Chapter 74: Lucy: Since When Do I Rate This?
Rhys dragged Lucy into a narrow alley.
It was a tight squeeze, barely wide enough for three people abreast, hemmed in by old chain-link fences topped with razor wire and watched by multiple cameras. Behind one fence, two garish cars were parked—and "garish" was the only word. They were dripping in gold plating, with exaggerated, flamboyant bodywork.
They were locked up tight. Nearby, a rusted-out burn barrel and a discarded grill sat next to... unmistakable bloodstains. Looked like a Valentino party spot.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Lucy asked, her hand still held in Rhys's as he pulled her deeper into the alley.
"It's better than being out in the open," Rhys replied without turning, his voice serious. "I have no idea how many of them are out there. If it's a full squad, I can't guarantee I can protect you on the main street."
He's... If she got dragged into his mess, he felt responsible for protecting her.
Was his relationship with Lucy good? Not really. Before today, it had been... complicated. But even if she were a total stranger, Rhys would have done the same. If someone got caught in his crossfire, he'd do everything he could to get them out. This was probably why Dorio and Maine thought he was the perfect partner for Rebecca.
Hearing his words, Lucy's turquoise eyes widened, the orange eyeshadow making the expression stark. She stared at his back, her own expression unreadable. "I don't need protecting," she said, her voice strained. "I can take care of myself."
"Take care of yourself? With what, your wits? The street is full of guns. Are you even carrying?"
Even Rhys, with his enhanced body, wouldn't face down a dozen guns in the open without cover. What chance did Lucy have without any serious combat chrome? Maine, maybe... his full-borg body could probably soak up small-arms fire like a walking tank.
"I am. You want it?" Lucy replied instantly. Her free hand slipped under her hoodie and pulled out a Lexington. Not top-tier, but it would get the job done.
Rhys took it, his eyes scanning. "What about your deck? In that outfit, with no cooling, how many daemons can you run before you overheat?"
"Depends."
"Fuck. They're here." Rhys suddenly spun around, shoving Lucy behind him and raising the Lexington.
BANG!
A shot cracked, sparking off the brickwork. A low growl echoed from the alley entrance.
"He's in here! Found 'em! Move, move! Get him!"
A moment later, six men charged around the corner, followed by a seventh who was staggering—the one Rhys had just shot. Didn't even kill him?
At the other end of the alley, the two trackers who had been following them appeared, blocking their escape.
Rhys took a deep breath, ready to charge through the six men in front of him, but then he saw it. One of the gangers raised a rocket launcher.
Heavy weapons?!
It really is those 6th Street assholes!
Rhys's plan to charge instantly evaporated, replaced by a flash of genuine fear. Are you kidding me?!
A Body stat of 10 was preem, sure. He could tank pistol rounds, maybe even some SMG fire. But a rocket launcher? Fuck that! In Night City, the only person who could take a rocket to the chest and walk it off was Adam Smasher!
In that split second, instinct took over. Rhys grabbed the stunned Lucy, scooping her up into his arms. At this range, in a two-meter-wide alley, there was no dodging.
Before she could even process what was happening, she was airborne. One arm hooked under her legs, the other around her back. She instinctively threw her arms around his neck.
Rhys sprinted at the wall, planted a foot, and kicked off an external A/C unit, the metal crumpling under the force. He launched himself upwards, aiming for the three-meter-high razor-wire fence.
BOOM!
"Those psychos!"
A deafening explosion ripped through the alley. The shockwave, a blast of heat, dust, and shrapnel, slammed into Rhys's back. The rocket had hit the exact spot they'd been standing. They didn't even care about hitting their own men!
The fireball engulfed the narrow space, blowing out windows on both sides. The good news: it wasn't a top-grade military launcher. The bad news: it was still a fucking rocket launcher. Its blast radius was easily twenty meters. The entire street descended into panic.
Rhys felt the clothes on his back ignite, flames licking at his jacket. In his arms, Lucy watched it all unfold in surreal slow motion. She saw the calm, focused expression on Rhys's face, the sparks flying from his burning clothes, the shrapnel peppering his back... and then she looked into his eyes.
"What are you looking at?! Get ready to run!" he yelled.
His adrenaline was firing, but his jump had a limit; he couldn't actually fly. The only reason they'd had time for that glance, that exchange, was because both of their reaction speeds were far beyond human norms.
He hit the ground on the other side of the fence, rolling to absorb the impact, never letting go of Lucy. Carrying her is faster than having her run beside me.
He kept moving, leaping, bounding off the hoods of the parked Valentino cars, scrambling onto a low rooftop. This part of Heywood was all low-rise buildings, three stories max. It felt like the industrial parts of Watson. This was his comfort zone.
"There! Over there!"
A shout from the street below. Rhys glanced down. A black sedan had screeched to a halt, and a group of gangers was pointing up at him.
A question suddenly formed in Rhys's mind. Are these guys really 6th Street?
More heavy weapons?! Was Militech really that generous?
He dropped down into another alley, finally setting Lucy on her feet. He saw her staring at him, her expression blank, and assumed she was pissed about being dragged into his mess. But when he looked closer, he realized she was just... watching his face.
"So..." Rhys started.
"These guys are..." Lucy said at the same time.
They both paused.
Rhys spoke first, his voice rough. "Look, I'm sorry I dragged you into this. But I'll get you out. I promise."
Lucy didn't respond to that. What she'd been about to say was: Who the hell ARE these guys?!
At first, she'd been terrified it was Arasaka, that her past had finally caught up to her. But now... a full-on combat squad with heavy weapons? Arasaka wouldn't be this sloppy, this loud. They were hunters, not an army. And she wasn't that important to them. She'd been a talented kid, a tool, but one of many. Arasaka's hunt for her was about recovering "stolen property," not a high-priority operation.
So, as she'd watched the chaos unfold, she'd realized... This isn't for me.
Since when do I rate this kind of firepower?
So, Rhys... what the hell did you do?
She looked at him, his face set, serious, promising to protect her. The situation was incredibly dangerous, and yet... the panic and anxiety she'd felt her entire life, the constant urge to run... it was gone.
She'd been hunted before. She'd been cornered. She'd been attacked.
But this...
This was the first time anyone had ever told her:
"I'll protect you."