Beep.
The sound of a holographic phone being connected echoed in the stillness of the night.
"Has the thing been plugged into the Dogtown network? What's going on?" A deep male voice rumbled from the other end of the line, calm but heavy with authority.
Beneath the starless night sky, a woman leaned lazily against a car. She was dressed in a crisp suit that clung perfectly to her frame, spotless patent leather heels reflecting a sharp gleam beneath the pale glow of the streetlights. The gold plating on her prosthetic hand shimmered faintly, polished to a mirror finish. Every finger joint flexed with an unnatural precision—both beautiful and terrifying.
"Done," she replied, her tone cool and casual, as though everything was under control. "Looks like the fight's breaking out with the Netherhounds. As for Hansen… still giving one of his pathetic speeches. What a scumbag."
She flicked her hand in annoyance, driving away a cluster of buzzing flies drawn to the reeking corpse nearby. The body had already been gutted by scavengers, hollowed out like a carcass in a butcher's shop.
Moments later, encrypted information streamed from the Dogtown network into her ear implant, relayed by her superiors.
"We've confirmed it. Someone from Night City headquarters is involved in this treacherous affair."
The woman's cybernetic eyes flickered, irises glowing a sharp electric blue as new data flooded her vision.
"Abernathy's been riding high lately," she sneered. "That cousin of hers is desperate, wagging her tail in front of the higher-ups, trying to steal my spotlight. We still have several regional client orders pending, and if we don't lock down this Dogtown deal, it'll all collapse."
The voice on the other end continued, tone clipped and businesslike.
"You're on the promotion list for this counterintelligence human resources analysis review."
Her lips curved into a faint smile. "Really? That's great news." Her voice was smooth, with a faint twang that made her words both pleasant and unnervingly steady.
Her boss pressed on:
"Hansen wants us to lose business. This shipment of goods—transferred from Europe—falls under our foreign sales. But you know the rule: we don't fund warlords. If Dogtown refuses us entry, Hansen can't touch our cargo."
A pause.
"The executive responsible for European arms trafficking has already been eliminated by our people. As for who's behind this in Night City—you'll investigate yourself. The Frankfurt deal is critical. I have to oversee it personally. This is a decisive phase for Project Cloud Sea. Dogtown is in your hands. I expect a full report when I return."
The woman nodded faintly, though her superior couldn't see it. "Understood. What about Militech?"
"Don't worry. They suspect we're in cahoots with Hansen, so they're letting the dogs handle it themselves."
The line went dead. Silence returned.
She folded her arms, gazing down at the firefight raging at the base of the mountain. From here, the flashes of muzzle fire were faint but relentless, lighting up the darkness like a violent storm.
Trouble at Night City headquarters always bled down to her department. Counterintelligence was a cursed division—every mess ended up on their desks. And when things went wrong, layoffs were the best possible outcome. More often, your ID badge would suddenly stop working. Then came the quiet footsteps of company agents.
They never left a trace.
Tonight, someone down there was on the list her boss had sent. She tapped her chin thoughtfully.
After a long breath, the woman opened the car door, ready to drive.
But in the shadows, a group of scavengers crept closer. Faces half-hidden beneath cracked visors, each held crude weapons—bloodstained butcher knives, spiked bats, scavenged shotguns.
"Kidney-cutting, eh?" she said softly, amusement flickering across her delicate, thin features. Her mechanical eye flared red.
Before the scavengers could even react, sparks erupted from their heads. Electric arcs snapped violently, frying neural implants. One by one, their weapons clattered to the asphalt.
Their bodies twitched. Prosthetic arms shuddered, eyes flickered, then—boom. One by one, their cybernetic shells exploded. Blood and oil mixed into the dirt.
The woman slipped smoothly into her car, shutting the door with a sharp thunk. Tires screamed as the vehicle shot forward, its taillights blazing red before vanishing into the depths of Dogtown.
One scavenger, still half-alive, twitched violently on the ground. His charred body spasmed, struggling for freedom—until the car's tires crushed him flat.
Bang!
The night swallowed the sound.
---
The unfinished building site roared with chaos. The entire materials yard was crawling with Netherhounds. Opposite them, a cyberpunk team fought desperately for survival. Somewhere far off, a sniper's muzzle flashed, raining down death from the shadows.
The encirclement closed tighter and tighter, forcing fighters from different factions to fight side by side.
Everyone was exhausted. Every breath burned, every muscle ached.
William rammed the final round from his heavy rifle into an unlucky Netherhound's skull. Click. Empty.
Cursing, he slung the useless weapon aside and yanked the kinetic rifle strapped across his back. There was no time to think—only to survive.
The Netherhounds weren't street punks. They were a gang army, trained with military tactics and brutal street-fighting skills. Coordinated. Efficient. Merciless.
The only advantage William's side had was terrain. The construction site's labyrinth of half-built structures slowed vehicles. If the Netherhounds' armored transports had made it inside, this fight would already be over.
"Be careful!"
Pira, bleeding from both arms, ducked to reload. But before he could lower his head, a gun barrel pressed against his temple.
Rebecca screamed. She kicked her brother out of harm's way, then shoved her shotgun into the attacker's face. BOOM! The Netherhound's skull exploded into fragments.
"Mann!" she cried, voice raw.
Nearby, Dolio crouched low, clutching a bloody wound, her face pale with pain.
More and more Netherhounds poured in, tightening the noose. William locked eyes with Mann across the battlefield.
For this moment, whether they liked it or not, they were allies.
"Damn it!" William shouted, rage spilling from his chest. "I told you to retreat! Split up! We'll be slaughtered if we stay here!"
But Mann wasn't about to take orders. The burly man glared back. He knew William wasn't targeting his squad—he was trying to survive, just like them.
"Idiot!" Mann barked at his men. "Fall back! This way!"
He gestured for his squad to retreat down a narrow passage.
William hesitated, teeth clenched. His instincts told him not to follow—but the crossfire was too fierce. Bullets rained down, sparks erupting as they ricocheted off metal beams. Then came the sound that froze everyone's blood.
Whirr… thud… whirr…
The mechanical stomping of heavy legs.
The Netherhound mechs had arrived.
Former military robots, now repainted with gang graffiti. Skulls smeared in white paint leered from their armored chests. Both arms bristled with weapons: high-caliber machine guns and missile pods. Their heavy frames moved with unnatural agility, perfectly suited for urban warfare.
"Shit," William muttered.
The mechs turned into the construction site, heavy eyes glowing. The Netherhound soldiers hunkered down behind cover, waiting for their metallic beasts to rip apart William's defenses.
[Petrochemical]
William's eyes landed on a massive rusted canister nearby. The letters glowed faintly in the dim light.
CHOOH2.
Fuel.
A spark of hope lit his brain.
That was the key.
"Someone who can fight—cover me!" William roared.
Rebecca didn't hesitate. She tossed aside her pistols, slinging her shotgun forward. "On it!"
William grabbed the heavy weapon. It wasn't much—but it didn't have to be.
He sprinted toward the canister.
"Bzzzt—"
The mech swiveled, targeting him instantly. A storm of bullets raked across the ground, tearing up sparks and chunks of concrete. William's breath caught. Death brushed past his skin.
But he didn't stop.
"Come on, you bastard! Look at me!" Rebecca screamed, firing relentlessly. Bullets hammered into the mech's armor, sparks spraying.
Provoked, the mech turned, unleashing a hailstorm at her squad.
"Now!"
William leapt. The fuel canister loomed ahead. The mech fired.
THUD!
Bullets punched into the canister. For a split second, silence. Then—
BOOOOM!
Flames erupted, engulfing the mech in a roaring inferno.
The battlefield froze in stunned silence.
Flames consumed steel. Screams echoed. The mech's sensors shrieked as its body collapsed in molten ruin.
Mann burst out laughing. "That's awesome!"
Rebecca dropped her gun, rushing to William's side. "William!"
He staggered, head ringing, ears buzzing. Her mouth moved, but sound didn't reach him.
Then—
CLANG!
A massive shard of flaming steel rolled across the rubble, crashing toward him.
Too fast.
It sliced through his prosthetic arm.
SNAP.
Sparks exploded. His arm—severed, twitching, wires exposed—flew high into the night.
Pain detonated in William's brain. He screamed, blood surging from his mouth onto Rebecca's hands.
He shoved his weapon into her grip, forcing her back.
"Go… take your team and run!" he rasped.
Rebecca hesitated, tears burning her eyes. Dolio dragged her away. Together, the battered squad vanished into the rubble.
William staggered, dragging his bleeding leg. Alone now, he limped toward the wastelands beyond Dogtown.
The reward screen in his optics flashed. Massive bounties, glittering promises of money and power.
But William didn't care. Not anymore.
He had only one goal left.
To kill the traitors.
That was all.
---
Good luck with the college entrance examination~
The next chapter will usher in the protagonist's growth and pride.
The first step of the cyber madman: getting in the middleman!
Everyone who follows and reads, please give a thumbs up, thank you~
(End of this chapter)