She ignored Polaris' risk warnings, rolled down the car window, and enjoyed the cool breeze while watching the street outside with a pleasant mood.
Surveillance? It's all done by AI. She only needed to look at the highlighted buildings and people in her prosthetic eye to know the distribution of Sixth Street Gang members in the district.
The car just made a few targeted turns in the River Valley District before heading toward the Santo Domingo neighborhood.
The core power of the Sixth Street Gang is actually in the Santo Domingo area, and the overall force is also divided into several factions. Strictly speaking, the Sixth Street Gang in the River Valley District and the Sixth Street Gang in Santo Domingo can't even be considered the same group.
As the territory expanded and the manpower increased, a loosely-formed violent organization like a gang inevitably faces organizational chaos, splits, and other such issues.
But considering that the key figures Mercer wanted to take out were almost all core members of the River Valley District, it was necessary to consider whether the people from Santo Domingo might come to the district for support.
However, just as the car approached the border area between Santo Domingo and the River Valley District, Rebecca suddenly pointed out the window and said, "Mercer, look."
"What's up? You want to lend a hand?" Mercer saw a group of teenagers who looked about fourteen or fifteen, pushing and swearing at another boy who was alone.
In just a few words, the young thugs, who looked very 'streetwise,' kicked the boy to the ground, followed by a rain of punches and kicks.
Rebecca hesitated for a moment, then turned to him: "Just a little something on the side."
"Then hit them with a burst," Mercer smiled, picking up the Iron Gall she had put aside.
Rebecca took the Iron Gall, grinned, and picked it up. Polaris cleverly understood their intentions, slowed down proactively, and moved the car toward the side of the road.
To Rebecca and Mercer's surprise, the boy being beaten suddenly burst into laughter.
He laughed loudly while being hit, as if he were crazy. If he hadn't been free from obvious implants, everyone would have thought he was having a cyberpsychotic episode.
The group of thugs exchanged confused looks, even lightening their blows—people pleading, going berserk, but not many were seen going nuts like this.
"What the hell are you laughing at? Dumbass!" The tallest thug got embarrassed and suddenly kicked the boy hard several more times, enraged.
Yet, the boy only stared at his face, letting out more laughter, blood dripping from his face, while his bright eyes just wouldn't leave the thug's face.
He didn't say anything, yet inexplicably made the thug's skin crawl.
"Fuck, whatever, this idiot's brain must be messed up," a thug concluded.
But the apparent leader of the thugs felt provoked and suddenly pulled out a 'Affordable Firepower' one-time printed pistol from his back waist.
These one-time printed pistols looked gaudy with cheap plastic exteriors, like toy guns.
"Damn it, wanna try laughing again?" The thug leader directly pushed the gun against the boy's head.
The boy continued laughing, but before he could say anything, a loud shotgun roar suddenly rang out from behind the thugs.
"Hey! You bunch of idiots, get lost before I blow your heads off!"
Rebecca's defiant voice echoed as the Iron Gall in her hand still smoked, and the bullets struck the ground near the thugs, creating a dense cluster of bullet holes.
One thug was almost hit by a ricochet, causing a shiver throughout his body, turning his legs to jelly.
"Who the hell are you?" The thug leader turned around, saw Rebecca's face—which didn't look much older than theirs—and raised his one-time pistol with an indignant expression.
But then, his head suddenly hurt, as if something had seared it, the needle-like pain made him cry out unconsciously, his head reeled, and when he came to his senses, he was already lying on the ground.
Mercer had hacked his head the instant he attempted to raise the gun. Hacking into such an unprotected brain-computer interface took less than 0.1 seconds.
Because the operation of the Magic Puppet Program also required time, it delayed him momentarily before he collapsed.
Seeing this, Rebecca got even angrier, pushed open the car door, quickly stepped forward, and stomped hard on the hand holding the one-time pistol, crushing both it and the thug leader's hand under her foot.
A little pressure and the plastic pistol, along with the thug's hand, crunched loudly.
"Ah!!" The thug let out a heartrending scream: "My hand! My hand!"
"Your hand, huh? You dare point a gun at me? You must have a death wish!" Rebecca viciously continued to apply force until she thoroughly crushed both the thug's hand and the one-time pistol to bits.
This wasn't an exaggeration; Rebecca first crushed the pistol, and then all the components of the one-time pistol ended up mixed with the guy's hand.
Rebecca was genuinely angry—she wasn't afraid of having a gun pointed at her, but Mercer was right behind her. If the punk fired accidentally, and a stray bullet hit Mercer... he didn't even have subdermal armor!