"Night City, Night City! Now, letâs turn our attention to Colorado Farm!"
"Poor Saint Domingo, ever since the last attack on Yeâs Company power station, it hasnât recovered electricity supply. Look, itâs as dark as Evil Land."
"Lucky for us we have Zeta Technologyâs latest XDR-8 multimodal sensory drone. Be it city alleys or wilderness, sandstorms or smog, weâve got the whole battlefield in view!"
"Although this feature isnât open to the civilian version, it can also be compatible with a variety of heavy weapons for precise guidance."
"Oh! Weâve spotted flames! Theyâre fighting now!"
A Thrace Jefferson 388 dashed along the streets, a favorite model among middle management in companies, with a sleek business look, and full armored body.
As a vehicle aimed at corporate middle managers, the Jefferson 388 was purely an armored business car, outwardly inconspicuous in its business appearance, but in reality, the empty vehicle weighed over two tons.
As the vehicle plunged from the overpass into Colorado Farm, the mercenaries inside looked at the deserted streets and suddenly got excited:
Poor Colorado Farm hadnât fully restored power yet, large swaths of houses and streets were in darkness, the streets deserted.
Street racing is exciting in itself, and even more so in the city. If such racing were legal, with covert filming and the attention of thousands, it would be even more thrilling.
And darkness made the recording devices hidden between buildings and drones in the sky all the more conspicuous, as though prepared for a big star with numerous angles...
With that in mind, the light pollution from the core areas of Night City became stage lighting!
The background music was the rising and falling of engines.
The act they were performing was mutual slaughter.
"Haha!"
The fully armed mercenaries burst out with a strange laugh, causing a tight feeling in the hearts of his two companionsâ
Whatâs the situation, why such a terrifying laugh?
"What are you laughing at?" asked the driver, driving and warily looking around, "Gone crazy?"
The last member of the trio was a muscular man, who took up the entire back row alone, with the seatback modified to support a heavy machine gun base, and rockets at hand.
In normal times, such a vehicle could have robbed a company convoy, but today, it was just an ordinary armament.
The muscular man didnât respond. As the gunner, he had to monitor everything on the road.
But the laughing woman continued neurotically, "I just feel like, after living for so long, this is the first time weâre like stars.
Compared to this, all the previous years have been a waste, just scavenging for food in a trash heap."
"Where isnât a trash heap..."
"This place isnât!" the woman interjected decisively, "Night City is so awesome... so awesome... how does that saying go again..."
The muscular manâs deep voice cut in at that moment, "No one leaves Night City, unless theyâre in a body bag."
"Right..."
"Enemies!"
The muscular man abruptly interrupted the womanâs musings, his deep roar instantly snapping them out of casual chat and back to the battlefieldâ
And the enemies were in those dark wooden houses and unfinished buildings!
Bang bang bang bang bang...
The heavy sound of the machine gun rang out, large caliber bullets smashed into the roadside wooden cabins like meteors in the night, the gunnerâs powerful prosthetic perfectly controlling the muzzle of the gun, aided by a gyroscope and motor, each bullet hitting right where he aimed.
His precise bursts turned the cabin into a sieve in seconds, causing it to collapse on the spot!
The driver shouted, "Can you see who it is?"
"Donât know! Itâs unclear! Thereâs more!"
The muscular man swiveled the gun, but this time the thermal reactions appeared on both sides!
The machine gun swept around rapidly, and so did the car, thatâs when he realized this was not just one or two enemies...
The buildings were full of people!
Bang!
A man suddenly popped out from a roadside trash can, the lid flung into the air with a bang...
He was carrying a rocket launcher!
At a distance of about 10 meters, the woman in the passenger seat clearly saw this guy poke out his head and smoothly pull the trigger, a trained soldier through and through!
In a fraction of a second, the skill chip automatically activated defense mode, the woman raised her hand, and throwing knives shot out at high speed...
Whooshâ
"RPG!"
Boom!
The rocket was split in half by a flying knife mid-air, and as she settled back into the car, still in shock, the woman patted out the flames on her body.
"Wow! That guy wasnât just bragging! We..."
"Landmine!"
Just as they resolved the rocket, before the car could regain stability, the driver spotted something flashing on the roadâit was a wireless landmine!
But all he could do was see it; the car had no chance to evade!
Click...
The wheel rolled over it, and the driver had only one thought:
Where the hell did these guys come from?
Boom!
Even a Jefferson 388, with a total vehicle weight approaching three tons, was merely a slightly heavier tin can in the face of an anti-vehicle landmine.
Flames soared high, the explosion piercing directly through the armored vehicleâs chassis, bending and breaking the sturdy metal upon impact.
The front and rear of the vehicle disconnected, and after being propelled into the air, it smashed into the ground, turning into a wreck.
"Nice!" In the distance from the derelict building, the sergeant, holding a telescope, applauded and praised, "See that? This is a successful ambush!
Fighting is about using your brain!"
"But boss." One of the underlings cautiously raised his hand, "Isnât this just hiding in a trash can and pouncing on them with a bang?"
The sergeant glanced at him, placed his hand on the underlingâs shoulder, and offered a gentle smile.
When the underling also started to smile, the sergeant immediately smacked him in the head while cursing, "You think youâre so smart, you motherfucker think youâre smart... If youâre so damn clever, how come you didnât think of it?!"
"Boss!" Another sniper suddenly shouted, "Heâs not dead!"
"Fuck, of course Iâm not dead..."
"No, boss, the one who stepped on the landmine isnât dead! Fuck...!"
Bang!
Perhaps the slight reflection from the scope betrayed his position, the sniperâs head was blown off in the next second!
The sergeant quickly kicked the underling he had just scolded to the ground and flopped down himself, sweating profusely...
Itâs him, the one who stepped on the landmine and isnât dead!
From a high vantage point, the ambush indeed seemed successful. Although the Six Street Gang didnât have many high-end drones for battlefield intelligence gathering, they had a vast number of local residents as surveillance probes.
So, they could lie in wait like seasoned veterans in the jungle, almost always blocking the path of the cockroaches that joined the fray midway.
However...
These guys are terrifyingly strong.
The sniper was clutching his bleeding neck while the sergeant shouted to the new recruits, "Watch closely! This is battlefield first aid!"
He then pulled out a syringe from his pocket and administered it. The soldierâs eyes, filled with terror, immediately calmed down, as if the pain had subsided.
"Kid, do you have family?"
The young man nodded, tears streaming from his eyes.
"Good, I gave you the Tiger Claw Gangâs special drug, and now Iâm going to access your observational data."
With those words, the sergeant yanked out a personal link from his wrist and connected it to the underlingâs neural port.
"Ugh... did you strangle it?" The underlingâs voice was muffled and unclear.
"Of course not." The sergeant looked into the underlingâs eyes, "Havenât you seen that film? âSaving Private Ryan.â Now, you need to stay determined, think about something happy. Whatâs for dinner?"
The underling suddenly recalled what he had eaten today:
Grilled fresh synthetic meat, which is a rarity in Saint Domingo... it probably tastes almost like real meat.
As he thought about it, he even laughedâthis was the first time he had eaten meat.
Right after that, his entire prosthetic system shut down.
The whole process took only a few seconds. The prostrate recruits were all as still as statues, even the inquisitive one kept quiet:
The dead sniperâs neck was barely held together by a bit of flesh, and his spine grotesquely deformed.
If it werenât for the extra neck protection in his bulletproof vest, his head might have been severed on the spot.
The sergeant retracted his neural link, picked up the sniper rifle from the ground, and said to the new recruits, "Remember, this is casualty classification. Give him a sedative with neural support, and quickly access the data in the battlefield recorder.
That way, at least youâre not completely in the dark about the enemy."
The inquisitive recruit spoke up again: "Then asking whatâs for dinner..."
"Makes dying more peaceful, and besides, it makes him more cooperativeâTiger Claw Gangâs stuff hits hard, heard that just thinking about it can make you climax."
The recruit froze.
[Sergeant: A total of 48 vehicles, 37 broke down, but many people didnât die, all high-tech.]
[Sergeant: I have marked the positions.]
[Burger King: Iâll be there shortly.]
The sergeant took a deep breathâthese competitors were indeed not slack, you really couldnât grasp it without facing them personally.
"Boss."
The recruit came over again.
The recruit whispered, "Boss, can you ask me what itâs like to be with someone? I donât like eating."
[Name: Adan Pound]
[Age: 16]
The sergeant looked into the innocent eyes of the 16-year-old kid and burst into laughter.
"Iâm gonna smack your face, lad. Hold the rifle steady, weâre about to move."