Chapter 20: This Isn't Over
"You're all fucking insane!"
Kiwi's voice cut through the team's comms, sharp with anger. Insane, they're all completely insane! Getting caught in a gang war wasn't enough? Now they know a mega-corp is involved, and they're still pushing forward? What are they, cyberpsychos?
Before she could continue, Maine's booming laugh echoed back. "Choomba, you're already in this life. What the hell are you so afraid of? You think if you play it safe, don't take risks, don't hit the corps, your life in Night City is suddenly gonna get better? Besides, if we ever want to play in the big leagues, this is the kind of shit we'll have to face sooner or later!"
"Don't worry, Kiwi! I'll protect you!" Rebecca shouted over the comms.
Kiwi fell silent. She wasn't sold on Maine's reckless philosophy, but she had to admit he had a point. Playing by the rules had never improved her life. In Night City, everyone was living on a knife's edge.
Maine's voice came again, this time directed at Rhys. "Hey, make some noise! We're almost there!"
"Noise?" Rhys looked at the locker, then pulled out one of the katanas. He tested its weight, giving it a single, swift swing.
SWOOSH—
A visible shimmer of red heat radiated from the blade, warming the hand that held it. It was a thermal katana, an Arasaka-made melee weapon. No fancy bells or whistles, no mods or decorations. Just a monomolecular steel blade that burned. It was brutally simple and brutally effective.
He slid the katana into the sheath on his back where his combat knife used to be. Then he picked up an assault rifle, turning it over in his hands. It had a distinctive parallelogram shape with sharp, angular lines. He recognized it. It was an upgraded version of the Arasaka Nowaki, the standard-issue rifle for their security forces—the HJSH-18 Masamune.
The Nowaki was available on the open market for around twenty thousand eddies. The Masamune, however, was not. You could find it on the black market, but the price was astronomical. The only legitimate way to get one was to purchase Arasaka's premium security package. That was the difference between the two corps. Militech sold you the gun and threw in the merc. Arasaka sold you the merc and threw in the gun. In the end, it was all the same shit.
Drawing the katana, Rhys held the black-and-red blade in his left hand and the Masamune in his right. He stood by the door and spoke into the comms. "Sasha, need a favor."
"No problem. You need the layout of hostiles in the chop shop, right? I'll call them out for you. But Rhys... be careful," she replied, already knowing what he wanted.
"Yeah."
"Okay, ready to start the party?" Sasha asked.
"Let's dance."
"Exit the maintenance bay, go left, then right. That's the main garage. Maine and the others will breach from the front, but to keep them from mounting a coordinated defense, you need to hit the garage first and draw their attention. Rhys, there are five targets in the garage, seven outside. When they turn to deal with you, we'll take them out."
Rhys carefully opened the door and moved in a low crouch, following the path Sasha laid out. He quickly reached the main garage and heard the 6th Street gangers talking.
"This is so fucking annoying. This whole op is making me miss the party. Heard Martin is bringing in a dozen joytoys this time!"
"Alright, cut the crap. We finish this gig, we'll have all the eddies and time in the world to party."
"I'm gonna order three this time. Last time I only got one, and she broke. Fucking usele—"
The white ganger sitting on a stool, laughing with his chooms, never finished his sentence. His head exploded in a shower of red and white. Two metal shards from the smart bullet ricocheted from inside his skull, slashing the face of the man in front of him.
In the next instant, the garage erupted in shouts.
"Contact!"
"Fuck, where'd he come from?!"
"What the hell are Loris and his crew doing?! Isn't he the deckhead Zort sent over? How did someone get in without him making a sound?!"
The 6th Street gangers, for all their bluster, were well-trained. They instantly dove for cover. One of them slammed an alarm, and the garage was flooded with screeching sirens and flashing red lights.
On the far left, a redneck ganger with a revolver spun around, looking for his teammate who'd taken cover behind the main counter, ready to coordinate a crossfire. Instead, he came face-to-face with a glowing red katana and a black shadow rushing at him.
BANG!
He reacted fast, pulling the trigger. But the bullet slammed into the flat of the blade, splitting in two and sparking off to the sides. His eyes widened in terror. The katana had been coming from the right, and he had aimed for the attacker's head. How the hell had the blade moved to the center in the blink of an eye?
Sparks showered his face. A searing pain shot across his scalp. The agony made him want to scream, but in the next second, all feeling vanished. His last coherent thought was one of utter confusion as his body was neatly sliced in two.
Bio-electric sparks arced between the two halves of the corpse. Rhys looked at the man, surprised. A 6th Street ganger with this much internal chrome? Susan had told him they didn't rely on implants.
"Shit! He's over there!"
"Light him up!"
The noise drew the attention of the remaining gangers. They popped up from their cover, guns blazing, unleashing a storm of lead at the car Rhys had ducked behind. The seven from outside had already stormed in, taking up positions to cut off any escape.
Bullets hammered against the vehicle, the sound a deafening chorus of pings and ricochets. Rhys stayed low. The car was armored, so he wasn't worried about pistol or SMG fire punching through. This was a 6th Street ride, after all. What kind of gang didn't armor their vehicles?
Still, as strong and fast as he was, he wasn't bulletproof. He didn't want to get hurt. He'd wait for them to reload, then make his move.
But as he was thinking, he heard a new sound. Not from the comms, but from... the side door. The roar of an engine.
BOOM!
A car burst through the side wall of the garage, instantly crushing a ganger who'd been hiding behind a metal rack. The chaos was absolute. A massive figure leaped from the driver's seat, pouncing on the nearest ganger like a predator.
"Fuck you, 6th Street!"
Maine's roar was followed by the sickening crunch of his iron fist smashing a man's head into the concrete wall.
From the passenger window, Rebecca leaned out, her crimson optics scanning for targets as she sprayed the room with her SMG. A 6th Street ganger raised his weapon, aiming for Maine's back, but before he could fire, he grunted, and his gun swiveled, unloading into his own comrades.
Inside the car, Sasha took a deep breath, her body burning hot from the exertion. All she wanted right now was to go home and lie in a bathtub full of ice.
Kiwi watched from the side, her pupils contracting. So it's true. Cyberpsychosis.
She turned her head just in time to see a figure leap from behind the other car. Rhys flew three meters through the air, his thermal katana scything downwards in a fiery red arc. He landed as another 6th Street ganger fell in two pieces. In a blur that Kiwi's optics could barely track, he was on the next target.
"..."
Kiwi's gaze hardened. She leaned out the window, and a wave of heat began to radiate from her own body. Her eyes narrowed.
"This isn't over," she muttered.
As the words left her lips, the youngest, most panicked-looking 6th Street ganger in the far corner of the room went completely limp.
Kiwi had entered the fight.