ACPA armor, this kind of equipnt hadn’t appeared in cities for a very long ti, even in Night City.
There were two reasons for this. First, after the collapse of the old net, companies lost a lot of technology. They had recovered quite a bit over the past fifty years, but due to constant wars and mutual distrust, the recovery speed was far slower than expected.
Second, APCA was battlefield equipnt. In this era, it was even elite battlefield equipnt, not sothing that would usually appear outside of frontline combat scenarios.
NCPD’s introduction of Centaur chas was a significant positive signal from Military Technology: they had begun to attempt to introduce Centaur chas into the police market, these chas being based on γ-level linear fra exoskeletons.
It was also proven that when such a beast of vitality appeared in urban terrain, paired with a group of infantry interfering from the shadows, the power was imnse.
All along the way, Valentino had actually been sowhat intimidated.
Even though Father had baptized and prayed for them before this deathmatch began, in Night City...
Maybe Valentino stood their ground with faith and ethnic ties, but after so many years, how many truly devout believers remained in this behemoth?
Most gang mbers were uneducated and ignorant kids. Maybe when Father offered them a piece of bread and a safe place to sleep, they felt touched, but as they grew older...
Who didn’t like fancy cars and beautiful won? Who didn’t like money?
Who didn’t want to be the most badass person, to vent all the humiliations they suffered on sothing and call it "justice"?
But that kind of thing only appeared in stories, like the Bible stories.
This scene was exactly like David striking the giant Goliath on the forehead with a sling, then drawing Goliath’s sword to behead him.
By the tall building next to Haywood Church, Father stood on the rooftop, wearing a high-end helt and observing through Valentino’s equipnt, monitoring the battlefield.
The pressure from Valentino suddenly intensified. In fact, not just the young n, even Father himself felt sowhat excited:
Belief in Catholicism and studying its doctrines was his way of uniting the ethnic group. By giving people prominent labels and deepening their recognition of those labels, he could create connections beyond money and interests.
This was the fundantal reason they stood firm in Night City.
Six Street Gang’s cohesion was their neighborhood ties, but they were all poor. Hence, they could only be a gang for the poor; Valentino’s connections were stronger, so they could penetrate higher levels, such as NCPD and municipal institutions.
However, since he had seen so many people, those connections had naturally weakened too.
But this ti was different; the story had really been reenacted!
The Centaur cha was almost a whole size larger than Jack, and its main gun was visibly powerful. The oversized "car-slicing sword" was utterly intimidating by itself—
In this comparison, Jack was genuinely David slaying Goliath!
Had a deceiving story beco true?
In this situation, Father began to convince himself.
"...Ve con Dios (Go with God.)"
...
Bang!
A truck with half its body already missing violently charged out, smashing the hopeful Midnight Death who was about to pounce on Jack.
This collision hit precisely on the explosive worn by Midnight Death. The bomb went off with a fart-like pop, with power far short of its theoretical value, injuring barely anyone but burning away his lower body.
Valentino’s Acido urgently placed a fellow gang friend from the passenger seat by the roadside, crossed himself, then rushed to the stunned young man, putting him in the passenger seat.
This young man hadn’t yet recovered from his death-seeking but failed reality, and a rifle was placed in his hand.
Seeing no reaction, Acido slapped his face:
"Wake up, brother! It’s not over yet!"
"Uh... huh? What kind of gun is this?" Valentino gang mber stared blankly at the Achilles in his hand; he had never used sothing so good in his life.
"Six Street Gang’s sponsorship, everyone has one but you."
Why didn’t he have one? Because this young man never believed in Father’s god nonsense. At most, he recited a line or two to fit in.
Thus, when Father handed out equipnt, he wasn’t at the church at all.
But this ti... he scratched his head and looked out the window:
That legendary Mackinaw had already driven far off.
Jack stood atop the Centaur cha, running forward with the cha’s power system, gripping the sword in the cha like a control stick.
"So... so badass."
"Definitely badass, hold on—"
Boom—
The Mackinaw’s power system, though only half its body left, was still intact. Without its body, it had beco even faster!
The sense of acceleration pressure his broken back, a bit of stinging pain. The wind in his face exhilarated him:
"I’m riding a convertible!"
"Yes, a convertible!" Acido laughed, seeing the young man snap back, "A convertible sports car! Wuhu!"
The road ahead of the two cars was filled with parts and wreckage crushed by the legendary Mackinaw. Occasionally, they fired shots at enemies on the ground, incidentally pulling up surviving gang mbers, handing them guns.
The vehicle had not traveled far before it exploded, with the gang erging from the wreckage to then commandeer another not fully scrapped car.
The earlier Midnight Death, who survived the incomplete bomb explosion, was leaning against a wall, watching this scene with gritted teeth:
Why did they look so happy?
Why were these social scumbags disturbing society so joyful?
Why was it that despite his earnest studying and work, he ended up like this?
What was the aning of living?
Having long lost the will to live, he received an anonymous email through the local network scattered across Night City, inviting him to a grand death.
And the result?
The result was that the stage continued, as he lay unnoticed in the rubble, like his life, in society’s most unnoticed places. No one cared about him, and no one understood him.
Just thinking about this, a string of thoughts flashed through his mind: It was all because of his poor original family, which he had spent his life trying to leave behind; It was all because of society’s constant mutual attacks, unfriendly; It was all because the company didn’t give him ti off or raises, causing him to suffer from a ntal illness...
Thinking this, he started crying.
Then in the darkness, he heard a rustling noise.
He imdiately stopped thinking, staring in the direction of the sound.
He saw a hunched figure, a girl with not-so-good looks approaching—
This was his roommate; he recognized her. She was the colleague they often sat together with to complain about the company, yet he privately thought she was ugly as hell.
This girl tiptoed through the debris and flas, evidently terrified...
Scared but still coming?
"Iva?" The girl saw his face and instantly sighed in relief, quickening her steps over the debris, "Great, I saw you being blown away by the explosion..."
Blown away by an explosion? He had jumped out himself!
For so reason, he suddenly got anxious:
"What are you doing here!"
"What do you think? Of course, I’m here to save your stupid ass! We’re the only ones who haven’t quit the company since we joined, can’t let you fall to your death, can I?"
As the girl approached, her almost grotesque face beca clear in the dim flas.
n certainly didn’t like soone this ugly; they liked those flirtatious won in the videos.
But as he saw the expression on his female colleague’s face, that look of fear mixed with the determination to find him despite it, like finding a treasure...
He suddenly felt that ugliness could be fixed; they could still make money anyway.
Could she possibly like him?
"Haha, I saved your life this ti, you owe one, rember that forever..."
Whoosh—
The woman finally reached him, but regrettably, the answer to his question was sothing he would never know.
The "dud" imprinted with Midnight Death suddenly ignited again, burning so quickly...
It finally beca barely a bomb.
Boom!
In a silent corner, yet another Midnight Death gang mber completed their mission—in Midnight Death, turning into nothingness.
Two broken bodies burned within the wreckage.
Midnight Death would soon vanish into oblivion like their predecessors, but Valentino would continue to exist—
At least for now, their voices still mixed with the sounds of gunfire, explosions, and engines:
"Convertible sports car!"
"Be the boss!"
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