"Shit! They actually walked right into my trap! I thought they'd try storming the checkpoint or something. Never expected to catch them here!"
The one commanding the temporary Barghest checkpoint at the stadium was a man named Bennett—a common name, but in Dogtown, and in Barghest, it could only mean one man: Chester Bennett, former colonel of the New United States military.
Known for his brutal tactics and complete disregard for discipline, Bennett was now wielding a high-tech firearm, unloading rounds at two intruders his team had cornered near the combat mechs.
"Fucking Intelligence Bureau! Fuck the NUSA! Fuck all of you!"
In Bennett's vision, the two figures darting between the combat drones had their faces flickering—an effect of projected disguise chips distorting under rapid movement. He didn't care what they looked like. The way they moved told him everything.
These were trained operatives. No question.
Bennett had technically heard Hansen's orders: capture the Intelligence Bureau agents alive, retrieve the stolen chip, and use the prisoners for leverage. Hansen wanted to avoid open conflict with the Bureau—for now.
But Bennett had no interest in that plan.
Not because he disliked Hansen—on the contrary, his loyalty was absolute. But this was just how he operated.
Back when he served in the military, Bennett was infamous for his lack of restraint and sadistic tendencies. If Hansen hadn't intervened, he would've been court-martialed for war crimes. After defecting to Barghest, his behavior only got worse. His subordinates respected him—but with a healthy dose of fear.
A man like Bennett belonged in a crew like Animals, not Barghest. He was a blunt instrument—and he was unleashed.
He'd already forgotten about the chip. All he saw were targets. He ordered his men to fire at will—consequences be damned.
Perhaps this was precisely why Hansen stationed him at one of Barghest's strongholds like the stadium: no one expected the thieves to come here. But they had—and Bennett was ready.
He didn't even stop to wonder why they were here. Just ran the facial data, got a 60% match, and said "fuck it."
And somehow, it paid off.
Meanwhile, on the other end of the comms, Karl hurled an EMP grenade at the combat mech that had opened fire on him, while asking Lied curiously:
"You know this guy? Looks like he's commanding Barghest here. Feels like this is personal for him."
"Bennett. Chester Bennett. Former Bureau detainee. We had him for abusing his own troops, letting his squad go wild, even had suspected ties with Arasaka. We sent it all upstairs. If Hansen hadn't pulled strings, he'd still be rotting in a cell."
"Huh. That explains the warm welcome. Went straight to full-auto the moment he saw us."
The mech sparked and collapsed from the EMP burst, and Karl coolly fired a charged shot from his Kenshin, blowing its core apart.
"Good thing we've got a decent vantage point."
He glanced toward the second floor of the stadium.
"That's the storage room, right? Elevator down from there leads to our route. Lied, you going first?"
"Together."
Lied replied, shooting an incoming grenade mid-air. The explosion lit up his now-settled dark brown face, his features clearly illuminated. Then, with agile precision, he flipped backward, bracing against a weapons counter, and launched himself up to the second floor—diving straight into the open storage room.
"Not bad, Lied," Karl commented mid-fight.
As another grenade rolled toward him, Karl inhaled sharply.
Boom.
The blast scattered shrapnel in every direction. In that moment of chaos, Karl exhaled—and his body shimmered, vanishing from view.
The Barghest troops barely had time to blink.
In the blink of an eye, Karl reappeared at the warehouse entrance, right where Lied had gone.
"No need to see me off."
He gave a faint smile.
Bennett reacted fast.
Seeing his prey about to disappear behind cover, he activated his Sandevistan, dropped his spent tech rifle, and drew his backup weapon—a Tsunami Nue kinetic handgun—from his hip.
He fired.
Bennett had seen this trick before: the sudden acceleration of a Sandevistan often left the user momentarily disoriented afterward. That brief gap—that one instant of post-overclocked stutter—was enough for a bullet to punch straight through the skull.
He'd used this move in wartime to kill dozens. And now, he was doing it again.
Bennett tracked the bullet with enhanced vision, even as he sprinted forward, pulling a combat knife from his leg holster. If the bullet missed, he'd follow it up in close quarters.
He was right behind the bullet.
Then, it vanished.
Bennett's Sandevistan shut down. Time returned to normal. But he didn't stop moving forward—he was still committed to the charge.
Did I get him?!
His neural HUD confirmed his visual input.
And then… he froze.
His pupils shrank.
The four bullets—stopped mid-air.
Held… between the fingers of an outstretched hand.
The slugs were glowing red from friction, tips slightly flattened, steaming in the night air. But they didn't move an inch. It was as if raw kinetic death had just hit an immovable wall.
Like blades striking a mountain.
"Nice move."
A low, casual voice entered Bennett's ears.
He instinctively slowed down, stunned. His brain tried to process what he was seeing.
Then he looked up.
On that previously blurred face—now stabilizing—he saw a clear, sharp smile.
Gentle. But with a hint of mockery.
"You've got some skills. Let'
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🔥🦾 CYBERPUNK: THE RELENTLESS 🦾🔥
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s spar properly sometime."
Before Bennett could respond, the man was gone.
The only sound left behind was the soft, distinct clink of four bullets dropping to the ground.
The man… was gone.
A cold sweat broke out across Bennett's back.
He's not Bureau.