Cyberpunk: 2075

"You little shit!"

Demon locked onto the black-haired young man appearing at the corner and immediately raised her Crusher power shotgun.

"PONG!"

A deafening blast echoed through the steel hallway, the impact sending an ear-piercing metallic screech vibrating through the entire structure.

Metal was one of the best conductors of sound.

That thunderous ring traveled far—loud and clear through every corner of the factory.

Including where Carl was now running for his life.

"Fuck, was that a shotgun?! Should've aimed at that instead!"

Cursing under his breath, Carl could already hear Demon's footsteps getting closer from the other side of the corridor.

He wasn't running fast enough.

What was supposed to be a simple cleanup job had turned into a fucking disaster.

Facing off against a Maelstrom ganger with a power shotgun and subdermal armor in a tight hallway?

Carl could already picture his own corpse.

Oliver had already used up all the grenades setting up traps earlier.

If only they had kept one.

They hadn't gotten very far before Carl spotted Jack and Oliver ahead.

They had obviously heard the metallic blast reverberating through the hallway and realized shit had gone sideways.

"RUN!"

Carl slammed his feet down, holstering the Lexington mid-sprint, before sliding forward, reaching out to grab something left against the wall—

His Copperhead.

I take back what I said about you being too long.

You're perfect.

A rifle might be clumsy in tight spaces, but in a straight corridor?

All I have to do is aim forward and let it rip.

Hearing Carl's warning, Jack and Oliver didn't hesitate—

Jack hopped forward, Oliver supporting him, as they turned and ran.

Carl, on the other hand, planted his feet, raised the Copperhead, and let loose.

Bullets ripped through the hallway.

Lexington rounds? Demon could shrug those off with her armor.

But the Copperhead?

Even she wasn't arrogant enough to ignore that.

She had almost closed the distance—her shotgun was nearly in range.

Then—

Carl's barrage forced her back around the corner.

Demon watched in rage as the blond bastard supporting his friend got further and further away.

Meanwhile, the asshole with the rifle never stopped shooting, keeping her pinned behind cover.

Her teeth clenched so hard she nearly shattered them.

This humiliation was unbearable.

"I refuse to believe your ammo lasts forever, kid! You and that Six Street bastard are DEAD!"

She glanced at the corpse of one of her fallen gangers, reaching down to snatch a Yukimura pistol—a now discontinued Arasaka-manufactured gun.

One hand on the pistol, the other on her Crusher, she prepared to rush out the moment Carl's rifle stopped firing.

"Oliver, did she just call you by name?"

Jack frowned, glancing at Oliver as they stumbled through the factory.

"Did you know her?"

"Fuck if I know!"

Oliver had no clue.

"This is my first time in Watson. How the hell did I piss off a Maelstrom boss?"

"Shut up and run faster! I'm down to burst shots—almost out of ammo! MOVE!"

Hearing Carl's urgent tone, Oliver and Jack shut their mouths and focused on sprinting.

They didn't know exactly what was chasing them, but if Carl was this tense, then shit was serious.

'Should've never started a fight here.'

Carl engraved his first lesson as a mercenary into his memory.

Then—

He stopped shooting.

"Out of ammo?"

That was Demon's first thought as she peeked out from the corner.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The instant her half-exposed body appeared, three bullets tore through it from top to bottom, ripping three deep gashes.

But—

Instead of feeling triumphant, Carl's stomach sank.

A body with subdermal armor wouldn't get shredded that easily by Copperhead rounds.

Which meant…

That wasn't her body.

'Second lesson learned.'

Tossing the empty Copperhead to the ground, Carl drew his Lexington, firing off a few parting shots as he continued running.

'Still shooting?'

Demon had been ready to charge the second she confirmed Carl was empty—

But the moment she moved—

More shots rang out.

She stopped—instantly.

'Sneaky little shit… he almost tricked me.'

Then—

A new realization struck her.

Something felt off.

The Copperhead… should've run out.

That gun wasn't modded—a mag dump that long would drain it dry.

Yet…

The sound she was hearing right now—

Was wrong.

Another second of listening—

And Demon's entire body seethed with fury.

"That sound…

FUCK! THAT SOUND!"

There was no mistaking it.

Lexington.

That fucking Lexington.

Back when she and her little brother were just nobodies scraping by, that was the gun they had relied on the most.

And just now—

That same fucking gun had made her hesitate.

"FUCK YOU! You really used a Lexington to bait me?!"

Demon snapped.

Gripping both her Yukimura and Crusher, she burst out from cover.

But—

All she saw—

Was a fading silhouette disappearing down the hallway.

"YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

Twice—twice—she had been played.

Her optical implants flared crimson, illuminating the dim corridor in a blood-red glow.

Before—she had held back to avoid injury before getting to Oliver.

But now?

Now—she was going to kill that black-haired fucker too.

Even if they shot her with the Copperhead, she'd just power through and tank the shots.

'Kill. KILL!'

Her cyberware hummed with a faint electrical whine, operating at maximum capacity as her speed increased.