Trauma Team, as the na suggests, operates in tightly organized squads.
Each team typically consists of five core mbers: a driver, a senior dical technician, an assistant, and two heavily ard security operatives.
The driver almost never leaves the AV (aerial vehicle). He stays in the pilot seat, armored to hell and back, flying the gunship like it's an extension of his own body. Smashing through cars? Not a problem. The client's insurance covers everything anyway.
The senior dical technician is the heart of the operation—a battlefield doctor trained to keep the client alive no matter how bad things get. Side effects, complications, trauma? Not their problem. Stabilize the client and get them to the hospital. After that, it's up to soone else.
The assistant is a glorified gopher: carrying dical kits, hauling crates, helping move bodies—alive or dead.
The security team? Walking death machines. Most are retired special forces, hardened rcs, or Trauma Team's own hand-raised psychos in armor. These guys don't hesitate. They shoot first. Then shoot again.
Arthur stood still in the hotel lobby, head lowered, his face hidden beneath a shadow. The network scrambler on his implant ensured no cara could identify him—no face recognition, no heat signature tracking.
To any electronic surveillance, he simply didn't exist.
Of course, soone could still investigate... but who would bother unless he was Hanako Arasaka?
The corporations wouldn't waste that kind of effort for soone like him.
anwhile, Jim—the team's lead dic—was having a crisis.
He recognized the man standing across from him. Not the face, but the stance... and those glowing red mantis blades.
Exactly like the ones from last ti.
Cold sweat dripped down Jim's neck under his helt. He felt the AV shift behind him, engine still idling. The last ti he saw those blades, he'd barely escaped with his life.
Back then, they were on a mission to retrieve an Arasaka executive—routine stuff. But that "routine" ended with grenades, fried circuitry, and Jim watching half his team get torn apart like at.
He'd only survived by pure luck, ejecting at the last second while the AV exploded behind him. It took months of therapy and reconditioning to convince himself it was a fluke.
And now, those sa red blades were in front of him again.
What were the odds?
The rest of the team behind Jim had no idea. They were itching to move in. The client's vitals were dropping, and every second wasted ant less of a bonus.
One of the guards finally muttered: "We gotta go—"
"Shut up!" Jim snapped.
He stepped forward slowly, raising both hands in a nonthreatening gesture. His voice ca through the helt calm and asured.
"Sir... our client is upstairs. We just need to retrieve them. Can you let us pass?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow. He looked the guy up and down.
The voice sounded... familiar.
He studied Jim's stance, the way he held his gear, the slight tremble in his gloved fingers.
Arthur smiled behind his collar. He rembers .
But outwardly, Arthur said nothing. He just gestured vaguely to his face and replied with calm sarcasm, "Believe it or not, I'm just a tourist passing by."
Jim nodded faster than necessary.
"Of course. No problem at all."
Arthur turned to point toward Thor and the survivor, still standing off to the side like they were ready to bolt.
"They're with . Just bystanders. We'll be leaving now. Sorry for the trouble, Doc."
Jim nodded so hard he nearly dislodged his helt.
"Yes, yes. Safe travels."
Arthur walked past him, pausing only to give Jim a friendly slap on the shoulder.
The poor man flinched like he'd just been shot.
Arthur grinned.
"You're a good guy, Doc. Your bedside manner's really improved."
As he stepped past the trauma team and out the hotel doors, he could hear Jim mumbling a quiet prayer inside his helt.
Not for his client. For himself.
Back at the elevator, Thor blinked in disbelief.
"That worked?"
Arthur lit a cigarette, taking a drag as they walked across the now-barricaded street. "Told you. I'm just a tourist."
Jim stood frozen in the lobby, watching them go. He knew the operation had gone completely off-book, and there would be consequences. His bosses would be furious. He might even lose his job.
But he didn't regret it.
Sotis, staying alive ant playing dumb.
And after all, he'd survived another day in Night City. That alone was w
orth a bonus.
---------------------------------
Visit our Patreon for more:
/Samurai492
Reviews
All reviews (0)