Silvery moonlight spilled through the black clouds, glazing the ground with a sheen like quicksilver.
Lucy sat at the back of the truck bed, her feet dangling just a few dozen centimeters above the rough asphalt. The black sheer stockings on her long legs caught the moonlight and shimmered. The satchel beside her was already emptied, and the night wind brushed the colored fringe at her brow.
In that moment—even with armed pickup trucks still giving chase—she felt herself slip into a strange calm.
It was like the hush that follows wild laughter: everything she'd wanted to vent had been poured into that earlier bout of "art as explosion," and what remained in the depths of her heart was only peace and quiet.
Even though their situation was still tight, she found she didn't really care anymore.
Maybe worried she'd yank another explosive from her bag and lob it onto the road, the pursuing pickups wisely opened up some distance. The guards tailed from far back, afraid that if they pressed too close they'd end up in a fiery wreck the next second.
They were still afraid, but they refused to let go—perhaps convinced, in their stubborn little minds, that Lin Mo and Lucy were acting in concert with those marauders.
Most of the main force was tied up at the docks. These two little mice wouldn't have backup left, surely.
But the company men were Arasaka.
In Night City, no one dared lock horns with Arasaka out in the open. Those two fugitives were from a different world.
As long as the guards pinged their location, reinforcements would keep pouring in.
That thought was what kept the pickup crews glued to the truck's tail, treating the pair's flight as a final, futile struggle.
They hunkered in their cabs and didn't dare show their heads. That "terrorist" was sitting right there in the open truck bed, but they didn't fire.
Firing wouldn't help—and the reason was simple: their target wouldn't be stupid enough to sit there and wait. The moment any head poked out, that white-haired woman would duck inside and drop the rear gate; ordinary bullets weren't punching through armored plating.
Tech weapons might, with electromagnetically accelerated rounds.
But there are tech weapons and tech weapons. Tech pistols and tech shotguns aren't meant for long range, and even then might not punch through thick alloy plates.
As for a tech rifle…
Single-shot, high power, low capacity—slap a scope on it and you're basically talking a sniper platform.
That wasn't the kind of hardware wage-grade security got issued.
…
Bored, Lucy finally asked without looking back, "Where's the support and rear-guard team? We've come this far already. They're still not showing up?"
At the wheel, Lin Mo just smiled and kept quiet. Instead, his voice came over the comms to Lucy:
[If you wanna know where they are, why not ask right on the channel?]
Before Lucy could answer, Maine's booming voice cut in:
[Don't get antsy, Lucy. You really think those few pickups are a problem for that kid Lin Mo? He may look like he's in a hurry to run, but he's actually figuring out how to max the profit.]
[What's that supposed to mean?] Lucy asked, easing a little the moment she heard him.
Comms don't usually reach that far. They'd already put some distance between themselves and the docks; if the support team hadn't followed, she wouldn't be hearing Maine at all.
[The headache isn't the cars on your tail—it's the reinforcements on the way,] Maine warned.
[If we blow these trucks now, we're basically telling Arasaka we've got backup. Then they'll send more, not fewer.]
Lucy understood at once.
[So you're waiting for the reinforcements to arrive, then wiping them all at once and slipping out afterward?]
[Heh. Not bad, Lucy.] Maine laughed.
Lucy's lips twitched, but she said nothing more on the channel.
"Shut the tailgate," Lin Mo said aloud at last. "Once their reinforcements show, we'll have to punch out fast."
Lucy nodded, got up, and swung the rear door closed. The outside light vanished, leaving the cargo bay lit only by strips along the ceiling—dim, but enough.
The six unconscious cyberpsychos still lay inside. Lucy stepped carefully over them and slid into the passenger seat.
"Where are we headed?" she asked, glancing at the passing streets.
"Away from company eyes. Somewhere sparse, good for a fight. Santo Domingo is perfect—less foot traffic and outside Arasaka's main reach," Lin Mo said evenly.
"You really did think of everything," Lucy said, a little awed.
"Not as good as you make it sound. I'm nowhere near foolproof—just… thorough."
He'd simply used the simulator to stage the night in advance. Everything was unfolding on script. Nothing worth bragging about.
"Either way… thanks for tonight," Lucy said suddenly, turning to study his profile, her expression soft and sincere.
Lin Mo chuckled, shrugged. "See? That I didn't plan for. If I had, I would've had my phone recording already."
"Heh."
Lucy smiled for no clear reason, shook her head, and lifted her gaze to the moon without another word.
By now, she'd learned: the boy in the driver's seat always sidestepped sentimental talk on purpose. Maybe he wasn't used to it; maybe he didn't want the person thanking him to feel burdened. He'd steer around it with a joke and never answer head-on.
But she'd said what she needed to say, and she wasn't the melodramatic type. No need to keep repeating it.
She looked at the distant moon and thought of her own near-deranged joy earlier. A faint, happy curve returned to her lips.
There was one more thing the boy probably hadn't foreseen.
That lingering shadow in her heart—that old fear—had been blown away with those "fireworks." The dread and helplessness she'd carried toward Arasaka… were gone.
She'd saved people, blown up Arasaka's playground, and walked out without a scratch.
It didn't get better than that.
Lucy gazed at the moon, calm and serene, with far less of that old backward-looking ache. Even the dreams and obsessions she once clung to felt lighter now.
Before, she wanted to escape—to flee somewhere beyond the world's reach, away from the past.
But after the boy's meticulously arranged operation, she'd started making peace with herself.
Unthinkingly, Lucy glanced again at Lin Mo's hands on the wheel.
Knowing how he thinks, maybe he had considered this outcome.
He just chose not to say it out loud.
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