Night sets on Night City; the sky is clear, yet no stars to be seen due to the light pollution of the towering structures lit up with billboards for Budget Arms, Wet Dream, and Arasaka. The streets are lit up by the headlights of hundreds of thousands of cars; the railway is dark and empty, though the howling of an approaching train indicates that it won’t be for long. A railway overpass holds a broken fence, a truck, and two burly men.
“Alright, guys. We have ten minutes from the start to get it done. Whoever misses the window gets left behind. Missing the window also means not getting paid. Don’t miss it. Lion, we have two minutes to green, ten to yellow, twelve to red.” Owl’s voice sounds across crisply over the commlink. She is terse, ready to act on and share tactical information.
“You heard her, slagheads. Rabbit, you ready to run?” Lion, a man of medium build with short cropped hair and stubble on his square jaw, speaks into the commlink keeping an even keel. He’s shifting around in the passenger seat of the Mackinaw they purloined days ago for the mission; his combat fatigues and tactical vest don’t do much for comfort, even in soft civilian seats.
“Motor’s purring and gear’s ready. We’re in position.” The bubbly driver responds.
“Hawk?”
“Green.” Hawk’s robotic voice is amplified by the virtual connection, the sharpshooter is as terse as ever. His sleek frame prone on top a tunnel over the track. He wears a camo cloak over his back to cover his olive drab leggings and pale, bare torso. His torso is covered in tattoos of little consequence, haphazardly applied aces and skulls and whatever random bit of ink he could afford at the time.
“One minute until green.”
“Alright, we hit it hard, we hit it fast. We go in, we obliterate obstacles, we grab the package, and we exfil.” A slight tenseness starts to edge into Lion’s voice.
“Thirty seconds.”
“Rhino, you ready?” A nod and a grunt. Rhino’s large frame fills the driver seat of the truck; the man is laden with cybernetic enhancements replacing his arms, legs, and even his spine. His tank top barely holds together at the seams his due to his bulk pushing against it. “Alright, load 'em up and get yourselves tidy!”
“Five, four, three, two, one, zero.” Rhino drops the clutch on the Mackinaw; its screaming engine protesting the sudden strain of having to move the bulk of the reinforced chassis and the resistance of the transmission. The truck lurches forward straight toward the side of the bridge it had been resting on. Rhino and Lion yell with glee as the truck launches off the bridge and plummets earthward, unsure if they will hit their mark; to them it feels as if a lifetime passes before the Mackinaw crashes onto the top of the train. Rhino slams the transmission into reverse while ripping the parking brake and crushing the brake pedal, the acrid scent of burnt clutch and brake pads fill the cab. There’s a shudder in the truck as two tires pop against the unforgiving metal of the freight train. The moment the truck stops Lion and Rhino pile out grabbing the go-bags in the bed. Rhino posts watch, readying his M2038 shotgun, while Lion pulls out breach charges from the bags.
“Which direction we going Owl?”
“Intel indicates target two hundred meters aft of your current position.”
“Copy that.” Lion places the charges setting the fuse for ten seconds, “Fire in the hole!” Lion and Rhino fall back to the front end of the truck for cover just before a muffled thwump sounds indicating a breach into the train. “Pile in!” Lion and Rhino charge forward dropping through the train’s new sunroof, they roll on landing each facing a different direction. The inside of the train is cramped with little cover. Rhino, grinning like a madman at the opportunity to shoot fish in a barrel, starts blasting wildly slaughtering the Militech security and workforce on the train. Lion’s M221 submachine gun spits fire as targets start to appear toward the rear of the train through the open doors as more security forces engage the breach. “Move! Move! Move! We don’t have time to play!” Lion and Rhino start fighting their way toward the rear end of the train at an agonizing pace.
“Six minutes to yellow. Eight to red.” Owl’s voice chimes in over the commlink. Rhino turns around to take the lead as Lion reloads his submachine gun. Step after step; train car by train car, they finally arrive at their target. “Four minutes to red.”
“Locked door; Owl, can you get it?”
“Twenty seconds.” Lion and Rhino face toward the front of the train to hold off newcomers. Suddenly Rhino’s shotgun is flying toward the oncoming foes with Rhino shortly behind it, too lazy to reload his firearm in the close quarters. As he charges forward his forearms and knuckles glow a dangerous orange. Rhino spares no time in using his massive cybernetically enhanced frame to bludgeon and beat the black-clad Militech forces. Lion sighs switching his submachine gun from automatic to semiauto, carefully selecting his shots so as to not hit Rhino’s rambunctious self. Lion is on his last magazine as the body of the last goon drops dead, his neck twisted by Rhino’s immense arms; he tossed a pistol to Rhino indicating to him to hold the rear. “It’s opening,” chimes Owl as the previously locked door slides left revealing a storage car. Inside are shelves of boxes and data slates all secured behind bulletproof doors and robust manual locks. Lion turns about-face to the vulnerability switching back to automatic.
No one came forward from the portal. Lion and Rhino make their way through the door into the car, “Owl, lock it behind us. We’ll make our own door.”
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“Copy that. One minute to yellow.” The door slides shut behind the pair as they start scouring the car for their prize. “You’re looking for a box about the size of Rhino’s fist. It’s a shame we don’t have more time for this operation; I bet we could get some great side bounties from this lockbox.” Rhino pulls out a crowbar from the go-bag and starts to tear open various containers in search for the small bounty box. Lion gets to work setting the last remaining breach charges on the side wall. “Thirty seconds to yellow.”
“Copy that,” Lion intones setting the last charge, “Did you find it yet, Rhino?” Lion turns to see Rhino stuffing random boxes into his bag indiscriminately. Sighing Lion goes over to search the bag to guarantee they have their goal in hand. “Don’t just frakking grab every container you see, slaghead.”
Rhino grunts and indicates a pile to his left of small black boxes about the size of his fist; “I don’t know which one you want, those are them. I’m getting mine time be damned.” Rhino returns to pilfering the storage lockers full of data slates. Lion moves over to the pile of boxes Rhino set aside.
“What exactly am I looking for here, Owl? They’re all just non-descript boxes.” Lion, seeing the wisdom of Rhino’s method, piles all the boxes into his own go-bag freshly emptied of all breach charges.
“We’re red. Two minutes. You’re looking for- fuck it, nevermind, just grab them all I guess,” Owl’s exasperation at the lack of finesse displayed by Lion and Rhino translates just fine over the commlink. “Get ready to make a hole. Hawk, overwatch ready?”
A robotic voice replies, “Green. Drop zone under eye.” Hawk is a few kilometers up the track waiting for any sign of trouble, or, more likely, two bodies tumbling off a high-speed cargo train which he’ll have to cover from aerial security responding to the heist.
“Fire in the hole!” Lion and Rhino stuff themselves in the emptied lockers to protect themselves from the backwash of the breach charges as they blow a hole two meters tall and half as much wide through the side of the train, electrical wiring and sharp metal border the sparking and jagged hole. “Rhino get your fat ass in gear you slow slag!” Lion hops up to his feet bolting toward the new door. “This is gonna hurt!” Lion leaps from the hole and into the howling wind tumbling forty meters before being able to roll to his feet and start running with the momentum. A loud thud indicates the landing of Rhino as he trails Lion’s lead. “Where are we going?”
“Maintain heading for one hundred meters, then break to your right and you’ll find us. Got eyes, Hawk?”
“Affirmative.” He sights in his Nekomata sniper rifle over the hunched form of Lion and the bulky frame of Rhino. “Targets sighted. No pursuit in sight.” Hawk opens one optical implant to widen his field of vision so as to not lose sight of the operation area and to maintain full tactical awareness. Suddenly a half dozen Militech Wyvern drones flit into sight. Hawk sights one, holds his breath, relaxes his muscles, lets loose his breath, and squeezes the trigger. The wyvern explodes into a dazzling display of sparks and fire as its ammo cooks off from the shot. “Five bogies. Flanking from your six.” Hawk makes out Lion and Rhino turning around to face the threat their shots going wide. With an internal sigh, he sights the next drone and blasts it. Two down, four to- three to go, Hawk processes the information as Lion scores a lucky hit on one drone. “Move. I have your cover. Time is short.”
“True enough that! Keep my ass in tact, Hawk. I’ll buy ya some oil if I come out as whole as I am now!” Lion mocks the heavily modified Hawk, quietly grateful he was able to recruit the experienced sharpshooter.
“Frakkin’ flyin’ blighters! Get down here! Fight me like a man you damn drones!” Rhino curses out the wyverns as he lumbers away from them haphazardly firing behind him in their general directions.
“Thirty meters out. Get ready to turn, we opened the fence for you.” Another drone drops in a fiery explosion as Hawk obliterates it with his rifle. A final gust of wind rushes past Lion and Rhino as the freight train finally clears their operating area. The wide open field separated only by a track leaves much to be desired in the way of cover, but they’re close to where they need to be.
“Full sprint, Rhino. Move your fat ass!” Lion and Rhino abandon cover fire as they sprint toward the opening in the chainlink fence separating the railway from surface streets of Night City. Just opposite the fence sits a V340-F freight van with the back doors open. Just inside the doors Owl’s sleek frame crouches as she pots shots at the remaining two wyverns with her rifle, her short, cropped blonde head displaying skull tattoos and brain implants to aid in her netrunning; past her in the driver seat the small form of Rabbit can be seen looking back and beckoning the two toward her as her brown ponytail bouncing behind her as she grins wildly at the excitement.
“C’mon guys! This thing doesn’t need holes in it to go fast, it needs me! Get in here before we get swissed!” Rabbit cackles, “We gotta get out, let’s get paid!” Lion and Rhino are finally piling into the van; even before Rhino’s feet are up the van peels out, the screeching of rubber on pavement and smoke of burnt tire filling the air. Lion grabs hold of Rhino’s bulk and yanks him in by the shoulders, meanwhile Owl is still letting fly round after round at the wyverns.
“Hawk, what are you doing? Why are there still two?” Lion questions the sharpshooter; as he’s finally free of the burden of the large man, he starts to unload his last magazine toward the remaining wyverns as well.
“Repositioning.” Hawk is bounding down a slope, “Rabbit, pick me up, point Charlie.”
“Hawk, I have no clue where ‘point Charlie’ is, give me street corners, man!” Rabbit laughs hysterically as she whips the van left and right in an effort to throw off the aim cogitators of the wyverns. “I’m heading your general direction, get safe and discrete, Owl’ll guide me to you, silly.” Owl scoffs hearing this and shoves her rifle into the hands of Rhino.
“Do your job and slag those tin cans, meat head.” Owl gets up from the back of the van and makes her way to the passenger seat where she has her barely mobile net deck. “He’s up to the north about five hundred meters. Take a left on the third block, then go north along the track. He’ll find us. Hawk we’ll be coming in hot so get ready to jump.”
“Copy. Getting elevated.” The van careens down the streets of night city. Lion and Rhino managed to finish off the remaining wyverns, but Rhino is bleeding. Lion stabs a bounce back into Rhino to stem the flow, tearing the large man’s tank top into ribbons using it to stuff and pressure the bullet holes riddling him. Rhino seems unconcerned by the damage, keeping his eyes peeled watching their rear. Moments later there’s a loud thud on the ceiling of the van, “Arrived. Go.” The van whines as Rabbit runs it ragged down the streets of Night City and into the slums of Watson.