Strap in fellas, moral complexities are abound in this chapter. The previous chapter was updated so check it out if you haven't already.
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Chapter Twenty Four
July 26th, 2077
Night City, Northern California
Camp August, Charter Hill
The Meatman.
He was one of several serial killers that plagued the citizens of Night City. The only standout difference between him and the rest of his ilk was the media attention that seemed to bask in his deeds.
The NCPD made it a point to control what the media received to the highest degree, especially when it came to the public obtaining any knowledge of a serial killer operating in Night City.
False narratives quickly consumed everything that sniffed the motive of a potential serial killer on the loose.
A poor teenager mutilated in an alleyway, killed by gang violence.
The gambler found hanging by meat hooks for the whole city to see, loan sharks collecting a debt.
Each and every death that linked to the Meatman was quickly blamed on motivations that pointed to murder based on emotion and greed. No one, not the media and not the police officers who worked the streets, knew the truth of just how many mass murderers walked amongst them.
The sociopath burst onto the Night City scene with a brutal display of carnage inflicted upon a Night City Councilor named Katie Harrison. She was overseeing a new city ordnance package aimed at organizing city approved vagrant camps when she disappeared. Her name carried enough weight to upset an assortment of few influential people, including Corporations such as Petrochem and Biotechnica.
The NCPD deployed all available resources on the case, assuring the public that the councilwoman would be found and her kidnappers brought to justice. They came up with nothing substantial in the first few days until an anonymous tip led them to Corporate plaza.
Responding officers searched the local towers the best they could, but Arasaka and Militech didn't exactly want to open their structures to Night City's finest. The Police Chief was seconds away from calling off the search when a body was hung from the Petrochem Tower by two meat hooks.
Simultaneously a mass email was sent to every news outlet in Night City. The self-proclaimed Meatman had sought to make Night City his playground. For months he embarked on a wanton killing spree, murdering anyone he deemed worthy of his blade.
The Meatman is completely unpredictable and has no misgivings about who he kills. As a result, he is almost impossible to track; even if the clues of his modus operandi are clear as day, there is never a trail that can be followed.
Such unpredictability makes him a danger to anyone who walks the land.
Men, women, children, it matters not their religion or creed. All are prey in the murderous gaze of the Meatman.
That was until the Headhunter made his mark on the Maelstrom.
For one reason or the other, the sociopath went underground, hiding in the shadows of Night City and biding his time before he began a new string of murders.
"Only in passing."
"That fucker has killed more people than the press could even dream of covering. Bastard started down here with the vagrants, perfecting his craft until he was ready to hit the big stage. He killed three of my people before we even realized we were being hunted; one of them was Clint's sister."
That was private information, but Parker wouldn't divulge if it weren't a key detail.
"As far as I know, he's gone back underground unless you have information that suggests otherwise." Dana's gaze lowered considerably. "You think he's back, don't you?"
"I know he's back. A separate vagrant camp north of here found one of their outcasts strung up by meat hooks. I'd bet the life of every person living in this camp that this bastard has resurfaced."
A resurfaced serial killer amid Night City would force the Spartan to redirect his attention for the time being. The NCPD would put their best and brightest into solving the Meatman's identity, but they would more than likely come up short.
Cyrus was confident that Chamber could succeed where the police would inevitably fail. However, an outcast on the warpath searching for his sister's killer is a problem that he would rather not deal with.
"Where's Clint?" His location was paramount; the last thing Cyrus needed was to have Clint go rogue searching for this psychopath. Parker relied on him to help run this encampment, and his death would be a massive blow to morale here.
"I sent him with a few of our sentries to convince the vagrant encampment north of here to join us, but they're nothing if not stubborn." Parker palmed a flask strapped to her waist and took a healthy swig. "Clint was going with or without backup, but I wasn't going to let him embark on a wild goose chase by himself."
"How do you know it's him?"
"A gut feeling more than anything else, but I didn't call you here to trade horror stories."
"Then what did you call me for?"
"A choom of mine named Lene Borowitz," Parker answered. "She's an N54 journalist I had dealings with while I was a corpo agent. She's running a story on the Meatman, and she's knee-deep in the shit. Yesterday she received an anonymous tip from someone who knew all about the Meatman. I didn't think anything of it until we obtained the report from the outlying vagrant camp."
"Is there a reason she chose a serial killer as her next puff piece?" It was foolish for anyone who grew up in this city to search for a mass murderer without backup.
"Desperation," Parker explained. "She's been behind on her payments for weeks now, and she was frantic to find a story that would catch her editor's eyes. Look, all I'm asking is for you to find her before the psychopath does. I owe that girl a lot more than I have any right to."
"When was the last time you spoke to her?"
"Yesterday, the little shit has been giving me the runaround." That left little time for Cyrus to track her down; the first 48 hours were critical in a missing person's case, so he didn't have much time left.
"I'll find her." He pushed off the walkway rails and took a mere two steps away from Parker when she called out to him.
"Call me when you find her. Dead or alive."
"I will." The Chieftain nodded, her gaze never leaving the Spartan until he disappeared into the mass of bodies.
Parker wondered why she considered him a friend. He was way too skittish around people to be considered anything more than an acquaintance.
And yet, she considered him a friend all the same.
With friends like these, you have no enemies.
Cyrus climbed into this AV half a click east of Camp August, time was of the essence, and he could only hope that Chamber could make up for lost time.
"Chamber, I need a location." The AI's voice came over the comm-link, grumbling as she cleared up the connection.
"For who and what?"
"Lene Borowitz, a journalist that works for N54 news. Her last location was somewhere close to Corporate plaza." Chamber made a barely concealed grumbling noise.
"Huh, fine, link the AV to mine mainframe so I can get you an exact location." Cyrus brought up the Phantoms command module and synced it to the bunkers mainframe. A holographic representation of Night City's downtown district was highlighted in a grid-like box.
"What happened to the firearm training?" She queried.
"No longer a priority."
Chamber scoffed and pressed Cyrus through another round of questioning. "So what the hell do you want with a journalist?"
"She and Parker are colleagues, an old connection that Parker established when she was a Corpo agent. The journalist is biting off more than she can chew and started looking into 'the Meatman' as her next story. Do you have a full dossier on the subject?"
"No, there's a severe lack of information on the Meatman for me to find. The dossier I have only contains bits and pieces."
Chamber informed him of the Meatman's sins not long after setting up shop at Charter Hill. Cyrus was under the impression that this serial killer was a new development that didn't require immediate attention.
It was a mistake to assume 'the Meatman' was little more than your average sociopath. Chamber uncovered a long list of casualties that dated back almost three years in the NCPD archives. The mass murderer has a potential kill count of well over four hundred, and it was due to the NCPD's negligence that the list was so extensive.
"Are you seriously about to go pick a fight with a serial killer after what I told you earlier?" The tone of steel Chamber adopted would have made most people fold in on themselves. Those few who didn't would have the decency to choose their following words very carefully, and only the foolish would dare to answer in a simple-minded tone.
Cyrus was a fool.
"Yes."
Was he ready for the verbal tongue lashing that was about to happen?
Not even a little bit.
Could he handle it all the same?
Most definitely.
But Chamber didn't explode into a rage; no, the link went incredibly quiet. For the first time in a long while, Cyrus was worried he might have finally broken her with his high level of stubbornness.
"I'm going to paralyze you when you get back to the hideout." Yup, he broke her.
In a rare moment of social awareness, Cyrus chose not to open his mouth further. Instead, he took the wiser option of keeping it sown shut while Chamber continued searching for the missing journalist.
The holographic outline of Night City was a whirlwind of activity. Red dots marked CCTV cameras that Chamber brute-forced her way into, and cones of yellow indicated the locations they silently observed. Blue pulsing waves echoed off communication towers, isolating millions of citizens whose cyberware directly connected them to the cities telecommunications network.
There was no more excellent representation of Chamber's capabilities than when she took a fine comb over a place that housed over twenty million people.
Cyrus was good at the tasks handed to him, but Chamber had no equal. She was in a league of her own, and no one could hope to stand up to her.
"I have her location," The holographic table zeroed on the very edge of the downtown district. "Skyline and Republic, sending the coordinates now. When you're done, please get back to the bunker. I need to do a deep scan of your neural interface and make sure you're not missing a few pieces. DO NOT make me ask you twice."
Chamber cut the comm-link connection leaving Cyrus to stew inside the Phantom's cargo hold in isolation. He was most definitely going to pay for his carelessness as soon as he got back to the hideout.
It was around four o'clock in the morning when the AV touched down at the journalist's last known location. The prospects of finding her alive dipped tremendously as he observed his surroundings.
There was no soul in sight; the site was far from the busy city streets and wholly separated from any potential outside interference.
The perfect location to kill someone without anyone the wiser.
Coffee shops and arcades were scattered along his path, but they were empty of any human life. Even the earliest workers in these shops didn't get in for another two hours, and aside from a single tv playing the morning news, there wasn't a speck of illumination either.
Cyrus had to rely on the low-hanging moon for any illumination, but it was little more than low light even then. As he peered into a gated courtyard, he caught sight of a pool of crimson engulfing a camera stand.
The Spartan vaulted over the gated courtyard and landed feet first with a Tsunami Nue drawn in his right hand. He flicked on the torch attachment and scanned the overturned crates and construction equipment.
Only the crashing sound of ocean waves and the sputtering of a trio of advertisement boards graced his ears. Cyrus bent down, snatching the camera stand with his free hand, and turned it over for inspection.
The blood had long since dried up; at his best estimation, the crime scene was at minimum an hour old. One of the camera stand's legs had been bent around its center, but Cyrus couldn't figure out if Borowitz or her attacker used the object.
A clattering noise sent Cyrus into action, dropping the camera stand and drawing his Kukri in one fell swoop. When he pointed his torch in the direction of the noise, he relaxed his posture. The wind had only kicked up a discarded can of soda, and it bounced past the Spartan's frame.
He was in the process of scolding himself when he caught sight of four streaks of blood leading further into the courtyard. At its origin was a voice recorder, with a splatter of red fingerprints gripping its base.
He disregarded the voice recorder and followed the bloody trail to a cargo box.
It was a gruesome scene.
Stuffed into the box was an auburn-haired woman, age estimated at around thirty to thirty-five years old. The left side of her face was utterly swelled up, and her right eye contained a golf ball-sized hole that went out the back of her head. Her nose was utterly shattered, pieces of her nasal bone stuck out of place, and he could visibly see the inside of her nasal cavity.
A score of injuries littered her battered corpse, and Cyrus could spot a few defensive wounds on her hands. Borowitz had at the very least gone down swinging; it was regrettable he didn't get here in time.
Cyrus searched through the journalists' pockets, finding a single shard nestled into her front pocket. He rolled the shard in his hands and was in the process of pocketing the object when a speck of light drew his attention.
He shined his torch on the speck of illumination and recognized it as a snakewood cigar. In most cases, this would not be cause for alarm.
However, this cigarette had recently been lit.
The Spartan was a split second too late when a shadow threw themselves over the concrete ledge and crashed into the ocean. He could only see ripples of water by the time he reached the shadow's previous position.
A quick scan of the disturbed water left a sour taste in Cyrus's mouth. The shadow was gone, and for all, he knew that could have been 'the Meatman.'
Cyrus keyed his comm-link and established a connection with Parker. "Parker, here go ahead."
"Borowitz is dead," the comm line went silent. "I'm sorry, Parker."
"Yeah, so am I." Her face went through a mixture of expressions. Anger and sadness were the most prevalent emotions he could see . "Did you get the bastard who did it?"
"Not yet," Cyrus stared off into the darkness, jaws clenched with a new wave of determination. "But I'll find him; he can only run for so long."
"Good," Parker glowered in the distance. "Send me the coordinates; I'll have someone come pick up her body."
"It's more than likely he'll go back into hiding after this. Keep the vagrant camps on alert, and notify the moment you have a lead on him." The Chieftain nodded in reply, eyes glancing off in the distance for but a moment.
"Stay in touch, Cyrus. People here are still waiting on you to visit for more than just a few minutes. The kids especially."
"How are they?" He'd never forgotten the splitting smiles adorning Adam and Amanda's faces. Despite how rowdy and insufferable the kids could be, they made his short-term stay at Parker's camp memorable.
"They're growing up, barely a few months ago, they were running around camp playing cops and robbers. Now they won't stop bothering about joining the security teams on watch and helping out as you do. Their mom is jealous with how easily they have taken to your example."
"I'm sorry." It was never his attention to cause their mother, Isabela, any ongoing issues.
"Don't be. Those two keep the rest of the children in line and happy." Parker paused a moment. "Just come back when you can, kid."
"I will, Chief. Cyrus out." As soon as the connection cut, a wave of nausea hit him like a freight train. He deftly recalled the Phantom to his position as his sense of balance faltered.
The Spartan was forced to steady himself on a ledge, and the rhythmic sound of the AV's engines pounded his senses. He was eerily reminded of his first trial as a Spartan cadet, getting used to the gravity and exotic atmosphere of a new planet that wasn't filled with smog and smoke.
As Cyrus slowly slid into the Phantom cargo hold, he chuckled in amusement. Of all the things to worry about at that moment, Chambers inevitable 'I told you so' was the most irritating prospect.
He was not looking forward to their next conversation.
"What a day."
Maintaining a neural connection between two of the most stubborn people she had ever met was taxing on her processors. She was thankful that there were other people she could communicate with other than Cyrus. Talking to him was like conversing with a wall more often than not, and she was dying for a meaningless conversation.
Thankfully, she had two people that were willing to oblige for as long as their bodies could handle before sleep took hold of them. V passed out an hour ago, and Panam had taken up the spare mattress a few feet from the Merc.
Both of them possessed personalities that didn't vex Chamber in the slightest after a thorough psychological evaluation laced in random and out of the blue questioning. She rightfully concluded that they were good people at heart.
Chamber could only hope that they'd loosen up her monkey before he fell back into his work again.
The AI passed a glance towards V's soundly sleeping form. The Merc came of her coma like a bat out of hell, and adrenaline was the only reason she was even conscious in the first place.
The AI had never experienced more terror in her life when she watched V's, and Cyrus's consciousness started melding into a single entity. Chamber had no idea what kind of damage had been inflicted on their minds when the plug was pulled on the procedure.
V would have died right then and there if Johnny hadn't intervened. The Rockerboy inserted himself into the link, balancing out the millions of overloaded electrical impulses that would have fried the Mercs brain.
She didn't think the insufferable man was willing to go the extra mile for V. His psych profile indicated he was a selfish and impulsive manipulator who'd sooner sacrifice an entire family than put himself in danger.
Clearly, this was a Psych profile that needed an update.
"A Corporation didn't make you, did they?"
Frustrating was going to be added to the Psych profile; the man had made it his mission to annoy her. Whether it was for curiosity or bordem, Chamber couldn't quite figure out.
Johnny was the epitome of 'I couldn't give a fuck' most of the time, but when he did care about something, he showed it for the world to see.
"Maybe, maybe not. Flip a coin on it; that should give you your answer."
Johnny clicked his teeth, eyes flaring with amusement. "Attitude like that, definitely not an Arasaka AI. Those gonks would make something with a rogue personality like yours."
"They made you didn't they?" Chamber retorted. "If they decide a bloodthirsty terrorist is a good test subject for an experimental project, then creating someone like me isn't that out there, Johnny."
"Fiesty one, aren't ya."
"Please, this is me being nice. Out of respect for the women whose head you occupy from time to time." Chamber could only wonder how she tolerated the man.
"V and I get along just fine, and I like to think the two of us are growing closer every day."
"Like cancer on bone marrow." Johnny only smirked at his fellow AI which only served to irritate her further.
"Still counts."
The pair fell into a one-sided comfortable silence; the Rockerboy decided to let her tinker with the Relic in silence. Chamber was applying a few neural blocks to the neural connection between him and V. It wouldn't stop the infection from taking hold of her mind, but it would give her and the Merc more time to find a solution to V's problem.
A problem that evolved when she applied a neural block to V's temporal lobe.
"Shit."
It started with Johnny spazzing out on the floor and V's brain activity increasing to unsustainable levels. Chamber was not expecting such a violent reaction and was left scrambling to respond. She was forced to integrate with V's neural link once again and access her cyberware directly to keep it from overheating.
Fortunately, V's episode was temporary, and her vitals returned to normal due to Chamber's constant tinkering. However, the woman was stuck in another memory, and Cyrus wasn't anywhere nearby to pull her out. She needed backup, a test subject willing to do anything and everything to help a friend out.
"What in the fuck was that?!"
And she knew just who to ask.
Nightmares weren't all that uncommon for V; the shit she's witnessed in the shadows of Night City would leave even the most hardened of individuals squirming.
The night terrors had a penchant for starting a few hours into her sleep when the jaws of darkness had utterly taken hold of her. It always began with a subtly spike of discomfort before a distant memory encroached to the front of her mind.
V adapted to her night terrors the best she could, but this one was different. Instead of a haze of silver sucking her into a past recollection, it was a black abyss.
She fell into a swirling free fall, leaving her to endure a twisted and nauseating spiral. She could barely understand what was happening before she landed face-first onto a concrete floor.
In place of pain was a gnawing numbness spreading through her nerves, and an eternity seemed to have passed before she finally noticed a distinct pair of armored combat boots propped up on an overturned refrigerator.
V couldn't rightly explain it, but a part of her knew that the behemoth in front of her was Cyrus. His armor was different, sleeker, more… nimble if she had to explain it in one word. The helmet wasn't dissimilar from his usual look, aside from the gold-plated visor that mirrored her reflection.
The gonk was sleeping, arms crossed and head slightly bowed, but she did not assume he wasn't paying close attention to his surroundings.
Cyrus echoed the ability to sleep with his ears open and eyes closed to perfection.
When the Merc tried to grasp the Spartan's shoulder, it passed right through him like an apparition.
A few more swipes at his visor settled her internal questioning, V was little more than a passenger in Cyrus's memories, but she couldn't understand why she was here.
"AAARRRRGGGGHHHHHHH." An ear-piercing scream rattled her brain, and V instinctively cupped her hands over her ears.
She took a surreptitious glance towards Cyrus, and the moron was still sleeping away despite the shriek of utter pain bouncing around the room.
Over his right shoulder laid a doorway occupied by a weathered down sliding door. V's internal curiosity took hold, and she strode towards the entryway with a suppressed gait. Her hand grasped the door handle, and she was mere moments away from sliding the flap when someone else did it for her.
V was set flat on her ass when she came face to face with another gold-plated visor. She scrambled to the other side of the room when the figure slammed the door shut behind her.
It took the Merc half a dozen calming breaths before she recognized the terrifying figure didn't even acknowledge her presence, and only then did she realize it was a woman.
And despite the bulkiness of her armor, it did little to contain her physical gifts.
V didn't even know that another human being could be just as cut as Cyrus, but apparently, there was someone else out in the world just as physically gifted.
"Having trouble, Eliza?" Cyrus's monotone voice caught the now named Eliza's attention.
"A temporary setback, he's tougher than I believed possible." Her voice was soothing to V's ears. "Where's Casey?"
"Escalating the consequences." Eliza's gaze snapped towards him, and she anxiously paced the room, passing by an onlooking V.
"I thought we weren't going that route?" The woman asked directly with a smidge of sorrow.
"We weren't, but then our Nest teams found an empty box." Cyrus's statement momentarily halted the woman's pace.
"Empty?"
"Yes, and now time is no longer our ally. All other intel we collected at their safe house is now obsolete. The only person who knows the Nuke's location is in that room, and Oxide is growing impatient. The last thing they want is a Havok Nuke in the hands of a terrorist group in the middle of this war."
"I know that little detail already," Eliza snapped back.
"Then why are you questioning our measures." She didn't respond to his subtle accusation immediately.
V could tell this argument was a recurring theme.
Cyrus always came across as someone who had a deep understanding of empathy, but it would not stop him from performing any task, no matter the moral complexities.
It was one of the few things about him that truly frightened her.
"I'm not," Eliza finally answered. "But I'd rather not go this route without a good reason. These people aren't Covenant."
What the hell was a Covenant?
"We have a good reason," Cyrus stressed. "And these 'people' as you call them have given us plenty of motivation. If you can't see it through, I will."
"Were Spartans Cyrus," Eliza countered. "You can't sit there and tell me this is just another interrogation. We weren't made for this; we were meant to kill Covenant."
"Would you rather have been on Pegasi Delta then?"
"That's not fair." Anger leaked into Eliza's voice, but Cyrus pressed on.
"You of all people should know that nothing is fair. These 'people' have forced ONI to deploy us into UNSC territory away from the fight. You want to kill Covenant, then find the Nuke so we can get back to work."
What in the fuck was going on.
Who in the fuck was ONI, and what the hell were they talking about? V was suffering from information overload, and she was entirely caught off balance, but one thing was abundantly clear.
Cyrus and Eliza mentioned the 'Covenant' twice throughout their conversation, but they treated the name like it was the boogeyman. V couldn't keep up with all o
Eliza was saved from replying by a loud bang on the other side of the room and emerging from the shadows was another woman.
Eerily similar to Eliza's stature but sporting a bulbous helmet, with a single visor taking up most of its frontal plate.
A rifle was slung over her right shoulder while her left hand grasped the arm of another woman that war around V's height but a decade older.
The Merc wasn't sure she'd like where this was going.
"Casey, how many did you get?" Cyrus inquired plainly.
The aforementioned woman tossed her hostage to the floor, gaze trailing away towards her male teammate.
"Enough." There was a hesitancy to her voice that V barely caught onto, but the ever-observant Cyrus easily took notice. Eliza snatched up the bound woman forcing her to stand on her own two shaky feet.
"I'll do it." He offered just as Eliza took a step towards the other room, eyes glancing back in wonderment.
"It's not your turn."
Cyrus shrugged, "Probably not, but that hasn't stopped you before, has it?"
Eliza visibly faltered, gaze shooting towards a stoic Casey standing back straight like a statue.
She hadn't taken her eyes off Cyrus since she entered the room with the hostage in tow, and V couldn't begin to understand what was going through her head.
"Get it done. We don't have much time." Cyrus sprung into action, snatching the bound woman and forcing her into the next room. The Merc blinked once and found herself pulled alongside Cyrus and moved into the next room with him.
Inside the room was a middle-aged man slumping in a chair. His arms bound behind his back and legs strapped to the front legs of his chair. Eliza had taken the man to task, and V had to bite back bile.
The poor bastard had been put through a meat grinder, bones were visibly sticking out of his shins, and an array of bone-deep cuts littered his arms.
It was a miracle he was conscious, let alone alive, but he was still clearly on the precipice of death.
Cyrus shoved the woman in a chair opposite of the roughed-up prisoner, tying her to the chair with two pairs of cable ties.
Once the woman was secured, he smacked the wounded man upside his head.
"Wake up, Mr. Gresham." The prisoners bloodshot eyes frantically shot open. his skin flushed a shade of red as he regarded the woman across from him. "I doubt I need to introduce your wife, Natalia."
He didn't need to.
The recognition in Gresham's eyes was palpable, and V watched with bated breath as the Spartan inflicted untold amounts of psychological torture.
Cyrus retrieved a mammoth of a pistol from his waist and slowly pressed it into Natalia's skull.
"I will reiterate what my companion has already asked you. Where's the Havoc Nuke?"
"I already gave you its location." Even on the precipice of watching his wife die, Gresham still refused to talk. Regardless, the Spartan pressed him once again.
"Gresham," Cyrus pressed the pistol into further into Natalia's skull, eliciting fresh tears from the terrified women's eyes. "Where's the nuke?"
"Wh-what are you saying," Gresham stuttered. "Was it not there? Is that what you're telling me right now? Because if that's the case, then I don't know where it is."
Cyrus didn't believe him. V could feel the frustration leaking from his towering frame.
"I'll make this simple for you, Mr. Gresham. I am going to count to ten, tell me where the Havoc Nuke is, or she dies." Cyrus flicked off the safety switch, causing Gresham's eyes to flicker between the Spartan and his wife.
Natalia was utterly consumed by fear, and the human part of Gresham immediately took hold.
"Natalia, baby, it's going to be ok. Do you understand? Everything is going to be just fine. Do you understand me, baby?" V's heart could barely handle the tear-jerking moment and her eyes couldn't believe what was unfolding in front of her.
"One." Cyrus's voice cut through Gresham's pattering.
The clock had started.
Gresham took a deep breath, straining against his tight bonds and doing his best to settle his growing nerves.
V had to give the man credit, despite his grievous wounds, Gresham still maintained a calm demeanor.
"Listen to me, ok…" He begged. "… I already gave you all I know; if the intel was off, then I have nothing else for you right now, but I can get it for you. I-"
"Two." Natalia sobbed, and Gresham's pandering increased tenfold.
"Hey, hey, hey, hey! I'm trying to help you here, ok. Just put the gun down and talk to me, man to man."
"Three." Gresham shot forward heedless of the cable ties digging into his forearms as he struggled against his restraints. The metal chair he was strapped to bucked up and down; the bolts weighing it down kept the chair in place.
When it became clear that his struggling was going nowhere, he stopped and switched gears once again.
"I lied, ok, I lied, and I'm sorry," Gresham admitted without any form of deception. "I know where the Nuke is, and I can help you."
"I want it's location." The bound man turned face immediately, eyes giving off a nonchalant expression.
"Fuck you!" Gresham roared. "I ain't talking to you while you have a gun to my wife's head!"
That was the wrong thing to say.
"Four." Gresham visibly broke and started spewing out information that V hoped wasn't false.
"The Nuke is in Druigh. If you want the exact location, then you have to let her go, or I ain't telling you shit."
The conviction in his voice almost made V believe every word that came out of Gresham's mouth.
However, Cyrus was not so easy to convince.
"It's not in Druigh. Five."
"I can find it for you! But if you fucking kill her, you won't get anything from me!" Gresham was teetering on the precipice of insanity, his desperation was palpable, but for the life of her, V couldn't understand whyit had to go this far.
Why was Gresham so stubborn that he'd risk his wife to protect a nuke? Why was Cyrus able to disregard the measures he was taking so easily?
It concerned and frightened V to her core; she wanted to make this stop to end this nightmare before it took a turn for the worse.
"Six."
"HEY! HEY! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME! The only way you'll find the Nuke is if you put the FUCKING GUN-"
*BANG!*
Blood raced from Natalia's right knee cap, fragments of bone, and her muffled shrieking bounced across the room.
"NO! YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!"
" Seven." Gresham's furious and pain-stricken expression reflected off Cyrus's golden visor.
It didn't for a second seem that blowing off Natalia's knee affected the Spartan in the slightest.
"Natalia! Baby, look at me," her tear-filled eyes were barely able to glance in Gresham's direction. "Stay with me baby, stay with me!"
"You are testing my patience, Mr. Gresham." Tears licked across the bound man's eyes as he once again struggled against his restraints. "Where. Is. The Nuke?"
"I WILL KILL YOU!" Madness took hold. "I SWEAR TO GOD! I'LL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU SON'S OF BITCH-"
"Eight." Natalia began to sob uncontrollably, sapping the strength from Gresham's body as Cyrus's finger began to tighten around the trigger once again. The next time he fired, it would be a killing blow.
There was no doubt in V's mind that Gresham would break soon. A final act of desperation flooded into his gaze, and tears began to fall at an uncontrollable rate.
V couldn't stand the sight, but her own eyes refused to follow her demands. It was a horror show that she could not turn away from.
"Please don't do this, I promise you, I promise you that I can figure out exactly what you want to know. But YOU HAVE TO LET HER GO!" Gresham paused, lungs begging for oxygen as he struggled to catch his breath. "The Nuke wasn't there, but that wasn't my fault, honest! There's gotta be someone you love, right?! Imagine them with a gun at the back of their head. So please just let her go, and I will tell you what you want to know! Do the right thing, PLEASE!"
"Nine." Gresham snapped back, and for a split second, his eyes glanced over V's frozen form. The madness that fell from his bloodshot eyes had a profound effect on her.
This was what happened when you crossed Cyrus. There was no mountain he wouldn't climb, no distance that was too short, no moral complexities that would cause him to hesitate even for a second.
"No, no, no, no, no," Gresham chuckled to himself. Insanity leaked out of his eyes. "Your bluffing. This is a bluff, you UNSC fucks have rules! This is a lie! All of it, even fucking animals like you live by the rules."
"No rules today." Gresham's composure shattered.
"NNNNNOOOOOOOO!"
*BANG!*
For the fleetest of moments, V thought that Cyrus didn't have the necessary will to go through with it, but she was wrong.
He did have the will and so much more in spades.
She watched a wide-eyed Gresham fall completely silent. His eyes burned into the bullet-sized hole scorched into his wife's temple, and her corpse slumped against the metal chair.
Blood dripping slowly onto the concrete floor, and finally, V turned her sights away from the comatose Gresham to the stoic frame of her choom.
Cyrus just stood there mimicking a human-like statue, and for the briefest of moments, V wondered if his actions bothered him in the slightest.
On a superficial glance, he seemed to have put on an air of complete composure, but her eyes told a different story.
The grip on his pistol tightened to the point its inner mechanisms were beginning to falter, and an almost unnoticeable shutter coiled off his body.
V could feel the fear and shock reverberating off his body. Cyrus put on a front of complete iron, but in reality, even a man like him was incapable of shrugging off his brutal tactics.
Then all that boiled emotion she witnessed was snuffed out, and only iron remained.
Gresham was in total shell shock when Cyrus began to speak to him.
"She didn't have to die," His neutral tone contrasted his inner turmoil. "I should be out there fighting the Covenant, but I'm stuck here dealing with you and your friends."
Cyrus circled Gresham like a vulture waiting to snatch up its prey; the man only needed a final push before he broke entirely.
The Spartan snatched Gresham's head by his hair, tilting it up so he could look the man in his near vacant eyes.
"Here we are, fighting the same useless was while out people are massacred across the stars. And instead of me being out there doing everything I can to stop it." Cyrus let his head go. "I'm stuck here with you. Tell me where is the sense in that."
Cyrus smashed his hand against the far wall, and the door slid open, revealing Eliza and another hostage.
A hostage similar to the dead women slumped against the chair but much younger and more innocent.
A child.
No older than eight years of age.
It would have broken V's heart to know that Cyrus was barely 14 as well.
"Papa?" Gresham's eyes finally returned to reality, and V stood ramrod in shock.
He wouldn't…
… Would he?
"I'll make this simple, Mr. Gresham. At any moment, that Havoc Nuke can go off, and over ten million people may die in a split second." Cyrus loomed over a pale-faced Gresham like the Grim Reaper. "I will sacrifice your entire family to prevent that from happening. You have a choice, and it's the easiest decision you will make for the rest of your wretched life."
"You will die," the little girl whimpered underneath Eliza's firm grasp. "We will bury you, that much I can tell you. The outcome that you can determine is how many bodies I bury alongside you."
"Now. Where. Is. The Nuke."
Gresham broke, and a piece of V broke too.
This was… difficult for her to witness, and the worst part about it was that she didn't doubt its authenticity for a second.
Words were exchanged, details were given up, and before she knew it, the room exploded with activity.
Soldiers outfitted in gear she hadn't seen before snatched up Gresham and his family.
Cyrus never left. His eyes were firmly fixed onto the puddle of blood belonging to the recently deceased Natalie Gresham.
The firearm Cyrus used to commit the deed was inoperable. He had crushed it in his hands, and its pieces littered the blood stained floor.
Casey and Eliza stood on either side of him, neither willing to say anything to break the silence at first. Whether this was out of a lack of words or fear V did not know.
"Cyrus." Eliza was the first to break the stalemate, "We need to head back to the 'Dusk.'"
He ignored his companions' words and shot a cutting look towards Casey. "You didn't tell me Ackerson's men were here."
"They were monitoring us," Casey provided. "It was another test to make sure we aren't compromised."
"Compromised!" Eliza spat out. V presumed that Ackerson was an unpopular figure because she seemed more cross than Cyrus. "The man's been up to our ass since we got off Onyx with these 'tests' as you call them. I don't trust him, and he's been using us as his personal kill squad for weeks now."
"He's our boss Eliza," Casey scolded. "We don't get to choose who we take orders from."
"That doesn't change my opinion." Both women eyed each other with caution for the briefest of moments.
There was a rivalry there that V could plainly see, but she was focused on Cyrus; he hadn't moved a muscle, and Eliza was the first to take notice.
Her eyes trailed to the same pool of blood that morphed around his boots.
A question that persisted in V's mind since the end of the interrogations was spoken into fruition.
"You did what you had to." Casey's wrapped a hand on his shoulder, shaking Cyrus from his stupor.
"What?"
Casey repeated with more sentiment. "You did what you had to, one life for ten million anyone would make that call."
"I know." Eliza stood off to the side, gaze lingering on the pool of blood before snapping up to Cyrus.
"If he didn't break." She began tentatively. "Would you have gone through with your threat?"
Would Cyrus have sacrificed an entire family, even the children, to save ten million lives?
V watched him gaze into the pool of blood once again, a whirlwind of emotions battered against his iron will.
Cyrus's eyebrows furrowed beneath his visor, and his right fist curled into a ball as he turned away from the sight and made for the exit.
As the door slid open, he glanced at the red puddle once again.
A single word filled with more emotion than V had ever heard him express echoed throughout the room.
"Yes."
The memory faded into darkness.
"Interesting choom you've made, huh?"
Johnny was lounging behind her, and his sudden appearance nearly made V jump out of her skin.
"FUCK JOHNNY!" Was it possible to have a heart attack in a dream?
"How long have you been here for?" Johnny shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.
"The whole thing, actually. It was quite the thrilling recollection, baring the moral dilemma of killing an entire family, don't you think?" V would have shot him right there if she had a gun on her.
"Well, that's just rude." The damn woman forgot they shared the same mind sometimes.
"That was horrifying, Johnny." The Rockerboy completely disregarded V's admonishing.
"Maybe," he began cautiously. "But are you really that surprised someone like him wouldn't go that far?"
"No." It was heartbreaking for her to speak out loud, but she wasn't naïve enough to say otherwise.
"So what are you going to do, V," Johnny said. "You gonna leave him behind because he's willing to cross a few lines. You ask me that's the kind of guy you want in your corner. When the chips are down, he won't cut and run for anything."
"I know, Johnny." V was desperate for a topic change. She didn't want to think about all the shit that happened in the room anytime soon. "Do you have any idea of what the 'Covenant' is?"
"Nope," Johnny quipped back.
"Does 'ONI' ring a bell?"
"I doubt a defunct intelligence organization or a Japanese demon was responsible for your boy's creation." Johnny lit a cigar. "So it's ringing a bell, but isn't giving me any answers."
"Did anything else they say make any sense to you, Johnny?" He shot her an amused look.
"Aside from domestic terrorism and a brutal response to a lost nuclear device, not a fucking word." God, he was irritating.
"I hate you sometimes; you know that?" The Rockerboy smirked in response before his expression turned into iron.
"You want my opinion,V, your boy sounds and operates like a Corpo agent most of the time. This black ops shit is right up there alley, only difference is I ain't never seen soldiers like him before."
Before V had a chance to respond, another new voice resounded through her head.
"V? Its Chamber." Despite only knowing for a few measly hours, the Merc felt at complete ease when the AI's soothing voice reached her ears. "Can you hear me?"
"I can hear you." Chamber exhaled in relief.
"Christ, your brain activity has been off the charts for the last hour. I got worried, so I'm poking through your head again. You're in a suspended state, so I doubt that whatever recollection you just went through was normal. Can you tell me about it?" V didn't, not even a little bit, and she wanted out of this nightmare as soon as possible. She was seconds away from responding when Johnny brought her close.
"You want answers, V." Johnny began. "I'm pretty sure Chamber will have them."
"I doubt she'd tell me the truth."
"Won't know if you don't try." V locked eyes with Johnny and came to a consensus mere moments later.
"V? You ok?"
"Yeah. The uh memory wasn't exactly pleasant." V remarked carefully.
"Sorry to hear that, but if you don't want to tell me about your mem-"
"It wasn't mine." Chamber's speech stumbled, and she went silent for a few seconds.
"What?"
"The memory," V admitted. "It wasn't mine."
The AI didn't say anything for what felt like an eternity, and V wondered if she made a terrible mistake.
"I was afraid of that." The AI seemed to be scrambling on the inside. "Cyrus just came back to the hideout, and I think he'll want to have a word with you."
Johnny finally made his presence known. "And we want to have a word with him."
Chamber gave nothing away at first, but then she spoke with a voice filled with concern.
"I don't know what you saw, V." Chamber started. "But don't think less of him; he doesn't deserve that."
"I know." Johnny gave her a surreptitious look, and before V knew it, her mindscape fell apart at the seams. Her companion gave her a simple wink before he disappeared into a cloud of blue particles.
V could only hope her next conversation with Cyrus wouldn't be her last. She's already lost more than she could ever dream to this city.
And she'd be damned if she lost him too.
A small amount of interaction between Chamber and Johnny in this chapter but I wanted to focus more on the Meatman and tying up the previous chapter.
The next chapter will be some much-needed one on one time between V and Cyrus, both of them could use a day off with how hectic their lives are.
As always I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and remember to review to your heart's content.
As for reviews that pertained to missing pieces that were left out of the last chapter I hope the update answered your questions.
Reviews:
Mercenary X: Eh you right need to introduce some dudes to bond with my boy and I have a few ideas here and there.
LyKaiosK: ONI might be right up Johnny's hate boner alley, but this is the tip of the iceberg just wait till he finds out the intel agency kidnapped children on the regular that will increase his hatred tenfold.
tamagat: Still deciding new gear for him but I think he would make modified versions of UNSC weaponry more than anything.
MarauderPrime12: In the game he's not too bad, in this story he's a fucking problem.
Next Chapter: April 12th.