"One, two, three—four! Morning, everyone!"
Bang!
With a loud crash, the door flew open. A group of newbie out-of-town Scavs stared in utter confusion as their apartment door was kicked down. A burly man charged in first, tightly gripping a Saratoga SMG, the barrel aimed directly at them.
Before the Scavs could even react, Jack pulled the trigger and unleashed a storm of bullets.
Rounds rained down like a monsoon. The five Scavs in the room didn't even have time to reach for their weapons before being sent straight to the afterlife.
The scent of gunpowder filled the cramped room. Jack stepped in, checking the corpses on the floor, then turned to Karl.
"Honestly, Karl, you didn't have to come along for this. Just some Scavs—we could've handled it solo."
"What are you talking about? What kind of friend just sits back while you take out the trash? These Scavs in Heywood—especially the ones hanging around near the Wild Wolf Bar—are basically dumping garbage at our front door. When it's cleanup time, you lend a hand."
Though Karl had simply tagged along to watch Jack work, he spoke without the slightest hint of shame, as if he'd done half the job himself. While the two of them chatted, T-Bug cut into their comms channel:
"Alright, you two keep talking. I've already disabled the sensor traps on this end. When you see Mrs. Wells later, give her my regards. I'm off to deal with something else."
And just like that, T-Bug signed off.
These out-of-town Scavs didn't even know the lay of the land. T-Bug had cracked their traps and gear with ease—it was child's play, boring even. She'd rather spend her time on more worthwhile work.
"Is it just me, or has T-Bug been getting more badass lately?"
Jack scratched his head as he swept the Scavs' hideout. "In every way."
"You mean her skills and her attitude, huh? Well, you know how she gets after pulling all-nighters—snappy as hell. Honestly, anyone who stays up that long is gonna be cranky."
"I dunno... I feel like she might be on her—"
"You really wanna finish that sentence? If T-Bug finds out, I don't wanna see your childhood dirt projected across the lobby again."
Karl drew a line across his neck to warn Jack, reminding him of what happened to a certain blonde who pissed T-Bug off the other day.
Images of Oliver's embarrassing childhood confession being played on a loop in the dark lobby flashed in Jack's mind. He gulped and decided to shut his mouth.
Jack was a good deal older than Oliver, and that little stunt had played all night long—and still wasn't over.
"Seriously, where does T-Bug find all that stuff?"
"It's easy. Archived records, surveillance footage, community and school reports, corpo student evaluations, all that."
Karl added, "You think corpo-sponsored kids just get picked based on grades? Background, history, relationships—even their parents' info—it all gets checked."
"Yeah… Corpos."
"Yeah… Corpos."
They sighed in unison. Then, as they were about to call the NCPD—see if any ambitious officers wanted to grab the credit—Karl's phone rang. It was V.
"You free? I took a gig that might be a little much to solo. Think you can lend a hand?"
V needing backup?
That didn't sound right at all.
"There's still gigs out there you can't solo?"
Karl meant it seriously. Their squad had long surpassed average job difficulty. Even cyberpsychos weren't a problem solo. For someone like V, with extensive merc work under her belt, saying she couldn't handle a gig alone?
V asking for backup wasn't unusual—especially when she needed help with hacking or sniping, which was more T-Bug or Oliver's forte.
But now she wanted Karl and Jack?
"You planning to storm Arasaka Tower? Or hit a Militech compound?" Jack asked. "We've got IDs for one, back channels for the other—shouldn't be a big deal, right?"
"No, it's not about firefights. It's just... we need people. You know how Aldecaldos recently linked up with the 6th Street gang and NCPD, right? Well, through that connection, they bought an old 2060 model armored transport from Militech—it's called the Basilisk. And then…"
V was cut off by Karl.
"Saul's business is expanding? I thought our APCs were still with him. He bought a new one too?"
"Pretty much. Militech originally planned to donate it to some backwater nation—you know, PR stunt for 'charitable high-tech arms'. But Saul paid enough, so they sold it. Then…"
V continued, "Then a dust storm swept through the Badlands, scattered the whole convoy. Bad luck—turns out the truck carrying the Basilisk was self-driving. Lost control in the storm."
"Now Militech can't find it, even though they already took the money. All they gave Saul was a 'general area' to search. Since the Aldecaldos are running low on manpower, they asked me for help. I figured it'd be too much solo, so I'm calling you two."
V's voice over the line carried a tone of helpless frustration.
"Classic corpo move."
Jack muttered, "You think it's a setup? Like, maybe they lost it on purpose, or it never existed to begin with?"
"Nah. The 6th Street guys who brokered the deal were there—so was Mitch. They helped arrange the route. Everyone saw the thing glitch and vanish into the storm. Mitch is still kicking himself for not running over to manually pilot that truck."
"Why not ship it by rail? Don't they usually use trains for heavy armor stuff?"
Karl, who had Militech contacts and some transport experience, was curious. V explained:
"Because it was off-the-books. Militech didn't want to handle the delivery publicly. Now that it's lost, they're just pretending it's not their problem. After all—they got paid."
"Corpo 'integrity', huh…"
Karl sighed and looked at Jack, who shrugged.
What could they say?
When you deal with corpos, weird shit always happens.
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🔥🦾 CYBERPUNK: THE RELENTLESS 🦾🔥
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🛑 ALSO AVAILABLE ON PATREON:
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🤖 My Girlfriend's a Cyberpsycho—Who Knew?
🛡️ Star Wars: The Rise of Mandalore
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⚡ The Rebirth of Harry Potter
🌹 R18: Reincarnated in Her World
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