Although this will somewhat damage the reputation of the Trauma Team, it’s ultimately a good thing for the whole, serving as a warning to those unruly guys and their masterminds, and further enhancing the Trauma Team’s monopoly position in high-end medical services.
Embarrassment is far less important than tangible benefits.
"My people?" Gloria, still wearing her doctor’s coat, blinked with an expression of not knowing what you’re talking about. "Mr. Caster, did you get something wrong? We are a medical company, and our staff list only includes medical personnel."
"Still pretending!" Caster shouted angrily, pointing to the big screen behind him, where the defensive lines constructed by a few Trauma Team members were being pushed back relentlessly by the players encircling them from all directions. "Do you dare say they’re not your people?"
Damn it, these lunatics are risking their lives to snatch Trauma Team members for the ERO, and then charging only the basic medical fee after treatment. Is this something mercenaries would do?
Where in the world can you find such cheap cannon fodder?
"Hehe." Gloria chuckled as if she’d heard something very amusing. "Mr. Caster, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. I can swear to heaven that before today the ERO Medical Center has no relationship beyond healthcare with these mercenaries you’re seeing."
"I think instead of calling us to question, you should consider whether you did something to make these mercenaries resent your company. I remember... You have executed quite a number of mercenaries on the street recently, maybe they are twin brothers or family members of those killed, now here for revenge."
Caster was so furious he could hardly contain himself, but when told, the Trauma Team really wasn’t in the right about this.
On-site rescue has always been about who arrives first and who can take the patient away; the money is theirs, no matter whose membership the patient holds.
Never mind how the patient got there, just ask whether the ERO got there first.
The result was that the Trauma Team couldn’t compete with the ERO, so they murdered accompanying mercenaries in the street, even resorting to attacking the ambulance with force and assassinating the rival company’s executives.
If Caster considered mercenaries as ERO’s armed forces, that would mean the Trauma Team had killed over a hundred ERO employees in the street, and a retaliation would be well justified.
"Fine." Caster gritted his teeth. "Since you don’t want me to have a good time, then don’t expect to have a good one yourself. Even if I die, I’ll pull you down with me!"
He promptly pressed the disconnection button, then turned to dial the number of another company.
He wanted to contact News 54 to send reporters for a live broadcast on how the Trauma Team was handling those audacious enough to provoke the tiger.
Turning big problems into small ones and resolving small ones entirely only exists between equal parties, and ERO doesn’t qualify.
On the street battlefield, four floating cars successively crashed onto the street, turning into scattered steel ruins below, where the fighting was blazing hot, bullets were sprayed lavishly outward, surrounding shops closed or fled, leaving only the players and Trauma Team present.
Even though players outnumbered them, the Trauma Team wasn’t made of clay.
At least in terms of high-end capabilities, the Trauma Team still held the advantage.
Several swift massive black shadows kept weaving through the battlefield, much like locomotives, anyone they touched was either dead or maimed, few players could survive more than a couple of moves.
A Trauma Team elite operative punched a newbie dead, then immediately lunged toward Tutu, the bullets from nearby players could only scratch sparks on him and become ricochets, his speed was astonishing.
This was the combined defensive force of metal skeletons, carbon nano-muscle protection, and heavy subcutaneous armor; unless you fired armor-piercing rounds, conventional rifle bullets posed no lethal threat.
Not to mention the exaggerated mobility, in superhero movies, it was the kind that wouldn’t even need special effects.
Otherwise, they wouldn’t have jumped off the floating cars to intercept the ambulances head-on just now.
Tutu screamed, "Holy crap! He’s coming at me!"
The large fist, like a casserole, almost instantaneously closed in on Tutu, about to smash his skull like a shattered watermelon, but Brother Dao stepped in front of Tutu just in time, standing with a large shield attempting to block the blow.
Impact akin to a shell shook the metal shield capable of easily blocking bullets into a tremble, emitting a pained creak. Brother Dao’s hydraulic exoskeleton arms barely avoided exploding as his arms fractured.
This was the power of new-style gorilla arms, punching force calculated directly in tons, smashing through concrete walls was trivial, far surpassing the output of exoskeletons.
This was the first time players distinctly perceived the difference between elite monsters in Night City and themselves, with strength far beyond that of Scavengers and Night Wanderers.
Though the force acts mutually, with Brother Dao and Tutu nearly flipping the car and getting wiped out, the elite operative stiffened due to the collision, and the next moment a swift blade leaving a trail of afterimages cut through the air and stabbed straight through, piercing the elite operative’s throat, pinning his whole body directly to Brother Dao’s shield.
This blade was thrown from afar by Natural Curl, who had himself been sliced from shoulder to chest by a Praying Mantis Blade wielded by an elite operative before death, the cut neat and smooth, collapsing after throwing the long blade.
The field team captain commanded the remaining team to retreat continuously, shrinking back into a two-story building by the roadside, organizing to reconstruct the defensive lines while shouting into the intercom.