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Chapter Thirty Seven
August 19th, 2077
Maracay Region, Venezuela
Maracay Network Array, Operation Shattered Steel
A furious shaking gripped a Lockheed C-200's interior cargo hold, causing a few unlucky members of Sicario to suffer from air sickness.
The vibration of the aircraft's heavy cargo and the muffled storm of running engines filled the interior. The transports occupants fought to ignore the constant rumbles in favor of focusing on themselves.
Corporal James 'Grim' Morrison sat motionlessly in his seat, waiting alongside his Platoon for their intense combat deployment to begin. He and those who resided inside the cargo hold were a part of Warlock Battalion, assigned to Mage Company's 1st Platoon.
There were seventy-two Sicario Operators within the cargo hold, all of whom were led by Lieutenant Ryan 'Fury' Gigs, their all-encompassing platoon leader. The rest of Sicario was spread out amongst a vast fleet of C-200 heavy cargo planes en route to the Maracay Communications Array.
The entirety of the Custodian's military strength was set to fight alongside over 30,000 Assembly soldiers for their impending assault on the Maracay Comms Array. The Venezuelan Federal Army was preparing for a mass assault by the Assembly on their fortifications west of the Array.
However, they had little indication that Sicario, along with over 5,000 Assembly Commandos, would be inserting behind their defensive line and assaulting the comms array itself.
The Custodian formations in the field consisted of Warlock Drop Battalion, Hitman and Caliburn Tactical Squadrons, Cerberus Transport Wing, and the newly assembled Grobda Tank Company featuring the resilient and reliable M-11 Main Battle Tank alongside a battalions worth of M-15 IFVs.
It was a wonder how the Custodians were so well equipped despite being a fresh-faced paramilitary organization. The NUSA MBT and IFV were just one of many additions to their arsenal, but the hardware gifted to Sicario Corps drew Morrison's attention.
The Corporal practically salivated when his Platoon received state-of-the-art Militech combat rigs that substantially enhanced their strength and speed. The effect was further enhanced if an Operator also retained their own cyberware that could link their rigs directly into their interface, thereby increasing their martial prowess.
In short, each Operator of Sicario Corps was a faceless entity that may as well have been a mini super-soldier.
Cypher spared no expense in providing the necessary tools to combat the corrupt foundations plaguing their world.
"1st Platoon." Several heads shot up in attention at their Lieutenant's words. "Switch to channel 100 tac 3 for Battalion wide transmission."
Morrison keyed his internal radio transmitter off his squad's frequency. More than a few of his fellow Operators were initially confused by their orders, but Kaiser's voice echoing in their combat helmets answered their inquiries.
"This is Kaiser to all Custodian Elements. Tonight is our first mass deployment as a unified fighting force, and if this war-torn country is to know peace, then we must claim victory on these desert plains…." Morrison could feel his adrenaline spiking with each passing second, and as their Commander spoke, the cargo hold lit up with crimson illumination.
"Two minutes!" Their pilot called out into the bay. "All outbound personnel stand by for deployment!"
Morrison closely examined his Copperhead strapped across his chest. Once he was satisfied with his primary weapons conditions, he began to hand-check his partner's high-altitude jump pack.
A curt nod came from Comms Specialist Anthony 'Granite' Hanney before returning to his routine safety check. Around Morrison, dozens of Sicario Operators performed their final inspections before jumping into the jaws of war.
"….The Assembly has placed their hopes of winning this conflict in us. We must not disappoint them…..But most of all, we must not disappoint, Cypher….Good luck to you all…. Semper Vigiles ."
In a single unified voice filled with reverence, the members of 1st Platoon echoed their Commander's words.
"Semper Vigiles."
Morrison had no doubts in his mind that anxiety and stress began to pool in the stomachs of every soldier as Kaiser disconnected the broadcast. The entire Corps had a lot to live up to after the events that transpired in Night City not 24 hours earlier.
Yesterday the unquestionable leader of the Custodians took down one of the most influential corporations in the western hemisphere.
Cypher brought Night Corps to its knees in one solitary evening, uncovering decades' worth of human rights violations and political conspiracies. The very notion that the corporation was manipulating the political landscape to its benefit through assassination, bribery, and extermination wouldn't surprise Morrison if it came from Arasak or Militech.
It was…..disappointing to hear that even the vaunted and well reputable Night Corps wasn't exempt from the corruption seeping into every institution on Earth. They were intended to be the model organization for all those who believed that corporations could become paragons of virtue.
Now, all Morrison could feel was a bitter taste of disappointment followed by a renewed sense of purpose. No megacorporation on this planet was worthy of breathing the same air as the rest of them.
There could be no exceptions.
Arasaka, Militech, Kang-Tao, Lazarus, and every major Megacorp would be put to the torch as far as Morrison was concerned.
But first, the Custodians needed to win this civil war in Venezuela, and the first steps to that victory began with the destruction of the Maracay Communication Array.
In the cargo bay, lit only by the flashing lights, Morrison's comrades became outlines edged basked in a solid red. His view was restricted by the accumulation of bodies as the members of 1st Platoon spread out amongst themselves in the spacious cargo hold.
Morris motioned Morrison towards the ramp, nudging past their comrades who fell into a tense silence. Alpha squad was designated to be the first boots on the ground, assuming the anti-air pickets scanning the skies of Maracay weren't already destroyed by Hitman or Caliburn.
If the flyboys didn't lighten the thick anti-air batteries, then Warlock Battalion would become a footnote in history.
"Pushing updated mission parameters to your HUDs." Gigs walked up and down the cargo hold, reassuring his subordinates with comforting gestures. "Confirm your drop-overlays, and don't miss your target buildings! I'll see you all ground side!"
Morrison's HUD chimed with the intake of precious data. An optical illusion flickered from the edges of his sight, projecting a coordinated display directly upon his retinas.
The faux overlay obstructed his peripheral vision, and a reticle blinked along a red-colored path that was no doubt the route Morrison was intended to take. The mission countdown glowed with a bright emerald, and its illuminated digits began a count down from sixty.
'Confirm, drop coordinates. 7987-3872!… !… !' His HUD immediately picked up a set of coordinates given by his Platoon commander.
"Confirmed," Morrison listlessly verified his designated coordinates, and his display blinked green once before homing on his designated drop-zone.
"Squad confirmed." Morrison's squad leader, Sergeant Allen 'Domino' Graves, called out as the other sergeants acknowledged. Hanney nudged his right shoulder, and the pair bumped forearms in a silent gesture of good fortune.
"Thirty seconds to drop!" Hollered Lieutenant Gigs from the cargos front-end. "Begin final gear checks!"
Morrison went through the standard procedure without hesitation. The overlay Indicators flickered and became partially obscured by the waypoints on his HUD, but his Copperhead was ready and primed for usage.
He was momentarily knocked off balance as the Federal Armies' anti-air batteries began to target their C-200. Hanney managed to find his balance first and helped steady the Corporal while a few of their squadmates picked themselves off the floor.
"That is certainly a rude welcome." Private Grayson 'Grey' Lowe commented wryly. "I think the Feds are displeased with our presence."
"What gave that away," Hanney remarked. "Was it the explosions or the transport rocking like a pinball?"
"Both."
"Lock it down, both of you," Graves ordered. "I want you focused on the drop, not playing grab-ass with each other."
"Yes, Sergeant!" Hanney and Lowe responded without resistance.
A series of red warning lights flashed from above, and Graves immediately turned his head towards his subordinates.
"Seal your helmets!" Morrison silently commanded his overlay to switch to their oxygen respirators, and soon filtered oxygen entered his combat helmet.
"Eyes on the ramp!" The oxygen was practically snuffed out of the cargo hold as the C-200's ramp slid down, letting in a passage of bright, untainted sunlight.
Eruptions burst around the transport and dark shadows popped with bursts of heated shrapnel. Morrison's featureless combat helmet darkened with each corresponding explosion.
The pilot fired off waves of chaff, narrowly preventing a streaking surface-to-air missile from smashing into the right wing. A wide array of flak and other anti-air projectiles followed the Federal Armies' initial barrage, and soon the skies of Maracay became thick with black smoke and colorless streaks.
A secondary blast rattled the transport plane and its passengers, but this explosion did not come from Federal Anti-Air. Instead, it originated from a flaming C-200 Transport to their rear, which unfortunately carried Mage Company's 3rd Platoon.
"Cerberus, 2-5 is going down!" The command frequency was immediately overtaken by the burning transports panicked screams as he ordered his passengers to disembark. "Get them all out now!"
Flaming debris spun past their C-200 from another transport that suffered a grievous hit, separating the tail section from its whithering frame. The entire plane became wreathed in sparks and a massive blaze killing several of its passengers in the process.
"That's 2nd Platoons bird." Hanney mused over the squad's radio channel as the flaming transport dove towards the Earth. "Hope they got out in time."
An escort of intercept fighters, bearing the mark of Hitman Squadron, accelerated past the flock of steel carriers seeking out more targets for their venerable F-44 Mantas to butcher.
'10… 9… 8… 7' The countdown to deployment flashed on Morrison's HUD.
"Prepare for drop!" Cried out Graves, his adrenaline causing a slight rise in his voice. "May God be with you, lads! I'll see you on the ground!"
'4… 3… 2… 1… Commence deployment.'
Morrison was first out of the cargo plane, and he plummeted past plumes of smoke and burning aircraft. He zoomed past several other C-200 transport's, depositing their own chalks into the clustered airspace over Maracay.
In mere moments he found himself at the center of a mixed bag of Sicario soldiers from different companies in a massive flock of human-shaped birds.
"Control your descent!" Lieutenant Gigs called out. "And watch out for the AA fire!"
Soon, the steel carriers disappeared behind a smattering of thick clouds, and as the distance between Morrison and the ground decreased, the Federal AA defense intensified.
Hostile combat fighters buzzed the deploying Operators, drawing their own lines in the sky as several flights of Hitman squadron chased after them. Morrison banked to the left, avoiding the jet wash from an F-44 Mantas pursuing a Federal bomber.
"Mage Company!" Morrison's Company commander, Edward Hayes, called out over the company-wide frequency. "All platoons are to RV near designated mission objectives and disperse immediately!"
"All Mage One elements, break throug h the clouds and follow the waypoint to your target buildings!" Morrison glanced to his left, finding Hanney and the rest of 1st Platoon adjusting their coordinates towards their primary objective.
Warlock Battalion was tasked with capturing the southern section of Maracay's airfield, where the main concentration of the Array's satellite dishes was located. Concurrently their secondary objective was to secure service bays and acquire the assets and hardware inside to expand their Aviation Wing.
As the battalion began its rapid descent, the battle of Maracay barreled towards a fever pitch. Across the valley, two distinct battle lines became visible to Morrison's naked eyes. Their violent exchanges created startling waves of black smoke and tracers illuminating the landscape.
A vast formation of Assembly heavy tanks, supported by waves of ground infantry and support vehicles, crashed against the thickest sections of fortifications. The rebels were fanatical, and none took a single step back under the withering fire from the government loyalist.
"Prepare to fire your jump packs!" Graves ordered. Morrison centered his HUD on his squad's landing zone, a cluster of structures serving as a makeshift barracks for federal technicians.
His jump pack roared furiously as he angled his body at a 45-degree angle, hoping to cushion his impact and avoid shattering his knees.
When the first elements of Warlock Battalion reached their designated drop zones, the enemy was disorganized and confused. Their AA detachments failed to communicate that the incoming aerial objects were not falling debris or stray munitions from the air battle taking place above.
In the chaos of war, the airfields perimeter and security teams paid little attention to the skies until it was far too late. This lack of awareness benefited Morrison as he crashed through their target building's third-story window, directly into the sightlines of several Federal soldiers still gathering their equipment.
Morrison unleashed his Copperhead, killing two federal soldiers before they had a chance to draw their weapons. He unknowingly became the first member of Warlock Battalion to draw blood during the Battle of Marcay, but he would not be the only one.
Unfortunately, his victim's comrades responded to Morrison's intrusion quicker than he wanted, and a firefight soon broke out between the Operator and a fireteam of Federal soldiers.
Morrison utilized his combat rig, grabbing the edge of a steel table with random pieces of firearms and equipment scattered on top and flipped it on its side. His quick thinking saved his life as a pair of federal soldiers fired off a lethal barrage of 7.62 that smashed against his solid cover.
"Guys, where the fuck are you?!" Morrison didn't fancy his chances if another fire team of Feds came storming onto his level. He narrowly hurled back a fragmentation grenade that a federal rifleman tossed at his feet.
*BOOM!*
Morrison didn't wait for the smoke to dissipate, pulling the barrel of his Copperhead on a Federal Berserker and gunning down the mantis-blade wielding psycho with a pair of 7.62 to the jugular.
As he worked to kill off as many Federal troops as possible before they could reorganize, a miniature earthquake shook the building. Throwing Morrison and his adversaries off their feet. The flaming carcass of a C-200 skirted across the airfield and smashed into the western section of the four-story concrete barracks.
Morrison was the first on his feet, and he sought to press his momentary advantage by pushing the unbalanced Feds before he caught the massive form of a beefed-up Federal Heavy Gunner out the corner of his eye.
The Sicario Operator was forced to close the gap between himself and the Gunner, using his combat rig to boost his momentum and drive his shoulder into the man's gut.
The seven-foot-tall behemoth curled in on the jarring impact, dropping his MK. 31 and leaving himself exposed to a secondary attack.
Morrison drove the barrel of his Copperhead underneath the Gunner's jaw, firing off a single round that shattered the Feds jugular and splattered his brain matter on the roof above.
A squad of Federal soldiers began to flood the floor, and Morrison was in the process of tossing the massive corpse away to engage him when his backup finally arrived.
Morris was the first to breach the target building, and with howling fury, he was accompanied by Graves and the rest of Alpha. Warlock Battalion imitated fallen angels plummeting from the skies as they went about slaughtering the Federal soldiers.
Caught between the murderous crossfire of twelve Drop Troopers, the Feds were cut to pieces. One of them came at Graves through the barrage of lethal gunfire, a pair of mantis blades raised high in the air. Graves leaped to the side with a controlled burst from his combat rig and drove his elbow into the berserker's skull, downing the drugged-out psychotic.
Graves fired two ballistic shells into the disoriented berserker's cranium, bursting his life essence and brain matter across the concrete floor and turning his attention to his squad.
Inevitably, the last of the Federal soldiers fell underneath a torrent of precise and deadly gunfire. They had been caught completely by surprise and had never seen the Operators coming.
"Status updates?!" One by one, the eight Custodians answered Graves' demand and called out their names and status updates. Two of their squad members were unaccounted for, and as Morrison scanned the location of each, he felt a sting of grief crawl up his spine.
"Paulson missed the drop Sergeant…." Hanney hesitated, struggling to find the correct words before settling on a direct approach. "… Kalor and Jarich are dead."
The only indication that Graves felt the sudden loss of two of their own was a subtle indignant snarl. Morrison didn't doubt that his surviving squadmates felt the same way as their Sergeant, but grieving for the dead could come later.
Acting on instinct, the Sergeant barked out a series of orders towards his milling subordinates. The conflict outside only seemed to grow with intensity, and the barks of gunfire originating from other sections of the barracks indicated that the rest of their Platoon had made landfall.
"Granite, give me comms with Mage 1-6." The Specialist jumped on the platoon net and began raising Lieutenant gigs. "Grim, take T-Bone, Grey, and Ducky to secure the rooftop. The rest of you set up firing positions on each of these windows and start marking targets for CAS."
Morrison and his designated fire team pushed towards the structure's staircase, stepping over a dozen federal corpses in the process. Hostile contact was minimal en route to the rooftop, he and his compatriots mopped up a small section of federal troops attempting to gain access to an armory, but they lacked the proper clearance to bust open the steel doors.
T-bone, the squad's demolition expert, planted a concentrated thermite charge just above the padded locks and detonated on Morrisons orders. The shaped charge burned through the hardened metal with practical ease.
Grey was the first Operator to breach the armory, followed by Morrison and Ducky. The Corporal whistled in appreciation, finding a large collection of Militech and Kang Tao firearms no doubt graciously provided to the federal army.
"See anything you like?" Lance Corporal, Grant 'Ducky' Burke surmised humorously.
"Oh, yes." Morrison's eyes centered on a Militech SOR-22 that he had been dying to get his hands on, snatching up the kinetic rifle and slinging it over his right shoulder. The rest of his team snatched up what armaments caught their eye while he radioed their findings to Sergeant Graves.
"Boss, we found an armory on the fourth floor just right of the staircase." Morrison tossed T-Bone a pair of C-9 heavy explosives, and he stowed them in his pack. "It's got more munitions and explosives than I know what to do with. Better stock up on before the platoon raids the ammo storage."
"Understood," Graves replied. "We're pushing to the rooftop to spot our CAS runs and provide sniper support for our sister companies. One-Two and One-Three are garrisoning the floors below us. One-Four and One-Five are securing the adjacent barracks to our west with the command squad so check your fire."
"Rodger that see you soon, Sergeant." Morrison hopped off the squad net and turned towards his fireteam. "Ready?"
A trio of nods answered his inquiry, and they began a calculated yet still expedited push towards the rooftop. During their trek, the platoon radio channel began to increase in activity, and the familiar voice of Lieutenant Gigs flooded their external comms.
"Mage One-Six to all squads. Give me status reports now!" Hanney was the first amongst the five platoon squads to answer the call.
"One-Six, this is One-One. We've secured the third floor and have suffered light casualties. We are egressing to the rooftop to provide accurate CAS readings for available flights over."
One by one, each squad began to radio in their combat status. So far, the Platoon had managed to survive the initial drop with only light casualties. However, the condition and location of their sister platoons and company commander were unknown.
"What a clusterfuck," Ducky murmured to himself while breaching the rooftop alongside Morrison. The federal troops had fortified the rooftop with heavy gun emplacements and protective barriers mixed with sandbags.
The government loyalists were not prepared for a direct airborne assault on the airfield. They committed most of their forces to the Assembly's diversionary assault on their forward operating base.
A ballistic shell impacted the wall behind Morrison, and he dove to the ground the exact moment the high-powered projectile shattered against concrete.
"Sniper!" The rest of his fire team followed after him, preventing their new adversary from adding another notch to his kill count.
Morrison scrambled towards a double stack of sandbags and narrowly avoided certain death when another round impacted his refuge.
"Where is he?!" T-Bone yelled out from the doorway.
"I don't fucking know!" Grey yelped as a ballistic shell tore off chunks of his cover. Ducky was the only one of their fireteam who had some inclination to the sniper's position.
"Shots came from our North near the ATC Tower." Morrison peaked over his cover, catching a glimpse of the sniper nest before a flash forced him back down.
"He's on a scaffolding attached to the ATC tower." Ducky awkwardly crawled towards Morrisons cover, a maneuver that was made increasingly more restrictive due to the nature of his combat rig.
Before Morrison could drum up a strategy to deal with the sniper, Graves and the rest of their squad showed up.
"What do we got, Corporal?" The Sergeant shoved past T-Bone to the front of the doorway.
"One sniper about a kilometer out near the ATC tower," Morrison replied. "We got any CAS on station?"
"About to find out," Graves nodded towards Granite, who was already in the process of calling in fire support."
"Galaxy, this is Mage One-One. Requesting close air support on grid reference 102-break-195 keypad seven. We have accurate sniper fire coming from a radio tower north of the ATC over!"
"Mage One-One, this is Galaxy. Solid copy. Uh, I have uh, Hitman One flight of three F-44s online. Standby for relay." The Aviation wings forward air controller pushed the necessary details to their assigned flight, and soon a more reserved voice came over the net.
"Mage One-One, this is Hitman One, flight of three F-44s. On station with four JDAMs and two HARMs, over." Graves motioned the rest of the squad forward to their designated points on the rooftop. He wanted them in a prime position to provide fire support for the rest of the Company once the sniper was taken care of.
Morrison pushed for the Northern section of the rooftop, traversing a maze of barriers and sandbags while crawling underneath a mounted Mk.31 HMG. Ducky and Grey followed close behind, with T-Bone bringing up the rear.
"Hitman 1. Target is the ATC tower at grid reference 102195. I need you to level that structure and any adjacent buildings in proximity. How copy, over?
"Solid copy, Mage One-One. Rolling in now, time on target thirty seconds." As Morrison adjusted against his hardcover, the sounds of rumbling tanks began to echo across the battlefield.
He found a tiny crevice that gave him enough protection from the sniper and a broad view of the western section of the airfield. Across the runway was a large plume of smoke where 2nd and 3rd Platoon exchanged gunfire with a federal reserve company approaching from their obsolete static defenses.
It was the vast armada of armored vehicles and tanks approaching from the besieged Federal FOB. For the barest moment, Morrison wondered if the Assembly had broken through the loyalist defenses, but all bared the blue and red symbols belonging to the Federal Army.
"Sergeant!" Morrison's alarmed voice caught Graves's attention. "We have a full armored company heading straight for us!"
"Chipper!" The Sergeant called out to their Anti-Tank expert. "Bring up the launcher! We got heavy targets coming in from the west! Gator and Jackal post up on those HMGs as soon as the sniper is down! Granite retask those fighters once the ATC tower is down. "
Chipper extended his Militech MR-56 Launcher and fired a HEAT missile trailing for the lead T-100 heavy tank. Morrison waved T-Bone to the western section of the rooftop to support Gator and Jackal while the screeching sound of passing jets echoed across the rooftop.
The Corporal eyed the crown decal intricately scrawled across the left tail of the lead F-44. His eyes followed the left-wing, where the flyboy unleashed the devastating power of an AGM-95 HARM.
The air-to-ground missile impacted just beneath the ATC tower's second floor. Blasting apart the foundation and scattering pieces of the sniper along with any other federal soldier across the tarmac.
Granite wasted no time in getting ahold of Hitman after their successful CAS run.
"Good effect on target Hitman One, requesting air support on a hostile tank company advancing from the west, grid reference 102190, over!"
"Solid copy, rolling in now."
Morrison watched the impressive display of aerial prowess demonstrated by Hitman One. The pilot rolled to his right, avoiding a barrage of anti-air fire and ducking underneath an AA Javelin by the skin of his teeth before firing off the rest of his HARM missiles.
"Where the fuck did we find that guy?" Grey murmured in astonishment, a sentiment mirrored by the rest of his companions.
Four trails of colorless smoke tracked a platoon of T-100 tanks, smashing into their chassis and turning them into melted steel. His wingmen followed his daring measures, who destroyed a fair number of armored vehicles before blasting off into the atmosphere.
"Not sure," Morrison replied. "But I hope there's more where he came from."
"Stay focused!" Graves reprimanded his subordinates. "We have infantry and mechanized units spearheading that tank company. Gator and Jackal roll out the welcoming party.
Both Operators unleashed streams of .50 BMG rounds downrange. Peppering a federal APC transporting a complement of soldiers in a hasty assault upon 1st Platoons captured structures. Morrison could hear an accompanying salvo from the other squads, and soon his Copperhead joined the symphony of gunfire.
The Battle of Maracay raged on for nearly twelve hours as Warlock Battalion fought to secure their objectives amidst the scattered yet intensifying federal forces' counter-attacks.
No matter how desperate they fought, the government loyalist was soon routed from the desert plains of Maracay, and the Custodians etched out a costly yet unifying victory for themselves and the Assembly.
The Battle of Maracay was over, and in mere hours, the bulk of Federal Forces were entirely forced out of the Aragua region. The loyalists lost nearly 40,000 men who were either killed, wounded, or captured by the end of the fighting.
Surviving Federal officers attempted to rally their scattered and depleted Battalions for the defense of Caracas, but within two weeks, the Assembly Flag flew over the presidential palace.
The Venezuelan Civil War ended on September 21st, 2077, concurrently allowing the Custodians to reach their deadline. Many members of Warlock Battalion desired a return stateside to rally under Cypher's banner.
However, events conspired to prevent this long-awaited unification when word reached Kaiser that Militech was attempting to seize control of Baja California. A move that went against Cyphers plans in the region, and so the Custodians were dispatched to the area and tasked with preventing the fall of the local government under the continued guise as a Mercenary Corps.
It would be the first time Warlock would face Militech on the battlefield, but it wouldn't be the last.
August 19th, 2077
Night City, Northern California
Hideout, Charter Hill
"I don't remember telling you to bring a stray." The tone in Cyrus's voice was filled with exasperation, and despite everything, Chamber couldn't keep the smile off her face.
"Didn't tell me I couldn't either." Cyrus silently grumbled to himself and ignored the expressive artificial child skipping around the hideout.
The AI was able to direct the Night Corps AI into their private telecoms network, a process that was difficult to manage with their limited resources, but Chamber handled it all the same.
It would prove far more difficult to convince Cyrus of allowing their little helper to take up residence inside their hideout for the momentary future. A prospect that he did not want to entertain in the slightest, but fortunately, his attention was solely focused on searching for the Meatman.
"Disciple One, this is Oxide check-in over." Iwasaki and the Bloodhounds were dispatched on a detailed search of every safehouse registered to the Meatman.
"Go ahead, Oxide." While Cyrus conversed with his Bloodhound Chamber dove into a data packet sent by Sergeant Ian Pershing. One of the Sixth Street Militia that her Spartan plucked out of hell not weeks earlier.
Cyrus persuaded Decker to send numerous squads from her Company to investigate several safe houses in Santo Domingo.
The Militia didn't find anything of note, and what little relevant information they obtained was relayed directly to Chamber. The AI foraged the random bits of seemingly unrelated data and came across a logo that their Bloodhounds also uncovered in the safehouses they investigated beforehand.
Each of the Meatman's safe havens had an all too familiar emblem etched into the wall next to the entrance, and Chamber stared at the detailed drawing in muted astonishment.
A black eagle with wings spread wide and grasping two objects was scrawled across wood, concrete, or steel. Three arrows and a lightning bolt were tightly held in each claw, and a pair of Latin words were written just below the eagle.
Multi Enim Unum.
One for many.
The insignia and Latin phrase was the beating heart of Beta Company during their training and all the way to their fated end on Pegasi Delta.
It exemplified the very nature of a Spartan III, and Chamber recalled asking Eliza why she emblazoned those words on her armor after Operation Torpedo. The Spartan only stared with an iron gaze before completely disregarding the inquiry.
Chamber and Eliza didn't have the best relationship especially compared between the AI and Cyrus. Eliza did not mistreat her in any way, but it was clear that her presence irked the female Spartan enough that any hope of a cordial connection was lost.
Her disconnect with Eliza most likely stemmed from the lingering despair when Casey was reassigned, and Chamber was sent to replace her by order of Colonel Ackerson.
"One for many." A pair of crimson eyes were drawn to the AI's mumbled words.
"Chamber?" She glanced back at her Spartan, schooling her features with practiced ease and redirecting his attention.
"Nothing." Chamber dismissed the emblem and Cyrus's questioning tone even as her inquisitive nature demanded an answer to a question the pair had retained since day one of their arrival.
What happened to Sierra B-291?
Did Eliza survive the events of Line Installation 2-4?
Despite Cyrus executing a grinding campaign of attrition and bloodshed against the corrupt and decadent forces of Night City. He still found time to search for his missing partner, devoting two hours of his day to exploring every corner of the city with Chamber's support.
Cyrus would never stop looking for her, and no one could convince him otherwise. Not even V or Panam, whether they wanted him to or not, possessed enough charisma to persuade him to give up his search.
V understood his Cyrus's to find Eliza and instead encouraged him to keep looking for her. It went without saying that the Merc was more than willing to assist in his search, no matter how difficult the task appeared.
Chamber added the familiar symbol to the Meatman's ever-growing file and began a scouring search for any group that bore its mark.
She received one hit regarding the symbol, and it was an old forum buried under decades of garbage data. This forum was a community-run site dedicated to the mysterious Sirens that practically ran Night City for years before their sudden disappearance in 2070.
A Netrunner named Spider Murphy was rumored to be the public face of the Sirens but that was decades before their disappearance and she was not the central authority figure. That honor belonged to a wandering soldier described as an amazon by some, and a god by others directed the Sirens into controlling every aspect of Night City.
The similarities were there, but again Chamber was left with theories and no concrete answers.
Her solution laid in the catacombs of Night City, and if her predictions regarding Cyrus's search of the Meatman came true. Then it would only be a matter of time before Spartan and AI ventured into the howling dark.
Chamber was off in her own world again.
She had a predilection for ignoring everything around her when a topic piqued her interest. Cyrus would snap the wandering AI back to the real world in most cases, but Iwasaki's words diverted his attention.
His Bloodhounds were being tailed.
"How many are there?" Cyrus inquired, manipulating a Militech satellite to hover in geosynchronous orbit directly over Iwasaki's position. He was lucky to have a hyper-advanced AI in his corner, otherwise, he'd be doing this the hard way.
"Unknown," Iwasaki supplied in a hushed breath. "Sparrow picked up their scent five minutes ago, and they haven't sought an engagement with us yet."
"Chamber, wake up!" Cyrus reprimanded his AI, who continued to ignore the world around her. "Have they spotted your Phantom?"
"Unkown," Iwasaki replied. "We disembarked near an abandoned warehouse in Longshore North. Sparrow was on rear security and managed to pick them out while we were searching the target building."
"Copy that. Keep scavenging the safe haven. I'm going to raise Disciple Two." Cyrus reconfigured his frequency. "Disciple Two, this is Oxide come in over."
"Reading you five by five, Oxide." Cyrus's brows furrowed in momentary confusion.
"Tiger, where is Leopard?"
"She's scouting the perimeter with Jaguar and left me with the LR receiver. Ocelot and I are searching the safe house now. We haven't found anything relevant so far." Leopard had good instincts second only to Eagle's amongst his Bloodhounds. If she felt an ill omen crawling up her spine, then something was happening.
"Ask them if they've seen this symbol." Chamber's voice startled Cyrus, but none more than the insignia that was a near parallel to Beta Company's Emblem.
"Chamber?" The Headhunter's scrutinizing gaze bore directly into his oddly reserved AI.
"Just do it." A battle of wills nearly broke out between them, but Cyrus chose to adhere to her demands for now.
He would get his answers later.
"Leopard." The Spartan began. "I'm pushing an image to your HUD. Have you seen this emblem anywhere in the safehouse?"
"Stand by Oxide…." Seconds ticked by in a near crawl, and through it, all Cyrus never took his eyes off Chamber. "… Confirmed, pushing our camera feed to you now."
Cyrus tabbed away from the satellite imagery and switched to Leopard's uplink. A black screen came to life, and within seconds its backdrop was replaced by a visual feed from his Bloodhounds helmet camera.
The Spartan's eyes fixated on the black eagle, and the burning similarities were enough to crack his near-constant stone-like visage.
"Chambe-" Before Cyrus could question the possibility of a link to Eliza, the transponder linked to Decker went off. Chamber was quick to answer the call, and he found himself fielding a barrage of questions from the Sixth Street Captain.
"Calm down and give me a sitrep, Decker." A sudden and instinctual rush of fury tore through the Militia Captain, and he could practically feel her teeth grinding at his plain tone.
"What the fuck did you send my guys into?!" She screeched out. "I just lost an entire squad while searching one of your safehouses."
"What's the location?" She almost unleashed a verbal tongue lashing on him. "Decker, give me their location, and I'll find who killed them."
"Hargreaves Street. Warehouse two-zero-one." Decker exhaled through her nose, expelling her boiling anger the best she could. " My boys were searching a safehouse near an outcast camp when we lost contact with them. I sent a second squad to investigate, and they walked into a bloodbath."
"I'm on my way. Keep your men on the perimeter and away from the bodies. My team and I will be there in ten mikes. " The Spartan whirled towards his AI and snatched her data crystal. He jammed the chip directly into her slot and shot towards the Phantom parked outside.
Cyrus switched to his comm frequency and raised both Bloodhound teams. "Disciple One and Two egress to your Phantom's and head for these coordinates."
"Disciple One copies all were dispatching for our Phantoms now," Eagle continued. "Be advised our observers scampered off a few seconds before your call. They might have gotten word of our target's location just before you did."
The Spartan cursed to himself while climbing into his Phantom. "Understood, rally with Leopards team and meet me there, out."
Chamber wordlessly transmitted the necessary coordinates as Cyrus took inventory. The last few weeks, he had seen combat in exclusively urban environments and narrow corridors, and that trend wasn't ending anytime soon.
"You gonna tell me what we're facing?" The sudden question caught Chamber off guard, but she didn't let her surprise show.
"I'm…..not entirely sure. I only have theories and assumptions about who has been tailing our Bloodhounds." Cyrus mag clamped a Tactician to his back and holstered two Unity's. He ejected Chamber's data crystal and laid it flat on the workbench before him, allowing the AI's Avatar to come to life.
"Then share them with me." Two hands slowly grasped his helmet, and for the first time in days, Cyrus let himself breathe unfiltered oxygen. His crimson gaze blinked once and then twice, adjusting to the low-level light inside the Phantoms cargo hold.
He inhaled and exhaled a deep breath, rubbing at his forehead as Chamber gave him her full attention.
"Three days ago, I breached Ziggurat's telecommunications network." She began tentatively. "During the process, I uncovered bits and pieces of data relating to a Night Corps initiative called Project Haven. The data all led back to Richard Night wanting to create an underground shelter for the citizens of Night City should nuclear war break out….."
Cyrus was given a thorough education on the origins of Night City, and while he appreciated the selflessness of the city's architect, his dream turned into a nightmare.
The Spartan sought to change that outcome for the better.
"…..The tunnels were dug up, but the project was scrapped and forgotten until someone else dug up the files." Cyrus locked eyes with her, and he saw for the first time since they nearly died during their deployment to Arcadia genuine concern.
"Who are they?"
Chamber motioned with her hands and forwarded a detailed file to the Phantoms console. Cyrus directed the console and accepted the transfer allowing a flow of a corroborated data to flood his screen.
The contents of the file gave him pause.
"They're called the Sirens," Chamber declared. "And they were the real boogeymen of Night City. Night Corps were children playing in the dark compared to these people. The Sirens were an untouchable force and simultaneously an immovable object that operates out of the catacombs."
"Why have we never heard of them until now?"
"Because they went dark after the Unification Wars, and every Megacorp they crossed buried their existence. It took me days to piece together the fragmented pieces, and for whatever reason, the Sirens are satisfied with hiding in the catacombs."
"Until now." Chamber nodded her head in reply while Cyrus dismissed the file. There were a lot more secrets to this city than he realized and he disliked sharing the shadows with people he didn't know. "They've been content to remain silent. Why come out of hiding?"
"I don't think they've been hiding at all," Chamber remarked. "I had a suspicion that Dana was an agent of the Sirens."
"How did you come to that conclusion?" Cyrus bristled at the accusation, not because he disagreed with her statement but more for the fact she was speaking speculations of the dead.
Chamber materialized an overhead view of Night City and marked the expansive maze of tunnels and the numerous access points across the metroplex. A series of blue dots sat at random distances from each passageway, but none exceeded 200 meters.
"Because every outcast camp was strategically placed at a catacomb entrance and the only entryway unaccounted for was the Pershing street tunnel up until a few months ago."
"Are Clint and the rest of Camp August's leadership in on it?" Cyrus didn't begrudge anyone their secrets, but he would like to know nonetheless.
The ethereal woman's blue orbs grew softer. "I think her and the other Outcasts are gatekeepers, and one of them just got butchered."
"What are the chances the Sirens are after our target for killing one of their own?" Chamber gave him a knowing look, and Cyrus recognized that there was now a race to see who got to the Meatman first.
He didn't adore second place during his time at Camp Currahee, and he'd be damned if someone got to the Meatman first.
"Get us to those coordinates." Cyrus snapped his helmet into place and reinserted Chamber back into her familiar home.
"It's time to go hunting."
August 20th, 2077
Night City, Northern California
Hargreaves Street, Arroyo
"Son of a bitch." Iwasaki agreed with Vulture's statement as the Bloodhounds scavenged through the remains of a dozen Sixth Street Militia.
He was used to seeing corpses with their intestines strung out and torn apart at the seams, but this scene was entirely unique. Their Sensei was unmatched in his brutality, but he was clinical in his movements, and once his adversary was dead, he disregarded their carcass.
This….psychopath took pleasure in the kill, and there was no greater evidence than the corpse of the Sixth Street squad leader hanging from two meat hooks. However, the Militia weren't the only casualties in this seemingly one-sided massacre.
Iwasaki leaned forward, inspecting the cadaver of a man who was unaffiliated with the Militia. The Bloodhound grasped the bloodied arm hanging loosely off the corpse, eyeing the intricate tattoos scrawled across its forearm.
"I don't recognize these Scavers."
"They don't belong to any clan." Iwasaki glanced to his right, finding his Sensei flanked by Leopard and Vulture. "These four are a part of the Meatman's personal guard. They worship her like a god, and up until recently, they've served as an extra pair of eyes out in the city."
"Now their cannon fodder." Vulture remarked with a tone of humor, eliciting a reprimand from Cypher.
"They are fanatical in their desire to keep our target alive. Don't underestimate them." The Bloodhound merely nodded in acceptance, properly curtailed by the admonishment.
"Eagle," Iwasaki rushed to Cypher's side. "Did we find anything?"
"Negative. There is no indication of our targets location. The only evidence we have is that the Meatman was here a half an hour ago."
"She could be anywhere in Arroyo by now," Leopard piped up, earning a sharp look from Cypher.
"We've burned down every safe house in Night City. Our target only has one more place to hide." That caught the attention of each Bloodhound who was as eager as Cypher to bring this sociopath to heel.
Falcon stepped forward. "And where would that be, Sensei?"
"In Night City's catacombs." Cypher waved them along, leading the eight Bloodhounds out of the blood-stained warehouse.
The Sixth Street squad lingering outside the structure, eager to gather their dead for proper burial and seek vengeance against those who inflicted such transgressions. Their commander, First Sergeant Bosworth, stamped out his cigarette when Cypher made to approach him.
"Sergeant." Bosworth's cybernetic eyes trailed to the Bloodhounds falling behind the Headhunter with practiced ease.
"Cypher." The first sergeant took his eyes off a pointedly-looking Iwasaki. "See, you found some friends since the last time we met."
"To a degree." The Headhunter motioned to the warehouse. "The structure is clear. Give Decker my condolences."
"I'll pass them along." Bosworth watched Cypher and his Bloodhounds disappear into the shadows along with the frigid atmosphere. The first sergeant fished for another cigarette, all the while cursing the Headhunter and his spooky ass bodyguards.
"Will the Militia not be joining us?" Ocelot inquired, receiving a good-natured jab to the shoulder from Vulture.
"What? You want those amateurs watching our backs?" Falcon did appreciate the scathing remarks about their allies.
"Have some respect, Vulture." He chastised while bringing up the rear of the formation. "Those 'amateurs' have to mourn the passing of their comrades. You should be so lucky."
"The only thing we would mourn is the sudden loss of bad jokes and horrible taste in music." Tiger's remarks earned him the universal sign of displeasure from Vulture, and the elite Bloodhounds soon turn into a cluster of shit-talking soldiers.
Cypher gave no indication of his discontent at their remarks, and Iwasaki was willing to let the squad find some respite for the first time in days.
"How far is this tunnel, Sensei?" Leopard questioned, prudently eyeing their surroundings. Iwasaki followed her sightline to a gathering of vagrants loitering around their encampment.
"We're almost there."
True to the Headhunter's word, they arrived at the steel gates to an underground passageway with an unfinished section of street pavement at its base.
Iwasaki exchanged worried looks before Cypher glanced in their direction. A gust of wind rumbled through the darkened passageway, and the Bloodhounds felt a tinge of anxiety crawl upon their skin.
"If anybody wants to stay here," Cypher's polarized visor eyed each of his Bloodhounds with conviction. "Then stay."
The Headhunter stepped towards the howling darkness without hesitancy, a sentiment that was not shared by his Bloodhounds at first. It would not be a lie to say they were walking into the unknown, and Cypher wouldn't begrudge any of them should they choose to stay topside.
Neither Iwasaki nor the other Bloodhounds were cravens during their time as Tyger Claws.
And they wouldn't start now.
No words could convey their emotions more than actions, and one by one, each Bloodhound stepped into the howling darkness.
They would only touch the surface with the Meatman's corpse firmly in their grasp.
Or not at all.
Ah, I enjoyed writing this chapter a lot more than I thought I would. Next chapter we explore the catacombs of Night City and settle the debts incurred by the Meatman.
It's been an on and off summer for me but it could have been a lot worse.
As always I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and remember to review to your heart's content.
Reviews:
FusedBump: I have recovered thank you for the well wishes and have a great year.
evevee: Never got into overwatch but they can be references if you want, the star wars one was on point though.
jack hopper: Not to worry the hunt will end soon enough.
gabekaykwok: All in due time I like to do reactions after the major events.
To everyone who wished me a good healing of the burns not to worry because the process is almost finished.
IMPORTANT NOTICE
I have set up a account for my future writing endeavors but I'm not ready to release content on it just yet so I do not recommend supporting it until there is actual content for it. That being said if you do want to support it I will link it below, but again you don't have to because no matter what I will post onto this site weekly.
www .pat r eo n Cypher1597 (remove the spaces to access)
Next Chapter: August 30th: returning to old schedule update day because itworks out better.