PUBLIC What did this city do to us? {Open}

Click.

The sound was distinct enough for Michael to halt his movements, at least long enough for his eyes to come up and find the hulking man who stood before them. "Fuck me." Michael all but muttered out as his free hand slowly rose up when the unknown man aimed his threat. He glanced to Vex as he spoke for Michael, before the man gestured down to his vest with the NCPD crest on the breast magazine pocket. Before Michael said anything he looked to Vex. Well, he could potentially pass for Maelstrom, but Michael? Not likely. He turned his neck and made a point to show off the flesh around his neck and face, aside from a single cybernetic eye he was free of augments. "Do I look Maelstrom? I don't even have a neural implant. No one in that cybernightmare gang is walking around without one." He pointed out.

Michael fought any urge to raise his rifle. The long and short of it was it took longer for him to bring his rifle up than for this man to pull the trigger. Could he pull it off? Maybe, but it would sure as hell be a gamble and he hated gambling. "Maelstrom killed a cop. I'm here to make sure they make their morning appointment with the morgue."

The Officer nodded at what Vex said. "Way I see it, we have two roads. You can shoot us and then have the NCPD fall on you or you can put the gun down and we can show you right where some 'Maelstrom dogs' are."

Michael glanced into the seat of the car where his agent sat. There's no chance he'd be able to call into dispatch from where he was. He had to hope this guy hated Maelstrom as much as he did, maybe a bit more wouldn't hurt.
 
"I fucking TOLD you, choom! They followed your gonk asses!" Lolipop was standing atop his shit-throne now, his lightbulb eyes flashing between red and orange as his slop-song continued blaring out of his agent. The other psychos were getting just as anxious, scrubbing their arms and tugging at their chrome - itching what was left of their nerve endings. Risers grit his teeth, doing his best to push their grating, electronic voices out of his head.

"We still have noses to smell bacon with, fuck-face! We didn't get fucking followed!"

"FUCK YOU, COCKSUCKER!"

"Shut THE FUCK up, I'm handling it!" This was the last time he ever had the braindead idea to deal with fucking Maelstrom. Ex-chromers or not, these nutjobs were going to make him put iron in his own mouth. He was just about to lose his goddamned mind when Dust came back with her report. None of this made sense, if Eights was picking up some kind of big movement then why didn't their contacts know anything? There was no way Eights mistook some downtown shootout for something moving in the completely opposite fucking direction. No, something was wrong.

"Something isn't right, I don't like this shit at all" he kept his voice low, whispering between himself, Dust and his CDS boys, "Lolipop lost more circs then I fucking remember. We can't be sure this asshole didn't run his mouth off about the iron before he forgot he fucking wanted it." Faust, the second in command of this particular squad of the Corpo Death Squad, shook his head,

"What the fuck do we do, bossman?" an excellent goddamn question. They were running in the blind and Lolipop was swearing up and down his boys didn't hear shit on the net about whatever was going on. Nothing was adding up. He hadn't survived Panama, Colorado and the streets of Night City by chalking weird shit up to nothing but a coincidence. It was safer to assume that the heat was coming.

Risers flicked his bottom lip with a chrome finger and eyed the handful of Lacers meandering around the three cars Red Chrome had arrived in. CDS were the elite, the vets and combat hard-ons that made up the spine of R.C.L. Lacers were street-level brats that were brave enough to die in a firefight, but stupid enough to lose it. "Have one of the lacers take the wheel of the van, then pick one of our boys to take the rest out onto the street, find the van a good path to get the fuck out of here."

"Think the psychos are gonna be chill about that?"

"Fuck no - but that doesn't matter" Risers turned back to Lolipop and his psychos. The crazy fucker was still on his throne, but he'd taken to shaking his hips to the slog blasting from his speakers while shouting an endless string of 'fucks', 'shits', and 'two-bit bitch's at his flock of psychos. Risers grunted in disgust, "last thing The Movement needs is this crazy bastard suddenly remembering he wanted our guns, then fingering us for what I'm guessing was a fucked-up hit job on his piggy."

"No. Fuck that, not with what we got planned next week. Can't take that kinda heat right now" he turned to Dust, the hint of a smile on his lips.

"What do you want to do?"

"Still packing those CHARs we picked off that 6th street jack?"

Faust gave a toothy grin and patted a series of black cylinders strapped to his armor jack, "never leave home without my instant barbeque"

"Good...hit em with all three, then haul ass back to the van and get the Lacers in line. The rest of you pick your cover, try to keep your five meter spacing - we don't know what borgware these fucks are packing. Once we smoke these psychos, fallback to the vehicles and get ready to delta the fuck out of here. Ready on my mark?" a series of nods from his boys. The lacers would be scared shitless when the firing started, no doubt, but this was what the Death Squad lived for. Fuck that pussy ganger shit.

He turned to Dust one last time, "I'll expect your ass in bed tonight, so don't get yourself zeroed."

With that he checked the safety on his rifle, "Flatline these fucks."

All at once the night was full of flames, gunfire, the screeching of van tires, grinding, metallic screams of agony...and the sounds of old, shitty music.

 
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Sure, he'd been a real asshole that morning, but fuck, seeing him smile like that always did something to her. Evi checked her rifle as the last of the commands were given, flicking off the safety and meeting Risers' eyes when he looked to her - unable to stop a smile of her own from forming, despite everything. She had just enough time to glance back in the direction of the psychos, then all hell broke loose.

As she crouched behind the half-crushed remains of some junked groundcar, she momentarily lamented the lack of grenades for the underbarrel launcher on her rifle, but then Lollipop stuck his head out of cover again and she cursed as she missed - again. She was going to zero that fucker even if it was the last thing she did, then double tap him for good measure. If she never saw another Maelstrom psycho again it would be too damn soon.

Another flash of movement as one of the other freaks darted out, and she squeezed the trigger again. This time there was a bloody mist and a robotic shriek. Finally. When she pulled the trigger again there was only resistance, and she ducked back into cover, taking a moment to breathe as she looked her rifle over and worked to clear the jam as quickly as she could. She still had her pistol if she needed it, but— Click. At least something was finally going right today.

Evi peeked over the crumpled hood, shifting so she could look down the sights and letting off another couple rounds as one of the psychos got too brave for his own good, watching as they impacted and only seemed to knock the ganger off his feet and the air out of his lungs. "For fuck's sake." She fired three more times before someone put him down for good.

A spray of bullets whizzed by, and she dropped flat to avoid getting hit. In the momentary lull, she wondered for a moment where the fuck the cops were supposed to be.
 
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Fuck, she kept repeating. Sometimes in Russian, some English and some really incoherent and highly dysfunctional marriage of the two the local Catholics would wanna call a Council of Nicene to debate it wasn't some unknown Angelic tongue. More like demonic, considering the source. Fuck. Again and again, while she crouched down next to her busted board, hoping to see some kinda silver lining. Maybe not a total shit show, she mused in Russian. A couple fingers traced a deep crack that was end of the line til she got it home. Her fingers felt what could've been gold valuable as it was to her. There, on the underside of the board, a few connective joints remained.

She threw her head back and howled out in victory. Score one for the broke bitch, baby! Wasn't much, but just enough spit and duct tape was still holding that big ass crack together. And meant the difference between being mobile again. Soon. Eventually, more like.

Grinning like a loon, she slid her board cross the street, ducking over and through what was a storefront window many moons ago. She stashed her board inside and outta view, then clambered her lil spindly ass back streetside.

Wiping the dirt and grime from her hands off her pants, she shifts her attention towards the junkyard. And the mental Olympics began. She had a match in a few days, and if she showed up all fucking beat and broke down again, Coach described in vivid detail the consequences and repercussions for being a detriment to the team.

Aight. Can't fuck with that. Coach got a nasty, nasty imagination. So she's gotta make some serious eddies tonight, even more now that she's gotta repair her board. There's a dead pig got the whole damn city with their panties in a knot. Boosters always trying to burn shit down on any given day for no reason at all any damn ways. The fuse was always lit here in Heywood, but tonight? Felt like the timer was sitting at 0.01, frozen, holding the city captive.

As she stood under the night sky, the precariousness and fragility of her position washed over in that moment. Her eyes swept over the cityscape in front of her as her head turned towards the western side of the city. Both her eyes narrow in hate as she hears the story her Nana told her one time and one time only when she was a hell of a lot smaller. Bout why the family went from corpo high life to being exiled to the Old Combat Zone back before the whole bomb "thing". Just the average, everyday corpo double crossing and betrayal. Nothing to see here. These are not the droids you're looking for. Move along.

I'm coming, Bio-bitches, spat out in perfect, venomous Russian. In her eyes, even the fakey, was a solemn determination. She threw her threat out to the night, then gave the junkyard her attention good and proper.

Reminding herself she couldn't skate if she was dead, she started strolling down the road, humming softly. One of her "tells" that she really was nervous. One of her teammates, a Blocker, is the only one who has caught her doing it on the track. She took advantage of her carefully danced leisurely tempo, her mind went into crackhead mode. Heywood born and bred, this was familiar territory for her. Going thru the front gate was InstaFlat. she worked her brain meat for a loophole.

With the crispness that would make a Marine weep, she snapped 90 degrees about face and ducked down an alley. If she remembered right, there used to be a few dumpsters stacked up. Every time there's a big booster war, trash bins, cars and gods know what else got stacked and burned. IT WAS GLORIOUS. Anyhoo...

Score! Something was stacked up and had been torched, At this point tho, she really couldn't say what they had been in their past lives. She gave no fucks anyways. She eyed the rickety structure, preplanning her path of ascent. Wasn't like there was a ton of light in the alley, so a lot of this was gonna rely on hopes and prayers.

Exactly how she prefers things.

Something was happening to Omega as she planned, plotted and schemed. Kinda like the last few seconds before a match starts, and the addrenaline begins to flow. There's this itch almost, under the skin. And the fuckin' heat that starts to bake in her legs! It's not long and she's pacing in place, just kinda side stepping. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Back and forth. She's bouncing on the balls of her feet. At the hips. she sways little bit. Her arms hang loosely at her sides, and her fingers flex outta sync with each other.

And then anyone watching sees why they call her the Russian Rocket on the track. Were cybernetics not the norm, one would wonder how. But hey, we're all juiced here. Or is it float?

Regardless, she's moving like greased lightning, leaping from perch to wobbly perch. Being sure footed and having amazingly quick reflexes propel her to the top of the heap. Squatting down, she catches her breath, hoping she didn't stick her head up too high just yet. No, no sense being that hasty.

Having the high ground, she chewed her bottom lip while she surveyed her angle on the junkyard.
 
Vex Kiranova said:
"Hunting his neuroport - ten seconds, maybe twenty." Nyx sounded off in his skull.

For his part, Vex fought the urge to go for his pistol. He instead held both arms out in front of him, fingers splayed wide at @Ogoun Dambe to signal they meant no harm. "Hey big guy, think you're a little confused. He's NCPD," Vex jerked a thumb toward the big bright N.C.P.D letters emblazoned upon the police cruiser. "And I'm Vex. Definitely not Maelstrom." The runner cracked a smile that bled liquid courage. "Mind lowering your iron choom? Think we might be on the same wavelength here."
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Ogouns prosthetic arm twitched at the sound and sudden motion of the passenger. They approached unarmed, but even for Ogoun that didnt mean shit. Without any additional cyberware, the big man learned to always be a little more careful than he needed. Never knew when some mantis arms or some hidden sidearm could be brandished. Although the challenge in that thought sparked excitement in his eyes. A flare of blood and oiled glory for him to claim as his own. Wounds to show off to his Animal choom and all else that got in his way.

He remained silent and examined the man his Nomad was set on. He is NCPD.

Michael West said:
"Do I look Maelstrom? I don't even have a neural implant. No one in that cybernightmare gang is walking around without one." He pointed out.

Michael fought any urge to raise his rifle. The long and short of it was it took longer for him to bring his rifle up than for this man to pull the trigger. Could he pull it off? Maybe, but it would sure as hell be a gamble and he hated gambling. "Maelstrom killed a cop. I'm here to make sure they make their morning appointment with the morgue."

The Officer nodded at what Vex said. "Way I see it, we have two roads. You can shoot us and then have the NCPD fall on you or you can put the gun down and we can show you right where some 'Maelstrom dogs' are."

Michael glanced into the seat of the car where his agent sat. There's no chance he'd be able to call into dispatch from where he was. He had to hope this guy hated Maelstrom as much as he did, maybe a bit more wouldn't hurt.
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" Maelstrom. No backup." he said flatly and glanced with his eyes to the area around them. " When it was raining common sense, you two held an umbrella." he scoffed at them and lowered the pistol. These idiots. The big man tilted his head some at them and firmly stated his street name. " Gorge. Now..." A cybernetic arm raised holding a injector raised and piece of equipment leveled to his own neck. With a stab and hiss, a half cartridge was engaged and Ogouns body immediately felt the effects of Juice. First his heart kicked like a cyberhorse, pumping a fiery reckoning through his veins. Then his vision sharpened, the dim no mands land suddenly bathed in the vivid clarity of enhanced senses. He could hear the faint whir of a security drone's rotors fifty meters out, the clink of glass under heavy boots, and the arguing voices echoing. His muscles tensed, every fiber of his body coiled and ready, his subdermal armor hardening as adrenaline surged in abundance. The emotional and psychological pain from watching Reinhart get executed by MaxTac in the streets, for what Maelstrom did to begin with—the grief, the anger—morphed into something primal. Something useful. His fists itched for action, his body alive with the promise of violence. He rolled his neck, the vertebrae cracking loud enough to echo in the still night. The burn of the Juice licked at his mind, threatening to unhinge his control, but Ogoun welcomed it.

" Point the way.." He said with rapid breaths and dilatated pupils.
 



Privately, Vex muttered a silent prayer in thanks as Michael continued to prove he didn't have gonk for brains. He was glad he'd not fried the pig's brains, even if that had been the initial intention. The runner slowly lowered his hands as the beast of a man took their measure. He looked like a walking advertisement for back-alley manslaughter: the kind of bruiser you let loose on a rival's hideout when you wanted everyone inside to come out in a closed casket and yet Vex detected no malcontent from him. The beast was hunting, but they weren't on his diet. Not for now, anyway.

"I know it's kind of obvious, but he absolutely reeks of those hormones the animals use. I wouldn't talk to him much. Probably on a hair trigger." Nyx whispered from the corner of his skull.

"He probably just needs a hug. We'll be fast friends."

"Just remember there's two of us in here before you start antagonizing him..."

The beast lowered his weapon. Vex's arms dropped in time, and his face split into a gregarious grin, satisfaction at the dismantling of another scuffle bleeding from his voice. "Common sense is the very essence of the shackles that chain the proletariat to mediocrity." His smile broadened at the taste of his own word-vomit. "Besides, I'm the best solo in this city, and this here's the greatest detective this side of the Rockies." He jerked his head toward @Michael West, and that was about the time that @Ogoun Dambe gave his name and produced an injector.

The runner visibly winced as the injector was jammed into the brute's neck. He had his own stim-delivery system, but that was tied to nodes installed into his body. He just slotted the chems in and clicked a button, no stabbing syringes, no excessive body piercing.

He watched Gorge shift with the curiosity of a man open to any kind of drug as long as it was advertised well. There were no overt visual effects, aside from the man's heightened breathing and the changes to his pupils. He made a mental note to look into whatever concoctions the Animals were brewing later and nodded. "They're at a junkyard a few blocks away and we're burning time. Let's move."

With that, Vex would lead his unlikely companions through the din of Heywood. He kept his gaze locked forward, and a confident swagger in his step to deter any would-be opportunists. No one paid them much mind, and the few souls they did pass quickly scattered once gunfire echoed along the canyons of apartment blocks. Vex glanced back to his companions, then forward toward the junkyard as the initial report was joined by a chorus of cracks and whistles.

"Someone's started the party without us fellas." The runner muttered as they came on the aft end of the junkyard. The runner produced his .50 and kept his head low as he squat-ran around the perimeter of the junkyard to get an eye on what was going on. He perched himself on top of a rusting car chassis that sat at the apex of a pile of refuse.

The servos in his cybernetic eye whirred with purpose as his gaze zoomed in and out across the landscape. The first thing he noticed was a girl (@Omega) far removed from the conflict, perched similarly to himself at the other end of the yard. His attentions shifted toward the center, which was a mess of moving bodies and muzzle flashes. There were several abominations of metal and flesh that he knew well to be Maelstrom scattered about. They were engaged in a savage gunbattle with another group, though Vex couldn't tell much about them at a glance, other than that they were a lot more coordinated than the chrome junkies.

"Found our guy." Nyx's voice barely registered over the cacophony as she pinged Lollipop's ID amidst the chaos. Vex zoomed in, briefly caught sight of Lollipop, and winced as a woman (@Evi "Dustoff" Ashford) popped her head out from behind cover and tried to render his into a fine mist. Another second passed, and the man Vex had been working with was flatlined.

"If you want to clean the money, I need to know what kind of bug he infested it with. Need you to get a port on his body, preferably before the meat's cold if we want to be sure."

"His head's still intact. How long you figure we have?"

"Couple minutes if he's already dead."

The runner's nose scrunched up with displeasure as he glanced over at the man that seemed to be calling the shots for the unknown party (@Cyrus "Risers"). Odds were if they approached now, they'd just get shot at. No time for words, but then there was no time at all if he wanted to get paid for all this bullshit.

Vex looked back to his two companions. "Maelstrom's engaged with some group, dunno who. Guy that gave me the job to flatline you's already dead Mikey." His voice was the epitome of disappointment. "Got a girl up on the other side of the yard, just an observer, I think. And..." He glanced back as he saw movement. On two of the junkyard's four sides, two NCPD vans came rolling in. They weren't blaring their sirens in hopes of not distracting the two opposing sides from their battle. The officers exited their vehicles in small, organized teams of five each, remaining at the perimeter for now.

"Your friends just pulled up." Vex noted. "I'm going in, I need that guy's body or these eds are useless. What you two do is up to you." With that, and awaiting no further conversation, Vex darted off into the junkyard. He kept his head low, his sword sheathed, sidearm hidden in his coat pocket. He went for Lollipop's body, managed to weasel his way through the maze of refuse, and paused as he rounded a stack of crates and found himself face to face with one of the chromeheads.

The woman, if one could call her that, snarled something in a foreign tongue and raised her shotgun. She issued the mental command for the muscles in her finger to squeeze, but her flesh disobeyed her. Vex's cybernetic eye lit a virulent green for a moment as Nyx outstretched invisible fingers into the Maelstromer's machine-laden mind. She envisioned herself slowly driving an index finger through the woman's skull, and the command issued in time as a flurry of scrap code that flooded every synthetic iota of her skull. She stood there, shotgun aimed at him, arms and legs shaking violently as her brain fought the corruption that had been wreaked upon it.

"Oh, thanks Nyx." Vex muttered absentmindedly as the Maelstromer collapsed, her entire body quivering as she was stricken with violent seizures. "I think that's enough. Don't kill her just... give her something to think about." The woman's seizures ceased as soon as Nyx cut the flow of data. She lay unconscious, breathing short shallow breaths, but breathing.

"You need to pay attention to your surroundings."

"That's what I have you for."

The runner was on Lollipop's body immediately, shaky fingers struggling to plug the usb drive in his hand into what was left of Lollipop's neural port in the Maelstromer's skull, mind numb to the chaos erupting around him.
 
Even when the great behemoth lowered his weapon, Michael paused a moment to make sure he didn't change his mind on icing Michael and Vex. After a moment Michael let out an agitated sigh before opening the back of his car and pulling a duffel bag from it. He slung the bag over his shoulder before looking to Vex and taking his rifle back in his hands.

"I'm not a detective." Michael responded curtly to Vex's words. No, assignment wise Michael was nothing more than a beat cop who liked to work outside of the box. It worked well enough for him.

Gorge. That's a name Michael would be sure to run before it was all said and done. Even street names had history to them, if you were a criminal worth your salt at least.

When Vex moved out Michael glanced back to Gorge for a moment, his eyes scanning over the beast with wary. Whatever he'd pumped into his system seemed to be having the desired effect. Michael shook his head, hoping today wouldn't be his last.

The gunfire echoed out as they traveled towards the yard and Michael cursed. "Fucking Night City." The thing about their lovely city? You could always count on their being a shooting at the exact wrong time. With Vex and Gorge, Michael kept his form low to the ground as they rushed to the edge of the junkyard. They'd managed to find a rusted-out car sitting over a pile of rubbish. It made for a decent vantage point where the group could see most of the events transpiring. Just as Michael was about to respond to Vex, he heard his agent beep in his coat pocket. He pulled the device out and heard the dispatch alert.

"Dispatch to three-five-four. Perimeter has been set by S-T-I personnel. Patching you to their TAC now." The agent let out a low drone and Michael spoke into the device.

"All officers, stand down. Do not get involved in the shootout. I want both roads shut down leading to the junkyard and set a perimeter. Anyone tried to get through, detain them. Eliminate or arrest any Maelstrom who try to get out." There wasn't much for Michael to gain from staying here. No, at this point with the man who'd tried to kill him dead, he should pull out his teams and let the hoods wipe themselves out. Still, he'd given Vex his word to help him. It was a stupid promise to keep.

He braced his rifle against the rusted car before him and kept his eyes zoned in on the runner. "Hurry up Vex." He muttered, through the scope of his weapon he could see Vex had already taken care of one Maelstromer, but now he was in the thick of things.

He'd give him his cover, for now.
 
3 fingertips on her right hand pressed lightly into whatever layers of filth and rust covered her ramshackle perch. Those fingertips were more flesh than she wanted to be touching the trash heap but...Desperate times, desperate measure. And tonight, Omega was quite desperate. The Night City air was thick with the scent of blood tonight, and blood meant eddies for her. Cause down below, each and every dead Maelstrom was gonna pay off better than the cover-all at Bingo on Friday night. Those freak junkies were packing more cyber goodies than the human body was designed to hold. And since the aformentioned Maelstrom were now dead, it would be a damn shame to let all that tech go to waste...Right?

Not a chance in hell...
​
Jacked up as the chrome domes down below were, she had some time to kill before it was gonna be safe enough for her to get to work. Her left arm draped cross her knee as she squatted precariously, balancing on the balls of her feet. One foot in front slightly, the toe part of her boot half off the rickety platform she was using. Other foot, a little back, offset. If she had another 100 pounds and a helmet, she could be a football linesman, down in a 3 point stance almost.

With time to kill and fuckall to do but wait, she decided her attention was better placed elsewhere. This was a junkyard, after all. Mountains upon heaping mounds of gods know what from who the hell cares. Nooks and crannies far as they could see. It's the ones you can't see that you gotta worry about. CAuse soon as you get close enough, some juiced up chrome dome gonna steal your ass and eat you like a snack. Or so her Nana tells her. It's been enough for her to keep the boosters at arms length.

Desperate times, Nana. Real fucking desperate​

Softly spoken Russian slips past her lips, while her eyes shift further from the center of activity below. Watching curiously, her eyes moved outwards. Scanning the mounds of twisted metal and scrap for movement or signs of life. Up, down, here and there. She thought she was the only one at this honeypot tonight.

Then she saw them. @Vex Kiranova @Michael West @Ogoun Dambe

The fuck was NCPD doing, rolling up like that? A half smirk cracked at one corner of her mouth as she watched the 3 Amigos down yonder. She didn't recognize faces yet, just @Michael West cop clothes. She'd missed the initial contact tween the 3 down below. Damn the luck, she would've gotten a good laugh had she seen @Ogoun Dambe with a lawdog dead to rights and let him walk away. Any chance she could to give the powers that be the finger, she was a fan. Big fan.

The gunfight that was her whole reason for being here was going along swimmingly. People were keeling over dead left, right and sideways. Omega ripped her attention away from the 3 Amigos to force herself to remember that she really can't steal everything. Least, so says Nana. She can hear her Nana's nagging in her mind, which elicits an overly dramatic eyeroll from the runner.

As the bodies start hitting the floor, it seems the 2nd Wave appears! No way...Could she really get so lucky?! She bit at her top lip and considered options. 2 vans had pulled up. Swat or something. Guys kitted out with some serious firepower. What if the cops came in, guns blazin and wasted every ganger down there...She started counting the number of gangers down there shooting the place up to see how big the score could be.

The hell was he doing? @Vex Kiranova had moved while she'd been day dreaming of scavving from the dead boosters. No fucking way, he was going after the most teched out of em all. She watched while Vex poked round on Lolipop's head. No doubt looking for his port to take a peek and see what kinda goodies were hidden inside. Just like a Crackers Jacks box!

She stood up then, turning her attention to finding the fastest path down. That part was easy. It was once on the ground that caused her concern and held her in place. There wasn't a molecule in her that wasn't raging while her eyes bore into the top of Vex's head. In the moment, she only saw someone taking what she considered her score, and all she could do was watch and steam. Story of her fuckin life in her head. But she also understood that going down naked only ended one way. She had no plans on dying tonight.

Slow and steady wins the race, huh Nana...​

Her Russian escaped on the wind. Her eyes stayed glued on @Vex Kiranova . She wasn't gonna go be all dumb and confront him down there. But she could be pissed off and hope there would still be something worth her time when the dust cleared.
 
The Maelstromer was a blur, like vapor on the wind, then Risers felt napalm tear through his face as a mantis blade knocked his rifle aside and rended his flesh. His head whipped back as he stumbled, the blade slicing clean through before bouncing hard off the subdermal armor laced beneath his left eye. There was no time. He fought through the pain, willing the three blades buried beneath his left knuckles to eject down between his fingers, his opposite hand still wrenched tight around the grip of his rifle.

The Maelstromer's head snapped to some mental target on Risers' neck, his second mantis blade zipping back through the air for a finishing strike just as Risers threw his razor-sharp left hook. Meat and bone and metal splattered the ground at their feet as the claws passed through with a single war cry. The Maelstromer stumbled back, but not far enough to spare himself a bladed backhand that tore away what was left of his jaw. With a hellish screech the borged freak stumbled back, grabbing at the blended strips of cables, flesh and teeth hanging from his palate. Without a thought, Risers lifted his rifle and squeezed the trigger twice - summoning forth two smoking holes in the psycho's chest that sent him crashing backward into some junker sedan.

The borg writhed in its own blood, snapped its eyes toward Risers and then fell silent when his head burst like a pudding filled balloon with one final report of the Red Chromer's rifle. Ghostly red images sprang across his vision just then, telling him he wasn't pretty anymore but that the subdermal armor held enough to mean he wasn't immediately dying - so he turned again to the barricade of steel between himself and the rest of Lollipop's guild of fucking freaks.

It was just in time to see Lollipop himself laughing as he turned a corner and made a break for the heart of the junkyard. Risers chased him with the last four rounds of his rifle, then slid back into the safety of the junk car's engine block.

"Reloading!" he called out, turning his rife, ejecting the magazine and stashing it in an open cargo pocket. He grabbed another from his armor-jack on the way back up and slammed it home in one smooth motion as he took in his surroundings. A few of his boys were already laying in the dust, blood spilling from more holes than he could count - but Dust was still in it, her head dripping with sweat as she fired into the crowd of freaks.

"What the fuck, I thought someone tagged Lollipop! I saw his signal go dark!" he cried out to one of his CDS boys, who was tucked behind a pile of wheel wells.

"I did too! Must have ghosted it with one of the other freaks!" fuck, fuck FUCK! He wanted that motormouth psycho fuck flatlined. He was about to give the order to do just that when he saw dark shadow slide in behind the Maelstrom lines (@Vex Kiranova ). What the fuck was that? New contact? Risers popped out of cover and laid another four rounds into the area just to be sure. This was getting out of fucking hand.

No sooner had that thought crossed his mind than did Faust's avatar flash into his vision - a holocall from wherever the fuck he was. He ducked back into cover and answered with a thought.

"Bossman, you are about to have a lot of fucking trouble" Faust's voice was tense and Risers could hear rushing air from his end of the line, "I was able to delta out with the van, but we passed a shit ton of black-whites and badge armor closing off the streets. I don't think you'll be able to get through with just the fast movers."

"Fuck me, great fucking news Faust. What else, you fucking my girlfriend?"

"Negative, Bossman. Want me to make the call to the Red Room, get the rest of CDS down here-

"-Fuck that, enough heat as it is. Get the guns back to Watson and don't look back. You take all the Lacers with you?"

"Just the one driving this piece of shit, the rest are still on the street."

"Flick me the deets on where you saw the badges" then he hung up. Seconds later he was staring at a holomap he summoned in his full vision, studying every block around the junkyard as Faust's deets rolled in. Fuck this was bad. Faust was right, the pigs had closed off the streets - the cars would be more trouble than they are worth. No, he had something else in mind. He mapped out a quick route, then brought up the contact for one of the several True Believers he knew hung out at the Chrome Cross in Vista. Quickly he wrote a message.

//Need a stomp on the Valentions at the H3 Megabuilding. 20 min. Bring iron\\

With the message sent, he gave a quick gesture to the rest of the Red Chromers - touching his knuckles to the top of his head three times.

"Link in!" he assumed Dust would understand, but he knew the rest of CDS would. In short order they popped into a joined call with their internal agents so that they could all hear one another without speaking a physical word. "Alright, shits fucked. Faust saw the bacon boys setting up a perimeter. We have to call Lollipop a loss and get a fucking move on, but the cars will just slow us down at this point." he flicked the map he'd drawn out to the rest of the chromers. It was a layout of the Junkyard and the next several blocks heading east - an orange line snaked through the red outlines of the street outside, then into a series of apartments, shops and abandoned streets until it stopped at the edge of Heywood and Vista.

"We bound in two teams across the street outside to this set of apartments and blow our way inside. Fuck our way through anybody who steps up, all the way to the H3. I got someone rounding up the True Believers at The Cross to start a stomp before we get there. This close to christ-humper blocks, every Julio and Pedro is gonna turn out for that party. When we get there we scatter and fade individually. On your fucking own after that." he looked around and waited for any light-speed comments to cut through before continuing,

"let's get our shit rocking. Dust you're with me, Jax and Nero - lay down covering fire for our retreat out of the junkyard. Horn, burn out the cars on the way. Let's move!" he shot up and the rest of the movement was quick. The world rattled behind him as covering fire was laid down, but he didn't turn back more than to check that Dust was on his ass. He slid across the front of one of the Red Chrome cars and bolted for the exit. He didn't turn back as two incendiaries were tossed through the windows of the cars and two more fires exploded to life in the night.
 
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By the time her rifle clicked empty Evi was quietly grateful she'd listened to Risers and tucked a couple extra magazines in her chest rig. A moment to reload meant a moment to breathe, and she swiped the back of her free hand across her forehead to wipe some of the sweat away, smearing dirt in its place. When she looked out across the junkyard again she didn't immediately put rounds down range, squinting as she tried her best to size up what was left of Maelstrom. They had to have zeroed most of these fuckers by now, but the rounds were still flying.

There was shouting to her right, and she turned her head in that direction just enough to catch sight of the same shadow Risers must have, because he sent more lead in that direction without a second thought. It couldn't be the badges, but if not them, then who the fuck else? Whatever was going on here was a helluva lot more than coincidence, enough that not even the pigs she knew were of any use. She was going to kick Greaves' fucking teeth in.

It was somewhere between that thought and the next few trigger pulls that she heard Risers call out again, and she'd spent enough time around the C.D.S to know what he meant. She also knew it wasn't going to be good, whatever he had to say, but anything she could have thought up wasn't as bad as the absolute fucking mess this had turned into. And having to leave Lollipop alive on top of it? That shit was personal now, if it hadn't been already.

Something changed, then. It felt like she'd been dropped back into her body all of a sudden, everything light and buzzing. Evi could feel her hands shaking slightly, and she tightened her grip on her rifle to stop it. Nerves, that was all, but knowing didn't make it better. She exhaled unsteadily as she studied the map in the few seconds she had to, shrugging off the looks she was probably imagining.

Then they were moving, and the night exploded for a second time. She was thankful for the adrenaline dump then, as her feet carried her faster than she'd ever gone before, her ears ringing as the chattering of gunfire drowned out anything else. She felt herself jump the hood of the car, but it was like her body moved of its own accord rather than anything to do with her. Risers glanced back at her then, and she tried to muster a smile, though whatever it had been faded when she saw the blood covering the side of his face as an explosion flashed behind them.

Shit. But that was a problem for later, whenever that came, because now they had a shooting gallery of pigs to get through. One shitshow at a time.
 
Gorge moved with purpose, his heavy footsteps barely audible despite his size. The Juice amplified everything—the soft crunch of gravel under his boots, the distant hum of a drone, the faint clink of a glass bottle being kicked over by a careless Maelstrom ganger. He spotted them first: three Maelstrom gangers standing near a pile of disassembled exo-suits, their red optics glowing faintly in the dim light. One leaned against a rusted car, lazily toying with a cyberarm they'd likely ripped from some poor bastard. Another was modifying a submachine gun, while the third scanned their surroundings, his augmented eyes twitching with hyperactive movements.

Gorge didn't wait. The Juice demanded action. He charged forward like a cyber-enhanced freight train, his prosthetic arm raised high.

The first ganger barely had time to turn his head before Gorge's fist connected. The impact shattered his reinforced jaw and sent him crashing into the pile of exo-suits. Metal shards scattered like shrapnel, and the ganger slumped lifelessly to the ground. The second ganger dropped his SMG in panic, scrambling for a backup weapon. Gorge was on him before he could react. His cybernetic hand clamped down on the ganger's shoulder, crushing it with an audible crunch. The ganger screamed—a sound quickly silenced as Gorge drove his knee into his chest, cracking ribs and rupturing his lungs.The third ganger finally reacted, raising his heavily modified pistol. He fired, but Gorge barely flinched as the round ricocheted off his subdermal armor. The Juice dulled the pain and amplified his rage. With a roar, Gorge closed the distance and grabbed the ganger's gun arm, twisting it until the servos in the cyberware screeched and snapped. The ganger howled, but Gorge wasn't done.

"You call this strength? Evolution?!" Gorge growled, his voice dripping with contempt.

Direct Tags: @Michael West @Vex Kiranova
Adjacent Tags: @Cyrus "Risers" @Omega @Evi "Dustoff" Ashford
 



There was something slightly anxiety inducing about hacking a dead man's neuroport in the middle of an active improvised firing range. The two broken chrome junkies he was using as cover only served to make things even more comfortable, and the scent of organs and newly released bowels really set his heart at ease. He could barely see through the miasma of smoke born of rifle and energy weapon fire that had quickly choked this section of the junkyard.

"So, he's definitely dead." Nyx sounded amused.

"Half his face is gone, no shit." Vex's brow furrowed as they delved into the swiftly decaying cerebral meat. It should have been a simple thing to ping the bug's origin, given Nyx had pinned the thing's ID down. He looked, she looked, they looked together, and they found nothing but empty spaces, loose blurred scrolls, and debauchery of the most heinous kind.

The runner's stomach was starting to turn by the time he retracted the usb and found himself ripped back into reality. "Not our guy."

"Lolipop didn't make the bug?"

"No, I don't think this is Lollipop." Vex's head turned curiously as he peered into the mass of blood and cybernetics that was once the Maelstromer's face. "Nah, see, not enough eyes. Probably switched tags with a buddy."

Vex glanced up over one of the crates he was hiding behind. He saw what was left of the Maelstromer's fleeing further into the graveyard, the strange gang they'd been fighting tailing after them in hot pursuit.

"Wrong guy Mike. Must've switched tags with one of his buddies. Looks like they're heading deeper into the yard, I'm gonna pursue. How's Gorge do -" Vex paused as he glanced through the smoke and caught a glimpse of @Ogoun Dambe twisting a gangoon's arm out of his socket. The runner's eyes darted to the two broken bodies nearby, an uneasy smile slipping across his face. "Gorge is doing great."

Vex jumped up to his feet, turned toward the junkyard's interior, and started to walk. He'd taken two steps when he caught the gleam of @Cyrus "Risers"'s rifle amidst the gloom. His brow furrowed instinctively as he wondered just what that guy was aiming at, there weren't any Maelstromers still breathing on this side anymore - and that was when the first round hit him.

It felt like a strong punch hit his right arm. There was a sharp ping as it plugged a small hole through the metal and then ricocheted into one of the nearby bodies. The second round tore into the crate at his right, the third into the crate at his left, and the fourth through his waist. This time the round found some purchase, chunking straight through the joint where the subdermal layer connected to the hip and was thinner. It passed through the skin, then metal, through blood and fat, then punched an exit hole out the back.

Vex dropped like a stone, screaming expletives all the way and over the comm to @Michael West. "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! OH... oh shit, oh damn, I -"

Nyx's tone was sharp, demanding. "Stop freaking out! It went in and passed through clean! Nothing vital, we're fine, just bleeding!"

It certainly didn't feel like they were fine. Vex's entire midriff was on fire, and he felt his shirt getting warm and damp as blood wept freely from each of the wounds. "Stims, opiates, painkillers, something!" He hissed into the rusting pile of scrap he'd collapsed into.

Nyx complied, willing the drug delivery systems wired into Vex's spine to dump a concoction of 'dorphs and coagulants into his veins. A few seconds passed of Vex writhing in pain amidst the refuse before the drugs were flowing through his bloodstream. The pain dulled to a slight itch; the panic grated into an easily ignored afterthought.

He wrenched himself up onto all fours, grabbed his weapons, and grumbled up to his feet, glancing off in the direction of the man that had shot him. Who the fuck was this guy taking potshots at strangers? Yeah, maybe they were third-partying a shootout, but you didn't just shoot at some guy who was CLEARLY not a borged out freak. "No one has any fucking manners these days! One of those red assholes shot me! Who the fuck are they?!" The runner snarled into the comms, "I'm zeroing that prick, along with Lollipop and the rest of this circus show. Gangoon pricks think they're hot shit - I WILL SHOW THEM HOT SHIT!"

"A little ambitious today, aren't we?"

"A little fuckin' smart today, aren't we?"

It was around this time that the Red Chromers started sending bullets back his way again. Vex pinned himself behind cover this time as rounds crashed ineffectually all around him. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the first unfortunate chromer he saw running, ((@Evi "Dustoff" Ashford)) and clicked his tongue.

"I want to do it," he spat before Nyx had a chance to act. Nyx obliged, allowing Vex control over her systems which served a dual purpose as his cyberdeck. Nyx pinged the signal the Red Chromers were using, hopped aboard it like a tick leaping from a branch, followed one of the tendrils toward the woman's neuroport, bounced it forward until she found the gangoon she was pretty sure had shot Vex (@Cyrus "Risers"), and trilled with satisfaction. At Vex's mental direction, she unleashed a flurry of tailor-made scrap code into that signal. The code was a series of thousands of commands designed to be interpreted by most cyberware, all of the commands contradicting one another. The results could vary from total ignorance of the attack to seizures, depending on the recipient's internal defenses.

Anyone with decent ICE or paying enough attention to cut the comm could ignore such an attack, but those unprepared would be due for a rude awakening.

 
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