NOVEL NEXT Chapter 17: Red Sun
The fluorescent lights in the station cast a muted glow, painting the room in an unnatural light.
It was the start of an overnight shift for a dedicated group of the Maximum Force Tactical Division.
The station itself was a haven of sorts, a second home for these heroes and borderline cyber psychos who stood ready to respond to emergencies at a moment's notice. Their station was a blend of antiquated machinery and cutting-edge holographic displays, a testament to the convergence of past and future. Rows of sleek bunks were nestled in a corner, each adorned with personal augmentations that glowed softly in the dim light. The air was thick with the hum of machines and the distant wail of sirens, the natural sounds of night city.
The main reason for the older machines was because of the sheer difficulty they gave netrunners in messing with Max Tac Operations. Many a time netrunners had breached the walls only for them to be blocked because it was an entirely mechanical system running the object of target.
Helen was laying awake in her bed as time began to tick on at an ever-slowing pace, she wasn’t used to sleeping with others in the same room. Helen twisted her head to the right looking out towards the windows covered by a set of blackout curtains yet the glow of night city illuminating the floor beneath them.
0300
The witching hour, often associated with 3 AM, has long held a place in folklore and popular culture as a time of supernatural occurrences, eerie happenings, and heightened spiritual activity.
If you pair that belief with the fact that the shift they had relived said it was a silent day and it should be an easy night, anyone with an iota of experience could tell you that it was going to be a difficult night.
Alert Alert! All Teams head to bay 4 to prepare for deployment.
The moment before takeoff is marked by a low hum as the engines rev up, sending vibrations through the metal frame of the vehicle.
The Max Tac team sat in tense silence, their black armored suits reflecting the dim light of the city lights outside of the windows. Each member checked their weapons and equipment one last time, the air heavy with anticipation.
“What kind of gun is that?” Glen asks having noticed Helen, the woman actually wearing an older generation of Max Tac armor.
At that moment Tobias looks over at the gun the new hire was holding and was completely stumped
“What the fuck is it with you and revolvers?” Tobias mutters
“This is the Rhino, a prototype of a gun from a company that died during the second corporate war.” Helen states
“She fucking loaded blacktips!” Glen calls out
“You have armor-penetrating rounds for your pistol?” Tobias asks
“Well it's a tungsten-tipped 40 Smith and Wesson, The cartridge is also custom loaded, hot. Not to the level of .357 however, you don’t use a revolver because it is effective. You use a revolver because it's intimidating as fuck.” Helen says swishing her wrist cowboying the gun shut.
“So the revolvers and the older Max Tac uniform. You are rather old-fashioned aren’t you?” The pilot asks
“I don’t believe we have met yet. I’m Helen,”
“Well met Helen, My introductions will have to wait though. We are approaching the drop zone.” The pilot says as the side door opens and a rotary minigun deploys from the ceiling for anyone to use.
Helen took a peek out to see the scene below.
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A few minutes earlier.
The police were at a scene that several hours ago had already been answered by a merc doing one of the usual scanner hassles. With night city as bad as it was, they couldn’t complain taking all of the help they could get.
Down a dark alley in the inky blackness of the night, the flickering neon lights of Night City cast distorted shadows that danced with an eerie grace. The air was charged with tension, thick with the scent of impending violence. From the depths of this darkness emerged a figure, its body was a grotesque fusion of flesh and machine, an abomination of wires, metal, and synthetic skin. Blood-red eyes glowed with an unholy intensity.
“Uh, Sarge You might want to look to your right!” Shouts a patrol officer
The sergeant looks over only to be greeted with a guttural snarl, as the metallic amalgamation lunged forward, its limbs moving with an unnatural speed that defied the laws of nature.
“FUCK IT IS A PSYCHO CALL MAX TAC!” The Sergeant shouts.
The NCPD officers on the scene braced themselves, their weapons hastily drawn and pointed at the approaching nightmare. Shouts of warning were drowned out by the screech of metal against the concrete as the cyberpsycho's metallic legs dug into the ground and preloaded themselves like a tensioned spring. The figure launched itself forward a beast pouncing on its prey.
Bullets erupted from the cacophony of weapons, a hailstorm of lead traveling at the cyberpsycho's shadowed form. But its augmented reflexes defied the barrage, its body contorting and twisting with an almost serpentine grace to avoid the onslaught. It was clear the thing had a kerenzikov.
The gunfire illuminated the chaos, casting enough light to catch fleeting glimpses of the distorted visage that bore down on them.
The uncanny valley effect causes their stomachs to twist. It looked human yet it was without a doubt off.
In a blink it was swinging a jagged-edged shard of metal, the makeshift sword tearing through the air with a hiss as the air was cut by the sharp length of scrap metal. The Officers stood no chance, the shard cleaved clear through the sergeant and partially through the concrete below.
In the time it took for the psycho to pull the blade free, a lone officer had managed to land a solid shot. A bullet piercing the cyberpsycho's shoulder lodging itself into the joint of the metallic limb.. The wound seemed only to fuel its rage, its distorted laughter reverberating through the air like a nightmarish echo, empty and penetrating. With a low growl, it raised the blade again and closed the distance, its figure blurring as it slid across the ground towards its next victim.