Descending the tower as fast as humanly — and cybernetically — possible, Jeremy pushed his implants to the edge, shaving nearly a full minute off the precious time he didn't have. He burst onto the street — almost mowing down a couple on their way in — and flicked his eyes to the tactical HUD floating in the corner of his vision.
His expression darkened.
Three minutes to Marco.
Too damn long.
Jaw clenched, Martinez triggered the Sandevistan rigged to his spine. To anyone without enhanced optics, he became a blur. The battery wouldn't thank him for this later, but it wasn't a day for energy-saving measures. This was one of those "move now, survive later" kind of mornings.
"Marco, I've got your beacon. What's your status?"
"En route to Rancho Coronado. Should hit one of the main postal nodes near the industrial park in under a minute."
"Copy that. I'll intercept you there."
Jeremy killed the call and kicked into high gear, sprinting straight down the center of the road. No cars in sight — lucky break — but the sidewalks were jammed with pedestrians sleepwalking through their feeds, oblivious to the world around them.
His body was precision-tuned for his aug loadout, letting him run the whole system without blowing himself apart. The only real limit? Battery life. Running flat-out, he had maybe ten minutes of combat uptime before his hardware turned into a high-tech paperweight. Still, more than enough to lose a few tails and melt into the guts of a megatower.
"I'm close. You holding up?" Jeremy scanned ahead as the rendezvous point loomed closer.
"Thirty seconds out."
"Got it. I'll improvise."
Jeremy rechecked the beacon and ran some quick mental calculations. Waiting wasn't an option. Marco was still navigating his way out of the Arasaka industrial zone, about to hit a residential strip lined with prefab cottages.
"Take the alley. Easier to shake whoever's on your tail."
"I'll try. No guarantees."
A glance at his battery levels made Jeremy wince. He grimaced, then punched the Sandevistan again. He had to get there before Marco did.
He rounded into the alley and spotted his target: Marco — running like hell — and behind him, a blue-haired girl keeping up way too easily. Flanking her were a pack of robotic cats — sleek, twitchy little monsters clearly modded well past spec. Marco was laying down short, controlled bursts with his pistol, keeping the cyber-beasts just barely out of biting range.
The combat implant wired into Jeremy's cerebral cortex calculated the trajectory of the nearest cyber-cat in a fraction of a second. The moment the mechanical predator lunged for Ramirez, Jeremy raised his pistol and snapped off three clean shots — each one precise, surgical. The thing hit the pavement in pieces.
Still riding the burn of his acceleration, Jeremy was lining up the next target when his partner's voice crackled in over comms, yanking his attention sideways.
"Watch her katana — it's a high-frequency blade. And her right arm's rigged with a high-output energy cannon."
Jeremy's eyes locked onto her left arm mid-stride — specifically, the deployment mechanism unfolding like a blooming nightmare. No time to second-guess. He swung his pistol toward the blue-haired killer tearing down the alley after Marco and fired a short burst of armor-piercing rounds.
She didn't flinch. Didn't even break stride. She deflected the shots with her blade like she'd done it a thousand times before.
Jeremy clicked his tongue. Of course. With one fluid motion, he pulled a high-frequency knife from his belt — glad now he'd thought to gear up properly — and peeled off toward her, angling to cut her off before she had time to adjust.
She was fast. No doubt about that. But she was also moving too fast to stop on a dime. And if she did try to brake? Those extra milliseconds spent regaining balance were all he needed to carve a few holes in her before she got a swing in.
Jeremy ran the odds, exhaled slow, and blurred forward — pushing his Sandevistan to its redline. He crossed the distance in under a second, blade already cutting through the air. But just before contact, she twisted her entire body in a last-second roll, slipping under his strike with no more clearance than a breath.
Her counterattack was instant. She lashed out — not to kill, but to throw him off rhythm. Jeremy tried to pivot mid-swing, but his body fought the shift. The angle sucked. His footing slipped. He barely managed to push off into a backward leap.
Pain snapped through his ribs like a live wire. She'd tagged him. Not deep, but deep enough to burn. The blade had kissed flesh — nothing vital, no structural damage — but it still stung like hell. He made a mental note to thank the gods of luck later.
They locked eyes.
Jeremy ejected the spent mag and slapped in a fresh one, eyes scanning for movement — anything else lurking in the smoke and shadows.
She noticed the flicker of distraction. And she moved. Gripping her katana tight, her body flared — an electric shimmer ghosted across her frame — and then she was gone. Just a glitch-shaped echo hanging in the air where she'd been.
Her speed wasn't a bluff. But Jeremy wasn't the guy he'd been three years ago. Back then, she might've outrun him. Hell, she might've dropped him. But now? Now she was fast. Just not fast enough to scare him.
Calculating her movement arc, Martinez shifted his weight — subtly, surgically — just enough to launch himself toward the assassin, forcing the fight into close quarters. The Sandevistan bolted along his spine started to vibrate hard, flooding his HUD with angry system-level warnings, but Jeremy was too deep in the moment to care. The flashing alerts danced uselessly at the edge of his vision.
The pavement creaked underfoot as he took his first step. A heartbeat later, he surged forward — an electric blur, blade drawn, intent sharp and simple: end the fight. Either kill her or cut deep enough to stop the chase cold.
By any sane metric, his implants should've shorted out by now. He was running them past spec, past safety, past reason. But then, his augments weren't built for sane metrics. These weren't corporate-issue mods pulled off a shelf. His hardware ran on tech well beyond what passed for "standard" in Night City. Not unbreakable, but built to take a beating. At least for now.
His knife arm snapped forward, closing the distance fast. The assassin moved on instinct — her left arm twitching in a jagged, half-controlled jerk, a combat subroutine firing off a desperate counter.
Her cyberware wasn't bad, just outclassed. Slower, rougher, lagging behind his by a few precious milliseconds. But she wasn't going down without swinging. Reflex chips kicked in. She knew she couldn't stop him — no one could at that velocity — but maybe she could tag him before he got in too deep.
Jeremy had planned for that. He'd shaped his charge to leave just enough room for a late pivot. And right on cue, as her mantis blade shot from her right arm in a blur of chrome, he twisted his torso and slipped under the strike.
Her eyes tracked the arc of her blade slicing through empty air — just in time to catch the glint of his high-frequency knife flashing low.
The moment the blade met synthetic flesh, it didn't drag — it carved, clean and violent, humming with brutal intent. The cut wasn't just deep — it was decisive. Jeremy even caught her expression for a second. Not rage. Not pain. Shock. She hadn't expected a blade like his. Hadn't expected him to be this fast.
Jeremy was already lining up the finishing strike when she pulled off something that shouldn't have been possible. She twisted — full-body, spine-bending unnatural — and flung herself backward, just barely dodging the death blow.
But she didn't make it out clean. Her severed arm hit the pavement with a wet, metallic thud.
Jeremy dropped out of overdrive, boots skidding to a halt. He widened the gap between them, eyes locked on the battered assassin. His systems were gasping — hot, overloaded. He needed a few seconds to cool before he could push again.
No more bursts. No more tricks.
"Aww, no fair. That's cheating," the girl pouted, lips curling into a mock frown — right before her body began sparking again. "Fun times, boys. Really. But I've got places to be."
With a teasing salute, she launched a cluster of glowing orbs from her body. Marco — having just finished off the last of the cyber-pets — and Jeremy, still coming down from overdrive, both ducked on instinct. Exactly what she'd planned.
The orbs hit the pavement and detonated on contact, flooding the alley in thick smoke. Jeremy's systems had just stabilized, but by the time the haze cleared, she was already gone.
The blue-haired killer had put serious distance between herself and the man who nearly dismantled her. Neither of them gave chase. They weren't idiots — anyone that fast doesn't run without laying traps behind her. And next time? She wouldn't be alone.
For a moment, the two mercs just stared down the smoke-filled alley. Then, without needing to say a word, they glanced at each other and sighed in perfect sync.
"You really have a gift for pissing off the worst people," Jeremy muttered, turning toward Ramirez as the man approached from down the street.
"As if I enjoy this crap," Marco shot back, snorting while his eyes swept the empty street for signs of backup. "Let's save the banter till we're somewhere that isn't about to explode. I'd rather not die in Arroyo tonight."
"First thing when we're back — we call Zorge," Jeremy said, already slipping into mission-mode again. "That wasn't some freelance psycho. Her gear, her augments — there's no way she got that without serious corporate backing. Black-budget. Elite-tier. And if they send her again, she won't be solo."
Another glance. Another sigh. Then they moved — quick and wordless, cutting back toward the nearest megatower. Sticking around here was suicide, and not even the fact that Sixth Street was supposed to patrol the area gave them any real comfort.
Sixth Street didn't get involved in other people's problems — especially not for two unaffiliated mercs. Friendly or not, Jeremy and Marco both knew exactly where that line was drawn.
Incoming Message – Alex Mitchell
"Jeremy, it's Alex. What the hell happened out there?"