Friday Night Firefight - A Cyberpunk 2077 Isekai

Friday Night Firefight - Chapter 40

What's up, Pacifica! It's your girl Ash here to drop some fresh beats your way. Kick back and relax chooms – we've got a whole lot cookin' for you today. This is 'Skin on Flesh' by El Tiempo.

I leaned my back against the rough wall of the alleyway, feeling the tension in my shoulders slowly ease as the rhythm of the music pulsed. My eyes drifted over to Cyndi who was running last-minute checks on her Satara. Her practiced hand danced along the gun and, when she finished her inspection, she gave me a quick, sharp nod.

Noah: how we looking?

Deng: took out their overwatch. Ready when you are.

I glanced down at the Kenshin in my hand, the familiar weight of the tech-pistol a comforting presence. Sure, I could have borrowed one of the Kyubi rifles our crew had stashed away. The added firepower might have been helpful, but the Kenshin was good enough. It was reliable, precise, and perfect for close-quarters work. I motioned for Cyndi to go and pushed myself off the alleyway wall.

We crept around the corner, stepping out of the shadows as we approached our targets. The small crew we were hitting was sprawled out on a dilapidated couch and a set of mismatched chairs. They looked like they'd been parked there for hours. Takeout containers littered the ground around them, and half-empty beer bottles dangled loosely from their fingers. A battered radio was propped up on a stack of plastic shipping pallets. It was responsible for the 'Skin on Flesh' tune I'd never heard before. The four gang members were all lost in their own little world, oblivious to the danger inching close to them.

For a moment, Cyndi and I simply stood there, weapons raised, watching the scene unfold in slow motion. The gang members were completely unaware and obviously hadn't expected someone to creep into their little hidey hole.

A fleeting thought fluttered into the back of my mind about how this whole thing could play out like some over-the-top action flick. I'd been raised on a steady diet of Hollywood blockbusters, and part of me expected this whole thing to turn into a chaotic twenty-minute shootout which led to a wild car chase, and maybe even a dramatic rooftop showdown with the gang's leader where I toss out a witty one-liner before finishing him off with slick martial arts moves.

But real life doesn't play out like that.

Real violence was swift, brutal, and unchoreographed. Two shots from Cyndi's Satara plus nine precise rounds from my Kenshin led to four bodies slumped lifeless on the couch and chairs in the alley. The whole thing was over almost before it began. None of the four gangsters was able to rise from their seats before we opened fire.

Cyndi lowered her Satara and unholstered the Nue at her hip, scanning the area to make sure no one was creeping up on us.

Noah: clear?

Deng: clear

Noah: k. send in John.

Our crew had scattered across the city, each of us tackling different jobs. Diego and Zion were still out trying to source explosives. Diego had called me earlier in the day to tell me he had a promising lead, and that he'd reach out later with whatever he uncovered. Anna was working her charm on a couple prison guards who could help us down the line. That left me with Deng and Cyndi to handle the heavy lifting for the day – taking out a small no-name gang that had somehow carved out a niche for themselves in the contraband business.

I reached over the bodies and clicked off the blaring radio, letting the silence reign in the alley. Leaning back against the cool, gritty wall of the alley, I glanced up at the rooftop of the apartment building across the street and spotted Deng. His Nekomata rifle was poised and at the ready, and his eyes scanned our surroundings with a predator's focus. He was our overwatch and was charged with making sure no one crept up on us while we dealt with the gang.