INTERLUDE 7: Preem Violence

David blinked in surprise, "That's it?"

"Yeah, that's it," Cyborg nodded. "Just a little prick. The nanites will do the rest. I don't really want to put you under the knife if I don't have to."

"If you did, you'd at least use the good drugs, right?" David joked.

It didn't quite land like he expected it to, Cyborg just staring at him, "… Did that actually happen to you?"

David shrugged a bit awkwardly, "I mean, yeah? Doc at least gave me something to bite down on."

Cyborg stared at him even harder, "Dude. That's fucked. Completely fucked. How the Hell are you still alive?"

"It's not that bad… is it?" David asked.

"Babe," Lucy cut in. "Even for Night City, Doc was fucked up. I would have never let you go back to him if I knew."

Cyborg nodded emphatically, "Anathesia is practically as old as surgery, man. For a reason too. That's not even barbaric, it's just cruel and negligent. It's like he wanted you to not make it."

"Son of a bitch!" Becca swore in harsh realization. "He did, choom! Fucking gonk wanted you to flatline or short-circ so he could lift the Sandy from your corpse! I'll fucking kill that gomi corpse-fucker!"

"And I'll make it hurt," Lucy scowled darkly.

"Hell, we'd all help," Falco put in, Ciri nodding beside him. "Why didn't you tell anyone, David?"

"Didn't know it was such a big deal," David grumbled, unsure why he was even somewhat defending Doc. "I could deal…"

"The point is that you shouldn't have to," Cyborg said, placing a friendly hand on David's shoulder. "That you WON'T have to ever again. And if you ever feel the need to talk to someone about it, I'm here to lend an ear. I'd already consider us friends, man, and I understand a thing or two about life-altering surgical operations."

"You're strong as Hell, choom!" Becca grinned at him reassuringly. "None of us are going to think you're bitch-made. We've got your back, you gonk. Always have, always will. No matter what."

"Don't let yourself struggle alone, David," Ciri said, her voice soothing with its strength. "We are all more than willing to help you bear the weight."

David frowned fiercely for a moment. He nodded slowly, his frown turning into a scowl, "Yeah, I get it. I'm probably all sorts of fucked up."

He tried for a laugh. It came out harsh and self-deprecative, "Ha. That's still an understatement. No idea why you gonks put up with me…"

"Oh, David," Lucy stepped in front of him, her hands coming up to lovingly stroke his face. "Baby, we're all fucked. Do you think Becca is at all well-adjusted? She doesn't even know what the word means."

"Hey~!" Becca exclaimed, still grinning despite her 'offense'. "I know what it means! Just don't see why I should bother with shitty 'conformity'. I get by perfectly fine!"

"My point," Lucy shared an unamused glance with David that made him crack a smile. "We're in this for the long run, baby. We made it out. It's not the moon but it's damn close. And I'm going to make damn sure you in particular keep making it, yeah? I already almost lost you once, David. I'm not letting that happen ever again."

Something warm burned in David's chest at her declaration. He grinned, lopsided and fond enough to be indulgent, "Alright, Luce. If you insist. You make it sound like you can't live without me."

"Damn right, I can't," Lucy scowled slightly. "And now that we've met Didi, I won't accept a shitty excuse for leaving me like 'dying'. You're stuck with me, Chrome-Boy."

David gaped at her for coming right out and saying it like that, glancing at the others with them. Becca grinned her usual manic grin, completely agreeing with Lucy's point of view. David obviously wouldn't find any help there. Ciri gave him a small, amused smile in return.

Falco shook his head, bowing out before he could be dragged in. And Cyborg raised his hands as if dodging any responsibility, "Hey, man, she's your girlfriend. I'm not about to tell her she can't. And Didi is way above my pay grade. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the whole 'personification of Death' bit in the first place."

"Yeah, she's a bad bitch," Becca said, laughing as if she was talking about someone other than Death herself. "Fuckin' love Didi and her boytoy."

"Life's gotten real complicated, real quickly," Falco sighed to himself.

"Choom, I'm thriving!" Becca declared. "This place is weird as fuck and I'm HERE for it! What's not to love?"

"The whole 'hero-villain' thing is a bit hard to get used to," Lucy commented, her lips twitching slightly.

"I thought it strange as well," Ciri nodded. "This is the only world I've come across with this phenomenon. Some of the heroes seem to have the strangest prohibition against killing. It's like nothing I've ever seen."

"We try to solve our problems in other ways first," Cyborg said. "I don't think that's all that strange."

Ciri gave him a look, "Compared to the wider multiverse, even just what I've visited? It's quite unusual. Not many men and women could claim the same restraint as your heroes."

"I'm not crazy about going quiet all the time," David frowned. "We're gonna be working with Deathstroke from now on so I hope we won't have any issues, yeah, choom?"

"Only if we run into each other on the job," Cyborg shrugged. "With any luck, that won't happen and we'll be able to stay friends without mentioning… work…"

"Don't worry, big guy. Even if we do end up against each other, we'll take it easy on you. This world doesn't have enough chrome jocks for us to go around flatlining indiscriminately!" Becca cackled.

"How reassuring," Cyborg deadpanned.

"We heard back from the new boss man yet?" Falco asked.

Lucy nodded, "Yeah. Seems like he already has a test run lined up for us. Some cartel shit in Central America. He works fast. Said he'd provide our gear and pay us no matter the job's outcome so long as we don't flatline ourselves straight out the jump."

"Oh, Hell yeah!" Becca pumped her fist in excitement. "Free irons and we get to recreate the Drug Wars for ourselves?! Now, that's my idea of a party!"

"And we get to see the boss man in action," Lucy added. "He's gonna be running with us as just another member of the crew. Wants David to take the lead. A test no doubt but David can handle it."

"Huh, boss man, fixer, and merc? That's a first," David said absently, rolling his shoulders to work out a few minor nerves.

"How much time have we got to prepare?" Falco asked.

"Not all that long. Boss doesn't need us in prime condition for a fodder job like this. Just good enough. Hell, he probably prefers it this way. It'll let him get a better idea of our usual baseline instead of the best we got," Lucy considered before turning to Cyborg with a raised brow. "Are we gonna be good to scrap by tomorrow evening?"

Cyborg sighed but a hint of worry entered his expression, "Yeah, the nanites should do their job… I'm, uh… I'm gonna add a few things to their programming though. Get 'em to streamline your augments and improve on your tech and software a bit. Just in case, you know…?"

"Aww~," Becca cooed. "The big guy cares about us! Ain't that cute, boys~?"

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Cyborg grumbled. "I'm not letting you guys get hurt with my tech inside you. It'll make me look bad."

"Sure, it will, big guy. Sure, it will…" Becca shot Cyborg a knowing grin and a painfully obvious wiggle of her eyebrows. "So what do we do until then?"

"Well, the Boss flicked me a catalog of weapons he says he can get his hands on at short notice…" Lucy teased leadingly, pausing for a moment as a grin of her own sprung up on her face. "But what I really wanna do is try some of this 'real food' stuff that a still-living world has to offer."

The Edgerunners all paused as they remembered that little fact.

"Yeah…" Falco said, his mind already lost in culinary dreams. "I could eat."

"Guns and grub!" Becca cheered. "The fuck are we even waiting for?!"

IIIII

"Fuck, choom, I think I'm gonna bust~…" Becca moaned lewdly. "So full~… So fucking full~… I can't stop~! This shit so hard~… Preem~! Nova~! Gyatt damn, choom~!"

Despite the depravity pouring out of her mouth, Becca was still fully clothed. It certainly wasn't a stretch to mistake her moans, mewls, and mutterings for something said in the heat of orgasm though. In a certain roundabout way, it was even accurate. Kind of…

Becca dug into her third big-ass burrito in 24 hours. It was the best thing she'd ever had. Packed to the brim with actual veggies and actual rice and actual, real, fucking meat, choom! Even the tortilla was like nothing Becca had ever experienced, authentic and handmade in a way that blew her mind with every bite.

The only part of the burrito Becca vaguely recognized was the sauce. But even then, it was so different than what she was used to. In Night City, the sauce was the only thing in a burrito with taste. The only thing that covered up the wretched, untextured nothingness of SCOP-shit.

Here though, it was subtle and nuanced in a way Becca had no prior reference to. The sauce added to the burrito like fine fucking art! Not covered the shit… everything… of SCOP like a fancy coat of paint on rat-droppings.

After this, she'd never be able to go back. She'd fuckin' die first, choom! Nothing was worth missing out on real food now that she'd had a taste. Best part? There wasn't an end to the bliss in sight.

That nice street vendor lady hadn't skimped on the good shit at all! Becca's burrito was as thick as her fucking arm and nearly as long! She'd give up sex for this shit! Well… probably not. From what her new bestie said, her output had a weapon in his pants to match one of these burritos! Like Hell Becca was gonna miss out on preem stuffin' like that!

That Cyborg fella was cute too. A whole hunk of man and chrome while also being surprisingly innocent at the same time. But he didn't seem crazy about the whole 'hook up' shit. Shame. Becca wasn't about to get herself tied down with a whole new world of sex to explore!

Harley's 'Gothboy' seemed like a better choice for that, at least for now. Bit of fun, no-strings-attached. The dude had a straight-up harem! She could rely on him to not get all clingy and shit. A bit of mind-blowing fun was fine but really, Becca still had her eye on the Dave-Dude. They'd been through too much together to just give up on him. Besides, Sean's situation had given Becca some… ideas on that front…

Grinning to herself, Becca took another huge bite of her huge-ass burrito. Yeah, she'd crack him eventually. More accurately, she'd crack Lucy. Even after getting some real mileage under his feet, David was too frickin' wholesome, choom. He wouldn't dream of cheating on Luce. It was part of what Becca liked about him.

Until then though, Becca was a free woman, baby! And with Harley's not-quite-blatant offer on the table, thank fuck for that! Oh well, she'd see what happened. Becca wasn't about to stress. She knew she was hot, some real preem meat and chrome! Had you seen her ass?! Mmm, tasty~…

The thought sent her giggling in her seat. The others looked at her queerly out of the corners of their eyes. Becca just grinned and they dismissed it as her usual chaos. They were a bit too preoccupied with food orgasms of their own. Even Ciri. It seemed that they didn't have burritos in 11th-century Not-Europe or wherever she was really from. Poor girl had been missing out, something heavy.

The team was doing a last-minute chunk sesh, stuffing their faces before their first job with the new boss. It was better than the opposite. Greenies always made that mistake. Didn't eat a thing before shit hit the fan and then they couldn't push through when they needed to. Thankfully, Team David was better than that weak shit.

This job promised to be some preem violence in Becca's mind. The new boss certainly pulled out the stops. They were flying to the AO in a private jet. Fuckin' Nova! It was the first time Becca was flying for real. She'd hijacked an AV once but that shit didn't even leave Night City. It did give her a pretty boom and a good fight when it crashed though.

All in all, Becca's opinion of the new boss was pretty positive. He was kinda Nova. He didn't have anything against getting into the action with them. That already gave him good points. He was even letting David lead to scope him out. He was clearly experienced and Becca had to admit that 'Deathstroke' was a damn badass handle.

What really sealed the deal for him in her mind though was the arsenal he gave them access to. Becca was carrying more iron than a fucking corpo soldier, choom! Some of the heat she was packing didn't even make sense to her. It wasn't even 2020 yet and they already had a freakin' rail LMG?!

There were railguns in Night City. But only kind of — in the hands of corpos and big spenders. Nothing like Becca's new baby either. It was a thing of beauty. 200-round magazine. Caseless ammo — cause even Becca knew traditional propellent in a railgun was a bad frickin' idea. Deployable bipod stand. Mounted and interchangeable optics. A high-tech battery/energy-recovery/recoil-management thingy that was supposed to last a whole year of nonstop action.

The fire rate was a bit slow at 400 rounds per minute but there was only so much you could do with a 200-round mag. 30 seconds of sustained fire was more than enough. Beyond that, Becca would just have to pick her shots. Something she was VERY good at when she thought it was necessary.

Yeah, it was safe to say Becca was in love with her new baby. It was impractical — impossible to wield without her chrome — and it was loud as fuck — stealth just wasn't an option — and It was perfect. When she went out — if she EVER did… — Becca wanted to go out with this baby firing in her arms. She even named it after that thought: Blaze of Glory.

And Blaze was only her main squeeze right now! Becca had more, she had guns for days, baby! Twin machine pistols that were basically just mini-subbies (submachine guns) strapped to her upper thighs. A fancy new fuckin' sawed-off that could turn a gonk to blood-mist at 50 yards on her lower back. More grenades than she was willing to count. And even more ammo

It was overkill to the max and Becca loved every pound of it. She'd even been able to convince Cyborg to program a fun little surprise into her Chrome upgrades in case she needed to blow a casual battalion of tanks to kingdom come. He was a softie at heart, agreeing even though he knew it was a terrible idea.

After she finished chunking through her burrito, Becca giddily scooped up her baby to check it over for the third time on the flight so far. All the thinking about the arsenal at her disposal was making Becca antsy. She wanted to shoot something, choom! Cry havoc and rain hellfire!

Thankfully, she wouldn't have to wait too, too long to satisfy her violently chaotic tendencies. David went over the run briefing one more time. Becca listened but couldn't help tapping her feet impatiently. Standard smash and grab. Info instead of Extraction. Don't bother with false flagging or ninjitsu.

The target was some cartel. Becca didn't care which one. She wouldn't have recognized them anyway. The only part of the job still up in the air was their insertion. Hot LZ? Becca hoped it was a hot LZ. The boss had been quiet on that part so far but time was running out.

Becca absently wondered if the pilot was in on the take as Deathstroke stood from his seat and walked up the length of the plane. She and the others watched him curiously. He stopped by the door, looking back at them as it opened on its own.

"You coming?" Deathstroke asked, obviously amused by the reveal of his surprise insertion method.

The others stared at him in disbelief for a moment as Deathstroke strapped on a parachute. Becca didn't have nearly that much hesitation. In the blink of an eye, she was up out of her seat and rushing toward the door of the plane. Deathstroke leaped as if he'd done it a thousand times. Becca followed.

"YAAAAHOOOOOOOOOO~!" Becca shouted her heart out, her body tumbling into a freefall position.

Already far away, she could have sworn she heard David shout, "God dammit, Becca!"

It didn't really matter much to Becca in the moment though. She was falling! Nah, screw that, she was flying! Wind rushed against her skin and in her ears. The sky opened up around her. A wild and free roar filled her heart and mind.

"Soooooo~ fuckingggg~ preeeeemmmm~!" Becca's voice echoed off into the distance as she skydived her little gremlin heart out.

A wide grin was plastered to her face when David caught up to her a moment later. He'd pushed himself to the limit, tucking his limbs for aerodynamics in order to fall faster. A glare on his face met Becca's grin.

"Fuck, Becca, you got a death wish?!" David demanded, shouting over the rush of falling air. "Don't answer that!"

Becca laughed, the air being practically stolen from her lungs, "What's the problem, choom?! Ain'tcha having FUN~?!"

"You forgot your fucking parachute, Becks!" David shoved a pack her way, making sure to hand it directly to her so her only lifeline didn't get lost to the winds.

That did manage to give Becca a moment of pause, "Oh… Oh shit! Help me put this thing on, choom!"

It took a moment of mid-air scrambling but they managed to ensure Becca wouldn't become pancake mix when she hit the ground. And once the danger had passed, Becca could only laugh. Man, that moment of realization! What a rush!

David shook his head at her, sprawled out in a freefall position to mostly match their descents, "Insane. Actually insane. I've got no idea how you managed to survive this long, Becca."

"What can I say?" Becca shouted back. "Lady Luck loves me!"

"More like the Devil," David muttered, the words getting swept away as soon as they left his mouth.

Far away in a piano bar set in Los Angeles, a certain devilish rogue glanced Becca's way. He gave a little chuckle to himself. Yeah, she was fun. Kind of reminded him of Maz in a way… Mostly the ruthlessness and reveling in chaos. Nodding to himself, the Devil sent just a bit more luck Becca's way.

Below them, Deathstroke pulled his chute. David and Becca took that as a signal to pull theirs as well. They hadn't technically had any training with parachutes or skydiving but how hard could it be? It was just a little death-defying drop at terminal velocity. Nothing to it, really.

The landing was a bit rough. But they all made it to the ground. Ciri had to cut Falco and Lucy down from a tree — Ciri herself had done surprisingly well for herself with the whole skydiving thing — but otherwise, it was smooth rolling.

The trek through the jungle that followed was much more annoying. Dope insertion, mid-tier follow-up, in Becca's opinion. Still, at least they didn't bother with stealth. If their targets didn't see them coming, that was a bonus, but they weren't counting on it.

Eventually, Becca found herself set up on a small hill with a clear line of sight to the compound they were set to raid. It was the kind of place built by locals and known about by only locals. The kind of place that perfectly blended into the jungle around it. Becca had to wonder how the Hell the new boss even found it. He must have been either told by their client or he really was just that good. Becca bet it was the second one.

The targets milled about their compound, seemingly on edge but unaware that the Edgerunners were getting ready around them. Even without chrome, they were a fair bit more impressive than the gangers Becca was used to. Looked more like a professional PMC than what Becca thought of as a cartel.

Disciplined. Alert. Well-equipped. And armed to the teeth. David pinged her when he and the others were in position. Becca had the honor of kicking off this run. Becca grinned, scanning the compound through her new baby's optics. This was gonna be fun~…

To the cartel's heavily armed mercenary branch, the day was like any other. There'd been talk that one of the nearby villagers had seen something strange in the sky. They were on guard — you never knew what to expect with supers running around — but not all that much more than usual.

Then just as things had been going so well — it seemed that today would be just like yesterday for the cartel PMC — everything suddenly changed in an instant. Cracks straight from Hell indicated gunfire. The compound came under sudden attack. The cartel mercs were barely given a chance to react as their world was suddenly turned into a warzone.

An entire squad of five men was quite literally cut in half by rapid-fire hypersonic rounds in three seconds. Bloody mist filled the air, echoing with the strangely silent machinegun fire. There was no actual report or muzzle flash of gunfire. Just the eardrum-piercing cracks of bullets breaking the sound barrier multiple times over. And — if one listened closely enough — an eerily ecstatic, excited cackle that seemed to echo impossibly off the trees and hills around the compound.

Everyone dove for cover. It wasn't nearly enough. Becca had no mercy for fodder. Meat for the slaughter. Manic laughter bubbled in her chest as she held down the trigger. Her new baby barely even kicked in her hands, smooth and clean as it dealt death to all in its sights. Well… Not so much clean since it shredded and eviscerated cover and flesh alike.

It was beautiful in Becca's mind. Blood pooled on the jungle dirt as if someone had left the tap on. Bodies burst into gore like fireworks. Wooden and even metal barricades all but evaporated under a hail of hypersonic railgun fire. Screams of terror. Cries of pain. A deafening staccato of death. It was a masterpiece of violence. Pure fucking carnage.

And it only got better when David and the others burst onto the scene. Well, mostly. Lucy stayed back, taking carefully considered shots with a completely manageable (and boring in Becca's eyes) assault rifle. She was kind of delicate like that. Falco at least got a bit more into it with that full-auto shotgun he'd picked up. Poor guy was way out of his element though. He was a driver, dammit!

David and Ciri, at least, were right in the thick of it. David hit three headshots back to back in a literal blur, relying on his Sandy to blow some fodder brains out of the back of their heads! He was going conservative for this run it seemed. That didn't make him much less deadly though, Becca grinned.

And Ciri leaped right into the fodders' midst. She moved like a dancer of death, her sword glinting bright enough to blind as it blurred through armored kevlar and flesh like they were nothing. God, Becca loved it when Witch-Girl really let loose!

Then there was the new boss. He mostly let the crew take the lead. But when he did something, he did it well. He was easily good enough with that sword of his to match Ciri. And those shots he was hitting were insane without chrome! Everywhere he looked, heads popped like grapes, even as he clearly took a supporting role for this run.

Fuck this long-range fire support shit, Becca quickly decided! She wanted to get into it! For real, for real, choom! She briefly pinged Lucy that she was abandoning her post for some real up-close action. The netrunner would tell David. They knew Becca so they knew a development like this was inevitable.

Springing to her feet, Becca slung her new baby across her back. She took off down toward the fun at a dead sprint, giggling giddily the entire way. The cartel mercs and their compound were a complete mess at this point. No real chance of recovery.

Any hopes they might still have had were stomped on even further as Becca burst through the trees — cackling like a woman mad — and blasted apart the torsos of two mercs who were having a 'heroic, back-to-back, last stand' moment.

Double kill~! Collateral~! Booyah, choomba~!

Becca's entrance was followed by a horrified silence from the cartel PMC. Those guys must have been important with their adorably pointless last stand. Or maybe they just represented just how screwed the rest of the mercs were.

Either way, Becca grinned, casually working the action of her double barrel to eject the spent shells, "Hiya, boys. Nice to meetcha all~!"

"Perra loca!" One of the cartel mercs swore in Spanish.

"Shit, where the Hell is the gringo?!" Another asked desperately.

The smarter mercs took the opportunity to entrench themselves more firmly in cover. Becca didn't mind. If you weren't quipping, were you even really fighting? David would smoke 'em out anyway. Not like fodder even warranted his typical brand of Sandy devastation.

"Points for style but don't play with your food," Deathstroke commented casually, his voice coming over the crew's secure comm link.

"Bah! Take all the fun out of it…" Becca grumbled, finishing her reload as she subtly moved herself out of the open.

Quipping was all good but letting yourself get shot while quipping was rookie shit. Some might think there was a delicate balance there but it was simple, really. Kill your targets and everything that stands in the way. Preferably before they could shoot at you. Failing that, don't get shot. Quips and one-liners were just the spice and flair on that ol' reliable chicken-n'-rice.

As the tense 'ceasefire' began to drag on too long for Becca's liking, she pulled the pin on a grenade and casually tossed it into the main compound. A few of the fodder fucks were trying to inch that way to hide or bunker down. She… dissuaded them from that course of action.

As the 'nade went off in a glorious burst of shrapnel and fragmentation, a colorful man-sized blur practically flew out of the compound. The blur landed and stood up straight to reveal a glam-rock-lookin' gonk. He was decently ripped, Becca supposed, in that sort of hardcore Dorpher way. White face paint covered the area around his intensely bloodshot eyes and way too much white powder covered his nose. He twitched with an unnatural energy and pure white flames flickered on his visibly sweaty skin.

"Who disturbs my cocaine part-…! Ahem, power-up session?!" The man exclaimed, twitching with every word.

Despite the dude's blatantly uninspiring words, the cartel mercs seemed to relax slightly at his presence, "Fucking finally, he shows up, man!"

"This shit's fucked. I'm pretty sure that's Deathstroke over there looking like he's taking a stroll…"

"El Diablo…"

"Fuck. We sure working for the gringo is a good idea?"

"Hell no. But we're in too deep now."

"Motherfucker, I told you this cabrón was bad news!"

Damn fodder, making her feel kinda bad for them… Becca grumbled to herself as she checked the crew's positions. They were already arranging themselves to support her. David nodded, letting her take the lead.

Playing along to see how this would, Becca raised her hand in response to the 'gringo's' demand, "Yo."

The glam-rock dude twitched hard with excess energy, "You!"

"Me," Becca casually nodded.

"You!!!" He vibrated with fury… before faltering almost comically. "… Who are you again?"

Becca snorted in humor, "We've never met. I'm just one of the solos raiding your operation. No hard feelings, yeah?"

"Yeah… no hard feelings…" For a moment, it seemed like the dude would go along with Becca's blunt words. Then he shook it off, his mood turning to rage in a snap. "Wait, no! I'll fucking kill you! Do you know who I am?!"

"Nah, not really," Becca shrugged, irreverent of his threat.

"Snowflame!" The dude — Snowflame was at least a decent handle — drew himself up, declaring with drug-induced pride. "The King Fucker around these parts! My shit is sold from San Francisco to Siberia! I'm the White fucking Flame of Columbia!"

"Gringo's really from fucking Miami…" A particularly funny fodder grumbled in the background, making Becca giggle and Snowflame ignore his man.

"Cool, you've got a big head," Becca casually replied after recovering from her giggles. "Why should I care?"

"You think you're hot, hero?!" Snowflame snapped.

Becca didn't correct him. Just stared. Did he really think she was one of this world's heroes with how many fodder fucks she and the crew had flatlined?

Snowflame quickly spun himself up into a rant, "The government is in my pocket! So is the Army! And the Navy! And the Air Force! Everyone wants a piece of Snowflame's cocaine! Men fear me! Women fear me! Fish fear me!"

What…?

The crazy high bastard didn't stop, his rant turning quite informative as Becca just let him talk, "I bow to no heroes! Even the Justice League doesn't dare cross me! I'm unstoppable! My powers grow exponentially! Infinitely! Expo-finitely!

"So long as I have cocaine to fuel my flames, I am invincible! I'm stronger! Faster! BETTER! And my pyrokinesis burns pure cocaine! This white fire you see?! Unlike jet fuel, it does melt steel beams! Everything is brought low by my high!"

Choom… What the fuck. Becca exchanged looks of disbelief with the rest of the crew. Was this shit actually happening? Sure, literal crackhead powers were kind of impressive. But still… Did Gonks just start monologuing at the worst possible time in this world, telling enemies their powers and weaknesses? Or was he just 'THAT' fucking high? Judging by how unconcerned the new boss was, it might just be a bit of both.

Even the fodder was starting to groan and facepalm as Snowflame pushed his drug-power-fueled rant even farther, "That's precisely why I started this operation! Here, I have unlimited fuel! And I make fucking BANK! Money! Power! Bitches! Minions! And all the fucking cocaine I can fucking snort!"

Snowflame trailed off slightly, grinning to himself and suddenly lost in memories of indulgence, "God, I love my life…"

Becca shook her head. This gonk had issues. More than any Dorph-head she'd ever met. Then again, none of them ran whole-ass cartels and production rings centered around their drug of choice. They weren't 'infinitely' (Becca had doubts about that) empowered by their drug either.

"Right," Becca eventually said. "You're a crackhead with literal crackhead strength and powers. Anything else I should know?"

"H-Huh…?!" Snowflame jerked in place as if he was suddenly reminded she was there.

"Like, say," Becca continued, casual as can be. "Does cocaine make you bulletproof?"

Snowflame paused to consider her question, "I don't know…? I've never tested-!"

*BANG!*

Becca shot him between the eyes. The single retort from one of her pistols was jarring in the conversational level of noise the battle had settled into. Snowflame's face froze in a visage of shocked, uncomprehending horror, an almost picturesque hole appearing in the center of his brow. An instant later, he tumbled over backward like a felled tree.

Becca took a moment to admire her handiwork. She'd never seen anyone die like that, going stiff instantly and falling straight back. Must have been all that cocaine in his system. Made him lock up or something. 'Satisfying as fuuuuuuccckkkkk~,' Becca grinned.

She shared a look with the rest of the crew, muttering, "This world is fuckin' weird, choom."

Falco chuckled, "Tell me about it…"

Becca turned back to the cartel mercs with an eager, bloodthirsty grin on her face as she asked, "Well, any of you gonks still up for some preem violence~?"

She only had herself to blame when the mercs instantly threw their guns down and their hands up in surrender. Didn't mean she wasn't going to pout about it though…