Cyberpunk: 2075

The Copperhead assault rifle, capable of firing 640 rounds per minute, was wielded with deadly precision in Carl's hands. Every bullet that spewed from the barrel found its rightful target.

One to the head, one to the heart.

Seven Maelstrom gangers, each granted two bullets, collapsed within two seconds.

By the time the gunfire stopped, not a single one of them could stand up again.

"Damn, mano, your aim is fucking insane!"

Jack, completely ignoring his still-bleeding wounds, was already trying to get up to check for survivors and finish them off if needed.

"Jack, you should sit down and rest first."

Oliver grabbed Jack and checked his wounds. Once he confirmed that neither bullet had hit a vital spot, he finally sighed in relief.

"If you keep pulling stunts like that, you're gonna run out of lives real fast, Jack."

"But hey, I'm still here, aren't I?"

Jack grinned. "And the result speaks for itself."

"On the way here, you wouldn't shut up about how amazing Carl's aim was. I just wanted to see it in action for myself."

"That's some serious bullshit."

Carl sighed. This was the first time he had seen someone take two bullets and still laugh about it.

"If their aim was just a little bit better, you'd be fucking dead, Jack."

"Relax, KK, I had it under control. The moment I made the move, I covered my head first, and I had a bulletproof vest on. If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have risked my life like that."

"After this job, even if we have to pool our eddies together, we need to get you some subdermal armor."

Oliver shook his head in frustration. "Honestly, I feel like dead weight right now. I need to get some implants, too. I can't just keep watching you guys do all the work and still take an equal cut."

"Your aim isn't bad, Oliver. Maybe you should get yourself a sniper rifle with some targeting enhancements. That way, you can cover us from a distance."

"But I'm nowhere near as good as you, KK."

"That's exactly why you need a sniper rifle."

Carl tilted the Copperhead in his hands. "I work best up close, taking enemies down fast."

"Honestly, Oliver should just be our designated medic."

Jack gestured at his wounds—already bandaged and properly treated while Oliver was talking to Carl.

"Hey, my sister's a ripperdoc. I picked up a few things from her, that's all."

Oliver brushed it off, then scanned the area, spotting a security camera nearby.

"We need to move. This place is covered in cameras. It won't be long before more of Maelstrom's guys notice and surround us."

"Let's shift positions, take out a few more, and leave one alive to get some answers."

Carl walked over to one of the dead Maelstrom members and picked up a few grenades.

"Honestly, I need to learn some hacking skills or hire a damn netrunner."

"If we had a good hacker, we wouldn't even need a hostage. We could just disable the cameras, march straight to the container, toss in a grenade, take a picture, and be done with it. Simple and clean."

"So, in the end, all of this is just because you wanted an easier time shooting your way through?"

Oliver was starting to think that, in this squad, he was probably the only halfway normal person. Supporting Jack, who was still struggling to move, he raised his pistol and shot out the nearest security camera.

But no matter what, these two were his teammates now. Might as well roll with it.

By the time Maelstrom's gang leader, Demon, arrived at the spot she saw on the surveillance feed, all that remained were the bodies of seven Maelstrom gangers.

Nothing else.

"Fucking useless. You couldn't even hold them off for a few minutes?"

Demon wanted nothing more than to shoot each of them in the head again out of sheer frustration.

"Boss, there's blood here!"

One of the Maelstrom gangers beside her noticed a fresh blood trail on the ground, a few steps away from the bodies.

"It's leading this way!"

The bloodstains, appearing every few steps, formed a clear path. The remaining Maelstrom members gripped their guns tightly, looking toward Demon for instructions.

"Looks like they managed to do something right after all."

Her mind consumed by rage and grief, Demon didn't hesitate.

She immediately ordered her gang to follow the blood trail.

A few seconds later, as they turned a corner into one of the narrow factory hallways…

"BOOM!"

The explosion engulfed the first Maelstrom gangers in a fireball, while those further back were sent flying by the shockwave, their limbs torn apart, bodies crashing right at Demon's feet.

"Fuck! It's a trap!"

"They set us up!"

Hearing the explosion echo behind him, Carl turned around, gripping his Lexington pistol tightly—a better choice for the narrow corridor ahead.

Jack's wounds had already been wrapped up by Oliver, so there was no actual blood trail.

The blood that lured Maelstrom in? Carl had soaked a cloth in Maelstrom blood, dripping it every few steps as they moved.

The trap itself? Oliver had set that up.

Growing up in the Six Street Gang, he had at least learned how to set up simple battlefield traps with grenades.

"Oliver, keep Jack safe. I'm going back to check on Maelstrom."

Carl didn't know how many more Maelstrom gangers were lurking in the factory, so his original plan was just to slow them down.

But when he turned the corner, he realized…

There weren't many left.

Demon was just a mid-level Maelstrom officer, not a major player. She had maybe twenty-something people under her.

Some had gone out looting and fucking around, seven had already been wiped out in the earlier fight, and the grenade trap had killed or crippled several more.

Now, the only ones left with her—herself included—were just four people.

Carl's trigger finger was faster than his thoughts.

By the time he realized he should leave at least one alive for questioning, three of them were already dead.

The last one standing wasn't alive because Carl missed—no, his bullet hit her square in the head.

It just didn't go through.

A metallic clang echoed through the corridor.

"What the fuck? Just like that bastard from yesterday—the one with a metal skull and cyber eyes."

Carl figured she'd be tough to capture alive, so he immediately fired another shot, aiming for the weak spot where her metal skull plates connected.

Clang.

The bullet bounced off again.

At that moment, the Maelstrom woman's glowing red eyes locked onto Carl.

And in his mind, a certain warning from Jack suddenly replayed itself.

Lexington? This piece of shit can't even punch through the weakest subdermal armor.