Capítulo 20: Gang War 2
Running around and yelling out of anger was out of the question. That would be pointless—life is unpredictable, and anything can happen here.
Incoming Call: Sebastian Ibarra
"Did you complete the mission?" Ibarra asked me right away.
"No. The intel was off. This isn't just a few small-time thugs; it's their main forces—nearly a hundred fighters from the Tiger Claws gang, all heavily armed and loaded with powerful implants," I replied.
"Are you sure? This changes everything... Believe me, I didn't intend to put you at that kind of risk. My name and my word mean something, but someone clearly gave me bad info. I'll deal with whoever dared to deceive me. In the meantime, I'm sending reinforcements your way. With them, you'll be able to handle it," Sebastian Ibarra said.
This was no longer just a cleanup mission; it had turned into a full-scale war. Here I was, supposedly on the side of the law, getting dragged into a gang conflict. Should I report upstairs that a real bloodbath was about to happen here? Or would that just raise the death toll? If the gangs took each other out, it would be the best outcome—so long as civilians didn't get caught in the crossfire. But how to make sure of that without drawing too much attention?
"Ethna, calculate the safest course of action to minimize civilian casualties. What steps should I take?" I asked, hoping the AI might have something useful.
"It is recommended that you contact dispatch to log a potential conflict and alert law enforcement for quicker response," Ethna suggested. How did I not think of that?
"Suggest alternatives that don't involve police intervention."
Under the circumstances, here are the most likely options:
Divert attention and lead the enemy to more neutral ground; success probability: 35%.
Warn civilians to evacuate quickly; success probability: 12% if the enemy doesn't catch on.
Create a threat and panic among civilians so they self-evacuate; success probability: 56%.
The third option seemed the best. But what if I combined the first and third? If I could draw fire toward myself, they wouldn't immediately drop everything to come after me. I'd just buy time for civilians to get out while Valentinos struck from behind.
Calculate this outcome.
Probability of serious injury: over 60%.
Fatality rate for the operator: 23%.
Chance of minor injury: 17%.
Result: civilian casualties reduced by 90% or more.
That was something I could work with. Now I just had to make arrangements with the Valentinos.
Incoming Call: Rick Morton. Accept/Decline?
What did he want? To remind me of my debt?
"Well, well, rookie, I hope you haven't forgotten that little debt you owe me," Rick Morton's voice rang out.
"No, I remember. But now isn't exactly the best time. I'm a bit busy and can't get distracted," I replied.
"Busy?" Rick sneered. "I help you out of the goodness of my heart, and this is the thanks I get. But I'm not calling you just for that. There's a job, risky as hell, but the payoff's worth it."
"I'd be glad to help, but I'm already in the middle of something. I can't just switch gears," I said firmly.
"'Something else'? Wouldn't happen to be in Jap Town, would it?" Rick shot back quickly, obviously privy to more information than I'd expected.
"I don't disclose where I'm operating," I replied. How did he even know? Was everyone in the city a step ahead of me?
"You're working for Ibarra, aren't you? Don't worry, kid, I'm in the loop. He and I have a temporary arrangement. I'm all for giving those Tiger Claw scumbags a hard time too. Some of the most slippery bastards around—why can't they just stay on their own turf? Greene will be over soon. Bring him up to speed and kill every last one of those bastards," Rick added.
A temporary alliance... It seemed like the city was keeping a balance of power, and whenever someone overstepped, everyone else banded together to cut them down to size. I'd seen this play out before, many times.
"I intend to keep my anonymity," I warned.
"Not an issue; you can call yourself Yorinobu Arasaka for all I care. If you want to stay in the shadows, that's how it'll be. Greene knows the drill and gives his word—no one's going to know who you are," Rick assured me.
"Alright, I'll be waiting," I said. Reinforcements were always welcome.
Now, all I had to do was finish scouting the Tiger Claw forces, pinpoint weak spots, and find the best approaches to their positions. The AI proved somewhat useful for this, quickly marking their locations, weapon caches, and identifying ideal entry points for coordinated strikes. But I'd had enough of that voice in my head and shut it off. No more need for it.
Greene Sullivan was the first to arrive. He'd chosen a rundown hostel for our meeting spot and brought a small team with him. The room was cheap, unremarkable. Greene wore tactical armor and gripped an assault rifle, with a couple of grenades of various types strapped to his side.
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"Good to see you, friend," Greene said, extending his hand. I shook it, and we both sat down at the table. "You mentioned in your message that you've put a plan together?"
"Yes, I've developed a detailed strategy," I replied.
"Good, we'll go over it with Valentinos, and you can walk us through how everything's going to go down. By the way, what should we call you?" he asked.
"Peacemaker. By the way, why are they running late? You guys got here much earlier," I pointed out.
"Understandable, really. That surprise attack from the Tiger Claws wiped out a lot of their forces, so they're short on people. Pulling together enough fighters for a counterattack isn't easy."
"So this assault is mainly targeted at the Valentinos?" I asked.
"I can't say for sure what their endgame is, but they're likely looking to expand their influence. Heywood is a big area with a lot of people, and once they dominate that market, the profits are huge," Greene explained.
"Is that why you're here as well?" I asked.
"That's part of it. We need to maintain our own footing—if we weaken, our people become vulnerable," Greene said. "I know what you're getting at, and I get it. Either we stand strong, or we get wiped out. If that happens, Tiger Claws, Valentinos, and Maelstrom will carve up this city and leave nothing but wasteland behind. Maybe the corpos would eventually step in to stop them, but until then…"
It was hard to disagree with his logic. Their reputations spoke volumes, especially when it came to Maelstrom and the Scavs.
"So you and the Valentinos are temporary allies?" I clarified.
"Yes. We're not friends, and we're not allies forever, but they're a damn sight better than the Tiger Claws. The Valentinos have principles and a sense of honor. They conduct business cleanly and without unnecessary noise," Greene replied.
"I have a request. I came unarmed, and I'll need a gun," I said.
"We've taken care of that. Luke, bring the crate," Greene ordered.
A large crate was placed on the table, holding an M2067 Defender light machine gun and a Militech M221 Saratoga submachine gun.
Weapon: M2067 Defender
Type: Light Machine Gun (Power-type)Manufacturer: Constitutional Arms
Primary Specifications:
Rate of Fire: 11 rounds per second, making it a powerful suppression tool.Magazine and Reload: 80-round capacity with a 2.1-second reload time.Heavy Weapon: Slightly reduces movement speed and jump height.
Range and Accuracy:
Effective Range: 500 meters
Design Features:
The right grip and front bipod ensure stability when prone, but a scope or suppressor cannot be attached.
Weight: 11.5 kg
[image]
Weapon: Militech M221 Saratoga
Type: Submachine GunManufacturer: Militech
Primary Specifications:
Rate of Fire: 15 rounds per second, ideal for close-quarters combat.Magazine and Reload: 40-round capacity, with a quick 1.4-second reload.
Design Features:
Range and Accuracy: Effective up to 100 meters.
Modifications: Compatible with a short-range scope and suppressor for better control.
Variant: Hansen Armory's BARGHEST modification adds enhanced armor-piercing capability, reducing the magazine size by 10 rounds.
[image]
After a few seconds, they opened another, smaller box filled with grenades.
"All the best from the military, huh?" I asked, looking over the gear.
"We have our connections," Greene chuckled.
Just then, a Valentino member walked in with a swagger. He looked as if he were here for a party rather than a fight. Unlike the discipline and order of 6th Street—armor, weapons, precision—the Valentinos came with a more laid-back attitude, each seeming to bring whatever gear they had on hand.
"Rogelio Cruz," Greene introduced, sounding less than thrilled. It was clear he wasn't fond of the guy.
[image]
"Greene Sullivan, and who's this?" Rogelio asked, glancing in my direction.
"Weren't you informed? This is our support—Peacemaker," Greene replied.
"They told me some solo was helping us out," Rogelio muttered.
"Peacemaker, could you walk us through the plan?" Greene prompted.
"I'll draw their attention by engaging them briefly. This will force the enemy to focus on me, creating enough noise for civilians to clear out, giving you room to maneuver. Here are the positions best suited for an ambush," I explained, activating the projector to display the layout.
"Why not just attack outright? Catch them off guard and blast them to hell," Rogelio objected.
"We can't do that without risking civilian casualties. I'm with Peacemaker; this plan makes sense," Greene agreed. Being a former soldier, he knew the importance of minimizing non-combatant losses.
"I don't give a damn. We're attacking now. I'm in charge here, so I make the calls," Rogelio declared.
"If you're in charge, then maybe you should attack alone. My people aren't following someone who only cares about booze, hookers, and drugs," Greene growled, rising from his seat and pointing a finger at Rogelio.
"Want a fight? I'll give you one," Rogelio snarled, lifting his pistol and aiming it at Greene. Greene didn't flinch, his gaze steady, one hand resting on his holster.
"Alright, alright, I overreacted. We'll go with your plan," Rogelio relented. Despite the alliance, it was clear that tensions ran high between these rival gangs, and flare-ups like this were bound to happen.
Once the squabble settled, it was finally time to act.
The plan didn't feel as solid as it had a moment ago, but there was no turning back. I stepped forward, and immediately, a few guns swung in my direction, ready to shred me to pieces.
"Hey, Tiger Claws!" I shouted.
"A scrap heap that doesn't know where it wandered," came a voice in response.
"You just signed your own death warrant."
"Start praying, tin man."
The response didn't take long.
"Looking at you, all I see are house cats, not tigers. All you're good for is licking yourselves," I shouted.
I barely finished my sentence before bullets started flying in my direction.
Threat to operator detected. Dynamic defense activated.
Armor plates slid out to shield my chest, shifting to my back as I turned and sprinted. Bullets pelted the armor, the screech and grind of metal biting into my ears. Reaching cover, I dove behind it, hoping the gunfire signaled bystanders to make a quick exit.
"Come out, freak. Die with dignity," one of them yelled. Odd words for a gang with no concept of dignity.
Today, the only ones dying will be you.
I pulled out a flash-bang—though calling it that was generous. It was rigged with a low-powered EMP, designed to disrupt tech on detonation. I lobbed it toward their position. The blast was my cue. A machine gun deployed from my back. I set it up on a pile of junk, aimed, and pressed the trigger. My armor braced around my head and shoulders, warding off return fire.
The scene dissolved into a chaotic blend of sound and fury. I'd been in fights like this before, but back then, the threat felt real. I'd been paralyzed with fear, my fingers shaking, my eyes wide, mechanically pulling the trigger until my ammo ran out. I'd only come to my senses back home, tucked in bed, comforted by my wife's embrace.
Now, it felt like staring at numbers on a screen, like hitting targets in a range. I wondered: am I losing myself? I felt nothing but a hollow void—and that scared me more than anything.
The battle ended quickly, leaving behind smoke, ruin, and a pool of blood trickling into the gutter.
High risk of mental breakdown detected: recommended course of action—reduce stress load or enter sleep mode.
The AI pulled me back to reality. I stood, surveying the aftermath. My armor was in tatters, riddled with holes—it looked like it had survived its last fight. The machine gun was scrap metal now, barely holding together.
"You fought like a man possessed. Are you sure you're okay?" Greene appeared beside me. Bloodstains covered his chest, but he didn't seem to notice. The stims had dulled his pain and slowed the bleeding. If he was still standing, his injuries must not have been life-threatening.
"I'm fine," I replied curtly.
"I used to think the war would end someday and peace would come, but here I am, still holding a gun and taking lives," Greene said with a sad smile.
"Peace is nothing but an illusion," I replied.
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A sudden jolt hit me, like a shock running through my system, and everything went dark for a moment. My vision returned, but I still felt a residual flicker in my circuits.
"Hey, are you sure you're okay?" Greene looked at me with a hint of suspicion.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Might need to see a ripper and get a few things tuned up, but otherwise, I'm good," I replied.
"Good. Sixth Street thanks you. We've dealt a serious blow to the Tiger Claws, and they won't be able to recover quickly. Their numbers are thinned out, and by the time they regroup, Heywood will be locked down tight. Keep the gear—it's yours now. And your debt? Consider it paid. If you ever need anything, come find us. We know some good rippers," Greene offered with a nod.
"I'll keep that in mind," I said, nodding back.
I didn't linger in Japantown. Instead, I made my way back toward Heywood. Before long, a message arrived from Ibarra.
You've completed the job. Reliable, I like that. Here's a small bonus for your services.
A deposit of five thousand eddies hit my account. Maybe it was a modest sum for a mission like this, but since Ibarra hadn't mentioned any payment at all, it was a nice surprise. I hoped I wouldn't have to take on assignments like this again, but now I had a few fixers in my contacts and access to information when I needed it. And that meant things were about to become a lot clearer.
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
ValikMurigov
ValikMurigov After that, I decided to speed things up. I did my best to reveal the hero’s character. I tried to describe his state in this new world as thoroughly as I could. The next chapter will skip over a stretch of time.
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