A few hours later we said our good-byes and could continue with our original plans. I left the organization of Saphie's investigation to Alina, she was more than capable of monitoring the Probes and Observers while they watched the most likely suspects. That might seem like a cold attitude to take. But everyone, including her sister, thought she was already dead. So there was no rush in their minds. As to my idea that the Corpos might have snatched her to keep stashed away and pumping out ideas for them. I kept that to myself for now. If it happened to be true, a few more months of being in their clutches was unlikely to change anything about her status.

I growled at my own thoughts. I didn't like it. I wanted to save her now. No, I chastised myself again, haste would be detrimental here. So I swallowed my desire to charge into the situation. I needed to wait and let my Robo-Buddies do what they do best. Alina would keep me up to date on all of their findings. That would have to be enough for now. I knew it was the best play, but fuck I hated having to sit on my thumbs.

John, Jim and I got the troops into the truck and headed further north into Watson. I kept us moving at a slow pace, looking for promising clusters of Gangoons. When we had some fuckwits sighted, instead of immediately jumping out and going balls to the walls, we marked their positions and continued looking for more. Another Observer had been tasked with following us and keeping tabs on the groups we marked. Maelstrom, Scavs, and Tyger Claws along with a few lesser known gangs like the Fire, Harpies and the Corded. The only really common factors between all of the scumbags was a wiliness to ignore the law and a lack of empathy for anyone not a part of their Gang.

Why were we sticking to simply scouting them out? Why not just put foot to ass as fast as possible?

Our goal was to find a central location to each of the Gangs' activities. One that we could take over from each group and then defend while racking up a massive body count. Then after a a certain amount of assholes had been flatlined, we'd fade out and move on to the next target. Maybe duck under a Pylon for a short rest and to dodge heat from the NCPD. This was an excellent way to test of our weapons and armor against a normal level of local threats. It would also kill some time while we waited for night to fall. Too much fun in the light of day, might see us tangle with some NCPD or Corpos who could decide to investigate the commotion. At night, their script was different, the cops would rarely stick their necks out in these rundown neighborhoods, and the Corpos were way too busy doing their most critical wetwork and networking partying.

While a lot of factors could still go wrong, that would all become part of the testing. How are the all the players going to respond? How aggressive are they going to get, over one piece of critical logistical real estate? What level of tactical sense would both our boys and our enemies be able to maintain while under fire? Would the Power Armor be able to keep up with Borged out psychos? How well will crysbronze tipped ammo tear through cyberware, especially defensive mods? We had so many questions. It was time to dig up some answers.

As night crept in, like a thief sneaking up on their latest client, we had managed to find a handful of buildings we marked as prime targets. We wouldn't be able to hit all of them tonight, but we were in no hurry right now.

The first target was, of course, going to be a Maelstrom run garage. It was a trashy looking pile of scrap metal and crumbling concrete, held together by a hope and a prayer, and probably some duct tape. It was a fairly isolated place yet their gangoons tracked through there constantly, hundreds every hour. It had to be a drop off and pick up point for klepped goods, weapons and cyberware. Scans had shown that the Garage itself was a cover for lots of underground activity. Likely smuggling tunnels or holding cells for poor unfortunate folks caught up in the Maelstrom's bullshit. No fewer than 24 Strom bangers were present at any one time, often a lot more. Clearing this building would be a good start to our festivities.

John, in a rare slip of emotions, was eager to get started. He had the slightest of smirks gracing his otherwise grim features. Jim was worried something would go wrong. He was riding herd hard on the boys, making them run weapons and armor checks over and over. The troops were joking, between those checks, and seemed as mentally stable as ever. The repeated weapons checks, and the reports from the Power Armors' systems showed that everything was good to go. My attitude was somewhere in between. Sure, I was physically a mass of nervous energy that was ready and willing to uncoil on the unsuspecting gangers. But mentally I was calm, my mana remained still pool waiting peacefully until needed.

The plan we had drawn up, started with John sweeping the perimeter working his way deeper into the building. Meanwhile, Raynor and four of the boys would swing around and hit the North side of the building. I would take the other four troops and hit the garage from the west.

We parked in an abandoned lot over a block away and slowly worked our way into position, trying to avoid as much attention as possible for Power Armored soldiers. Raynor split off with his group and vanished into the darkness. A minute later John just vanished, even the Observer on overwatch lost track of him. That meant it was going to be impossible to gage his progress, so we had agreed to give him a five minute head start before lighting the place up. Though I had my doubts that we could hit him even if we tried, never mind hit him by accident. So I wasn't too concerned about catching him with friendly fire. What I was worried about was that he would be mostly out of contact, once he'd worked his way underground. While I had every confidence in his ability to clear the warrens down there, well, shit happens.

My squad had covered ourselves in a grim silence, staring intently at the first targets we had picked out. Probably a dumb move, since some folks can sense that kind of thing, but it was hard not to.

Waiting always sucks.

Raynor's group popped off before my squad did, but that brief delay didn't matter. Almost instantly every Maelstromer outside of the building was torn to pieces by our volley of gunfire. their startled screams cut short as they some got to discover if their AI god was real.

Without my own set of Power Armor, Keighvus's former SOR proved to be almost too much for me to handle. It kicked like a mule and and that recoil knocked me back a couple of feet. As bad as that sounded, I did manage to hit the Strom I was aiming at, his chest burst into shreds, with milky grey fluid splattering into the night air. I knew that attempting to handle that sick recoil for another burst was not a good ideal. So I let the rifle fall, its sling keeping it ready if I needed it again.

Stolen story; please report.

I started a shuffle stepping jog towards the building, while my squad kept pace with me. All of us scanning the roofline for any signs of movement. A well placed sniper would have been a major problem. No one popped their heads out and no shots were fired at our approach. My trusty Omaha was swiftly drawn and I squeezed the trigger at a few borg heads just starting to peek out of the opening garage door. Every shot missed, but buzzing rounds cutting through the air caused the Stromers to flinch. Which allowing the rifles of my squad the second needed to be brought to bear. The roll-up door despite being made of a strong aluminum was poor cover against our heavy iron. The crysbronze bullets, unimpeded by their passage through the otherwise durable material, found their marks in the gangoons. More foul milky fluid was released, Pollock style, all over the garage's bay.

I dropped back a step, letting Arvigh plow through the door before me. The right pauldron of his armor absorbing the impact like it was nothing. I could see that Raynor and his squad were already in the building and had pinned a few Maelstrom behind some heavy crates. My squad caught them in a deadly crossfire making short work of their defensive position. A quick visual scan allowed us to determine that the coast was clear. We had already put down every threat currently above ground. We all took that second of peace to swap to fresh mags.

That was all way too easy. My gut churned with suspicion. There was no way this should have been resolved that quickly. Either John had pulled some crazy bullshit out of his ass, or their were more Strom hiding in this building like little cowards.

After our squads ran a quick sweep around the grounds, we found no living bangers above ground. So I had Raynor's Squad break off and descended into the warrens to aid John if he needed assistance. My squad members posted up at the corners of the building to wait for the inevitable influx of fresh enemies. We all knew that they had to already be on their way. I was taking a moment to gather shards from all the bodies. More credits and possible intel on the Gang's movements were never a bad thing.

However, until the others finished up below it felt like my squad was too spread out, so my head was on a swivel trying to keep an eye in every direction at once. Then I started to prowl around making sure that we weren't surprised by any sneaky bastards. Which was some nerve wracking work. Soon half my attention was on a feed from the Observer that parked above us. I could make out the swarm of Strom bodies circling the garage. They were painted by the Observers scanners, and I pinged everyone with the data.

We heard the soft pops of gunfire from below several times while we waited. We twitched a little with each report. Knowing we were about to be similarly engaged.

A moment later Leens yelled, "Contact! Northwest!" Before firing several rounds into the night. He was soon followed by Arvigh who had started shooting to the Southeast, his demeaner was calm his voice barely heard above the rounds already tearing through the night. "Contact." Hopper kept up his watch before a round deflected off his shield, "Orc tits, I didn't see them!" Before his weapon joined the others in their terrible song. "Coming around!" Tous called out before firing at our newest guests.

I wanted to start shooting myself, to run out and cut down Strom with my bullets. Anything to release my own tension, but that wasn't the plan. I was to monitor everyone and pull them back to cover and/or provide healing if needed. Once again, I felt that It sucked to be the healer. I could only watch the feed from above, seeing dozens of marked Maelstrom fade out as their lives did the same.

After several more incredibly stressful minutes, both John and Raynor's squad returned from their hunt below ground. John was covered in grey spatter as he appeared, almost magically, at my side. Raynor and his boys took positions next to my squad at the corners.

"Looks like the bastards still want to play, Hoss!" Raynor barked in amusement. Now that the waiting was over he was actually enjoying this.

"Show them how we do it!" I called back trying to be encouraging. Our gunfire burned into the dark night and the our enemies fell.

"Fight!" The troops sounded off. Our earlier success had them riding a battle high.

"You alright, John?" I asked the legend. I didn't see anything wrong with him, but it was best to make sure.

"Yeah." He responded. As verbose as ever.

I nodded at his wit, before turning my attention back to the link with the Observer. The Strom outside were almost all down. The few remaining gangers looked ready to run.

"We should be able to roll the rest up, and then break away." I couldn't see anymore fresh Strom approaching the area. That didn't mean they weren't gathering at a staging area somewhere else.

"You heard the man! Move! Move! Move!" Raynor bellowed. We formed up on him and rushed back out into the night air. We steamrolled the remaining borgheads, making sure to pump a couple of extra rounds into each of them just to make sure that none would survive. That finished we raced back towards the truck.

Once we got back to the truck, I hit everyone with a Cleanse and a Regrowth just to help keep us pepped up. And to clear up anything that might be used as evidence if we got stopped by some nosy cops. Somewhere in those tunnels under the garage, John had found some earplugs for us both that cut any sudden loud noises but left us able to hear most sounds at the level of a normal speaking voice. Those were a godsend, and I thanked him for finding them.

The next target on our list, was a long way back towards the bridges where Watson feed into Japantown. We were hunting a Tyger Claw operation boosting goods from some of the small dock warehouses clustered there. This would be a quick smash and fade op. Then we'd head for the Outpost in Japantown to lay low until tomorrow night. I figured we'd be starving and tired by the time we got there so decided that resting was a better plan then pushing on tonight.

I kept telling myself there was no need to rush, even though I really wanted to push harder.

We caught the Tygers with their pants down. A dozen of them were just milling around outside an open warehouse door, no planning, or organization. It was obvious that they had just finished stripping the place and their trucks, full of goodies, had already left to drop off their plunder. The remaining Claws were celebrating with synth sake and loud music. Basically, they were daring anyone to challenge their crime.

They weren't expecting anyone, to actually say anything, never mind our response.

Despite getting jumped, they fought hard, their smart weapons arcing bullets at us in large curving bursts. Unfortunately for them, our shielding held up against their tiny rounds. Our return rounds started picking them off. Each Tyger tagged was a slagged mess. The sight of their friends getting splattered, pissed them off, and the remaining Claws charged. Interestingly enough when some of them closed with us their katanas' blades got caught in the shielding. It was as if they were stuck in wood. That was odd, maybe something to worry about. I'll have to study that effect when we got back home. At least for right now, it made them easy prey as they tried to free their swords. We slaughtered them without mercy.

Only one of the Claws stood out. He was a full borg and had engaged a Sandy, seeming to blink out of sight. But John had him covered and both appeared a nanosecond later with John's pistol under the Borg's chin already pumping a few rounds through the top of the Claw's head. The Claw's blade was still too far out of line to be a threat to John. Damn, that was something to see!

The last Tyger skinned, we swapped mags again. We looked for any stragglers, but finding none, left us somewhat disappointed. Again this was way too easy.

We gathered all of their datashards and left. Another job well done.