"This Mantis Blade is really something else."
Karl looked down at the serrated Mantis Blade still attached to the dead attacker's arm. He hadn't expected anyone to customize one into something resembling a chainsaw.
The way the blade rotated near the wrist, it looked just like a saw. Somehow, it felt familiar...
He remembered an old anime from his original era—one of those "ultimate lifeform" characters had wielded a similar arm weapon. It had style.
A chainsaw-hand slicing cleanly through everything in its path—yeah, that was cool.
Bang. Bang-bang.
Gunfire echoed in the background. Karl tilted his head slightly.
The battlefield situation was already clear.
Thanks to Karl's relentless takedowns, Militech operatives and the nomads now held the clear advantage in numbers. They had begun encircling and wiping out the few remaining attackers.
These last few enemies still tried to resist—relying on subdermal armor and their remaining weapons—but without their commander and elite members, they were soon divided and overwhelmed by Meredith's well-coordinated team.
Efficient tactics.
Karl mentally scored Meredith's performance. Blanca had asked him to assess her loyalty and capabilities. He couldn't judge the first, but her skills were evident.
For corps like Militech and Arasaka, battlefield command was a key skill. It wouldn't be surprising if Meredith ended up with a promotion soon—getting to Blanca's level was just a matter of time.
Eight out of ten. A solid corpo dog. She belongs in Special Ops more than Logistics.
Karl walked about ten steps to retrieve his dropped Denshi submachine gun. Just as he turned back, the final attacker was gunned down.
These guys had clearly overestimated their CQC prowess.
Had Karl not been present—had Militech's operatives been average—the attackers might've shredded everyone with sheer aggression and subdermal tanking. But this was reality.
They were good—better than Militech's typical troops—but not by a wide enough margin. One-on-one? Maybe. Two-on-one or worse? No chance.
And this wasn't two-on-one. It was five-on-one... or more.
As the dust settled, Meredith approached, brows furrowed. Her first words made Karl raise an eyebrow.
"These guys... they seem like Arasaka."
"Arasaka?" Karl dusted off his suit, revealing the Arasaka logo underneath. "Arasaka going after Arasaka? You think they realized we were the ones hitting the convoy? But none of the guards should've been able to send a signal."
"I don't know why," Meredith replied, her voice firm. "But I'd never mistake Arasaka operatives. The way they moved, their tactics—it was textbook. That aura is embedded in their bones."
"If Militech says they're Arasaka... I believe it."
No one knows you like your enemies. Coming from Militech, that claim carried weight.
Before Karl could respond, a burst of static hissed in his earpiece.
It wasn't just his—every comms channel buzzed with interference.
"Shit!"
Meredith's face changed. She turned toward the horizon.
The sky above the distant hills was shifting.
"A storm's coming!"
"A storm?" Karl asked.
Meredith quickly explained. "There's a Category 3 superstorm predicted for today. Originally, it was supposed to hit after we finished moving the cargo. It would've covered our tracks. But thanks to the Arasaka ambush, we're behind schedule."
"So what now?"
"We run. Now. A Level 3 superstorm can toss trucks into the sky. Even inside a vehicle, it'll shred us apart!"
She sprinted off, barking orders at her team.
Category 3 storms could tear buildings out of the ground. Getting caught meant death—fast or slow, depending on your luck. Debris caught in the wind would turn you into meat paste.
Upon hearing that, Karl also sprang into action.
He had zero interest in becoming Night City's version of Dorothy, swirling off to meet lions, tin men, and scarecrows.
Everyone was scrambling. Most people had abandoned the cargo entirely. Only a few insane nomads were still trying to load gear into their vehicles. The rest were firing up engines and chucking out anything heavy—including fallen comrades.
This was life or death—true speed versus death.
No one was worried about corporate loyalty anymore. Hell, the corp might prefer they didn't bring the bodies back—easier to mark them as MIA and skip the payouts.
As chaos unfolded, Karl made his way over to the crates of fallen apples.
He felt it was a shame to let good fruit get swallowed by the storm. If he couldn't carry a whole crate, he could at least grab a few.
As he bent down to scoop up an apple, something rolled out from between the crushed crates.
A small, diamond-shaped wooden block.
It caught his eye.
"Huh?"
He picked it up on instinct, grabbing a few apples while he was at it. With both in hand, he sprinted back toward the Militech vehicles.
Whatever the block was—it could wait. For now, it was time to go.
Three minutes later, the storm hit.
And it devoured everything.
.
.
.
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