Hits and Realization. Part 2

Hits and Realization. Part 2.

Bullets pounded on the small table that served as a shelter. But sooner or later there comes a moment when the shooter runs out of bullets and has to change the magazine. And then comes that convenient moment when you can catch the enemy. Only in our case, the solo we were hunting for had a machine gun and a lot of ammo for it. To make matters worse, the machine gun was a large-caliber machine gun. Add to that the fact that he took the defense of a narrow corridor of underground communications of the city and you understand what an uncomfortable situation we found ourselves in.

It's not like it's a problem. We could have simply forced our way in with brute force and survived thanks to our heavy armor, imlpants, and Private's shield. But I wanted to avoid that unnecessary risk. So now I'm waiting for information from Kowalski and using it to plan a new plan to take over the solo.

- Kowalski, how much longer are you gonna be in there? This bullet massage thing is getting annoying. I knew I should have taken Mort, but he's too fat to squeeze through the local corridors. - I'm grumbling into the comms channel.

- Skipper that motherfucker's really prepared. Large-caliber machine gun with a water-cooling system, hooked up to a powerful portable server that protects against network attacks. - Kowalski gave me this unpleasant news.

- Looks like we've fallen into his personal rat hole. Can you try to hack into the machine gun's cooling system or the machine gun itself? - asks Private Kowalski.

- No. It's mechanical. Pure mechanics, no electronics. Hell, I used a mini-drone to see its cooling system. It's just a hose with a foot pump and it gets its water from a hole in the floor that comes out of the city water main. I could have cut it or damaged it a little with the drone if it wasn't made of a strong material that's as strong as Kevlar. - with every word Kowalski says, the mood of the team sinks lower and lower.

- I gotta admit, he's got a nifty trick with the machine gun. Looks like Skipper's gonna have to take the bait. - Said Rico.

-Waterworks. Waterworks. - Repeating that word several times until I get an idea in my head. - I got an idea. Kowalski, you can fly a drone into that hole and survey the waterworks. I can't believe there isn't some kind of technicality or something.

He nods, and I and the rest of the team draw distracting fire to try to cover the drone's movements. The plan worked. Kowalski hooked me up to the drone's camera, and the drone had to fly around for a while until it led to a small technical manhole. A very small technical manhole.

I'm starting to think about how to use it. And then I cast an appraising glance at Kowalski, who even flinched a little at it.

- Skipper. Don't give me that look. You look like a predator...or those grown women who tried to get me drunk at the bar. Brrr. - Kowalski's shaking.

- Okay. Get undressed.

- Skipper?!

- You're the only one of us who can fit through that gap. The rest of us are too big and heavy. You can get through or swim to where the machine gun hose goes out and then you'll disable it. Come on, hurry up. Or we'll go catch bullets with our faces.

With a sigh, Kowalski took off all his gear, leaving only his coveralls and his gun. Again we had to draw distracting fire so our target wouldn't suspect a thing. This went on for about a minute and a half until we got a message from Kowalski saying that he had managed to damage the hose.

That didn't slow down the machine gun fire. The machine gun began to choke until the overheated barrel simply melted. Solo tried to escape, but it was too late, for this was the moment we had been waiting for. The private gently slammed him into the wall with his shield, sending him to sleep.

We were just about to help Kowalski out of the hole where the water cooling hose was lowered, but he climbed out himself. Although some of us thought it would have been better if he hadn't come out at all. Why? Because he smelled like he'd taken part in a shit-demon orgy. The stench was so strong that even after activating the filters and chemical protection, you could still smell the unpleasant aroma of shit and real toilet water.

But there was an upside to this situation. Kowalski's stench woke up the knocked-out prisoner, and then before he could come to his senses, it did a tremendous amount of damage to his mind. Yeah, I guess the prisoner didn't expect the first thing he saw to be an avatar of a dreaddemon and a jolly old man with green skin. While he was in shock and unable to mount any kind of defense, a frustrated and angry Kowalski roughly hacked into his brain, pulling out anything that might be useful to us.

- Kowalski, report. Oh, and back off. Socks stink. - I request a report from our netrunner, trying to ignore the fact that a piece of dirt has fallen off his uniform.

- Don't make fun of me, Skipper. If you keep messing with me, I'll drone those socks into your apartment. - Even through the helmet I could feel the grimace of annoyance and resentment on his face.

- All right, calm down. So, tell me about it.

- He worked out a contract with Militech.

- Those bitches. I knew it.

- It wasn't exactly Militech, to be honest.

- What do you mean, not exactly? Are you saying this is some kind of personal vendetta against Militech?

- No. It's an internal struggle within Militech. Someone's gunning for our mutual friend Meredith Stout's position. That's all I got from a quick interrogation of our solo.

- All right. [Cell phone rings] We'll send what we know to Jeremiah and Ron and bring the bastard in for a more intensive interrogation.

When we got back to the main office, we took the prisoner in for questioning and Kowalski washed him a couple times with a fire hose. Several hours passed while we waited for more information. But I didn't just sit and drink coffee, I studied the inner workings of Militech, especially its Night City branch.

So far, the following is coming out. Meredith Stout was promoted to senior operations manager fairly recently and is not holding on very tightly. Too many people want to take her place and are trying to get her out of her position by engaging in petty and not so petty sabotage and backstabbing. I'm reminded of that story with Mort and the covert data link. If that story were in the news, Meredith would have to pack her bags and look for a new job. But I doubt about the latter, most likely she would be stabbed in some back alley by her own that would not talk too much or just out of revenge.

Back to Meredith Stout and the internal struggle. So far, it appears that someone has decided to sabotage the relationship between TT and Militech. For the sake of this, the token cyberpsychs were supported in their vendetta against the Archangels who dropped Max-Tac's reputation in the public eye in a very rude and cynical way. Instead of a proven fixer, they hired a solo because any experienced fixer who has worked long enough for the corpo can smell a rat race a mile away. Solo recruited netrunners and other surveillance specialists who provided the necessary information about the Archangels, and the problem of equipment and false IDs was solved with the help of bribes.

Now we need to find the rat who made it all up. And we'll deal with the cyber lunatics on our own. We could just shoot them in an ambush, but it was too easy and didn't have the psychological effect that would put into Max-Tac's head that touching a TT is very bad for your health.

Notification came back that the interrogation of the prisoner was complete and Jeremiah and Ron were waiting for me in the top management meeting room.

- So now we know who's behind this Max-Tac setup? - I ask, reading a document from our executioners.

- Yeah. Anthony Gilchrist, works in logistics control. Only personally, I don't think it's at his level. Someone higher up in the hierarchy is pulling his strings, and Gilchrist is just a pawn to be set up. - Jeremiah stares thoughtfully at the data file on Gilchrist.

- I, too, have my doubts. Stealing cargo or smuggling contraband hidden among Militeh's goods and then selling it on the black market is what we can expect from him. And this is a setup. - Ron displays a picture on the screen, showing both the official and unofficial hierarchy of Militeh's power.

- Hmm. Logistics and cargo. Theft. Kotraband. Security. - Jeremiah muttered, and then his eyes widened as if he'd found the answer to a riddle. - Exactly. Security.

- Jeremiah, what do you mean? You think it's internal security? - I ask him and stare at the picture trying to figure out where that invisible connection between the SB and this logistician is.

- No. He means security. Roughly speaking, Militech's escort units. - Ron points to a thin thread in the unofficial Militich hierarchy between Gilchrist and a certain Lindbeck, head of transportation security.

- Exactly! After all, his current position is practically the ceiling for him. Only by getting rid of Meredith Stout he will be able to get a promotion, otherwise he will only get a salary increase without any strengthening of authority and power inside Militech. Apparently the fate of the eternal captain doesn't appeal to him. - I've got the whole puzzle figured out in my head, too.

- I'll contact Meredith and get her to do an internal investigation good the evidence and interrogation tapes we have will allow her to crack Lindbeck. - Jeremiah started contacting Meredith.

- As much as I'd like to stick a blowtorch up that Militich schemer's ass myself, I'd rather let them handle it. If we get involved in Militich's dirty laundry, we can't expect much gratitude from them. - Ron sat down and sighed loudly.

- Yes. If we retaliate with a bloodbath over this Lindbeck, our relationship will cool down, which could be bad for all of us. But the Max-Tac schizophrenics need to be dealt with. There's already whispers that a couple of our Archangels got beat up by psycho cops. - I'm lighting a cigarette trying to think of something to break Max-Tac's back.

- You got any good ideas besides the usual safari shootings?

- You said the word safari, and I got a little wild idea.

- М? Come on, I'm curious to know what your evil genius has come up with. - Ron grinned.

- You know that I've been in contact with my team and worked with Animals quite a bit, right? - I'm starting from far away.

- Huh. Contact. Work. You beat the crap out of them in the ring and turned them into obedient dogs. - Ron laughs.

- Well, here's the thing. Why not take their method of identifying Alpha? With a relatively fair fight in an arena or fighting ring to show who the top predator is. Max-Tac already walks the line between reason and instinct, so why not break them down with the suggestion of primal terror. - By the end of my speech, Ron stops smiling and begins to seriously consider it.

- It's not that crazy. Kind of like the old dueling courts. There's a certain amount of mysticism and sacredness, too. I think it'll be good for these psychos. What about you and your boys? Can you not just beat them, but break them down? - Ron's tone rattles iron, hinting that winning on points won't do it, and a complete destruction of the enemy's will is necessary.

- I'll answer you with a quote from a character - "Those are brave men knocking at our door. Let's go kill them"