23: Attack

"Where are we now?"

Ever since leaving the Arasaka Waterfront District, Jack had been prepared for an attack at any moment. And while they waited, this uncertainty over what might happen ahead was the hardest part to endure.

"We've entered Watson North Industrial Park. This should be an old abandoned apartment complex. The convoy's moving a little slowly. The lead car sent word that a bunch of debris has suddenly blocked the street for some reason, and they're sending people to clear it."

Oliver sat in the driver's seat with both hands on the wheel, trying to ease his nerves that way. "Do you think we'll run into an attack here?"

"I don't know, but I do know this definitely isn't a coincidence. Stay ready. Maine, open your door a little more. We're moving this slowly—we're basically targets walking down the road. If things look bad, we jump out and run."

"KK, you mean something's going to happen right after we leave the waterfront?"

A rather stiff smile appeared on Maine's sunglasses-covered face. "Fuck, does it have to happen this fast?"

"Maybe not. I'm just saying. Attacking us the moment we get out would be a little too hasty."

As Carl spoke, the corner of her eye suddenly caught a flicker of red flame emerging from an apartment building beside them.

Her slightly faster-than-average reaction speed let her shift her gaze and see exactly what the flaming object flying toward them from the fifth floor of the apartment building was.

It was far too familiar. Even Carl, who had come from before the year 2075, recognized it at a glance.

"RPG!"

RPG: A portable anti-tank weapon that fired rockets.

Fuck, they really ran into monsters the moment they stepped outside.

Who the hell blocked the exit just to kill them? What, did they think they were some final boss in a game afraid of the hero?

Carl judged that the rocket would land ten meters in front of their vehicle. She moved quickly. Even as she shouted the warning, she had already opened her door, darted out, rolled away from the blast point, and took cover behind the vehicle in the explosion-evasion posture she had learned in braindance training.

She lay prone with her back toward the blast, crossed her arms with her palms down beneath her chest, tucked her face between her arms, shut her eyes and mouth, tightened her abdomen, straightened her legs with her toes pointed down, and held her breath.

By 2075, most RPGs had a lethal radius of fifteen meters. The blast center was only ten meters from the Alvarado they were riding in, and as one of the luxury cars, the Alvarado focused too heavily on extravagance to offer particularly good blast protection. Staying inside would have left them squarely within the kill zone.

Rather than take the blast head-on inside the Alvarado, it was better to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the explosion before it hit, then shelter behind the Alvarado and use it to absorb the impact.

"Boom!"

The second Carl finished her evasive maneuver, a deafening explosion erupted behind her. Through the chaotic ringing that nearly deafened her, she clearly heard the screeching groan of twisting steel.

Relying on its massive frame and heavy weight, the Alvarado shielded Carl from the blast and stubbornly avoided being flipped by the rocket. But its front seats and hood had already twisted and deformed into a bizarre tangle of fused steel. If Carl had seen it from the front, she definitely would not have held back from calling it "popcorn."

"Ptooey, ptooey. Hijo de puta! Son of a bitch. We really got blocked in the moment we left."

Thanks to Carl's warning, Jack had barely managed to react. Unlike Carl, he had not assumed any standard evasive posture, but his Subdermal Armor and naturally sturdy muscles kept him from getting hurt. He merely looked dusty and disheveled as he raised his head beside Carl.

"Watch it. We need to find cover."

Maine was much the same. Since he had already opened his door slightly because of Carl's words, he had been the first to escape. He had now steadied himself, crouching halfway with his weapon in hand and pressed tightly against the trunk, constantly sweeping the surroundings with the cybernetic eyes behind his sunglasses in search of possible attackers.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

Compared with Jack and Maine, Oliver had been unlucky. He had been sitting in the driver's seat, closer to the front, and lacked both Carl's reaction speed and Jack and Maine's Subdermal Armor. In the emergency, he was the only one injured.

A shattered fragment had lodged squarely in his right arm, and blood was pouring from the wound.

Still cursing, Oliver drew his right arm tight against his armpit and side. Then he pulled out the medical gauze he carried with him, used the thumb and index finger of his left hand to yank out the still-warm fragment, and pressed the gauze directly onto the right-arm wound pouring blood, using pressure to give himself some emergency treatment.

Oliver was about to go mad with rage. The injury itself was minor—just this level of damage. A quick bit of emergency treatment and a shot of Re-Con would fix him up. What truly enraged him was something else.

Re-Con: Medical injection.

"I'm going to fucking kill the bastard who fired that rocket!"

Oliver shouted, "My new gun! I spent a fortune modifying it! My new gun that nearly wiped out all my savings! I'm going to kill him!!!"

Oliver had barely made it out himself, so naturally he had no time to grab the new gun beside him. His SOR-22 had only ever been used to shoot targets during practice after he got it. It had not even fired a single shot on an actual mission before it inexplicably retired with honor. How could that not make him furious?

"It's fine. I'll kill them for you."

Carl rose to her feet. The RPG attack they had suffered was not an isolated incident. Amid the successive bursts of fiery explosions, nearly a quarter of the mercenaries died under the rocket bombardment without even having a chance to flee. Arasaka's security personnel, on the other hand, had suffered no real damage. They were positioned in the rear, while the mercenary convoy was out front, conveniently serving as their scapegoats.

Through the fiery flashes of the explosions, Carl had already locked onto the apartment building that had fired the rocket toward the front of their vehicle.

Even if we weren't your primary target and got lucky enough to escape this, you still deserve to die.

"Jack, Maine, take Oliver and find a safe position. Coordinate with the other mercenaries and return fire. I'll handle the people in that building."

With that, Carl charged toward the ground floor of the apartment building. Watching her back, Maine finally understood why Carl had answered, "You'll know once the fighting starts," when asked about the team's role earlier.

So this girl was a lone wolf in a team.

The kind who commanded while fighting alone.