The Scavenger who spoke stroked Ryoko’s face in a gentle tone. “It won’t hurt, sweetie. Don’t cry now.”
Realizing she had truly fallen into the abyss, Ryoko’s eyes showed nothing but despair. Tears traced silently down her cheeks, overwhelmed by fear, panic, regret, and helplessness. It felt like an endless darkness pressing down on her, making it almost impossible to breathe.
Boom!
Suddenly, the van lurched violently. Something slammed into the rear with enough force to spin the entire vehicle around one hundred eighty degrees. Everyone inside was thrown off-balance.
“Boss, I think…someone just rammed us!”
“Drop the ‘I think.’ They definitely did!”
“That wasn’t some random collision—it was a PIT maneuver! There’s an SUV behind us trying to force us off the road!”
“Reverse! Hurry, back up!”
The driver threw the van into reverse, trying to put some distance between them. He attempted to swing the vehicle around again, but the momentum shifted and the van lost its center of gravity, rolling over onto its side at the edge of the street. The rear doors popped open.
Tossed around inside, the Scavengers were banged up in the crash, though Ryoko—still strapped to the stretcher—remained miraculously unhurt.
“Goddamn it,” one of them muttered, clambering out the open back door with a weapon in hand. “I’ve gotta see which bastard dared to ram us!”
The rest stumbled out after him, but almost immediately, the air was filled with guttural screams and the sickening sound of blades slicing into flesh. Panicked shrieks rose from bystanders who had witnessed the ambush. The noise of fighting didn’t last long.
Before Ryoko could fully grasp what was happening, a young man appeared and undid her restraints. The moment she was free, she shrieked and tried to scramble away, too terrified to think straight. The man grabbed her shoulders, turning her so she could see him, and spoke in a soothing voice.
“Hey, don’t be scared. Remember me? We met outside Viktor’s clinic a few days ago.”
“Viktor’s clinic?”
The terror on Ryoko’s face eased slightly. She did recall seeing him before—Leo, that one time outside Viktor’s place. Confronted with a familiar face, no matter how brief their previous encounter had been, Ryoko promptly burst into tears.
“Mister… please help my mom… I’m begging you! She… she stayed behind… she’s…Mom…”
Leo, who had only planned to intervene because a little girl was being dragged off by Scavengers, realized there was more to the story. “All right, let’s get in my car first. You can tell me the rest on the way.”
…
Inside the apartment, the room looked like a slaughterhouse. Corpses of Masafusa-gumi members lay strewn in every direction, and blood spattered the walls and floor like gruesome graffiti.
Chihiro knelt on the ground, covered in injuries. She had bled so much that a dark pool was spreading around her. Her vision kept fading in and out, while the virus from Nantō Masayuki’s Cyber Black Key continued its assault on her neural network, locked in a final standoff with her self-ICE. Every breath felt agonizing, yet a strange sense of relief washed over her—at least Ryoko had gotten away.
Roughly a dozen Masafusa-gumi members stood around her at a cautious distance. Even though they were sure Chihiro was gravely injured—likely too weak to lift a weapon now—the floor was littered with more than twenty of their slain comrades. Nobody was eager to be the next victim.
“What a terrifying woman,” someone muttered. “She managed to kill this many of us, even after her neural network was compromised by the virus.”
“That’s the power of a mother fighting to protect her child.”
“Enough with the commentary,” another snapped. “NCPD will be here in a few minutes. Cut off her head so we can bring it back to Masayuki-sama.”
“Hey, what about the kid who got away?”
“Forget her. She’s just a little brat. An adult can barely survive in Night City—what chance does a kid have? Scavs, Maelstrom, Wraiths… She’ll run into one of them sooner or later. All that matters now is who’s gonna finish this woman?”
Their gazes darted around, each man hesitant. Finally, they shoved forward a newcomer with a mohawk. He approached Chihiro, trembling from head to toe.
“Don’t blame me,” he muttered shakily. “I’m just following orders.”
Just then, a bullet tore through the battered wall, sending a spray of hot blood up to the ceiling. The mohawked man froze, staring in disbelief at the mangled stump where his hand—still clutching a pistol—had been mere seconds before. It took him several moments to realize what had happened, and only then did he release a belated scream.
At last, the deafening crack of a tech sniper rifle thundered from afar. Everyone in the room looked on in stunned horror at the mohawked man’s ruin of a hand. The pieces of his pistol clattered like scattered shrapnel. Their minds went blank, only snapping back when the sound of the shot reached them.
“What the hell?!”
“There’s a sniper!”
“Damn it, who’s shooting at us?”
“Hide! Hurry!”
“Hiding won’t help. They’re using tech rounds that can punch through walls. The only way to survive is to get the hell downstairs, find Nantō-sama, and—”
His head exploded like a balloon lit by a match, spraying the wall with fresh gore. The others stood in stunned silence. Someone finally shouted, “Run!” and the survivors bolted for the stairs, leaving Chihiro behind. In their panic, no one even bothered to finish her off.
They dashed around the corner and nearly collided with a pale-haired girl standing on the landing.
“Get out of my way!”
A red glint flickered in Lucy’s eyes.
Crackle.
Sparks flashed from the neural ports at the backs of three of the Masafusa-gumi’s necks. All three collapsed, the acrid scent of burned flesh seeping into the air.
“Shit!”
“Kill her!”
Two remaining men fixed Lucy with savage glares. They dared not raise their guns—sheer distance would make them easy prey for the sniper outside—so they charged in with a bat and a katana. They had to kill her and use her body as a shield if they wanted any chance to escape.
Lucy, however, looked utterly calm. She backed away a few steps to maintain distance. Then she locked eyes on the katana-wielding man. Without warning, flames erupted across his body as though he were drenched in gasoline, turning him into a screaming, stumbling torch rolling down the stairwell.
Lucy sidestepped his burning form, simultaneously flicking out a monowire that coiled around the swinging bat. She braced both hands on the cable, and the Masafusa-gumi member gripping the bat did the same, each straining for control. The two were locked in a deadlock.