A few seconds later, they opened another, smaller crate this one packed with grenades.
"Military-grade gear?" I asked, eyeing the contents.
"We've got our connections," Green smirked.
"Yo, choombas, check out this crew!" said a new arrival from the Valentinos, swaggering into the room. They looked more like they were rolling up to a party than a firefight. Where 6th Street was all about armor, guns, and discipline, the Valentinos had more of a freestyle approach everyone brought whatever gear they could scrounge.
"Rogelio Cruz," Green introduced him, his tone laced with clear irritation. Seemed like he wasn't a fan.
"Green Sullivan. Who's this guy?" Rogelio asked, nodding in my direction.
"Didn't they brief you? This is our backup Peacemaker," Green replied.
"I was told some solo was gonna lend a hand," Rogelio muttered.
"Peacemaker, would you present the plan?" Green asked.
"I'll draw their attention by engaging in a small skirmish. That'll pull their forces toward me and make enough noise for the civilians to get clear. While that's happening, you'll have the freedom to move in. These are the optimal attack positions," I said, activating a holoprojector and displaying the layout.
"Why not just hit 'em now? Catch 'em off guard and blast them to hell," Rogelio protested.
"We can't civilians would get caught in the crossfire. I'm with Peacemaker. His plan makes sense," Green said firmly. Still a soldier at heart keeping non-combatants out of it mattered to him.
"I don't give a fuck. We attack now. I'm the one in charge, I make the calls," Rogelio snapped.
"If you're so in charge, how about you charge in alone?" Green shot back, rising from his seat and pointing at him. "My people aren't following some punk who only thinks about booze, pussy, and chems."
"You want a fight? Fine I'll give you one," Rogelio growled, pulling a pistol and leveling it at Green. Green didn't flinch. He locked eyes with him, one hand resting casually on his holster.
"...Fine. I went too far. We'll do it your way," Rogelio finally said, backing down. Even in this fragile alliance, tensions between rival gangs were bound to explode.
Once the shouting died down, it was time to move.
Suddenly, the plan didn't seem quite as solid as before.
I stepped forward and instantly, a couple of guns were trained on me, ready to shred me into chrome and meat.
"Hey, pussy-cats," I called out.
"Looks like this bucket of bolts doesn't know where the fuck it walked into," came a sneering reply.
"You just signed your death warrant."
"Start praying now."
Didn't take long to get a response.
"Looking at you, I don't see tigers. More like house cats. Only thing you're good at is licking your own balls," I shouted.
I didn't get to finish the line first bullets already tore through the air in my direction.
Threat to operator detected. Activating dynamic defense protocols.
Several armor plates deployed from my sides, shielding my chest. As soon as I turned and ran, the plating automatically shifted to protect my back. Bullets slammed into the metal, making it screech and groan. I managed to reach cover and dove behind it, disappearing from view. Hopefully, anyone who heard those gunshots knew it was time to move.
"Come out, scumbag! Die like a man!" one of them shouted.
Funny thing to hear from a gang that doesn't know the meaning of the word honor.
Today, the only ones dying will be you.
A flashbang appeared in my hand though calling it that was generous. It had a weak EMP core, designed to scramble tech for a few seconds. I threw it with precision right at their position. The blast was my signal.
A mounted LMG deployed from my back. I waited for the explosion, then placed the gun on my makeshift cover a pile of junk and took aim. My armor reinforced the head and shoulders automatically, bracing for return fire.
Everything became a blur of sound and chaos. I'd been through firefights before, but back then, the threat felt real. My hands used to shake. Eyes unblinking. Fear would crawl up my spine while I just kept firing, numb and automatic, until the ammo ran dry. I'd only realize what happened after I was home, wrapped in a blanket, held in the warm arms of my wife.
But now? It felt like I was watching numbers on a screen. Like shooting paper targets at a range.
And I couldn't help but wonder am I losing myself?
There was nothing left inside me but a hollow void. And that was more terrifying than anything else.
The fight didn't last long. Soon it was all over smoke, wreckage, and a pool of blood slowly trickling into the gutter.
Operator mental integrity at risk. Recommendation: reduce load or enter standby mode.
The AI nudged my awareness back into focus. I stood up and looked around. What was left of my armor was barely hanging on some parts punctured, others melted. This gear was done for. The LMG? Scrap metal now.
"You fought like a fucking madman. You sure you're okay?" Green was suddenly beside me. I noticed blood on his chest, but he didn't even seem to feel it. Guess the stims were doing their job, keeping the pain and bleeding in check. If he was still standing, he'd live.
"I'm fine," I said curtly.
"I used to think the war would end someday. That peace would come. But here I am still with a rifle in my hands, still killing," Green said with a bitter smirk.
"Peace is just an illusion," I replied.
CODE CHECK ERROR 4);"№%0254239-"(%;№
Suddenly, something hit me like a surge of electricity. Everything blinked out.
Then… vision came back online.
"Hey, you sure you're alright?" Green was eyeing me, suspicion in his voice.
"I'm fine. Probably need to swing by a ripperdoc, get a few things patched up. But I'll live," I answered.
"Good. Sixth Street thanks you. We hit the Tiger Claws hard they won't recover from this any time soon. Their forces are cut down. By the time they regroup, Heywood's off-limits. Keep the weapons your debt's paid. And if you ever need something, give us a call. We've got solid rippers," Green added.
"Good to know," I nodded.
I didn't stick around Japantown I headed straight back to Heywood.
Soon after, a message pinged from Ibarra.
You handled the job. You're someone I can work with. Here's a little bonus for your trouble.
The payment came through 5,000 eddies. For a mission like that, it wasn't much. But Ibarra never said anything about payment. So, yeah it was a pleasant surprise.
I hoped I wouldn't have to take on jobs like this again. But now I had connections. Fixers. People with information.
And that meant soon… things would start making more sense.