Leon Black never imagined he'd one day face the very protagonist he once controlled in a game—only this time, it wasn't just pixels on a screen. It was all real. In the virtual world, it was thrilling. In reality, it was overwhelming. Bullets didn't bounce off walls harmlessly, and lives didn't reset with a save point.
A black Delamain taxi sped ahead on the cracked streets of Night City, weaving recklessly through traffic. Several pursuit vehicles tailed closely behind, one of which matched the same model as Leon's team vehicle. A mounted light machine gun roared atop the vehicle, spraying rounds without restraint. It was as if ammunition cost nothing. The wild firing path shredded walls, storefronts, and vehicles alike. If one listened carefully, they could hear screams—innocent people caught in the crossfire. But no one cared.
This was Night City.
The weak were trampled without pause. Unless you had backing—preferably from a gang or a megacorp—no one would step in to deliver justice. Unfortunately, Arasaka was one of the biggest "gangs" around, and if you got in their way, you died for nothing.
"Target locked," Lena Fox's cool voice reported through the comms.
Fully immersed in her netrunning rig, Lena was in complete hacker mode. In this state, her voice lost all warmth, reduced to a sharp, analytical cadence. Only through this intense focus could she synchronize fully with the neural cabin and push her cyberdeck to its limit.
If full cyberspace immersion was required, she'd need specialized equipment—coolant tanks, breathing apparatus, neural stabilizers. Leon never liked that part. Every deep dive into the Net put strain on the brain. But in an age of hypertech, neuro-implants, smart weapons, and braindances more intense than reality, having a skilled hacker wasn't just useful—it was essential.
Leon did his best to shorten their mission times. The longer Lena stayed in deep sync, the more likely permanent damage could occur. But they had no choice. It was precisely this operational efficiency that earned his squad high marks with Okada Wakako.
Leon sighed and cracked his neck. "Time to say hello," he muttered. "Let's see what the real V is made of."
Da-da-da-da-da!
The drone's built-in mini-gun fired. A line of bullets peppered the Delamain taxi.
"Beep. Vehicle damage: 30%," the onboard voice calmly reported, as a virtual chauffeur in a suit appeared on the HUD.
"Damn it! Faster, Delamain! Jackie, hold on!" V shouted, clutching his wounded partner.
Jackie, his body slumped and soaked in blood, didn't respond. They had barely escaped the nightmare of Konpeki Plaza. Jackie, injured and desperate, had plugged the mission's relic chip into his own neural port to protect it. The price? His nervous system was pushed to its limit. He barely made it into the vehicle before passing out.
And V… V was still reeling from the shock of what he'd witnessed—Yorinobu Arasaka murdering his own father, Saburo, right in front of him.
That wasn't just murder. That was a coup.
Even more infuriating, no one around Yorinobu had dared to question him. The guards, the assistants—they stood silently, too afraid or too obedient to resist. V's mind swirled with chaos, but in reality, things were about to get worse.
Suddenly, a loud thud rocked the car.
Both V and Jackie were flung to the left as the Delamain shuddered violently.
The central HUD displayed a flashing warning: Front Left Tire Destroyed.
V's eyes widened. "What the hell?!"
These tires were no joke. Reinforced with layered alloys and smart polymer treads, they were built to withstand high-caliber fire. That's why Delamain was the most trusted rental service in Night City—built-in medical support, AI-level driving, and bulletproof everything.
It had been a Delamain vehicle that pulled them out of Konpeki's inferno. Without it, they would've been swiss cheese by now.
But Ethan Cross, perched on a rooftop with a custom modded weapon, knew all about Delamain's classifications. This was a Silver-Tier unit—top-tier for civilians, but nothing armor-piercing rounds couldn't deal with.
Still, Delamain's evasive maneuvers were top-notch. As soon as the damage was registered, the vehicle began weaving erratically, making follow-up shots difficult.
They were now only 500 meters from the roadblock Leon Black had prepared.
Perfect distance.
The Militech Model 31—an absolute beast of a heavy machine gun—sat mounted and ready. A 3000-RPM monster with a trailing ammo belt as long as a small child. No one sane would carry it manually, yet that's exactly what Mike Taylor was doing.
The long, metallic barrel locked into place. Leon raised his hand, then snapped his fingers.
"Now."
RRRAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Mike Taylor pulled the trigger, and a wall of bullets exploded outward, tearing through pavement and anything in their way. Each 5cm round smashed into concrete, sending up plumes of dust. The ground itself seemed to roar.
"SHIT! Evasive, evasive!!" V yelled, watching in horror as an earth-dragon of destruction raced toward them.
Delamain twisted the wheel sharply to the right. The car barely dodged the barrage, metal squealing as it skimmed a barricade.
They were now less than ten meters from Leon's position.
V's eyes lit up.
An opportunity.
He raised his pistol and fired through the cracked window at the tall, dark figure standing calmly ahead.
But Leon didn't even flinch. His gaze was fixed on Jackie. He saw the blinking light at the base of the man's skull. The Relic was already inside.
Leon narrowed his eyes, lips parting just slightly.
Inside the van, Lena Fox trembled and went still. She had received the silent command.
The bullet meant for Leon never hit.
CLANG!
Mike Taylor had moved faster than anyone expected. Massive and armored, yet freakishly agile, he blurred into view and caught the bullet with his reinforced arm.
Mike's cybernetic body was over 70% machine. Rockets didn't scare him. A pistol round? It was like a mosquito bite.
As he blocked the shot, the ground beneath his feet cracked open. Concrete shattered from the sheer force of his momentum.
Mike's fists, reinforced with 'Mount Tai Arms'—legendary-tier Gorilla Arms—were capable of five-ton punches. His leg implants allowed him to dash at over 100 meters per second for short bursts. Leon had designed him as the squad's ultimate heavy-hitter.
And now, V was watching that human tank sprint toward him.
BOOM!
Mike slammed his fist into the side of the Delamain. The vehicle skidded sideways several meters. Glass cracked. Metal screamed.
Beep. Vehicle Damage: 70%.
V groaned, head slamming into the window. Even Jackie stirred from the impact.
Mike stepped back, arm smoking. The dermal plating on his knuckles was slightly grazed but already repairing, thanks to his built-in auto-repair plug-ins.
The car was still functional, but barely. Delamain, relying on pure AI reflexes, used the momentum from the punch to drift through a gap in the barricade that Lily Cross had hastily assembled with abandoned vehicles.
"Whoa! That maneuver…" Lily muttered from her spot, eyes wide. "I need to learn that…"
Mike stepped forward again, ready to finish the job.
"Hold it," Leon said calmly, raising a hand.
Mike paused mid-step. "But—"
"No need to chase."
Behind them, another convoy of Arasaka vehicles had appeared—Squad Six had arrived.
Mike deactivated his implants, the smoke rising from his calves dissipating. He walked back silently to stand behind Leon.
"You're strong," Leon muttered to himself. "But shouting your power to the world is just asking for a bullet in the back."
Leon didn't believe in showing off. To him, being effective was more important than being recognized. The squad rankings didn't matter—missions did. Let the glory-hungry kids join the ranking tournaments. Squad Seventeen stayed quiet, low-profile, and deadly.
That's why most newer recruits in the front-line divisions didn't even realize Squad Seventeen existed.
As Squad Six arrived, their leader jumped out of a similar armored vehicle, tearing off his helmet.
"What the hell is wrong with you people?!" Sasaki Rou shouted, storming toward Leon. He grabbed Leon's collar, rage etched into every line of his face.
"You useless bastards! You had ONE job!"
Leon didn't react. "If you've got time to scream, maybe use it to keep chasing."
"Don't mock me!" Sasaki snarled and pulled back his fist.
He didn't notice Leon wore the same security armor. Didn't recognize the signature black coat of Squad Seventeen.
Before the punch landed, another Squad Six member grabbed Sasaki's arm.
"Wait! He's security too! They're with us!"
"We need to keep moving if we want to catch them!"
Sasaki hesitated, still furious, but lowered his arm.
A commanding voice cut through the tension.
"Leon Black."
All heads turned. The last man to step out of the arriving vehicle was tall, broad, and bore a long diagonal scar across his face.
Aiji Wilson.
Captain of Squad Six. A former nomad who'd clawed his way up through the ranks. At 1.9 meters tall, he radiated raw force and charisma.
Despite being local-born, Wilson was now one of Arasaka's top field commanders. He rose to prominence in only three years—a feat unmatched even by Tokyo HQ's elite.
Leon gave a slight nod. "Captain Wilson."
Wilson stepped forward, arms crossed. "Letting them escape is a failure."
Leon didn't flinch. "They were smarter than expected. I didn't anticipate them slipping through the barricade like that."
Wilson studied him for a moment. "Is that so?"
He said nothing more.
But Leon knew—this wasn't the end of it.
Not by a long shot.
pàtréóñ(Gk31)