Without someone else to fill the sizeable void left by his team, he was left to fall into an endless abyss. Chamber couldn't have been more thankful for the fact V and Panam were subtly able to fill that void with their stubborn personalities.
V's disappearance, however, unleashed a side of Cyrus that she had never witnessed before. The cruelty he displayed against Brooks left her completely flatfooted and extraordinarily concerned. Whatever his motivations, he never stopped to such a level as to allude to threatening a man's family.
Chamber had been closely monitoring his brain activity and vitals for months on end. Even in the modicum amount of sleep he indulged in; her attention never strayed from her ailing Spartan.
Years of mental and physical burdens during his time as a Headhunter for ONI had taken their toll, but he endured, nonetheless. Now with the loss of his Spartan team and V's kidnapping, Cyrus was operating for the first time without restraint.
She could feel the confusion in his lack of composure and decency rolling off his body because of his brutality towards Brooks.
The answer was evident to Chamber but not to her Spartan.
V and Panam were family to Cyrus now, and he was no doubt coming to terms with that conclusion now. Say what you will about her brain-dead monkey, but he wasn't dense when it came to establishing bonds. He just didn't understand how to handle them accordingly.
Chamber needed someone to cool him down.
So, she called the one person in Night City that was able to keep him on his toes.
He was going to kill her when he found out.
The Headhunter was not expecting to see Panam waiting inside his AV, geared out like she was about to go to war, especially since he recalled leaving her and Alvarez off at Lizzie's with a concise order to stay put.
There was no way the Nomad could have tracked the Phantom so quickly; she didn't possess the means to locate the stealth aerodyne or track his location. That left only one viable suspect, and Cyrus knew precisely who the perpetrator was.
"Chamber." The UNSC AI was suspiciously quiet since he retrieved his MJOLNIR and made a beeline for the Afterlife. He assumed she was still corroborating V's exact location, but it was clear she had other things in mind.
"You need the backup."
"I disagree."
"I don't care." Chamber's avatar winked off his HUD ending the conversation as soon as it began. Cyrus entered the Phantom's cargo hold; Panam had to squeeze her legs tight to give him the necessary room to maneuver.
The cargo doors were shut almost as soon as he entered, and the aerodyne shot into the Night City sky like a rocket. The Aldecaldo avoided making eye contact with Cyrus, choosing instead to stare out of the Phantom's viewport.
"I told you to stay at Lizzie's."
"Yeah, you did." Panam began. "But last time I checked, V was my friend to or did you forget that when you ditched Judy and me?"
"Your assistance is not required."
"This not up for a debate; I'm going to help you find her," the Aldecaldo pointed out harshly. "You're choom was practically begging me to jump on this thing, and I'll be damned if she wasn't convincing."
"My choom?" That was a detail that displeased Cyrus immensely. Chamber was not meant to be actively communicating with anyone, not even their allies. This was a scenario that he should have anticipated coming to pass and prevented.
"Yeah, nice girl, by the way. I'd love to meet her after all this." That was never going to happen if he could help it. "So, where'd they take our Merc?"
Cyrus was mere moments from removing her from the aerodyne kicking and screaming, but a subtle pressure began to build towards the back of his head. Chamber was adamant it seemed in having Panam accompany him on his assault against the Scavers who took V.
Unwilling to push the matter further, Cyrus begrudgingly chose to acquiesce to their demands and brief Panam on the essential details to V's rescue.
"As you know, V was investigating a human trafficking ring when she disappeared. The Tyger Claws hired Brooks to ensure their operations went smoothly and a Scaver clan to collect organs for the black market. V was close to a breakthrough, but Brooks was able to take her by surprise at the market." A holographic projection of an apartment complex in Japantown digitized in between Panam and Cyrus.
"Him and the team of Afterlife Mercs we killed at Shaw's apartment, delivered her to a Scavenger clan called the Forsaken based out of Westbrook. That delivery was completed a few hours ago, so our timetable is short."
The projection changed to the complex's 39th floor, and there were over two dozen rooms centered around a lobby area. The Scavers laid claim to several stories inside the apartment building; their heaviest presence was in their main operations floor. It was regrettable that V was located in between the Dead Eye's strongest hardpoints.
"V is in room 3912. A single-bedroom apartment with a common room separated from the sleeping space. A sedative is being applied to her bios, continuously keeping her in an unconscious state."
"How many Scavers are there?"
"Anywhere between twenty to forty hostiles," Cyrus explained. "They're led by a former Afterlife Merc called Spider. He loiters in the main lobby with a pair of Bloodhounds on his payroll."
"What's the plan?" Panam tried her best to appear collected, but she always got amped up before a good scrap. "I don't imagine they're just going to let us walk in."
"I will breach through the elevator shaft and attack the main lobby, drawing as much attention as I can for you to sneak in through the back." The projection panned over to a balcony belonging to room 3920. "The AV will take you to this entry point; from there, you can pick apart the Scavengers from the rear and secure V. Questions?"
"No, let's get our girl back." The pair fell into an uneasy silence as neither was willing to breach the awkward tension in the air first. Panam adjusted the sight on her suppressed Arasaka HJSH-18 Masamune AR, a graciously accepted gift from Mitch.
Cyrus mounted a Mk. 12 under-barrel shotgun to his Copperhead, vaguely recalling V's statement when Panam had called for help.
The two were more alike than they realized.
Night City, Northern California
Apartment Complex 25-E, Japantown
Heat signatures detected…..thirty hostiles.
Recommendation…..eradicate with extreme prejudice.
Objective…..secure subject Valerie Vargas. Collateral damage unacceptable.
"Cyrus." The synthetic voice went ignored, mind crawling into a black fog of emptiness. The haze consumed his mind; years of mental conditioning allowed him to fall back on a simple direct mindset.
The objective was clear, the cost of failure was defined.
Success…..subject survives. Essential.
Failure…..subject dies. Unacceptable.
"Cyrus." The Headhunter could not understand the emotions coiling through his frame. He could feel the negative sentiments dictating his entire outlook, overloading his nerves, and leaving him a husk of mounting emotions.
"Cyrus." Failure was not new to the Spartan.
If he botched the assassination of a Covenant Field Marshal, it might cost the lives of an entire battalion of UNSC marines.
If he failed to sabotage a refueling facility and prevent fuel distribution to a Covenant strike force. A UNSC battlegroup would pay the ultimate price and be rendered into melted scrap.
The consequences of failure often led to numerous casualties and shattered lives. Families butchered, cities destroyed, planets turned into glass, souls left nothing but dust and echoes. The price of failure was nowhere near the fatal consequences he was accustomed to, but he was resolved to avoid capitulation all the same.
Cyrus was determined to get her back, no matter the consequences. He would not allow any other alternative.
"Cyrus!" Chamber's voice pierced through the black haze, shaking him out of his deteriorating thoughts.
"Yes?" Her tone was filled with pure unadulterated panic, momentarily startling the Spartan as he ascended to the 39th floor.
"Jesus Christ," Chamber spoke softly. "You're vitals were spiking all over the place. Are you feeling ok?"
"My status is fine," he supplied sternly. "Focus on Scav movements and coordinating Panam's assault."
Cyrus distracted himself once again with a thorough equipment check, ignoring the pair of frustrated eyes burning into his head. It started as a symphony, his mind falling back into the black haze once again.
He was disregarding his surroundings and focusing on one singular objective as the elevator ground to a halt. His helmet picked up the curious voices of soon-to-be-dead Scavers on the other side of the elevator doors. Ignorant to their approaching demise.
Ordnance class… lethal.
Module conditions… green.
Combat status…..green.
Mercy…..unavailable.
"Who the fuck is thi-" The elevator doors slid open, revealing a Scaver advancing towards Cyrus, only to be blasted backward when a shotgun shell impacted their upper torso. A fist-sized hole punctured the unarmored chest, killing the man on impact and startling the Forsaken scattered across the apartment floor.
The Scavers used the main lobby as a recreational space. Furniture littered the entire area, with a makeshift kitchen off to his right and a few tables occupied with either food or drugs made up the rest of the lobby. More than a dozen Scavers were in the middle of what seemed to be a game of poker when their fun was brutally interrupted.
Cyrus wasted no time, brutalizing a Berserker that never got the chance to activate his cyberware, leaving him a mess of organs and limbs.
"WHAT THE FUCK!"
"COVER! GET TO COVER!"
Chaos broke out in the main lobby as the Scavers scrambled behind whatever cover they could find. Two wretches were unable to seek shelter fast enough, and Cyrus made them pay for their inadequacy with their lives.
He tore through their ranks with ease, leaving behind broken husks as he stormed his way to the western hallway. The plan banked on drawing the Scavers away from V's location in the eastern corridors, so he needed to influence the fools into following in his wake.
A Scaver hound wielding an electrified Katana attempted to charge the Spartans blindside, but his screaming gave away his intentions immediately. The hound approached from Cyrus' right unleashing an overhead strike aimed at his right arm.
Cyrus leaned slightly to the left, narrowly avoiding the attack, and snapped his elbow straight into the hound's left cheek. A nauseating crunch echoed through the lobby as the Scavers facial muscles and bones practically wrapped around the elbow strike until it was nothing but paste.
The Spartan snatched the man's left knee, snapping him towards a cluster of Scavers like a frisbee. Only a select few managed to dodge the human projectile, while the rest were practically knocked over like sticks.
"KILL HIM! KILL HIM NOW!"
Their leader, Spider, finally made his appearance, and the Scaver was backed up by two Bloodhounds, each carrying a JKE-X2 Kenshin Tech pistol and an Electrified Katana. He wasn't in a hurry to engage the Spartan head-on until the rest of his men had a piece.
Sliding to his right, Cyrus narrowly avoided a HE grenade passing mere inches from his visor. Thinking quickly, he grasped an F-5 smoke grenade from his waist, tossing it to the center of the lobby and blinding the panicked Scavers.
Cyrus fired five bursts from his Copperhead into the gathering mass of hostiles and disappeared into the smoke. He pushed towards the western corridors where more Scavers were no doubt taking shelter in the apartments.
"GET AFTER THE SLAG!" Spider denied his subordinate's demands.
"FUCK THAT! JUST SEND IN THE HEAVIES!" The Scavers unleashed every weapon in their arsenal into the concealment. Fragmentation grenades detonated without pause, and firearms tore through furniture for what felt like an eternity.
While the fools wasted their ammunition on shadows, Cyrus enacted the second phase of their plan. "Panam, you're up."
" I'm on it." Chamber applied a Thermal Ident to his HUD's visuals, quickly giving him an advantage over the Scavers'. He activated his camo module, vanishing just as two heavy gunners burst through the dissipating smoke backed up by a dozen of their comrades.
The pair of Scaver heavy gunners were decked out in a patchwork of kevlar and welded armor; both were lugging around two M2067 Defender LMG's.
A scan of their internal schematics showed these firearms were modified to fire high-velocity tech rounds. Those projectiles were far more effective against his energy shields than the usual ballistic casings.
The Gunners pressed forward, scrutinizing every odd detail that stood out to their optics-knocking over furniture and that their quarry could be hiding behind but discovering only empty space in the process.
Pockets of Scavers slowly emerged from the side apartments, curious as to the commotion taking place outside. One bandit raised their arms in exasperation towards the heavies.
"WHAT THE FUCK'S GOING ON!" A gunner replied in a voice made of pure static.
"FUCKING HEADHUNTER'S HERE!" The words sent a jolt of adrenaline through the confused Scaver.
"WHAT! WHERE IS HE?!"
"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW, LUSKI! GET OUT HERE AND LOOK!"
Their cybernetic eyes were unable to track his camouflaged form as he skulked into their blind side.
The Headhunters Copperhead barked to life to the Scavers right; five rounds slammed into his cerebral cortex, killing him instantly and sending his body flailing. The dead man's finger pressed down on the Defender's trigger on instinct, sending a spray of tech rounds down the western corridor, killing several of his companions.
"SHIT!" Before the second gunner could respond, Cyrus's left arm wrapped around his throat, crushing his larynx and leaving him helpless. He used the choking gunner as a human shield, spinning him towards the collection of Scavers surrounding their leader.
"KILL THE GONK!" The Scaver Bloodhounds shot past their comrades as gunfire reached a new crescendo in the lobby. Cyrus primed a frag grenade and shoved it down his human shields throat, accelerating the man's deprivation of oxygen.
With a great hurl, he tossed the Scaver heavy towards his comrades. The Bloodhounds slid underneath the human explosive and charged the Spartan with reckless intent. The remaining Scaver grunts scrambled to find what little cover remained, but only a select few escaped the frag grenade's range.
Spider grabbed one of his underlings by the scruff of their shirt, placing him directly in front of a shower of shrapnel and gore. The Scav leader thanked his subordinate's sacrifice with a rough shove to the floor, leaving him to bleed out without a second's hesitation.
Cyrus ducked underneath a series of neck-breaking strikes from the Scaver Bloodhounds. Frustration was evident etched into their cybernetic faces, as neither could land even a glancing blow.
The rest of the Scaver hounds were unable to engage the Spartan properly. The speed and ferocity consuming Spider's elite guard and their adversary left them unable to do more than take useless potshots.
"GET UP!" Spider roughly shoved his surviving hounds forward, willingly throwing what remained of his surviving men with no regard for their lives.
The Forsaken clan leader was so consumed by fury; he failed to realize a second intruder breaching their failing stronghold.
Panam tried her best to keep her heartbeat settled, running through a series of techniques Mitch taught a few years ago. She didn't take to heights very well, and if there was one thing in the world she hated being inside of, it was an aerodyne.
Nomads weren't meant to fly.
Her eyes fixated on the cargo door, anxiously awaiting the moment her part in V's rescue began. She tried to eradicate any stray thoughts that lead back to the moron that she called a friend, he was acting different, and she couldn't explain why.
Cyrus always exuded this aura of absolute stillness, able to take the very breath body with just a glance. He never raised his voice, never took issue with her oddities or V's, and always managed to make those he called friends comfortable.
It was difficult for Panam to stand up to him in the cargo hold without capitulating; the man had a way of conveying his displeasure without saying anything.
In the amount of time Panam had been around Cyrus, he never gave her less than his best. He never made her feel like anything less than an equal; he respected her on a level she didn't believe possible for a man of his caliber.
It made it that much more difficult for Panam to go against his wishes, but she wanted V back just as bad as he did. Night City had a habit of taking a piece of someone every chance it got, and the Aldecaldo would be damned before she fought tooth and nail to save what she cherished.
" Panam, you're up." The aerodyne's doors slid open, exposing the cargo hold to a large gust of wind.
"I'm on it." Panam regretted peaking off the edge to the ground below; she took a deep breath and put all her strength into the jump, scaling the balcony ledge by mere inches. She pivoted her momentum forward, executing a safety roll and shouldering her assault rifle in one clean motion.
The Aldecaldo breached the balcony's apartment, doing her best to ignore the decaying bodies around her. Like most Scaver clans, they stored their merchandise in bathtubs of ice and tossed the ravaged corpses in a corner to deal with at a later date.
A noxious odor assaulted her senses like a freight train; she would have words with Cyrus later. The bastard had chosen the Scaver dumping room as her insert point, and the smell was practically eating her lungs inside out.
Panam could hear the controlled bursts of gunfire echoing through the metallic door in front of her. The Aldecaldo quickly removed a rotting corpse from the apartment door, wiping off the decaying fluids on the far wall and nudging open the door.
A vicious one-sided skirmish took place down the corridor; Cyrus had done a helluva job drawing the Scavers in like moths to a flame. Panam could see him dueling with a pair of bloodhounds and barely breaking a sweat.
Something told her he was playing with his food, and the Scaver elites seemed to have the same mindest if the constant screaming was any indication. Two Scaver hounds attempted to fire a pair of HE grenades in Cyrus's direction, but he countered by tossing an entire pool table at the gonks.
V's room was a mere four doors down, but in between Panam and her choom was a quartet of Forsaken grunts. The cowards were content in letting their comrades duck it out with the seven-foot tower of murder.
Panam would punish them for their cowardice heartily; she palmed a Gash Antipersonnel Grenade strapped to her belt.
Cyrus was going to utilize it for his raid at first but decided to let her make use of it instead. A decision she was more than happy with; these things were absolute murder to the human body.
She nudged the door a few more inches, giving her enough space to toss the Gash into the quartet of Scavers. The grenade bounced off the ground and shot up into the air; deadly red lasers emitted from its frame, slicing through human flesh and severing limbs.
Three of the four Scavers were killed once a red beam cut through a fatal part of the human body. The fourth Scaver survived on luck alone, bracing his body against a concrete slab and stall an early grave.
Panam fired a burst from her Masamune that impacted just beneath his heart. Blood pooled into his left lung, smothering what little oxygen remained in his body; she stepped over the hemorrhaging Scaver and pushed down the corridor.
Their plan relied on a certain amount of subtly on Panam's end, so she crept her way towards V's room. Cyrus dealt with most of the Scaver grunts from her vantage point, and only a handful of Forsaken remained in the fight. The Spider was spitting up a storm of curses so loud she could hear it over the gunfire.
Panam braced next to room 3920 and keyed her direct comm link to Cyrus. "Having fun?"
" What do you think?" The body of a dead hound was propelled down the corridor, missing her by a few meters and impacting the far wall.
"That better not have been aimed at me!" The growl of annoyance she received set her back on track. "Ok, Christ, take a joke. I'm breaching the room now; give me two minutes, and I'll have V secured."
" Make it quick; we're going to have more company soon."
"On it." Panam kicked down the door and tossed a flashbang inside; a shriek of anguish followed up the loud bang. She breached the door with ferocious intent, gunning two Scavers hiding amongst a collection of gurneys.
The walls had been torn down to make room for a massive harvesting center. Dozens upon dozens of gurneys were organized into rows six wide and ten deep. Panam cursed under her breath; she could only pray they weren't too late.
An intense gun battle ensued between Panam and a trio of surviving Scavers; she was forced to slide underneath an occupied gurney. The mutilated corpse was missing most of its torso, and the cyberware was ripped from its face. Ballistic shells impacted her makeshift cover, kicking up sprays of crimson into the air and covering her in red.
"Fucking assholes." She cursed under her breath and popped out of cover; time slowed to a crawl as adrenaline coursed through her system. Mitch had spent years drilling, teaching her how to maintain her cool during the anvils of war. He made it a point to beat basic breathing techniques into her motions until it became nothing less than instinct.
Control the pace.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Pull . A Scaver dropped to the floor, a steady stream of lethal lead introduced to his cerebral cortex killed him instantly.
Control the pace.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Pull . A Berserker tried his luck at blitzing her; however, the sheer amount of gurneys filled with human corpses impeded his movement. A single burst of 7.62 penetrated through his sternum, shattering his bones and piercing his heart.
Control the pace.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Panam's thoughts were interrupted by a glint flashing to her left; she rolled to her right, narrowly avoiding a mantis blade to the back of her head. A Forsaken Berserker was hiding in the shadows and chose not to make his appearance known until now.
The Aldecaldo kicked off a gurney, propelling her momentum away from a secondary strike aimed at her torso. She fired three bursts from her rifle into the psycho's torso, but only two ballistic shells penetrated his armor.
Her adversary snarled in rage, falling upon Panam with the force of ten men. The Aldecaldo was forced to raise her Masamune above her head as a shield; two mantis blades punctured through the frame, stopping two feet short of piercing her forehead.
"COME ON BITCH! JUST LET IT HAPPEN." The Scaver put his body weight into the striker, forcing Panam's elbows against the concrete floor. "IT WILL ALL BE OVER SOON! JUST! LET! GO!"
The rifle creaked under pressure, and Panam fought with every ounce of strength she had. Her legs kicked out at his thighs, trying to use his limbs as a base point to push her body off. After two unsuccessful attempts, the Scaver trapped her left leg with his own and increased the weight on his assault.
Goddamnit, think Panam! Think! Scenarios ran through her like a blur, but she could not find a solution to her problem. Mitch always said her one weakness in a fight was her lack of awareness, and now she was seconds away from her final mistake.
Panam needed a miracle, and as the fates would have it, she was blessed with a guardian angel.
"FUCKING DIE ALREADY!" The Forsaken ripped his mantis blades free, slicing the Masamune into three pieces and leaving Panam vulnerable to a vertical strike. "DAS VEDANYA BITCH!"
Before he could capitalize on his advantage, his cyberware was short-circuited from a system-wide burnout. "AGggGggGhhhHHHHhh!"
With one final spark of energy, the Berserker's head exploded into a shower of lightning. Panam covered up the best she could from the splash of cybernetic fluids bursting from his corpse; after a few moments of tense silence, the Scaver fell onto his back.
" Panam, status?" Somehow in some way, Cyrus had to be involved in the miracle she had just experienced.
"Fuck me," Panam stood on her toes; gunfire in the main lobby diminished, but there were still sounds of heavy fighting occurring. "I'm good, a little bit fucked up, but I'm good."
" Find V; we need to leave now." Cyrus cut the transmission and left Panam to look for her missing choom.
There were dozens of gurneys with recently deceased corpses and a large number who were simply sedated. Panam was at a loss for where to start looking for V in this mass of bodies.
The Aldecaldo resigned herself to begin one at a time, lifting the veil of fabric that covered each body. She tried her best to ignore each victim's stricken features; some were far too young for even her seasoned mind to stomach.
Panam had already gone through a dozen gurneys when her phone rang from a notification. She opted to ignore the vibration and continued searching, but a series of rings finally drew her attention. She snatched the phone from her pocket, praying to god it wasn't Scorpion doing his usual antics, and read the repeated messages.
Five rows North, second gurney from the left.
A quizzical look crossed Panam's face, and her headshot around to take in her environment. A security camera at the eastern corner of the room piqued her curiosity, and another message confirmed she had an observer.
Stop gawking and move.
Panam wasted no more time and rushed over to the designated gurney. Much like many others, a heartbeat monitor was placed off to its right side along with a surgical table. To the left side of each gurney was a medical drip, most likely applying the sedative that kept the victims unconscious.
Terror struck Panam momentarily as she observed a flatlined heartbeat monitor, but a secondary observation indicated it was not hooked up to V's presumed body.
The Aldecaldo momentarily hesitated to remove the fabric covering her choom; every negative feeling assaulted her senses at once. She wasn't prepared for the worst-case scenario, but she'd rather rip the band-aid off now.
She grasped the edge of the fabric and tore it off without further ceremony; her heart froze as she observed V's battered and bruised form. Spots of purple could be traced up and down her naked body, but otherwise, she seemed to be in decent shape physically.
Panam's fingers shot to V's out of pure desperation, searching for a heartbeat. She almost collapsed in relief when a beat echoed through her fingers like a drum. The Aldecaldo removed the restraints on V's limbs and keyed her commlink in one fluid motion.
"Cyrus, I got her."
" Is she intact?" She released the Merc from her restraints and tried a Hail Mary attempt to shake her awake, but nothing came to fruition.
"She's unconscious," The Nomad began. "I can't wake her up in here, but I know a ripperdoc that can help us."
" Do you trust them?
"She does." V sang her praises for Vik whenever a conversation about her cyberware was brought up. If there was one person in the world that the Merc trusted to a fault, it was Viktor Vector.
" Get to the AV. We need to leave before the cops get here."
"You called the cops here?!" Panam transferred their unconscious choom into a fireman carry. "Why the hell would you do that?"
" Did you really think I was going to walk away from this?"
"I guess not," Panam kicked open the hallway door and made for the extraction point. Dodging in between sporadic gunfire taking place in the main lobby, a quick look back allowed the Aldecaldo a brief sight of the carnage Cyrus had inflicted on the Scavers.
Bodies littered the 39th floor, with a few hanging from the rafters above by Monowire. Cyrus had cut loose every ounce of pent-up rage on the entirety of the Forsaken clan, and from her rough estimate, there had to be a hundred corpses at minimum.
Panam didn't envy the fools in the slightest; kicking down the door to 3912, she slogged her way through the Scaver dumping ground and signaled the Phantom for exfil. Barely a second tick by before a shimmering blocked raised to their balcony, and a pair of shuttle doors slid open.
She had to toss V's unconscious body onto the aerodyne roughly; a slight thud could be heard as V's skull bounced off the deck. "Sorry, girl, that one's on me."
"I'm in." Panam relayed to the Spartan as she laid a warm blanket over V's frigid body.
" Shoot me the coordinates; I'll meet you at Vik's clinic."
"I never said it was Vik."
" You didn't have to." The call connection cut off, and the aerodyne shot into the skies of Night City, allowing Panam to exhale a sigh of relief and, along with a single irritating thought.
Cyrus really was the boogeyman.
I had a weird time making this chapter, parts of it I disliked and parts I did like. Wasn't really sure how I felt, but hopefully, you all enjoyed it nonetheless. The march to 300 favorites and 400 followers is a slow but steady race and I am thankful for each person who spends their valuable time on this fic.
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.
The next chapter will be on March 27th.
Yes, I know it's a long time, but I am going on vacation from the 15th to the 21st and I will only be writing sparingly.
Anyway, have a great rest of the week, and stay safe out there.
Reviews:
timroy48: I'm happy this fic was able to reignite your love of halo, hopefully, it doesn't become the reason it sours on you.
MEleeSmasher: I hope the route I took on V's capture wasn't too bad, I wasn't going to make her act like me while playing the game and inserting a foreign object into her system. I was thinking about the Relic angle, but I decided against it because Arasaka doesn't want to risk the Relic going public. So a guy like Brooks probably wouldn't be in the know.
tamagat: His civilian clothing is a mix of Aedan Pearce and Adam Jensen actually, but I'd let people choose between the two as a preference.
DannyPhantom619: She'll be fine not worry, just a little out of it for a chapter or two.
Mercenary X: I still haven't decided, but I am leaning towards after the Voodoo boys encounter. I still have some room to work with so I will make a decision in the not too distant future.
LyKaiosK: I have no idea what to say.
FanciedFanfic: Adam Smasher is in for a rude awakening.
To all other reviews expressing their thanks for the extra chapter and your support, stay classy everybody.
Next Chapter: March 27th