I've been doing the translations while sick with a fever, and I think I messed up quite a bit here. My brain's not working properly because of the fever, so if you spot any mistakes, please don't hesitate to point them out and let me know what I got wrong. Sorry about that!
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"We're here."
The Christmas talk had wrapped up after everyone agreed to message their friends and contacts. As the car came to a stop, the crew arrived at today's destination.
"I've heard Lucius Raines' press conferences as background noise more times than I can count—on TV since I was a kid, something to zone out to when I was bored. Unless something crazy happens, today's probably the last time we'll see one live."
Oliver sounded a little nostalgic. Jackie, not so much.
"Holt really doesn't waste time. Said he managed Raines' schedule personally, and now—bam, a whole press conference just to promote him. Pretty pathetic if you think about it. Your own deputy's been plotting your death and couldn't even wait for the right moment."
"Deputy Mayor, huh… Let's be real, it's still just 'deputy.' Only one slot above that—Mayor. Holt being power-hungry is expected. What's more surprising is that he even tried to hide it. But damn, there are a lot of people here. Good thing we're in disguise."
Oliver looked toward the plaza, packed with reporters and onlookers who had arrived long before them. He was glad he'd used a facial mod back in the car. With this kind of journalist density, they'd be recognized on the spot otherwise. But as it stood, a basic-looking Hera and unfamiliar faces were enough for the media to ignore them.
As a few stray gazes glanced their way, Oliver kept talking:
"If we showed up with our real faces and they saw the whole squad here, what do you think they'd do—run or charge in with cameras rolling?"
"My bet? The latter."
Karl was confident in the nerve of reporters. "They'll interview Maelstrom freaks without flinching. You think they'd back off from us? It's not like we're monsters."
V nodded. "Compared to Maelstrom, we're downright charming."
"You really can't compare anyone to those psychos," Jackie muttered, eyeing the crowd. "Are we pushing our way in? I heard the original press conference was supposed to be in a locked-down room. But Holt had it moved out here for some PR stunt—to boost the mayor's image or whatever. Even with this crowd, shouldn't be hard to get close."
"What for?" Oliver shrugged. "We're not taking action here. Once the convoy moves to the club, that's our moment. For now, we just see if Holt's opening act plays out right."
Scanning the area, Oliver suddenly nudged the others. "Check it out—NCPD's here too. Look at those guys over there. Gear and posture totally different from the rest of the crowd. That's gotta be Andy's special ops unit."
"All premium kit," Jackie added. "I see a ton of branded stuff—looks like their loadout got a serious upgrade. I even spotted a Militech M-179 Achilles. That thing's a beast—expensive as hell and a pain to maintain. And they're all carrying one? Guess Mr. Johnson really did pour his 'misappropriated funds' into better NCPD gear. That's a full tier above what they had before. Special ops almost looks like riot control now."
"Not quite on the same level," Karl replied, "but still miles ahead of the days when street cops carried nothing but a Lexington and couldn't even punch through subdermal armor. Now if some gang goon thinks they can solo four or five NCPD officers with just cyber-muscles and dermal plating, they'll be full of holes before the first mag's empty."
"NCPD's still trained," he went on. "Some of them even graduated from actual academies. They've always been skilled—more disciplined than most gangoons, better at squad tactics. The only thing holding them back was shitty gear.
Now that that's fixed? Sure, they're not exactly 6th Street—their grunts are ex-military—but they'll chew through most cyberpsychos and Maelstrom nuts without much trouble."
"Gangs have been quieter lately, too," V added. "I've been doing side gigs and barely see any reckless drive-bys or turf fights on the streets."
"Used to be, if shit escalated, riot squads had to roll in. Now NCPD can handle it."
"That's why the higher-ups are happy," Karl nodded. "Downtown, where the corpos have pull, it's under control. Heard Mr. Johnson's been getting courted by city council types lately. Those guys aren't dumb—they know that in this city, real power means boots on the ground. Andy told me those fancy-suited politicians have been making him some serious offers."
Jackie didn't look surprised. "No one's dumb enough to think just because you're on the council, people are gonna follow you. You don't hand out perks, you're not getting shit done."
Karl smirked. "You'd think so."
Then his eyes locked on someone familiar. "That's Andy. I'm heading over. You guys keep your eyes open."
"Tell him he still hasn't replied about Christmas," Jackie reminded him.
"He's probably just busy. I'll mention it."
Karl nodded and slipped into the crowd.
The mass of people was dense, but for Karl, moving through it was effortless. He flowed like a fish through water, slipping between gaps in the shifting crowd without slowing. By the time Andy noticed someone approaching, Karl was already standing in front of him.
"Civilians stay behind the perimeter," Andy said automatically, noticing Karl lacked a press badge. "Non-staff are not permitted inside."
"I'm staff."
Karl held up a phone and flipped it around, clearly intending to use something on the screen to prove his identity.
But Andy didn't need to look. He instantly recognized the model—modified, and more importantly, capable of being used as a compact bomb. That phone was practically a signature. He already knew who this was.
Andy didn't blink. He gave a tiny nod. "Come in."
As he said it, he subtly turned his head, glancing back at the stage where Mayor Lucius Raines stood addressing the crowd.
"So Karl's target this time… is it him?"
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