"Have we identified who the hell these attackers are yet?! What's Intel saying—don't they have satellites?! How the fuck can they not see anything?!"
Meredith was shouting over comms to her subordinates back at Militech HQ in Night City. She had already ordered them to file a request with the Intelligence Division for satellite surveillance of the unknown hostiles, but not a single image had come through.
"No go, Director! Intel says it's still under review!"
"Still under review?! I'm about to fucking die out here—those bastards!"
She cursed viciously, though deep down she knew damn well what was going on. Those scumbags in Intelligence had found an excuse to delay things on purpose.
An operation to hit an Arasaka convoy? Sure, that was within scope.
But now you're being attacked by some unknown third party? And you want support?
Too bad. Not part of the "fighting Arasaka" mission brief.
This was corporate politics, plain and brutal.
Cursing the entire extended family of the Intelligence Division in her mind, Meredith instinctively glanced toward Karl, crouched behind one of the Arasaka trucks, helmet on, expression unreadable.
The enemy was aggressive, organized, and clearly no amateurs. She didn't know why they'd targeted them—but it was obvious they were outmatched. Her only hope now was the man who'd become a legend in Night City's merc scene.
KK. Let's see if the rumors are true. Show me what you can do.
As the enemy vehicles approached, their models came into view.
Five armored vehicles in total—and on each of them were mounted weapons that made every Militech operative's optics spike with alarm.
Thirty-millimeter autocannons.
That level of firepower was standard for ACPAs—Advanced Combat Powered Armor units.
And that wasn't even the worst of it.
The last vehicle was armed with something even more terrifying. The Militech scout watching it screamed into the comms just before a shot tore his skull apart:
"Vehicle-mounted guided rockets!"
CRACK.
One bullet. One dead scout.
The channel went dead silent.
Autocannons and guided rockets?
What the hell was this—Central America?
With that kind of firepower, who needed snipers? Just one rocket would be enough to vaporize their entire squad.
These weren't just street punks. This was top-grade military assault tech.
While everyone else was frozen in disbelief, Karl came to a quiet, chilling realization:
This shipment... isn't normal.
If they were really here to fight, they would've started blasting from a kilometer out. With autocannons and rockets like that, they could've wiped this entire crew without breaking a sweat.
If they wanted a prisoner for interrogation? Even then, suppression fire with autocannons should've already begun.
But up to now, the only thing Karl had heard was that lone sniper rifle.
They hadn't used the heavy guns.
Why?
Karl thought back.
The sniper had only been targeting the people hiding behind the Columbus trucks—not the ones behind the Arasaka heavy transports.
He remembered clearly: a few scavengers had leaned out from behind the Arasaka trucks to return fire—and none of them had been headshotted like the others.
It was almost as if the sniper was deliberately avoiding damaging the Arasaka trucks.
But those had already been scanned by Militech.
Apples.
Just crates and crates of apples.
There's no way anyone would go through all this effort for fucking apples… right?
Karl couldn't make sense of it—but it didn't matter.
What mattered was this: the enemy couldn't use their heavy weapons.
He'd originally been wondering how he'd get close enough to survive autocannon suppression and dodge incoming rockets.
Now he didn't have to.
They were coming in close—and that was Karl's preferred range.
'Looks like I don't need to break cover.'
Karl reattached his helmet's internal HUD link to the combat suit, activating environmental scanning through the built-in sensors. He watched. Calculated. Waited for the moment to strike.
BOOM.
Another Columbus truck went up in flames. Suppressing fire started in earnest.
Karl had his signal.
From the sound alone, he estimated the range:
Two hundred and fifty meters.
That close? Whatever they were worried about, it was too late now.
"You're not getting away anymore."
"Prepare to counterattack."
Karl's calm voice cut through the dead air of the comms.
No hesitation. No questions. He took command.
"All remaining combatants behind the Arasaka trucks—use the vehicle hulls for cover and return fire at will.
Those behind the Columbus vehicles—deploy smoke grenades and fall back to the second upright Arasaka truck. That'll be your fallback zone.
Don't worry about incoming fire. I'll cover you."
The Militech operatives were stunned—but no one objected.
Then a new voice cut in: the leader of the scavengers, who had just joined the channel.
"Who the hell are you? That voice—you're not the fixer we were working with. You think you're in charge here?!"
"I am now."
BANG.
A single bullet hit the dirt right beside the scavenger leader's foot.
He flinched, hard. He'd just used comm ID protocols to pinpoint who was speaking.
That guy hadn't even looked at him. His gun had been pointed downward.
So when did he fire?!
"You've got four seconds to move," Karl said calmly.
"Four seconds. If you're not moving by then..."
Everyone held their breath, waiting for the threat.
"...then I'll kill every single one of you interfering with my operation—before I deal with the enemy."
His voice was flat, almost indifferent. But the chill in those words was absolute.
Everyone who heard it felt a wave of fear crash through them.
They all knew one thing for certain:
He wasn't bluffing.
And more importantly—
He could do it.
.
.
.
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