Chapter 69 - 66 Three...

David woke up in a daze—today had been too intense.

Their car had flipped, and not only flipped, it had caught fire.

The battle had been too fierce. The fight between James and Lille had been fully visible to David and Gloria, and like other ordinary people, they were trembling in fear.

So, when the Valentino guys floored the gas chasing the Six Street Gang, they didn’t get away.

In a sense, a gunfight of this scale was more dangerous than any cyber-psychosis cleanup; the rocket easily blew their car away.

In his haze, he saw his mom lying far away, her fate uncertain.

"Mom! Mom! Wake up! Damn it... why can’t you get up..."

Achido, who had just dragged James’s corpse to the car, heard someone shouting and walked closer to see a kid stuck in the car.

"Is that your mom?"

"Yes—please save her!"

"No can do," Achido shook his head, "I’m on a mission for the boss now."

David was stunned, then shouted in anger, "Are you kidding me?! Are you just going to let her die?!"

"You need to learn self-reliance—kid."

David heard the car door trapping him being pulled open, and without the door holding him, he fell out with a thud.

The one who saved him was a Valentino—he recognized the engravings on the man’s cyberarm at a glance.

"Cough, cough..."

Achido patted David’s face and said, "Listen, kid, I’ve got a job to do—I ain’t your dad, you need to save your own mom.

You don’t look like Trauma Team clients, so I reckon the city morgue squad will come—but don’t trust them.

You need to carry your mom to the hospital yourself, got it? Watch her 24/7, keep an eye on her, see her with your own eyes.

If the doctor says no, slap him twice, see if he’ll have the guts to refuse again.

Here, take this, you know how to use it, right?"

As he spoke, Achido took a handgun out of his pocket—it was a Constitutional Arms model, Freedom.

"Living in Night City without a weapon, you’ve been protected way too much.

Back in the day, at seven, my mom gave me a plastic gun from Budget Arms to go to school with...

Oh, I gotta go, bye, kid—remember, don’t trust anyone, hold onto that gun!"

David mustered all his strength and crawled hurriedly to his mom’s side—

There was still hope—if he was quick enough.

Before he left, he saw the gun on the ground—but he had no idea how to use it.

In the end, he picked it up anyway.

...

"The Valentinos are attacking!"

The news had already exploded within the Six Street Gang.

An organized assault against an unorganized defense, morale was completely shattered.

And just about an hour ago, James had fought his way out of here...

"Damn, I heard the guy leading them is some... dumbass named Burger King, but he’s vicious as hell, a machine gun blowing up everything it points at."

"What kind of name is that? Do they have a grudge against burgers?"

"Hah, don’t listen to him babble, it’s called The Big Burgers, I heard it’s some mercs who love burgers."

"Are you out of your mind? Who’d use that name?"

"Listen to me! It’s Burger’s Big Deal. I heard they deal in big shots, flesh trade, you ever had a burger with a hot dog in it..."

"You mean, they’re targeting us?"

"You idiot, you’re not a big shot, they’d target..."

The sergeant twitched his eye—the advance implant in his ear could hear very far.

But right now, he really wished he was deaf.

He couldn’t believe he had to call Father again—in just a few hours!

"Father! What do you want?!"

"What do I want? Sergeant, it should be me asking you what you want. Sending in cyber-psychos for a sneak attack?

No problem, I’ve taken the job, but you better think of something fast. The Valentino boys can’t be stopped, and they’re not listening to a word I say."

"I surrender," the sergeant could only swallow his rage, "tell your men to stand down."

"I told you, Sergeant, the Valentino boys can’t be stopped.

Do you remember what happened a few weeks ago? I told you to hand over the guy who killed Amina, I could even step back and let you send him to the NCPD.

But what did you say?"

The sergeant was so furious he could crush his molars.

Father said coldly, "No way."

Beep.

The call ended, and the sergeant sprang to his feet, grabbed the smart submachine gun next to him, and fired into the sky!

"Take up your arms—"

Boom!

An explosion sounded on the outskirts of the Aloroy Industrial Zone, and the sergeant’s face twisted—

It’s all fucked!

...

The Aloroy Industrial Zone and the impoverished Saint Domingo were different things.

This place might look poor, with many abandoned buildings and unfinished facilities scattered around.

But major corporations also had operations here, like a small Arasaka assembly plant, or Kantao’s robotics assembly plant.

Though most of the industries were labor-intensive factories, there were also some high-tech industries—in these buildings, companies would hire layers and layers of security.

Apart from their own core security inside, most enterprises employed Six Street Gang members as outer security—

But now, Six Street Gang couldn’t even take care of themselves—it was a disgrace, this was Six Street Gang’s disgrace!

"Drive inside! The biggest warehouse! Don’t damage the company’s equipment, open fire on any Six Street Gang member you see!"

Lille commanded over the comms channel, the three-man team’s car rolling over every car in its path like a chariot.

The Six Street Gang didn’t lack skilled fighters, but their skills had limits. A single shot from a raccoon dog would render any armored vehicle useless.

There was no way to block them, and any pursuit would have to consider Jack’s heavy machine gun—not to mention there were more than just one car!

Following behind were more than twenty Valentine cars!

Explosions echoed continually, fewer dared to show their faces, and those brave enough to do so dropped dead in seconds, it was an overwhelming onslaught.

Finally, the convoy arrived at the largest abandoned warehouse in Aloroy—

The Six Street Gang’s headquarters.

Ding-dong—

A call came in, contact: Sergeant.

Screech—

The car drifted to a stop at the warehouse entrance.

Sergeant: "You’re the captain of the dumbass named Burger gang? Fine, you’ve got guts."

Sergeant: "I surrender, tell your men to cease fire and I’ll open the gate."

Sergeant: "Hey? You there? Are you deaf?"

Lille wasn’t deaf, Lille was dumbfounded, all three of them were dumbfounded.

Achido, how did you spread our name out there?!

"Ahem... fine, let’s talk, but Sergeant, I have to remind you, no tricks, we know more than you think.

Give us access, and my hacker will tap into your cameras."

"Cautious little bastard—link up then."

After confirming the Six Street Gang had laid down their weapons, Lille controlled the warehouse door to rise slowly.

"Use false names later, got it? I’m Burger King, you guys pick your own."

Jack: "Then I’ll be Big Man."

V: "I wasn’t using my real name to begin with, do I need another one?"

Lille: "Stop talking crap and hurry."

V: "Fine, I’ll be King, but doesn’t it seem a bit repetitive with your name?"

Lille: "Then why don’t you call yourself dumbass dealer?"

V: "Screw you."

Sergeant.

Once an old soldier who served in the army, after retiring, he started a veteran security business in Aloroy and it prospered.

Wearing a peaked cap and an old United States Army uniform, his right leg was lame, replaced with a simple mechanical limb.

Technically, someone like him could easily get a bionic leg that no one could tell was fake.

But the leg he lost in the war was his greatest Medal of Honor, he had to flaunt it.

"I’ve heard a lot about you, Sergeant."

Lille and his two men got out of the car, followed by a bunch of Six Street Gang members.

"I’ve heard a lot about you too, didn’t expect to fall at the hands of three small fry," the sergeant said, gritting his teeth, "names?"

All three wore masks, and Lille had hacked the cameras, so the cameras here couldn’t show their images.

Lille shrugged, "Burger King."

Jack stood upright behind Lille, "Big Man."

V rolled his eyes, "King."

Honestly, any of these names on their own would be normal for a squad name.

But together, they sounded a bit dumb—yet they insisted on putting them together.

That dumbass in your name was your self-introduction, "dumbass dealer" was the work you did.

The sergeant spat a curse in his mind:

Damn it, I got played by three morons.