"Are we the rcenaries, or are they the rcenaries? I said earlier we should have looked for professional rcenaries..."
Anderson sincerely asked Benny.
In the Rosedew Hotel, Anderson and Benny hid behind a wall, watching a man covered in large prosthetics throw a TV out.
They had been mixing it up with Cannon before, but the man had unexpectedly died before achieving anything big, ambushed and killed while collecting protection money in a store.
The sergeant looked amiable, but at his core, he was a gang leader who would rather kill mistakenly than let a traitor slip by.
These small fries hadn’t actually rebelled, but that was only because Cannon’s death had been so sudden, they were retracting their banners of treachery as quickly as they lifted them—you could still find them if you searched their pockets.
Fuming, Benny yelled, "Day in and day out with your ’next life, next life, next life.’ Look at yourself, you think Morton doesn’t know?!
Shut your damn mouth! Idiot! At the door of ’next life,’ you’d be dragged off by Morton’s guys to be fed to the rats!"
Indeed, the rcenaries they had found... were picked up from the streets.
Anyone in Night City knew that the best rcenaries could all be found in the ’Next Life’ nightclub.
Could they go there to find rcenaries?
No, first, they might not even get in. Secondly, they were broke—the result was they found a rcenary while drinking roadside, preparing to drink themselves to death.
The rcenary was now by the window, standing two ters tall, with both arms heavily modified, no cables exposed whatsoever; all visible was the expensive alloy armor.
Morton had tried to assault a few tis before, but the result was like bullets hitting those arms, making only clinking sounds without any real effect.
Benny actually had his own doubts—while drunk earlier, he hadn’t noticed that the weapons in this man’s possession were viciously unfamiliar.
The rcenary called himself "Hardcore Uncle"—and the upcoming events deepened his understanding of this moniker.
"Try a hand grenade."
The strong man took a grenade from his pocket and looked toward the oil pipeline outside the window—
This sight terrified Benny: "Man! That’s a Peizhuo Petrochemical’s pipeline! If it explodes, we’ll die too!"
"Are you scared of sothing so tiny? If that explodes so easily, do you think Peizhuo Petrochemical are idiots?! Just scare them, or you’d better get your head on the run!"
Hardcore Uncle yelled, his voice so loud it made Benny’s prosthetic ears tremble. The next second, an explosion ca from outside!
Boom!
The blast was not only directly on the oil pipeline but also blasted through the hearts of the Six Street Gang outside and Benny’s heart:
This bastard is utterly reckless!
Benny then realized that these rcenaries definitely weren’t locals—no rcenary would work like this!
But just like Hardcore Uncle said, the Six Street Gang was frightened!
Another TV was thrown out by Hardcore Uncle, broadcasting the classic hostage-taker’s announcent, but he turned around to wave at Benny and the others in the room:
"Get ready to fire, catch them off guard!"
"Huh? I thought we were going to negotiate?"
"Negotiate my ass, grenades, guns, whatever you’ve got, shoot it all, then jump out and grab a car to make a getaway! Be brave!"
Hardcore Uncle’s yelling was piercing, each word struck their heads like a hamr, so of the more timid ones had their blood pressure spike and gripped their weapons tighter...
"Go, go, go! Open fire!"
A few youngsters by the window had not yet received Benny’s orders before they peeked out...
Bang!
A bullet pierced one of the guy’s cheekbones, which happened to have a prosthetic replacent set in place.
The bullet easily penetrate his prosthetic, extravagantly carving a gaping hole on his face as pieces and synthetic fluid flew out!
A faint trace of blue ionized air appeared around, and Hardcore Uncle’s expression changed instantly. The head he originally wanted to stick out for an assault retracted...
"Keep firing!"
The youngsters froze in place, and this ti no one was spurred on to peek out, but their heads hidden behind cover weren’t safe either!
A drone slowly swept past outside, bullets sward in like a storm all at once!
Hardcore Uncle’s pupils constricted sharply, he darted to the corner, curling up like a turtle, clutching his head!
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!
The glass shattered instantly, the bullets’ trajectory in the air was chaotic, but each bullet seed to have eyes, curving into their bodies!
Crash!
A round of shooting ended, glass fell to the ground, several Six Street Gang mbers also dropped to the ground.
"Ahh!!! I’ve been shot!"
Benny and Anderson, one covering his eyes, the other his neck, while a few of their unlucky brothers had already fallen flat on the ground.
Seeing this, Hardcore Uncle had already figured out what was happening: the enemy had pinpointed all their positions!
Although he didn’t know exactly how it happened, it was definitely ti to run!
He strode to the table, picked up a radio, roughly tuned it for a mont, then flung it out!
Could he really not make a run for it?
Not necessarily, he just needed soone to pick him up by car, and the worst that could happen was getting a few more bullet holes.
Being a tall man, he had a wide stride. He took two steps in place of three and quickly grabbed either Benny or Anderson before darting out the door and running towards the exit at the end of the hallway!
But just as he was about to burst out, that iron door grotesquely twisted—
A huge fist imprint appeared on it...
Bang!
The fist instantly smashed through the iron door, and Uncle Hardcore had no ti to stop!
Jack felt his punch solidly connect with the man’s head!
Bang!
The sound that erupted was not of breaking bones, but of clashing tal. Uncle Hardcore’s head visibly deford and flew backward!
Click.
Uncle Hardcore crashed to the ground, his head buzzing.
But seeing the gate easily dislodged before him, he knew he had to strike back.
His nerves, numbed by the heavy blow, allowed the hidden gun holster under his armpit to open.
Unlike ordinary holsters, this one was exaggeratedly long, opening from the armpit all the way to just above the hip bone. Considering his two ter stature, it definitely wasn’t housing a standard pistol.
It was a bizarre weapon longer than a submachine gun but slightly shorter than a rifle—
Drawing the gun was slightly delayed, and his reactions were sowhat sluggish. He completely failed to notice that V had already burst in with a blade!
The mont the thick chanical arm pulled the trigger, V’s Mantis Blade severed his arms holding the gun, but his fingers refused to release the trigger!
Seeing this, V reacted swiftly, swinging the blade at the firearm. However, bullets fired out, and the severed arms, under the recoil, jerked like drones, nearly outpacing the Mantis Blade!
A sound akin to that of an anti-tank sniper rifle erupted—
Bang bang bang bang bang!
Zoom!
Before V could disable the weapon, it had fired a total of 12 bullets.
The bullets even punched through the door panel Jack was holding and penetrated the front of the gauntlet, the rest leaving terrifying bullet holes around the room.
"Ha... damn, a bit too slow..."
Uncle Hardcore, sweating profusely on the floor, gritted his teeth enduring the intense pain from his cyber prosthetics being severed and the electricity coursing through his nerves.
Jack looked at his gauntlet which had been riddled by bullets: the bullets were lodged in the gauntlet, nearly penetrating his arm.
V too observed the bullet holes around, startled by the weapon’s power, "What kind of gun is this... so excessive?"
Uncle Hardcore struggled to retreat, glancing around as he did: What he saw made him feel even more astonished.
Just then, most people on this floor were only wounded by smart bullets, but now, most were dismbered.
Clearly, in less than 10 seconds from when the drone fired to when he was knocked down by the punch, that woman with the Mantis Blade had done quite a bit.
"An old model from Marlorian, you two... not bad either," he managed to stay conscious, remarking with a bitter smile.
He needed to buy so ti—
[Sniper in position.]
Just as V was about to say sothing fierce, she suddenly smirked aningfully, "Oh, got company?"
Uncle Hardcore froze, his prosthetic eye showing nurous error ssages...
He had been hacked!
When did this happen?!
"Shit...!"
Zzzt!
An electrical surge flashed, and Uncle Hardcore completely lost consciousness.
[V: Continue the pursuit?]
[Lille: They escaped. Couldn’t find the location. They’re quite skilled and well-equipped, probably not just one or two people.]
...
Down the street, two second-hand Mizutanis had just started up, one of which suddenly stopped, its driver unable to suppress the urge to vomit!
The companion in the other car turned pale at the sight, and the person in the passenger seat imdiately switched to that car, no longer caring about the captive Uncle Hardcore. They started their escape.
While running, they also ssaged the sniper waiting elsewhere:
[Stop sniping, abandon the rescue, been hacked, run and see later!]
[Change of plans!]
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