KYBER-PUNK 22BBY [Inspired Inventor+]

— Atom —

A concrete, steel, and glass jungle splayed out below me in all directions, as far as any eye could see. 'Scrapers that pierced the sky. Whole districts and sectors stacked atop each other. Bridges and walkways connected the buildings at every level. Between them, a constant commotion of traffic, of lives being lived. Gleaming glass, shining steel, and the unnamed billions who inhabited both.

The distance was eaten up by my strides and leaps. The city's lights and bustle flew by. Rooftop to rooftop to scaffolding to wall to rooftop again. My body and soul called. The Force answered. And with Night City's breeze in my hair and against my skin, great fucking things were set in motion.

My arms and legs pumped in time with my blood, in time with my heartbeat, in time with the very Force in my spiteful soul. Channels and canals were carved throughout my body for the Force to flow down. It came and went in rushing torrents like the universe was breathing right along with me. Meditation of a different sort. Meditation that was found in motion and freedom grasped by my physical being.

High above the city, I leaped. Rooftops passed like stepping stones. Vertical walls yielded to impossible footholds. Neon, LED, and hologram blurred together, akin to the star trails when jumping to hyperspeed. Racy, glowing billboards, and lewd, shining advertisements: sex and escapism bottled and sold to the populace. The lights of a billion homes. An infinite expanse of stars, visible from orbit when looking the wrong way. Down instead of up, the night sky was a mirror that reflected both.

My reflection in a wall of windows greeted me as I ran along it. Blond hair backlit by neon 'stars'. Beskar skin, shimmering and rippling. An aura of drive and determination, even in the reflection. Strong of body and spiteful of will. I did this because I could. Because fuck you, I would.

Gravity whined and complained, tugging down on my form. Physics protested and floundered, sputtering indignantly as I defied it with every step. I laughed in the face of limits that 'should have' been. The Force made it possible, made it almost easy. It wanted to be used to bend the 'laws' of reality. It wanted to make reality a bit more magical with everything it touched. All I had to do was 'state' my will, and through the Force, the universe felt my statement.

There was a certain thrill to freerunning with the Force. Oh, what a thrill… A feeling that was impossible to get anywhere else. It was freedom and power found in movement. It was adrenaline perfectly channeled and harnessed. It was the world opening up and accepting my moving body into its rhythm.

Night City was my neon road. I bounced off a wall and shot up toward pipes, wires, beams, and the other bare bones of a building. With the barest of touches, I weaved my way through the skeletal peak and out the other side. A Force-infused leap pushed me to grasp the edge of a roof, rolling up and over it. A slick glass slope greeted me on the other side. Downward I slid. At the bottom, I launched myself into the air again.

The approach to my target went on like that. Through Watson, through the NID, all without touching the ground once. Behind me, I knew the rest of my crew was keeping pace. Not nearly in the same way, of course, though I bet Becca wished she could. They traversed Night City's neon road with jumpjets and jetpacks.

Coyate flew with that Mando jetpack of his, carrying extra fuel that he could dump once the real action started. Dorio flew likewise, though she would dump the whole jetpack when we got there. Maine had slotted jumpjets into his chrome arsenal, powerful ones to carry his bulk, after envying Shaitan's for a while now. He carried Becca like a shoulder rimbo, 'cause she refused any weight that wouldn't let her carry more iron. Shaitan flew on jumpjets slotted into his Full-Borg frame.

They must've made for a sight and a half. Certainly, something to look up at as they flew over the city. Armed to the teeth. Flying on flaming 'wings'. And very clearly moving with a mission in mind. Without the telltale hiss of lifting flames, my passing likely didn't attract as much attention.

Soon enough, we were through the NID and on our final approach to Militech's mil-base to the north. It wasn't a quiet approach. But then, we were already slightly late to the party. The grunts — Ganks and gangs — were the first ones on the field. The full-frontal assault had begun in force.

The mil-base was a relatively vast complex. It set itself apart from the city around it with an open killzone around the perimeter and tall walls that bristled with defensive emplacements. Within the walls, a big, blocky, brutalist building took center stage. It must've taken up half of the space within the walls. But around that main building, dozens of landing pads, hangars, armories, and barracks sat squatly.

This wasn't Militech's corpo offices. It was purely a military base for a very militarized corp. That fact showed itself in the fortified nature of our target, all durasteel and reinforced concrete. And in the vehicles and forces defending the base from our assault.

From above, I got a perfect view of the initial action. Already, half a dozen holes had been blown in the perimeter walls. Battles raged at every one of the breaches. Valentinos here, Voodoo Boys there, and many, many war-armored Gank Killers everywhere else. All combined, both sides were evenly numbered and evenly gunned. But skill-wise? Night City's top gangs and the Gank Killers had Militech's fodder grunts beaten 8 times out of 10.

The only thing saving them for now was their defensive positions. The turrets on the walls were firing off constantly. But just as frequently, they were going up in explosions from shoulder-mounted rockets, well-thrown grenades, and even one or two thermal detonators.

Chaos reigned. Militech recruits fell from the top of the walls, dead even before they even fell. The killzone in front of the walls was practically scatter-painted with blaster bolts flying both ways. Our Gonks fell just like the enemy. Bodies burned and blood boiled. The screams and shouts were impossible to escape. Explosions were constant. Ever-present and reaping lives to and fro. The frontlines were death and destruction incarnate. Preem violence.

But… any Night City native was well used to preem violence. Doubly so for the gangs who made it their business. Triply so for the Gank Killers who made it their culture. The Militech recruits might've been strictly trained, but they weren't tried and tested. Not until now. Most of them were likely from off-moon, only stationed here by their corpo bosses. And it showed.

As I watched and waited for the others to catch up, a roaring warcry led a suicidal charge into the killzone. I recognized Sasquatch and her Animals from afar easily. They should've been mowed down. But the dorph-fueled ferocity threw the defenders for a loop. Even the few blaster bolts that hit were just shrugged off by the Animals. In seconds, they charged straight through their chosen breach, and by then, it was much too late for the Militech grunts stationed there.

The remaining portions of the wall blocked my view of the action. But I could certainly hear the screams. They had berserkers among them now, within their ranks and walls. Dorph-fueled, chrome-modded, melee-focused berserkers… I very much doubted any of the grunts there would live long enough to flee or regroup. And like ripples, the Animals' charge shook the rest of the Militech defenders. Even with the walls, their lines began to falter.

The others landed on the roof beside me, but I didn't look up from the carnage. Not even when Becca let out a perfectly in-character whistle.

"Fraggin' pre~em~! We've got a good and proper party going~! Can't wait to crash this shit, choom~!"

"Looking good, kid?" Maine asked.

"As good as we could hope," I replied. "Sasquatch and her Animals just charged in there to fuck 'em up from the inside. The Voodoo Boys are busting their breach even further open as if the wall itself owes them money. And the Ganks are practically playing with their prey. These Militech grunts are fodder fodder compared to our people. Not as bad as the Clans' fodder, but still… Any real resistance will come once we're inside the base. And I bet we'll be the first ones to find it."

"Of course," Dorio smirked. "It's only right that the Gonks in charge get first choice of the preem action."

"We will not find the Blackhand here," Shaitan said. "But I imagine there are still some formidable names to throw ourselves against."

"I don't know many Militech names," I admitted. "What are we looking at here? Who should we be expecting?"

Maine chuckled, "Kid, Militech is the same through and through. They're brutal, efficient, and straight to the point. Got that military culture goin' for them. They'll come at us head-on."

Shaitan explained further, "Frank Kutz is the most prominent solo who fights for Militech. Other than Blackhand, of course. He is a relentless man. Not particularly bright, but big, strong, and the type who never gives up. As far as I know, he is not stationed on Nar Shaddaa.

"There are others worth noting, though — Marlo, Dixie, Style, Chew-3, Rodent, Skirts, and the Hound of Dogtown. They prefer callsigns as their handles. Each is uniquely lethal but largely, Maine is correct. Blunt, brutal, and efficient."

I gave an acknowledging grunt, "Well, whatever they are, they won't be 'it' for much longer. This raid alone won't kill Militech. But it'll damn sure push them out of our turf. We want them out, and we want them to think twice about crossing the Gonk Cartel. They need to be… convinced that supporting the Clans is the last thing in their interest."

"Will other raids follow this one?" Coyate asked quietly.

"More of a campaign of harassment than another big raid like this," I answered.

Dorio grinned, "Make it clear they ain't welcome in our city, eh, choom?"

"When they're cutting deals in support of the Hutt Clans? Not even a little bit," I agreed.

"Well, I say we let you worry about that strategy shit later, Daddy," Becca said, swinging her standard scattergun around her back and into her hands. "For now, all we know is violence. So let's shout it loud and clear for these corpo grunts to hear~!"

"Oh, yeah, what she said. Except for the 'Daddy' bit. That's between you two, kid," Maine chuckled.

I pointedly ignored what Becca called me. She would do what she did. There was no wrangling Becca, especially not when this sort of mood hit her.

Like her, the others drew their weapons. Twin blaster pistols that I knew would pack a punch for Coyate. A hefty but manageable, military-grade Frontiersman blaster rifle for Dorio. Maine carried a Z-6 chaingun like it was a simple rifle instead of essentially an HMG. Shaitan kept his vibro-katana sheathed at his side, ready to draw like a bonafide samurai (and not the corpo kind). Then — not to be outdone, of course — Becca augmented her scattergun with a whole belt of grenades — frag, sonic, EMP, and AT — where she could easily access them.

Personally, I stuck to my trusty 44-blaster revolver while fingering the beskar spear in knife form on my belt. Those plus the Force would be more than enough for anything Militech could throw at me. More than enough to take on half the galaxy alone, in my mind. The 44 packed one Hell of a punch, and my beskar blade could cut through anything if I put my mind to it.

Below us, the battle raged, tipping in our favor. The Militech grunts were still on the walls, but they were falling faster and faster now. A few Gank packs had followed the Animals' lead, getting through the breaches and into the thick of it. The Voodoo Boys had torn down a whole section of the wall. And the Valentinos didn't let themselves be shown up. The experience and numbers at their gang's disposal meant that Militech's pile of bodies was at its largest right in front of them.

But the momentum in our favor couldn't last forever. Finally, after precious minutes, Militech's armored support scrambled to their grunts' rescue. Starfighters, heavy airspeeders, and more than a few proper hover tanks rose from within the base's walls to join the fight.

The starfighters streaked off and ahead, gaining speed. Scowling, I simply held my hand out to Maine, "… I need to borrow your blaster for a moment."

With a barked laugh and a shake of his head, he did as I asked. The chaingun settled heavily in my hands. As the starfighters passed overhead, I aimed at their roaring engines. The Force steadied my hands and focused my aim. Pulling the trigger, the chaingun's five rotating barrels began to spin. It barely took another moment for the weapon to begin spitting eviscerating plasma at a devastating rate of fire.

A chunky line of blaster bolts shot into the sky. The first volley hit a starfighter's engine square in the exhaust port. It took mere moments for the engine to burst into smoke and flames. I pivoted. Another starfighter's engine went the same way. Once more, and one more. The three starfighters I'd hamstrung spiraled in suddenly unsteady flight. Already, they were falling right out of the sky.

"Hey, Daddy~?" Becca asked eagerly. "Think you could direct an AT 'nade if I threw it at those tankies down there~?"

As the chaingun spun back down, I handed it back to Maine and nodded to Becca's question. That was all the answer she needed. Her grin bloomed maniacally. Two AT grenades were pulled from her 'nade belt. The pins were pulled and she threw them one after the other.

I left a touch of the Force to linger on the now-flying explosives. With it, I gave them the boost they needed to cross the hundred-meter killzone between our high perch and the Militech hover tanks converging on the wall. My help made Becca's 'nades fly like heat-seekers.

The first landed and rolled right under one tank. The penetrating explosion rocketed straight up through the hovering craft's belly. It stuttered mid-course, and its hovering 'legs' gave out. Other than coming to rest on the ground, it looked completely untouched. Until — that is — one saw the smoke and its uncanny stillness…

The second AT grenade bounced right off another tank's barrel and into the mechanical seam between its turret and the rest of its hull. It went off spectacularly, perfectly. Like a cracked can, the turret's seal popped. Bloody chunks splattered out of where the tank's gunner must've been. The rest of the tank chugged on… but it wouldn't be shooting that main gun anytime soon.

"Ehhh~? Only one?" Becca pouted.

"Call it one and a half," I said.

"Do halfsies count?"

"I'd say they count to that poor gunner. Or at least… to the chunks of him that are left."

"Hmm, I guess… Here, lemme' get one more try~!" Becca perked up, reaching for a third grenade.

It proved to be unnecessary. Even with the five vehicles we'd taken out, Militech had quite the fleet. Their tanks and armored airspeeders spread out to support the defense. On the ground, shoulder launchers and MANPADS took out some more… but far from all. Almost instantly, our forces began to take a pounding from mounted heavy repeaters, laser cannons, and tank turrets.

Then, the rest of the starfighter fleet came back around at speed for their first pass over the killzone. It… wasn't looking good. And there was only so much we could do to help our side. Gonk Cartel Gangers and Ganks scrambled for cover. The first few starfighter volleys dug trenches through the killzone and our forces. Our people screamed and died in droves from uncontested air superiority.

But at the same time, the sounds of the Militech engines were joined by another set of airborne roars. Caught right in the midst of their strafing runs, Militech's starfighters were slammed into from the side and practically driven right out of the sky. A whole other fleet came in hot, heavy, and hostile.

The second fleet was all jury-rigged gumption. All scrap and spirit. And still, they were viciously effective and effectively vicious. The Nomads had arrived. Immediately, they got to work.

Starfighters, bombers, and modded freighters roared onto the scene, guns blazing. Flashing lasers tore through Militech's starfighter ranks. Militech scattered around the Nomad battering ram. Corpo tech fell before Nomad ingenuity and flair. I saw David's claimed YT-1250 in the lead and felt him make himself a flying ace in a single pass. The Nomads behind him didn't slack, either, blowing every last starfighter right out of the fight.

In an instant, the tides turned right back onto Militech. And a second wave of Nomad air support followed. This one focused on the ground. A hail of concussion missiles pounded into concrete and armor. Whole sections of the perimeter wall crumbled. Hover tanks were consumed by billowing fireballs. Anything and everything with a Militech logo was put to the ambushing, reinforcing torch.

Maine's comm rang as David called it, and I could hear the grin in his voice as it came through, "We've got you up here, choom! Get in there, and get busy! Give 'em Hell!"

It cut out a moment later as David focused on his part of the raid. Becca sniffled dramatically, "Man~… Choom's just like me, for real. Got in on the action just so we could get more action. I love that gonk. Better brother than Pilar ever was."

"Oh, that's for damn sure," I honestly chuckled. "Well, you all heard him. Can't let David have all the fun. How about we get on in there and fuck their fucking backlines the fuck up?"

"Fuck, yeah," Dorio quipped right back, playing along.

"Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur," Coyate intoned somberly. "As always: Today is a good day for someone else to die."

"Wanna lead the way, you glorious Mando bastard?" I asked.

Immediately, Coyate stepped up to the edge of the roof, "I would be honored."

With a step off the edge and a boost from his jetpack, he sent himself flying. I followed with a leap of the Force. The others were close behind. We didn't bother with the killzone, arcing straight over the walls and coming down inside the base proper. Already, we landed behind enemy lines. And after discarding the unnecessary weight of the jetpacks (or in Becca's case, a few more grenades just for the chaos), we pushed even deeper.

The recruits where we landed put up no fight at all. Not to us. Blasters rang out like a symphony, Becca's scattergun resounded like bass and drums, and Coyate's wrist-mounted flamethrower created the screams to act as our vocals.

Armored in Militech paraphernalia, men and women died like emus before machine guns. Flesh and armor melted. Blood burst in boiling pops. Dozens and dozens ceased to be in mere minutes, simply in the wrong place, at the wrong time, belonging to the wrong side.

Like a six-man tornado, we cut straight through the Militech base. Practically all we had to do was walk forward. Coyate's dual pistols cut down Militech soldiers before they could return fire. Maine swept deadly fire across their ranks. Dorio picked precise shots that cut down sergeants first and foremost.

Becca… Becca was in her bouncing, violent, enthusiastic element. Squad after squad found themselves face to face with the Gonk Cartel's Rimbo Gremlin. She introduced them to scatterslugs that blew off limbs and pierced straight through anything that tried to stop her.

Here, there, she was dashing everywhere. And every time she stopped for more than a moment, at least four corpo soldiers died where they stood.

Shaitan was similarly up close and personal. His Full-Borg frame made him a beast on the battlefield. The kind that none of the grunts could hope to stop or stand against. Steaming exhaust vented from his frame as he slid to a halt in front of a five-man squad. In their eyes, death arrived… and did nothing.

I was quick enough to catch his movements, though. Quick enough to catch his katana's quickdraw into lethal sword strokes. Heart, neck, spine, each grunt was cut straight through without realizing it. By the time Shaitan sheathed his sword again, they were already dead. He took a single step toward his next targets… and the grunts he'd just slaughtered simply fell apart.

"Omae wa mou shindeiru…" Shaitan spoke softly to himself.

"Na-fucking-ni?!" … I couldn't help myself.

Shaitan's Full-Borg mask wasn't very expressive. But from the way he stopped and turned to look at me, I imagined he blinked in surprise.

I… decided it was best to just play coy at that moment. Some things were better left unaddressed and I had my own grunts to take care of, after all. A pair approached me, standing apart in what had to be painfully drilled positioning. Fire as they liked, their blaster bolts didn't put a scratch on my skin. I didn't even pause my stride.

I spun my 44 around my finger at the trigger guard. Two double shots snapped out perfectly to hit each grunt in the chest. Spinning the grip back into my hand, I snapped my aim onto three more grunts behind them. Each of them choked on boiling blood as their armor was forcefully merged with their flesh where my blaster bolts hit.

We continued on like that, infiltrating deep into the base in a matter of minutes. There, we found Militech vehicles again. There, we found 'named characters'.

Our damn-near effortless progress was brought up short against stiff resistance. A weasel-looking man returned fire. Competent, accurate fire. He was joined by a woman who seemed to be dressed to the nines and a striking, grim woman. They hit us from behind cover, and seemed to know how to use it. The less bullet-proof among us were forced to find cover as well.

"Marlo, Style, and Rodent," Shaitan called out, identifying the Militech goons (one step up from grunts).

Even as he, Coyate, and I ate the blaster bolts on our skin and armor, the Militech goons didn't give us many chances to hit them back. They were good, covering each other and never leaving themselves exposed for more than an instant. Still, this was exactly the sort of situation grenades were meant for.

"Becca! Boom!" I ordered.

She got my meaning in an instant, chucking a frag grenade in the next. The Militech goons cursed as the 'nade landed between them. Marlo was quick enough to chuck it back. Or… she would've been if I didn't immediately catch the throwback with the Force and hold it right in front of them.

Airburst shrapnel sent them scattering and diving away. Rodent died where he dove. Style groaned but kept moving. Marlo was surprisingly, miraculously untouched, shouting a challenge over her cover.

"That all you got, thugs?!"

"Hey~!" Becca exclaimed in offense. "We're Gonks, not thugs~!"

"You're fraggin' dead for messing with Militech!"

I looked around at the devastation we'd wrought. And we were just one of the more elite infiltration teams in the raid… "Somehow, I doubt that."

Support for Marlo rolled in before she could get off another retort. One of Militech's hover tanks, low to the ground and intimidating. That effect was somewhat broken by the idiot riding on top of it… Guess Militech's goons couldn't all be competent.

"Dixie's got ya, Marlo!" He yelled. "Hit 'em, Chew-3!"

The tank's turret lined itself up. Before it could fire, I took the tank into my sights. I called on the Force, while also forming a fist and an open palm below. Then, right as the barrel began to glow, I simply brought them together. I let my fist drop. Power followed the gesture I made. Like my fist, the Force dropped upon the tank like a hammer.

I had the strangest feeling that the simple, disrespectful gesture did way more than it should've. That my gesture of power single-handedly pulled weight as far as the Force was concerned. Because for the amount of effort I put in, 75 tons of durasteel and advanced armored alloys… absolutely should not have smushed like an overripe fruit.

The idiot on top was the first to go. Before he could move or scream or likely even think, he was flattened like a pancake by a Force drop hammer. To the point that not even blood and gore escaped. He just… became a disk of meat.

Then, the tank below crumpled. Its armor bent and sheared and shattered, throwing shrapnel outward. Its hovering repulsorlifts gave out in an instant and it fell with a crash. The concrete beneath became a tank-shaped crater, hosting a perfectly packed patty of tank.

At the impossible scene, everything stopped. It was as if some ROB hit the pause button. Everyone on the field — including my crew — paused and simply blinked. Even I wasn't immune. I was expecting to ground the tank, not make it into a ground durasteel burger.

"I… think…" Marlo eventually said, speaking very slowly. "I would like to give surrender a chance."

And as if to add impactful insult to injury, a third party entered the picture as she said that. Troop transport speeders zoomed over the base and began to come in for landings. But they didn't bear the Militech logo. No, instead, they bore Arasaka's.

From them, several squads of Arasaka corpo samurai dismounted and took to the field. They didn't directly fight our forces, but they didn't seem to be there to help, either. In the distance, an unmistakably monstrous Full-Borg figure airdropped from one of the Arasaka transports as well.

"Smasher…" Shaitan and I rumbled the same thing at the same time, practically harmonizing.

"Uh, choom?" Becca called over to me. "David says Arasaka's here. He wants to know if he should be shootin' at them."

"I noticed," I deadpanned. "Might be a bit too late for that, though."

Marlo nodded more firmly, "Yes, surrender. Definitely surrender. To you all, please. Stars know the Smasher won't accept it from us…"

"Maine, can you handle her? Becca and Shaitan, you're both with me. Let's go greet some fucking corpos…" I spat. "And ask them why they're cutting into our operation."

IIIII

— V —

"They moved a bit earlier than I anticipated," V absently commented in the hold of their personal transport.

"HN," Smasher gave her a grunt and nothing more.

"In all likelihood, someone fucked up. But it's good to see them going ahead with their plans anyway," She continued.

"HGNH."

"Well, I just think it would've been a shame otherwise. Our plans kind of depend on their plans to progress."

"GRR…"

"Don't give me that. It's about fraggin' time we get on with it. So much sitting around, gathering paydata, and biding our time… I just wanna do something, ya know?"

"V…"

"And I'll admit, I'm a bit excited to be meeting the target again. Finally. I'm glad the Emperor gave us the green light. Finally…"

"V."

"I just-… huh? What's up, Smasher? Got something to add?"

"… SHUT. UP."

"… Rude," V huffed.

"… I'M GOING TO FUCKING PIMPSLAP YOU WITH METAL, BRAT," Smasher rumbled. "WHY ARE YOU GETTIN' ALL NERVOUS NOW? YOU'VE GOT A PLAN. YOU'VE GOT ACTION WAITING FOR YOU. YOU'VE GOT PERMISSION TO DO WHATEVER'S NECESSARY. STOP BITCHIN' LIKE A BITCH AND GET YOUR GUNS READY."

"Hah…" V sighed. "I suppose you're right. I mean, it's not like we're going to be greeted by your meat clone right off the bat. Flatlining some Militech fucks will do me some good. Get me ready for the real show, and all that."

"One minute ETA, commander," The pilot's voice came over the transport's comms. "I'll ask that you drop quickly. There's a fuckton of birds in the air. I don't want me and my flyboys sticking around any longer than necessary."

"They see us coming yet, Gonny?" V asked, calling back over the comm.

"… They have now! Shit!" Gonny — the head pilot V had drafted for the mission — swore. "You sure I can't shoot 'em down and clear some much-needed space for us, commander?!"

"No-go, Gonny," V denied. "Just get us in and get out of here. If you've got a white flag, broadcast it. We might not be friends with the Gonk Cartel yet but we don't want them thinking we're enemies before our feet touch the pavement."

"… Copy, commander," Gonny agreed, but V could still hear the tension in his voice. "Ready to jump? Light back there should be coming on… now! Go, go, and Godspeed, commander!"

Sure enough, the drop light in the back of the transport came on right when the pilot said it would. V stood. Smasher never even sat down in the first place. The transport's backdoor retracted, and V saw war. A glorious, nova, preem war being fought between Gonks and corpos.

Hers was one of five transports. Each of the others carried six Arasaka samurai. 24 fighters at her command. All of them would be worth at least a dozen Militech grunts, and likely more than one Militech samurai apiece. Arasaka always did prefer quality over Militech's quantity…

V made the insertion team's numbers 25. She put herself worth the whole rest of the team combined. And Smasher… Smasher didn't even count. He was worth all of them and then some. Priceless. With V as his overwatch, they could've taken the whole Militech base by themselves.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the mission. They were there to rip and tear. But with purpose and focus. As she and Smasher dropped behind enemy lines, V went over her objectives in her mind.

Taking territory here was right out. It was too removed from the rest of Arasaka's holdings. They'd leave that shit to the Gonks, who seemed to be pushing Militech out of the mil-base well enough on their own. Instead, Arasaka was here for assets. Tech, paydata, extractions if they could manage it. And… V was there for Atom.

She hit the ground without a sound. Smasher landed with the opposite: a deafening, intimidating crash. The rest of her people surrounded them in moments, forming a defensive perimeter at the center of the chaos.

A few Militech recruits were suicidal enough to challenge their landings. The Arasaka samurai picked them apart without V having to lift a finger. Smasher popped off a single shot with the monstrous hand cannon he was running as a 'sidearm'. It cored straight through a half-borg V knew to be 'Skirts', dropping the Militech lieutenant without fanfare.

None bothered them after that. V took a moment to check her loadout: wakizashi, knives, monowire, souped-up cyberdeck, pistol, and her heavily modded battle rifle. Everything was deadly on its own. Even more so in her hands.

She drew herself back up, preparing to give orders, and stopped short. Three figures were approaching, coming straight at them. Instinctively, V knew what was up. The guy in front was young, tall, built, blond, and a perfect match for V's target. He was flanked by an intimidating Full-Borg and a tiny woman who was armed to Hell and back.

"THE MEAT BROUGHT METAL," Smasher muttered. "SHAITAN… PROMISING…"

"And the rimbo-lookin' joytoy?" V asked.

"… SHE'S CARRYING ABOUT THE RIGHT LEVEL OF IRON. GOOD ON HER FOR NOT LETTING HER PATHETIC SIZE GET HER DOWN."

V snorted, "At least you won't be bored, Smasher. I'll let you and Shaitan play while I take care of all the talking."

Smasher growled, "SPOIL ME, WHY DON'T YA?"

Atom and his Gonks didn't slow their approach for a moment. Not even when V's people raised their weapons in preparation and defense. She felt their tension mount. And that just wouldn't do. Her hand was being played earlier than expected, but she couldn't have her samurai getting twitchy with their fingers.

"Hold!" She barked the order. "Let 'em through. Isla, take your people and get to work on the rest of the mission."

Isla — V's chosen second — hesitated, "Are you sure, V…?"

V gestured vaguely in Smasher's direction, "Yeah. I'm sure."

Isla, the loyal bitch, relaxed slightly, "Aye, that would do it, commander. As you command. You can count on us."

"I know I can," V nodded. "Remember your priorities. Paydata first, then tech, and then extraction if all else fails. I won't make you haul around Militech noncombatants unless you have to. Now, hop to it."

Thankfully, they did. Almost immediately, they encountered resistance. But nothing they couldn't handle. Their blaster fire steadily grew more distant, blurring together with the rest of the battlefield's noise. V and Smasher were left to greet the mission's true target.

"Smasher…" That was the first thing Atom said. Growled, more like.

V felt deja vu in the way he glared at her 'charge-turned-temporary-handler'. But unlike their first meeting, Smasher didn't glare back at Atom. His chrome eyes were locked on Shaitan. Shaitan stared back, his frame's servos primed and ready.

"NOT ME, FORCE-CUNT," Smasher growled back, twitching his head at V. "YOU'RE DEALING WITH THE BRAT THIS TIME. ONLY FAIR. ONLY RIGHT. SEMI-MEAT DEALS WITH SEMI-MEAT. METAL DEALS WITH METAL. I'VE GOT SHAITAN."

When Shaitan replied, his voice was serious and deceptively soft, "It is only right. I would… gladly… pit myself against you once more, Oni. Slayer vs. Monster."

Smasher simply stared, "… 'SLAY'-MURAI-LOOKIN' ASS."

"You are as infuriating as I remember you to be," Shaitan said.

"FUCK YOU, TOO, SAMURAI," Smasher snorted, "IF THAT'S HOW YOU WANNA LOOK AT IT, I WON'T STOP YOU. BEST COME CORRECT, THOUGH. YOU WON'T GET A THIRD SHOT."

The tiny rimbo joytoy on Atom's other side whistled and grinned, "Oh, yeah~! That's a fight for the ages~! Don't know whether to watch or join in~!"

"Please don't join in," V deadpanned. "Leave the Borgs to their deathmatch."

"Becca," Atom snapped out domineering orders that had the tiny woman standing straight at attention. "Heel. Sit."

"Oh, pooh~…" Despite her obvious discontent, Becca obeyed like a pouting puppy.

Then, Atom's brow furrowed in confusion and he turned his attention onto V, "I'm dealing with… V…?"

V blinked, "You know me?"

"Vaguely," Atom grunted. "Mostly, I know of you."

V chuckled, "Makes sense. You didn't pay me much attention the first time around."

Atom winced, "Let's… not talk about that. Glaring down Smasher while I was so squishy… wasn't my best moment."

"Well, you're not squishy now," V commented. "We've seen that much, even if we don't know how you keep chunking direct blaster bolts and more."

"Not-magic," Atom said as if that explained everything.

Despite leaving V to deal with Atom, Smasher couldn't help but grumble, "FORCE-CUNT BULLSHIT."

"That," Atom nodded. "So. Arasaka's been watching me?"

"We have," V nodded back in turn. "Kinda hard not to. Gonk hits our tower, then goes on to declare all-out war against the Hutt Clans, and doesn't lose. People take notice of that sort of thing. Powerful people…"

"…" Atom's stare pierced V to her core… and she didn't hate the feeling. "What do you want?"

"Right now?" V shrugged nonchalantly, shaking off the shivers running down her spine. "Just a piece of your Militech pie. And maybe a meet-and-greet just like this one."

"Meet-and-…?"

Atom's brow furrowed again. V could practically see the gears turning furiously in his head. It was a surprisingly cute expression on him. But then, V found many things about Atom appealing now that he was finally in front of her. To the point that a honeypot was… almost the preferable route for their relationship to take.

He stared at her, focused and sober, and picking her apart just as she tried to pick him apart. V saw respect and wariness and… something more. Something that made her think the honeypot route might just be preferable to Atom, too. She smirked ever-so-slightly. Atom's lips twitched in return. That made V's smirk grow, but then, Atom set his expression in stone.

"Fuck this dancin' around the bush. Fight me for it. You can have your meet-and-greet… in preem violence."

V blinked. She'd been half-expecting that, half-anticipating it. But she thought it'd come before anything else. She didn't think she'd get to talk and fight. Satisfaction rose within her as Atom offered her the best of both worlds. Her smirk turned into a grin.

"You sure~?" V teased. "Wouldn't want to ruin our relationship before it's even begun~…"

"Nah," Becca waved dismissively. "Brawlin' it out will just make Atom more randy and keen on ya. Violence is an aphrodisiac, ya know~?"

V nodded her understanding, feeling a sudden companionship with the little rimbo, "Oh, I know. Trust me, I know all too well. I just don't usually get a chance to act on it."

"Ehh~? Smasher's a cunt-blocker, isn't he?" Becca grinned.

"In the strangest of ways," V confirmed. "He won't even let me jill-off after a preem job as is right and proper. Makes me wait until I get home and well out of his sensors."

"Same~!" Becca exclaimed. "Atom never lets me frig and flatline~! At least he still 'smashes' me good after we're done, though."

"Kriff, I definitely don't want Smasher to smash me," V laughed and firmly denied. "I just wish he wasn't so prudish at the weirdest times and about the weirdest shit. A girl needs to get herself off while flatlining, ya know?"

"Preach, sister-!"

"Becca…" Atom growled.

"V-BRAT…" Smasher growled in the exact same way.

They finished in synch, "Shut. Up./SHUT. UP."

V couldn't help but giggle. They were undeniably very different people — Atom and Smasher. Smasher would've never given warning to violence, not in the way Atom did. But then, they demonstrated that they could be painfully similar, too.

V could already see that the two of them came from the same meat. Just… taken in very different directions, and maybe with a new soul thrown in for Atom. Force bullshit was way above her pay grade. All that mattered to V as she limbered herself up was that, even though they were fundamentally different people, Atom was familiar enough for V to know what she was dealing with.

"We doing this or what?" She asked, drawing one of her knives and spinning it through her fingers.

"Aww, man~…" Becca pouted. "I've got no one to fight… Atom's got a bad bitch and Shaitan's got the Smasher himself. Where does that leave lil' ol' Becks~?"

"Becca," Atom said, never taking his eyes off V. "This might be a mistake, but I'm putting you in charge of the rest of the raid. Go. Buck. Fucking. Wild."

Becca perked up tremendously at that, "Oh, yeah~? Oh, yeah~! Good lookin' out, Daddy~! I'm gonna sit my ass on Maine's shoulder and deal death from on high~! Have fun with your bad bitch~!"

She practically bounced up to plant a kiss on Atom's cheek, and then she was off. The entire time, Atom didn't flinch his gaze away from V an inch. She matched him stare for stare, a smirk on her face. Smasher and Shaitan were in a similar staredown. All that remained was to see who would make the first move.

"So… Daddy, huh~?" V jabbed.

Atom jabbed right back, "You could call me that if you'd like, yeah."

"That's some shit you've gotta earn, Gonk."

"Oh, I'll earn it, alright. Bend you right the fuck over my knee until you're screaming the name."

"Tut tut, promises, promises~…"

Despite their verbal sparring, Smasher and Shaitan were the first ones to put action to violence. The Full-Borgs moved with blurring limbs, churning servos, and immense, lethal weight behind their actions. Smasher drew down with that monstrous hand cannon of his. He blasted from the hip.

Shaitan's sword was out just as quickly. Quicker, even. He sliced the Krayt-killing round in two like a Stars-damned Jedi. With another blurring, churning step, he was within Smasher's reach. His sword swung again. Smasher met it with the barrel of his 'sidearm', uncaring of the way the barrel split upon Shaitan's blade. The fight between Full-Borgs — Monster vs. Slayer — began in earnest.

As it did, V flicked the knife spinning between her fingers at her opponent. Atom caught it as easily as he breathed, not paying a single iota of attention to the viciously sharp edge. He flicked it back. V leaned out of the way. It flew past her ear.

"I liked that knife," She said casually.

"Then go get it."

"Force-cunt."

"Borged-out bitch."

V swung her battle rifle on the strap connected to her body into her free hand. It came up at her hip, and she let loose with a deadly, armor-piercing burst. It should've been enough to make a Full-Borg flinch, V knew. Atom ate the burst of bullets like it was nothing.

He returned the favor with a shot from his double-barreled blaster. V spun and danced out of the way, to the side. She kept herself moving and wary of the blaster, keeping her finger on the trigger of her Sandie in her mind.

"You know, this is hardly fair. You've got me at a disadvantage. I'm all squishy and you just can chunk my shots and keep going."

"So? Why the fuck would I ever fight fucking fair?"

"Fair point. Just thought I'd mention it."

"Less 'talk-back', more combat."

"Mind if I steal that? I think Smasher would enjoy it more than he'd ever say."

"I HEARD IT, V-BRAT. IT WAS… DECENT, FOR A MEAT-CLONE," Smasher called over from his fight.

"Indeed," Shaitan said as he swung to behead. "Words to live by, especially for men and women like us."

*SCHWING SWISH SKICHH!* Shaitan pressed his attack. He actually managed to push Smasher back in the process. Every slash was accompanied by a step forward, by a step back for Smasher. Shaitan was vicious. It paid off. The last swing carved chunks off Smasher's chassis.

Then and only then did Smasher hit back. His fist lashed out, shaking and quaking. The telltale vibrations of PanzerFaust engulfed his whole frame. Smasher's waist twisted. His feet were planted and his legs pushed. His whole shoulder and all of the servos within were engaged. The full force of a Full-Borg and then some was brought to bear.

Shaitan bowed backward at the waist in a feat of impossible flexibility. Smasher's shaking, quaking fist flew past Shaitan's face. In an instant, he changed direction. Shaitan threw himself to the side as Smasher brought his PanzerFaust punch down like a hammer.

Once more, he slashed out with his sword. Vibrations of the frame met vibrations of the blade. Neither won outright. Smasher shook off the cutting edge, and Shaitan's blade held strong. The impact still rang like a bell.

Shaitan and Smasher didn't pause for more than a moment, throwing themselves right back into the melee. But V couldn't afford to simply watch them, watch two chrome monsters clash. Another double shot bolt from Atom's blaster sent V dancing on Sandie Time. She blurred to the world's eyes and launched herself forward.

V drew a sword of her own. Shorter than Shaitan's but of the same creating philosophy, V's wakizashi flashed and sang. As quick as V, Atom holstered his blaster pistol and drew a blade to match hers.

She came down from on high like thunder and lightning. V planted her feet and pulled her blow across the whole of her body. Structure led to strength and when Atom caught the cut on his arm, V was satisfied to hear him grunt. She was even more satisfied to see the chink that her sword carved into rippled metallic skin.

But nothing more… Against anyone else, that slash would've cleaved them in twain. Atom was barely more than scratched. His blade — a broad, broad knife — reached for her, and V disengaged. Then, disengaged farther as the knife sprang into a spear. Warily, V began to circle, processing the spear her opponent now wielded.

"Compensating for something?" She quipped.

"Not a damn thing," Atom shot back. "I'm just smart enough to bring a spear to a sword fight."

Holding the spear's shaft in both hands, Atom gave a quick little shove outward. V's instincts twitched and tingled. She dodged to the side in a blur. An invisible pushing force still caught her in the side and sent her spinning.

Atom lunged after her to capitalize. V twisted her spin into a parry, feeling the ring of blades in her soul. It resonated through her pumping blood as she stepped into his reach. She swung to cut, to kill. Atom caught the blow between his hands on the spear's shaft.

V reached for one of her knives with her off-hand. Atom pushed once more. V shot backward. In mid-air, she threw the knife she'd drawn. The stabbing tip buried itself in the meat of Atom's chest. He just raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

In an instant, he was upon her again. They dueled, locking themselves in glorious melee combat. Clang after clang resounded with every parry. V held her own, but she was very much at a disadvantage. As she quipped before, she was squishy. Atom was not.

Even when she landed blows, they did seemingly nothing. All the while, V had to dodge and protect herself thoroughly. At one point, she snatched her knife back from Atom's chest, just to use for further parrying.

Atom was less skilled, but no less deadly. His razor-sharp speartip drew furrows in V's chrome. It drew blood. And V had never felt more alive. She knew — could feel it in her bones — that Atom felt the same.

The actual melee was only the beginning. Force bullshit was a challenge V had never faced. She was pushed and pulled about, constantly 'forced' to adapt. Chunks of concrete were torn straight from the ground beneath their feet. And any weak point V showed was ruthlessly exploited.

When V's sword shattered on Atom's strange skin, she knew she would lose. Still, she replaced it with another knife and pushed on. Up close, her Sandie worked overtime. It was the only way for her to match Atom's speed, and she could feel the toll it was taking on her body. Her monowire whipped out, drawing scorched scars across Atom's torso from shoulder to hip. But still, his impossible defense held strong.

Atom's fist — wrapped tightly around the butt of his spear — drove into her gut. V felt her diaphragm spasm. She felt the air rush out of her chrome lungs. Atom pressed on her weakness just right. It was all V could do to throw herself backward into a roll for distance, for breath.

She heaved her diaphragm back into submission. Deep breaths wracked her lungs, sucked in fiercely. Landing in a ready crouch, V stared warily up at Atom. For the first time in minutes, he didn't press his advantage. For the first time in minutes, V got a clear look at the damage she'd futilely done to him.

There were bloodless scars on his skin. His clothes were tattered and torn. Scorched black where her monowire had landed. Riddled with ineffective stab wounds. And his gaze on her was intense. Piercing. Weighing. Enthralled. She had his attention and nothing else did at that moment.

"Fuck…" He swore, muttering to himself. "I hate it when Becca's right."

V's gaze drifted downward to an adrenaline and combat-fueled bulge in Atom's pants, and she smirked victoriously, "Well, now~… Isn't that something~?"

"Like you're much better," Atom snapped at her.

"Maybe, maybe not~," She teased. "The evidence would be much easier for me to hide. You, however~… are rather obvious. Good~…"

He glared at her, but before he could retort, their hostile flirting was interrupted. Interrupted by the sound of shattering steel and the scene of a Full-Borg suddenly taking flight. Smasher's fight with Shaitan had developed… into a decidedly more one-sided affair.

V didn't see how, but Shaitan's sword was explosively broken into many pieces. She did, however, see Smasher trap Shaitan's arm over his shoulder and throw with his whole frame. Shaitan flew. Smasher charged straight after him.

They moved at speed across the concrete ground of the mil-base. Shaitan tumbled. Smasher caught him and threw him again and again. A few grunts — Militech and Gonk both — were caught up in the path. Smasher flattened them all in pursuit of Shaitan. That went on until they reached the base's main building, Shaitan leaving pieces of his frame the whole way along. Then, Smasher threw the other Full-Borg straight through the reinforced wall and into the building proper.

Atom swore and chased after them. V followed. This wasn't a show she wanted to miss. The trail of destruction — Shaitan's and the collateral — was easy to track. Even within the building, Smasher didn't stop. He seemed to be using the inner walls as emergency 'maintenance' tools, smashing Shaitan against as many as he could.

By the time they caught up, there wasn't much left of the other Full-Borg. Shaitan had been thoroughly and violently dismantled. All that remained was his head and biopod. A combination that Smasher was already strapping to his waist like a trophy even as Shaitan — alive but impotent — glared up at him.

But it was the place they stopped that brought Atom up short. A Militech R&D lab of some kind. Vials and measurements of some strange crystalline powder seemed to be the focus, often sitting beside what V knew to be combat drugs.

The sight of them stopped Atom in his tracks like nothing else V had seen so far. She recognized horror and fury blooming in his eyes, set on a doggedly grim expression. It was as if he was glaring at every grain of spice powder there. Militech researchers were cowering in the corners of the lab. To V's slight surprise, Atom put blaster bolts through each of their heads in quick succession.

"Fucking FUCK! Corpo cunts…!" Atom cursed fiercely. "That explains some things, though… I swear to the fucking Force, this shit keeps popping up…"

"C'MON, V-BRAT," Smasher said. "I GOT WHAT I CAME FOR. LET'S LEAVE THE MEAT TO HIS FUMING OVER SPICE OR WHATEVER."

"Kyber-spice BULLSHIT!" Suddenly, Atom's gaze snapped up and onto V. "… We're going to finish what we started once I kill this bullshit for the second time."

V chuckled, but it was Smasher who replied first, "YOU WANNA FUCK THE V-BRAT? YOU GOTTA GO THROUGH ME FIRST, MEAT."

"I haven't forgotten about you… Metal," Even as he retorted, Atom didn't take his gaze off V for a moment. "We'll meet again sooner rather than later. When we do, I'm going to return this favor. You dismantle my people, I dismantle you, Smasher. Hang tight, Shaitan. I'll get you back."

What was left of Shaitan simply sighed, "I will be fine. This… isn't the first time this has happened."

Smasher rumbled a satisfied chuckle, "2 AND 0, SHAITAN. GOTTA STEP YOUR SHIT UP IF YOU WANNA MATCH ADAM FUCKING SMASHER."

"I'm going to rip you apart and keep your head as a still-living trophy. When I'm done, you'll be riding along on my belt for the rest of your days," Atom threatened — no, promised… — his voice deceptively soft and steady.

"TRY IT, MEAT. SOUNDS TO ME LIKE I GET MY FILL OF VIOLENCE NO MATTER WHAT," With that, Smasher was already turning and leaving. V could only follow.

But as she did, she threw one last parting remark over her shoulder with a teasing smirk on her face, "Hey, Atom…? I'm looking forward to finishing what we started, too~."

They left him to deal with… whatever it was that had him so worked up. V made a note to look into it. 'Kyber-spice', he called it…? A worrying name but she hadn't heard much about the stuff. To Atom, though, it was a big enough deal to let them walk free so he could handle it. That… didn't bode well for anyone in V's mind.

"YOU'RE TEASING HIM," Smasher commented as they walked out through the many holes he'd made on his way in.

"You told me to," V shot back.

"… HN, TRUE. I JUST DON'T WANNA SEE IT MYSELF."

"Prude."

"SEX BRAT."

"If it will torture Smasher," Shaitan's head spoke up. "I will say that Atom seemed to be rather receptive to your brand of advances, Miss V."

"Damn straight, he was. I'm hot as fuck, and the fight just made me hotter in his eyes," V smirked and swaggered.

"HRRG…"

At Smasher's obvious discomfort, V could only laugh, "Grumpy old fucker, you brought this on yourself!"

"DOESN'T MEAN I GOTTA LIKE HEARING ABOUT IT…"

"Get over yourself, old man. We accomplished our objectives and you got a new toy to play with. I'd call that a mission well done. Think the Emperor will like the good news?"

Shaitan's head emoted a blink with just his hesitant tone, "The… Emperor…? Oh… Oh, dear…"

His sudden anxiety seemed to buoy Smasher's spirits, "HEH. THE EMPEROR. I'D SAY GET READY TO BOW, SAMURAI, BUT… YOU CAN'T ANYMORE. TSK FUCKING TSK, GONK."

"Damn you, Smasher. Damn you to Hell… I look forward to Atom avenging me."

Honestly…? V kind of did, too. One thing was certain. It'd be a fight for the ages. And her intuition told V it was right around the corner…