Targets, Battle

"Fuck the Sixth Street Gang, you motherfucking—!"

After hurling a string of obscenities heavy on maternal references at the other end of the call, Devil hung up.

As a minor Maelstrom officer, Devil had not lost her temper like this in a long time, but there was no way she could stay calm over this.

Her younger brother had died yesterday. He had been shot in the head in broad daylight by Sixth Street Gang members in Watson District, Maelstrom territory. Even all the cyberware installed in his face had failed to save him. The bullet had precisely avoided his facial implants, entering his skull through the weakest point between the implants at the back of his head and those on his face. One shot had blown his head apart, neatly splitting his face into front and back halves. By the time the Night City Police Department reluctantly notified the family, the cyberware from the back of his head had already been taken by someone. All she got back was a face that was barely recognizable as her brother's.

Anyone who called herself Devil was naturally not known for a mild temper. Just as she was about to gather her men and go settle things with those Sixth Street bastards, someone higher up called and told her to keep herself under control for the next few days and not go out looking for trouble.

Keep herself under control? Not cause trouble?

Because it was not his brother who died, he thought he could spew whatever bullshit he wanted? If your brother died, would you keep yourself under control for me?

She was going to have her revenge. She had already received the intelligence: only one of the Sixth Street members had survived, a man named Oliver. Apparently, he had even been kicked out of Sixth Street. Today, she was going to take his life.

"I told you not to run around. You should've just stuck with me and kept your head down. But no, you had to prove yourself. Well, look at you now. Prove shit. I don't even know where I'm supposed to put half your face."

Devil and her brother had lost their father when they were young. Their mother raised them for a few years before working herself to death in a factory. Ever since then, the two of them had basically relied on each other to grow up. Devil had been luckier. She caught Brick's eye early and joined Maelstrom. Though her face had gained a pile of cyber-eyes, she could at least support both of them. A few years later, she became a middling gang officer. With six cyber-eyes watching, she had thought an easier life was finally within reach. Who could have expected an accident like this?

Devil had never wanted her brother to join Maelstrom. She wanted him to get an education and live a proper life. But he wanted to help, and no matter what she said, he insisted on joining the gang. Unable to talk him out of it, she let him in. Then he decided he did not want people saying he relied on his sister, so he gathered his own crew and made a name for himself in the gang. Things had been going well. Who could have expected this to happen? If she had known, she would never have let him leave her side.

All regret and frustration were meaningless now. What Devil wanted was an outlet. The future could wait. Her only remaining family was gone. Even if she had to go mad, die, and become a Cyberpsychosis case, she would send that Sixth Street bastard down to keep her brother company.

Just as Devil was about to call in her men, the door to her room was violently shoved open, and one of her subordinates rushed in with a panicked expression.

Devil had been in a foul mood, and no one had dared disturb her. But this was something she had to handle herself.

"Boss, three people broke in. We can barely hold them back!"

"Three people?"

Devil found her subordinate's words baffling.

There were more than twenty people in this factory. They could not hold back just three?

"Which blind bastard picked today to show up? I'm already pissed off."

With one hand, Devil lifted a Militech Crusher Kinetic Shotgun from beside her. Those three had come at exactly the right time.

Once she blasted them into pieces, she could ride that momentum straight into trouble with Sixth Street.

Still, Devil was not reckless enough to rush out with her shotgun and immediately trade fire with the three intruders. After sending the anxious subordinate to notify the others that she would be there shortly, she walked over to the surveillance console and looked at the footage she had missed while on the call.

Not looking would have been one thing. But the moment she did, her gaze was locked onto one particular screen.

The image showed a young blond man with a thin mustache.

This guy... this guy!

The six cyber-eyes on Devil's face flashed constantly with agitation. She recognized him. There was no way she could be wrong!

She had stared at this man's file and photograph all night yesterday. This was Oliver—the sole surviving killer from Sixth Street yesterday!

What a surprise. Before she could even go looking for him, he had delivered himself right to her door. Perfect. She would not even have to waste time tracking him down.

She did not bother checking the other surveillance feeds. Once she confirmed Oliver's location, Devil burst through the door and charged straight toward him.

She wanted him dead!

Completely unaware that he had already been targeted, Oliver was currently hunched behind cover, occasionally poking out to fire a shot from his Copperhead at the Maelstrom members across from him. The Maelstrom forces in this factory had absurd firepower. They were nothing like the Maelstrom members they had encountered on the street before. Under the nearly nonstop barrage of gunfire, he could barely find any chances to return fire.

"Carl, think of something! If this keeps up and they push close enough to throw grenades, we're gonna be eating 'buns'!"

He shouted toward Carl on the other side. He never should have listened to Carl's idea about charging in recklessly. How was this supposed to be a frontal assault? This was their territory—they lacked nothing here.

"Relax."

Since Carl had been prepared to charge in, she naturally had not come unprepared. Otherwise, would she not be gambling with their lives? She had long prepared for the possibility of trouble.

"I've already confirmed the Copperhead's relevant data."

After firing four rounds, Carl had completely mastered the Copperhead. Now all she needed was—

"Jack, make an opening for me!"

"Leave it to me."

Upon hearing Carl's words, Jack made a move neither Carl nor Oliver had expected. Without hesitation, he charged directly out from the cover on Carl's side and lunged toward the cover where Oliver was positioned.

"Using your own body as bait? Are you insane?!"

Oliver watched as the Maelstrom members instantly swung their guns toward Jack. Bullets danced past him. Though Jack's dash lasted only an instant, two rounds still punched through his arm and thigh.

"Carl, now!"

"You really are insane, Jack!"

Carl rose from behind cover with the Copperhead in hand, its muzzle already aimed at the Maelstrom members who had just shifted their guns away.

"Seven people. Fourteen bullets are more than enough."