PRIVATE 7 Minutes Or...

Malachi Sykes

New member
Malachi Sykes
Eddies
110


The situation was fucked...

Malachi was a professional. It's why he made the big bucks protecting the corpo suits. Yet, the pushback he had received from Kang Tao had him questioning whether or not this corp was worth it. You put your full effort into a thing, banking on your boss to adhere to your expertise. And with Malachi... that expertise was vast. Yet, the suits at Kang Tao thought they knew better. Of course they did. No matter your skill, no matter how high you had climbed up the proverbial totem poll... you were still a peasant. They always knew better.

He told them this transport was insufficiently guarded. He had advised greater recon and surveillance. Yet, all fell on deaf ears. Malachi couldn't help but to wonder why in the hell he was there, considering that nothing he said had any bearing on this exec's transport. And now... as the bullets screamed above him as he knelt behind cover... he couldn't help but to feel some level of vindication.

The job was still the job though, and his principal had taken a potentially fatal shot to the torso only moments ago. Malachi didn't know who was shooting, nor did he care. All he could do was apply pressure in between his bursts of suppressing fire. He was no medic, but he at least knew to do his best to keep the man from bleeding out. But that's hard when you have a gaggle of gonks unloading an unnecessary amount of lead in your direction.

He's a suit... of course he has coverage, he would tell himself...

Seven minutes...

Seven minutes, or your money back...

He just hoped this suit would get his money's worth.​
 
Two minutes.

Estimated time of arrival. Not long at all, in the grand scheme of things. But long enough for whatever poor gonk they were on the way to rescue. Some suit, probably. Usually was. Sat back, harness engaged, Joseph counted down the seconds as the AV-4 banked sharply between buildings. There was no point trying to get a read on the environment; the monitors above the door leading to the pilot's cabin displayed a blur of metal and reinforced concrete. Bright lights. Night City in all its gaudy glory.

One minute thirty.

"Gear check!" Magazines clicked into place as the voice faded, replaced by the thrum of thrusters. Across from him, Webber checked the chamber of his Arasaka HJSH-18 Masamune. The bolt slid forward with an audible click, ready. "Know your safety's still on, right?!" Looking up, Joe grinned as Webber flexed his middle finger in reply. "Just sayin'."

One minute...

"Alright, y'all! Get ready for a warm reception! Touchdown in sixty seconds!" Hitting his harness release, Joe stood up as his team did the same. The AV hooked a left, levelling out sharpish. Joseph could feel the decking vibrate beneath his shoes as the pilots pushed it to the max. Grabbing a handhold, he continued his countdown, fingers drumming against the stock of his weapon.

"Always in a rush," said Meyer, the team's Assistant EMT.

"Places to go, gonks to shoot," replied Webber, positioned by the hatch release. Joe moved up opposite him as the AV-4 started to decelerate, the gee's threatening to throw them all headlong into the bulkhead. A light came on above the hatch. Thirty seconds. "Targets acquired! Engaging!" There was a sudden, loud buzz. Another. "That should keep their heads down for a bit." Joe could almost hear the smile in the pilot's voice. The forward-mounted heavy machine guns spoke a third and final time. The light above the hatch turned green. A klaxon sounded.

"Stand clear! Landing!"

@Malachi Sykes
 

@Joseph "Grey" Graham

The bullets ripped from the mounted machineguns of the AV, followed by an iconic blaring noise that signaled for anyone in Trauma Team's way to delta out of there. These gonks, however, weren't that smart. At least the covering fire from the aerodyne would keep their heads down, if only for a little while. Every second mattered in this biz, so Malachi welcomed the moment to catch his breath.

His body darted away from the landing zone as he took position behind a nearby pillar. Malachi would allow Trauma Team to do their job, but there was no way he was letting the principal out of his sight. After all, they may have a job to do, but so did he. His mission was to ensure the suit made his way home in one piece, and Malachi would see it to the end, one way or another.

Malachi spun around the pillar, popping off a few shots and managing to zero one of the attackers. These gonks weren't bad, but they weren't great either. It was mere numbers they had on him, and thankfully the Team's presence evened those odds a bit more in his favor.

His body ducked back behind cover just as another piece of lead flew through the air, the Sandy doing its work as he avoided another potentially lethal hit. His ruby-tinted glasses shot a look to the closest member of the Team, his voice carrying over the roar of gunfire as he spoke.

"Name's Malachi Sykes, senior security officer of Kang Tao. I know you'll do everything you can for him, but I have been tasked with personally escorting him... even if it means aboard your AV. Is that going to be a problem?"

It better damn well not be, he'd think to himself. Otherwise these assholes shooting at them weren't going to be the only ones to deal with his bad side.​
 
Gunfire welcomed them the moment they set down. Jumping from the running boards, Joe returned fire as his weapon's targeting system picked up targets. A dozen figures, each with a diamond covering his or her head. It didn't matter who they were or why they shooting. The client's safety was the priority - everything else could wait until the smoke had cleared.

Laying down fire, Joe watched his ammo run dry.

'Set!' He heard Webber yell over the comms, rifle hammering, a gangoon's head coming apart in a bloody mist. Hitting his mag release, Joe sprinted for cover, slipping in behind a concrete barrier. Nearby, the Medtechs were busy stabilising the suit they had come to rescue. Further on, a bullet-riddled Chevillon in Kang Tao livery burned brightly, hungry flames twisting, eating away at metal and the body perched in the driver's seat.

A tyre burst as Joe leaned from cover, weapon blazing. One shooter went down. Another.

There was a loud bang. A blocking vehicle, hit hard by the AV's heavy machine guns, went up in a fiery explosion. Shrapnel rebounded, the shockwave shattering windows and knocking the nearest hostiles flat. Adjusting, weapon braced, Joe kept the trigger compressed as they recovered, putting down another 'goon.

He heard the voice as he reloaded. A turn of his head located the source. He frowned.

Fuckin' tagalongs.

'Ground to Aerodyne! Come in, Aerodyne!' There was a buzz in his ear. Staticky, like white noise. Then, results. 'Aerodyne to Ground, we read you, over.'

'Got the client's bodyguard with us. Requesting a ride along, over.' A fresh magazine slid home. The buzz saw revved. 'Copy that, Ground. Permission granted.' Crouching down, Joe ducked lower as something mean chewed away at the barrier. A ricochet caught his helmet, snatching the headtorch from its mount. That was okay. Equipment loss was paid for by the client.

Glancing over at Malachi, Joe nodded.

'Sure, so long as you behave yourself. Fuck with the MT's or get in their way, it'll be the last mistake you ever make, comprende?'

@Malachi Sykes
 

@Joseph "Grey" Graham

The vehicle explosion sent shrapnel in every direction, even into the neck of one of the attackers. Good, Malachi thought to himself. Saves me a bullet. His body swung around the pillar once more, his pistol roaring as several more rounds spat from the barrel. Another pair of assholes dropped as the lead connected, their bodies falling as Malachi took the opportunity to switch his cover. Staying in one place in a firefight was a dangerous thing, after all. He would be proven right in a matter of seconds as a new torrent of gunfire was sent their way. As the barrier got ripped through, so did the pillar he had just left, blasting apart from whatever hellish weapon was being used against them.

He did always have good instincts.

The comment from the Security Specialist was all business, but Malachi could feel the man's look, even through his helmet. Of course they were going to give him flack about it. Trauma Team wasn't really known for playing well with others. That's part of what made them so effective, though it often made them insufferable. But this was about the biz, so he would refrain from making a problematic comment for now. Instead, Malachi replied with a nod of understanding.

"I know better than to interfere with your work."

His eyes shot a look at his principal for a brief moment.

"How long before we can delta the hell out of here?"

A ricochet bounced off of the barrier, nearly clipping his ear. He had about had it with these losers. If he was going to get shot at, he would at least prefer it to be from someone that could aim. He peeked through a hole in the barrier, quickly picking out the gonk that had shot at him. Sliding his arm over the barrier, Malachi let two more fly. The first hit the man center mass, and the second... straight to the skull.

Unlike his aggressor, Malachi could actually shoot.​
 
Joe could see the guy didn't like it, but what choice did he have? Better to follow orders than to get left behind. 'How long?' Joe cast about for the Medtechs, 'Meyer! Inoue! How's the client lookin'?' The man in question had taken a bullet to the chest, maybe two. If not for the protection his fancy suit offered him, Joe knew they might have arrived to find a corpse, rather than a bloodied -and thankfully still conscious- corporat.

'We've stemmed the bleeding and stabilised him as much as we can, but we need to get this guy on ice, stat!'

'Copy! Aerodyne! Come in! Requesting immediate extraction, plus one, over.' More rounds zipped into the barrier, knocking loose chunks of concrete and twisting rebar. A cloud of dust residue formed in the air around Joe as he left cover, bounding for a spot closer to the MTs. Webber's rifle continued to chatter away until a stray round caught his weapon, taking it offline.

'Shit shit shit!' The Security Specialist cursed, drawing his sidearm. 'Aerodyne! We need extraction NOW!'

Kneeling down in front of the technicians, Joe took aim, the weapon system linked to his Kiroshi's picking out viable targets as he squeezed the trigger. Brass hit the ground around him, the sound of spent casings like music to his ears, eliciting a response from the more primal parts of his brain. 'You're dead, sawbones!' He heard someone yell. 'You hear me! You and that corp-cunt!' Gunshots rang out, some coming so close he could them whistle.

Try me!

A figure in a blue-and-pink windbreaker disappeared behind a bollard, arms flailing as his jacket turned red. Another, wearing a Kevlar vest, sagged as he took three rounds to the chest. The counter in the top right of Joe's helmet display continued to trickle down, down, down...

Then, click.

Ejecting the empty mag, Joe smiled as he heard the telltale klaxon swoop in from above. He felt the downdraft before he saw it; the Aerodyne was a thing of beauty in an otherwise imperfect world. Of course, he doubted those gonks felt the same way.

A burly figure hefting something big appeared from behind a bust-up Hella. At first, he thought it was the machine gunner from earlier. But the long tube on his shoulder told him different. Ah shi-

'Aerodyne! Evade, evade!'

@Malachi Sykes
 

@Joseph "Grey" Graham

Everything happened in a brief, singular moment. Those moments where life and death meet at the crossroads, and each individual is met with that timeless choice.... what does one do? The explosive round tore through the air, making its presence known even above the roaring sound of the aerodyne. All that Malachi could do was duck as the explosive round ripped through the air, his glass-covered eyes looking upon the craft in horror as it went up in a flaming burst.

Damnit... he would think to himself.

No doubt there would be a backup team on the way... they wouldn't be Trauma Team otherwise. Yet, in the interim, everything became incredibly up in the air.

He swung his arm over the barrier, sending a wave of lead toward their attackers. The brute that had sent the aerodyne crashing down was the first to drop, followed by two more of his comrades. But it wasn't enough. Not yet. His head swiveled, looking to the security specialist, his narrowed eyes apparent even through his crimson-tinted glasses.

"We can't stay here."​
 
It was like it happened in slow motion. One second, the Aerodyne was there, descending from the heavens, machine guns blazing. The next, it was gone, torn apart by the kind of military-grade ordinance used by Militech or Arasaka or any one of the myriad corps who sought to rule the world, and everyone in it. Not that any of that mattered to Joe as he watched their only means of extraction get reduced to a fireball.

Fear settled in his gut like a deadweight.

'Shit.' He heard himself curse, as if from a great, great distance. Peeling past, trailing smoke and flame, the rest of Echo Team witnessed the demise of their friends in the AV in resolute silence. Shoulders sagged and heads lowered as the bullets continued to whistle past. The only reprieve came when the AV collided with an overpass just above their assailants.

People scattered as it fell, running hell for leather as seven-tonnes of AV bore down on their heads. These made for easy targets, and Joe felt himself smile as they toppled over, most of them dead before they hit the ground.

'We can't stay here,' the Security Chief said. Shouted, really.

'No shit.' Turning, Joe saw the MT's load the client onto a stretcher. No doubt HQ was already scrambling another team to assist. Three, four minutes? Joe figured. Too long. 'We need to get off the street!' He told them. Meyer and Inoue nodded. Odds were they had already come to the same conclusion.

Nearby, Webber continued to fire at their attackers, but his pistol was next to useless when compared to what they were packing.

'Apartments. Three o'clock. Seen?' Following Meyer's gaze, Joe nodded, raised up. 'Go!' Squeezing the trigger, he let loose, rocket-propelled rounds spiralling through the air to find targets... well, everywhere. 'Set!' He heard Webber call over comms, the pop-pop of his Nue doing little to comfort the Specialist. He glanced at Malachi.

'Time to delta the fuck outta here!'

@Malachi Sykes
 
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